38G 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



and I feel that I have met a worthy foe. He darts down 

 stream, rapidly reeling out fifty yards of line before I give 

 him the hut, and turn hirn back to the pool where he 

 sulks. Gently I bear on him and he turns once more down 

 stream, giving a series of jumps out of water, the pliant 

 rod bending to his waywardness. For the last time I turn 

 him, and I bring him exhausted beside the raft and suc- 

 cessfully land him. Three pounds and a half, fully, and I 

 survey him with much complacency. My next cast was 

 not so successful. In the excitement of the moment I 

 struck too quickly, and after a short run I lost him. My 

 next is two pounds, and the next three and over. I must do 

 better than this ! In my fly book was a very ancient 

 salmon fly, gorgeous in its colorings, and fully an inch and 

 a half long. I attached it as the tail fly and cast far out 

 under a projecting rock that threw its shadow over the 

 pool. A splash follows, and a five pounder rises, and 

 seizing my salmon fly goes down. He remains quiet a 

 moment, preparing for the mighty rush that followed. 

 My line is all run out befcre I give him the but. Snap ! 

 my salmon fly has parted from the gut close to the shank. 

 So much for using old flies. When the sun peeped over 

 the-tree tops, warning me to return to breakfast, I had a 

 half dozen more varying from one and a half pounds to 

 three. 



Trout will seldom rise to a fly during the glare and hea 

 of the day, and even should they, the black flies would 

 render fishing anything but a pleasant pastime. 



Having the greater part of the day before us, I determine 

 to climb the mountain from the side above the pool. Our 

 luncheon is put up, gun and ax slung, and crossing the river 

 we commence the ascent. I have never made an accomp- 

 lishment of crawling up side walls, fly like, though I claim 

 to be able to hold my own under most circumstances. A 

 dozen times did I regret having been so foolhardy as to at- 

 tempt it, but I was bound to succeed now. By a series ot 

 hauling, pushing and catching at stray bushes that hold out 

 their assistance, we finally reach the top, and seating my- 

 self on an inviting rock, I abandon myself to the charming 

 vista spread out before me. Dozens of lakes peeping from 

 their varied green surroundings, the St. Lawrence, a 

 mere sinuous thread in the far distance, while the little 

 camp at our feet, from which the smoke of the fire curls 

 upwards, is liliputian in its dimensions. The wild glen, 

 through which the St. Anns discharges itself in a series of 

 falls, is plainly visible. 



Charlo selects a favorable spot near the verge of the cliff, 

 spreads out the luncheon, to which we both do more than 

 ample justice. Pipe follows, and we sit there and discuss 

 the question of the names of the different lakes visible. 

 That evening's fishing resulted in some handsome fish, the 

 largest three and a half pounds. Next day we visited the 

 falls five miles above our encampment. They are three in 

 number with a fall each of twenty-five feet with deep pools 

 intervening, out of which I took some dozens of good sized 

 fish. This was another day of great enjoyment, and with a 

 sigh, I gave the order for our return on the morrow, for all 

 things must come to an end, and the inventory of our pro- 

 visions show they are fast coming to a similar end. 



The wind must have changed during the night, for I 

 awoke with a sense that I was choking, which was not far 

 from the truth, for the smoke was pouring into the camp 

 in a cloud. 1 be.at a hasty retreat, and being now fully 

 awakened lighted my pipe and seating myself on a log be- 

 side the fire, gave utterance to a war whoop to clear my 

 lungs and which brought Charlo to his feet in surprising 

 short time under the impression perhaps that hostile sav- 

 ages were making a descent. 



We packed up, and at dawn are floating down the river 

 en our raft. The first few miles were uneventual until we 

 got into the rapids. Half way down the ugliest of these, 

 a huge boulder, rears its head, around which the water 

 seethes and foams. It is too late to avoid it and we can only 

 brace ourselves for the shock that follows. It comes, and 

 we are driven high and dry on its surface. Charlo pitches 

 forward and lands himself in my unwelcome arms. All 

 our efforts to free the raft are unavailing, and we ruefully 

 survey the prospect of a ducking before we can reach the 

 shore. We are not disappointed, and resuming our packs 

 mournfully take up our march. Next day we reached 



home without further event. 



