A MAINE MOOSE HUNT. 



JOS. W. SIIURTER. 



Last October 2 congenial vacation com- 

 panions and I enjoyed a trip to the head- 

 waters of the Penobscot and St. John's 

 rivers, in Maine. Onr trip was originally 

 planned for New Brunswick, but after ar- 

 ranging all the details we reconsidered our 

 plans, and the Maine trip was substituted. 

 We were informed we would not be al- 

 lowed to take any game or heads of game 

 out of the province, and did not learn until 

 later that the information was not correct. 



Our start for the happy hunting grounds 

 of Maine was made much after the fashion 

 of a balky team, but perseverance and a 

 liberal use of the telegraph enabled us to 

 concentrate men and baggage at the little 

 station of Jackman, on the line of the Cana- 

 dian Pacific R.R., on the 7th of October. 



From this point we were conveyed by 

 wagon over a good road, 28 miles North, 

 crossing the line and going some 10 or 11 

 miles into the province of Quebec, where 

 we stopped at Mrs. Rainey's hospitable and 

 comfortable resort. There we met our 

 guides, and from there hauled our outfit 

 over a tote-road 30 miles East to our home 

 camp on the Penobscot, which we reached 

 October 9th. A week spent in tramping 

 over the surrounding country for a dis- 

 tance of 7 or 8 miles convinced us we 

 would have to go farther into the wilder- 

 ness to find the game we were seeking. 

 Therefore we instructed Elliott, our head 

 guide, to remain at home camp to take care 

 of the things we were obliged to leave be- 

 hind us, and to have the teams and pro- 

 visions there to meet us on our return 

 October 30th. 



October 18th we carried our canoes and 

 a small supply of provisions across to St. 

 John's pond on the headwaters of the Ba- 

 ker lake branch of the St. John's river. 

 October 22d we started down the river for 

 Baker lake, which we reached on the 23d. 

 October 26th we started on our return to 

 home camp, via Baker lake bog, Carry 

 brook, Lee bog, and the Penobscot, and 

 reached home camp on the 29th. 



Our provisions gave out on the 27th, and 

 for 2 days we cheered our empty stomachs 

 with promises of the good things we would 

 treat them to when we should reach home 

 camp, but when we arrived we found no 

 Elliott, no teams, no provisions, and 15 

 miles still between us and grub. However, 

 we were trained down to such an extent 

 that a simple matter of 15 miles was not 

 much of an obstacle for us to overcome. 

 At noon of the 30th we were at Bradstreet's 

 supply camp on our way to Rainey's, and 

 the cook, good fellow, was doing his best 



to fill us up once more. It took him near- 

 ly 2 days to accomplish this feat. On the 

 31st we reached Rainey's and sent in the 

 teams for our outfit and trophies. 



Meantime, I had secured a caribou. 

 These animals are very scarce in that sec- 

 tion and are considered great prizes. The 

 one I killed had been hunted for nearly 3 

 weeks by a sportsman, with 2 good guides. 

 It happened to be my luck to get him in 

 about 15 minutes. 



Lee bog is almost a circle in form and 

 nearly a mile in diameter. The Penobscot 

 runs, or rather oozes, through its center, 

 the water 6 to 10 inches deep on top, the 

 mud underneath 600 feet deep, perhaps 

 more. On either side of the river the mud 

 is covered by a network of roots of grasses, 

 stunted shrubs, and moss, which lies like 

 a skin on top of the soft mass, except where 

 it is traversed by a lagoon of pure, un- 

 adulterated mud. 



My guide, " Lucky Jack " Henry, 

 manned the paddle in the stern of our 

 canoe while I occupied the shooter's po- 

 sition in the bow. As we emerged from 

 the forest and looked over the flat expanse 

 of the bog I at once discovered an old 

 cow caribou walking out on the bog to 

 feed, Y-2. mile ahead of us. She was fol- 

 lowed at a distance of 2 or 3 rods by her 

 calf, and it in turn was followed by an old 

 bull. 



A low range of brush partly screened our 

 approach. We were soon at the shore op- 

 posite them and distant some 300 yards. 

 There I left the canoe and crawled toward 

 the caribou, on hands and knees; partly 

 covered by a clump of brush which rose 

 from the bog about 100 yards from where 

 they were feeding. 



Half way to the clump I came to a la- 

 goon which crossed my course at right 

 angles. I could see no end to it in either 

 direction. I tried the mud with my foot 

 and found it as soft as w r ater. Placing my 

 foot on the skin of the bog as near its 

 edge as it afforded any support, I pushed 

 myself forward through the mud as far as 

 possible, at the same time pitching my 

 Marlin across on the skin of the opposite 

 side. The guide started forward to rescue 

 me from what seemed to him certain death. 

 Before he reached me I was safe across. 

 Luckily the^p^me had not been disturbed, 

 and I was soon at the clump of brush. 

 Once, twice, three times I brought the rifle 

 to my shoulder before I recovered my wind 

 sufficiently to hold the sights steadily on 

 the old bull's shoulder. 



At the crack of the rifle he started with 



251 