J. M. F. Jr. 



For Forest and Stream. 

 SNOE-SHO EING I N MAINE. 



WE left Greenville, at the foot of Moosehead Lake, 

 one bright morning in February. The day Def ore 

 we had supplied ourselves with an outfit 'for moose hunt- 

 ing. Anance, the aged Indian, chief of the Abenakis and 

 St. Regis tribes, a mere handful now, had been engaged to 

 "•o With us as guide, and from him we obtained snow- 

 shoes, moccasins, a sled, and other things indispensable iii 

 a winter camp. 



We were to travel on the frozen lake to the northwest 

 ''carry," the extreme northern end, forty miles from Green- 

 ville, where our first night's camp would be. Four feet of 

 solid ice, with water and snow covering the lake, made the 

 going bad. Our conveyance was a two horse, open-box 

 sleigh or pung, in which everything except the sled was 

 packed. At noon we had reached Mt. Kineo, where we 

 warmed up before the log fire in the hotel, and obtained a 

 nice dinner of caribou venisor. and lake trout. 



Mt. Kineo is a prominent feature of Moosehead Lake, a 

 miniature mountain, with precipices and frozen cascades 

 projecting from the eastern shore into the lake. It is 

 reached by steamer in summer, but in winter few except 

 lumberars and hunters pass this way. 



Leaving here a little after noon, we started on the re- 

 maining twenty miles of our journey over the lake. The 

 snow became deep and traekless, although the road had 

 been "bushed,' with small spruces. The stout horses gave 

 signs of failing, and at the end of a few miles our driver 

 declared that to attempt to drive to the carry would kill the 

 beasts. A hurried conversation was held, and we decided 

 to snow-shoe it. Soon our traps were got out and packed 

 on the sled, snow-shoes fastened on, and we set off, drag- 

 ging the sled, while the team slowly made its way back to 

 Kineo. A good crust made travelling easy, and before 

 dusk we had done ten miles or more. Mount Katahdin's 

 snowy sides were standing boldly out to the northeast over 

 the black shore line of spruces. We were already in 

 sight of the carry when a snow squall came sweepii g down 

 upon us, and almost without warning we were in darkness, 

 the whirling, driving snow blast obliging us to cower be- 

 fore it with our blankets held tight over our heads. After 

 some aimless attempts to reach the shore, we gathered about 

 the sled, and by the light of a match under a blanket 

 took an observation of the pocket compass. To our sur- 

 prise we had left the course and were heading away to- 

 wards the western shore. There was nothing to be done 

 but to wait. The squall passed off, the shores were in 

 sight again, and our journey resumed. 



It was now raining, and the softened snow clung to our 

 snow-shoes until the weight became most trying. At nine 

 o'clock we reached northwest carry, and threw ourselves 

 down exhausted on the snow. Anance soon had a fire 

 going, and after a drink of hot tea, and a biscuit, .we 

 started on the two miles across the carry, where a wooden 

 tram road had been built by lumbermen, connecting- the 

 lake with the west branch of the Penobscot River. Slowly 

 we dragged ourselves, stopping often to rest before we 

 reached the deserted log cabin, where a roaring fire in the 

 stove made all comfortable, and we stretched our tired 

 limbs on the spruce boughs, content to have shelter, 

 tbough our feet were chafed and smarting from the unac- 

 customed tramp of twenty miles on snow-shoes. Never, 

 except in an emergency, should a novice in snow-shoeing 

 attempt a long tramp at starting. He will find locomotion 

 impossible for some time, and may lose several days in re- 

 cruiting. 



In consequence of our first day's shoe tramp we lost the 

 whole of the next day, being laid up with stiff and aching- 

 limbs and sore feet, so that lying on the boughs, or putting 

 guns and ammunitionin order, was our only occupation. We 

 were to travel up the west branch of the Penobscot on the 

 ice, then, following up the Elm stream, a tributary from 

 the north, to reach, the hunting grounds and make camp at 

 night. 



It was a clear, bright morning when we set off from the 

 "carry," the crust on the river ice being so firm that snow 

 shoes were not required, except when open water, caused 

 by rapids, obliged us to take a short detour in the woods. 

 Tracks of caribou {Loup cervier, or Lucivee, in hunter's par- 

 lance) were frequent, and an occasional otter's slide on the 

 snow banks, near openings in the ice. Anance brought 

 with him several traps for beaver and mink, which, are 

 still quite plenty in Maine. 



Passing Babb & Stricklan's lumber camp, now deserted, 

 we arrived at the mouth of the Elm stream about noon, 

 and indulged in a tin cup of hot tea and sOme slices of 

 cold raw salt pork and biscuit, the pork being a new ex- 

 perience to one of our party, a novice in moose hunting, 

 who, being born a true Briton, had all the native pluck and 

 endurance so necessary in this kind of hunting. Young 

 G. did not expect to find luxuries in the woods in winter, 

 and relied on a glass barrel of whiskey which he carried 

 wrapped in his buffalo robe and strapped on his back 

 through the whole trip. 



N., a civil engineer and an experienced moose hunter, 

 who knew the importance of throwing aside every unnec- 

 essary ounce of baggage, had insisted on our travelling as 

 lio-htly as possible, so that one sled had sufficed for all our 

 traps. Each of us, except the Indian, carried a buffalo 

 robe containing a change of socks and other smaller arti- 

 cles. After leaving the river we found the snow in the 

 "tote road" deep and yielding. Snow-shoes were put on, 

 and now came additional work in hauling the sled over 

 snow hummocks and through brush, with frequent slew- 

 ings and upsets. Anance drew with the rope across his 

 chest, Indian fashion, following the track beaten down by 

 our snow shoes. However, after several miles of weari- 

 some pulling, the sled was abandoned at the side of the 

 road. After distributing the provisions in our packs we 

 pushed on through spruce and hemlock swamps, open tim- 

 ber beech, birch, and straggling moose wood, and just at 

 dusk we found the ruins of a lumber camp, all that remained 

 being a portion of the roof buried in snow, but having a 

 space under it quite dry, and large enough for our party to 

 crawl under and. even sit upright. To work we went, using 

 our s»ow-shoes for shovels, and cleared a space for a fire, 

 which was soon blazing in front of our apology for a camp. 

 I should mention that before leaving New York we had, 

 at the suggestion of N., provided ourselves with buffalo 

 robes sewed up so as to form bags, with the hair inside, 

 into which we crawled feet foremost, drawing the mouths 

 together over our heads. This was a comfortable arrange- 

 ment until the melted snow, dropping from the roof, soaked 

 the hides, and our bags were frozen stiff before morning. 



There is little romance about a winter camp. Snow 

 scenes are not "beautiful" to eyes moist and inflamed by 

 smoke and snow glare, and when the body is frozen and 

 thawed by turns. True, there is a grandeur in the moonlit 

 forest, or when the branches crash and crack before a gale, 



but there is little comfort or luxurious ease in winter 

 camps. 



In recalling the hardships and exposure that attend win- 

 ter hunting and sleeping in the snow when overtaken by 

 night, I can yet affirm that we gained much strength and 

 renewed health by snow-shoeing in Maine, New Brunswick, 

 and Nova Scotia. 



Our first hunt was a reconnoisance. Anance led off 

 through the spruces loaded with snow, gradually ascending 

 to hard wood ridges, where we looked for signs, or "rav- 

 ages," as the Canadian French hunters call the work of the 

 moose made by browsing. Towards night, having found 

 no fresh signs, and when nearing camp I wounded a white 

 hare with a ball, and following, intent on hare soup for 

 supper, I became separated from my companions. Sud- 

 denly I found myself in a moose yard. I heard them 

 crashing through the forest, but could see nothing as they 

 went off. Their tracks were like those of a horse in deep 

 snow. Marking the spot I returned to camp, whereupon I 

 was taken to task for starting the moose so late in the day. 

 We were to move camp next day to another lumber 

 camp, which w T e hoped to find habitable. While on our 

 way a fresh moose track was found crossing our path, evi- 

 dently my frightened game of yesterday. Here was a 

 lucky find, as we could follow and "still hunt" them as 

 soon as our new camp was established. When found, the 

 lumber camp was literally snowed under, and it required 

 much shovelling before the door was found and we got in. 

 There were the Deacon seat and spruce beds ready for use. 

 A square altar of pure white snow stood in trie centre, 

 under the smoke hole in the roof, the accumulations of a 

 winter's storms, and the rest of the day was spent in clear- 

 ing the snow out, getting firewood, and making things 

 comfortable. The weather, which had been clear and cold, 

 soon changed to clouds, with snow, which fell incessantly 

 for two days, an addition of nearly three feet, and making 

 about eight feet on the ground. The light snow was suit- 

 able for still hunting, but the travelling was more difficult. 

 At every step one raised a small mountain on the toe of 

 each snow-shoe, and our pace was slow as in single file we 

 followed the tracks' of the moose. A bed or hollow in the 

 snow under a large spruce tree showed where the moote 

 had passed the night previous. Thence he went on with 

 many devious turnings, plucking buds and browsing on 

 young spruce trees, breaking off the tops and strewing the 

 snow with branches; "ravaging," in fact, the forest. The. 

 signs grew fresher. We were now on a track made within 

 an hour, and if all the rules of still hunting were observed 

 we might have moose meat for supper. Cautiously mov- 

 ing foot by foot, watching the drooping mosses to keep 

 against the wind, we approached. Suddenly a huge black 

 object rose slowdy from the bushes; first a long clumsy 

 head and pendulous snout held high in the air, listening. 

 A moment's delay and away he dashed. I took a quick 

 sight and fired. Now the chase began. Slipping over, 

 and tripping into the deep moose tracks, or cutting off by 

 detours, we followed on. Another shot from N., and we 

 knew the game was ours. Coming up, we stood about the 

 monster, admiring his strong limbs, and wondering at his 

 ugly, uncouth head, small cunning eye, and large asinine 

 ears. The snow was soon trampled and dyed with the 

 creature's blood, as with skillful hands Anance removed 

 the hide and prepared the meat, all to be left covered with 

 snow to be hauled to camp when convenient. 



Moose meat is very good eating, and is highly prized by 

 the Maine backwoodsmen in their winter larder. We car- 

 ried to camp sufficient meat for present use, the result being 

 a series of savory broils, stews, and "brochettes" made on 

 spruce sticks instead of silver skewers. 



Snow continued falling for several .days, during which 

 we could not hunt, but took comfort in our snug camp. 

 Then we repacked buffalo robes and started for home. 



I shall not attempt to describe the march of eleven miles 

 back to the "carry." At dusk we were still following 

 down the west branch of the Penobscot, almost exhausted. 

 Indeed, we could not climb a few feet of the river bank 

 without resting and draining the few drops of G.'s precious 

 whiskey. At the cabin we found a party of lumberers, 

 driven out of the woods by the deep snow. Down the lake 

 men and oxen went in single file, and at Kineo we began 

 to taste again the sweets of civilized life and the "bouquet" 

 of Chenery's burgundy. John Avery, 



Secretary and Engineer Blooming Grove Park. 



LOOSE LEAVES FROM A 

 JOURNAL. 



SURVEYOR'S 



INJUNS AND A HARD TRAMP. 

 ♦— 



Edttor Forest and Stream : — 



I HAD been out two or three trips for the company, 

 when I sent for "Mot," my old roommate. The com- 

 pany wished some land looked up beyond the Black river 

 and a return made in time for a sale. It would be a. long, 

 hard journey and return through the unbroken woods, 

 skirting swamps, and over a rough country requiring a party 

 of more than ordinary mettle to get back in time. I knew 

 for pluck and endurance, combined with great social 

 qualities, Mot was just the boy for the occasion. For he 

 had a heart as large as the circumference 'of his compact 

 little body, (for its genial warmth permeated his whole sys- 

 tem,) while physically he was as tough as a pine knot, and 

 give him plenty of fuel, that is, his rations, (I don't mean 

 fluids) regularly and insufficient quantity, and his pluck 

 w r ould carry him through almost anything. His sympa- 

 thies, too, were always on the alert; he would have made a 

 splendid knight in those days of chivalry, in relieving dis- 

 tressed maidens and doing battle for the oppressed. 



