WILL A HULL MOOSE LIGHT? 



DK 



A. ('. SHOEMAKER. 



I have several times noticed, in Recrea- 

 tion, accounts of bull moose showing fight. 



1 have also heard lumbermen tell oL being 

 treed by angry moose that disputed their 

 right of way in the woods. 



As bearing on the point, 1 will narrate 

 my experience last fall on the head waters 

 of the Little Tobique, at Nictan lake, New 

 Brunswick. 



A friend and I were there 4 weeks, 

 hunting moose and caribou. My friend 

 got a moose the morning after our arrival, 

 but I was not so fortunate. One morning 

 my guide, Dave Cremin, was paddling me 

 up the lake, keeping about 50 yards from 

 shore. We heard a sudden crash in tfie 

 brush. The noise lasted but an instant. 

 Dave sounded a call on a moose horn. 

 There was no reply. The call was repeat- 

 ed, and immediately we heard something 

 coming with a rush as if to land on top 

 of us. The animal stopped near the wa- 

 ter's edge, hidden by the brush. The guide 

 took the moose horn and by gently splash- 

 ing in the water produced sounds exactly 

 like those made by a large animal while 

 wading. That was more than the bull 

 could stand. He left the cover and walked 

 50 or 60 feet into the water, coming with- 

 in 75 yards of the canoe. After a long look 

 at us he turned and went back to shore, 

 where we heard him grunting loudly. He 

 came out again, a little farther up the lake, 

 and looked us over once more. Then he 

 made off toward the hills, occasionally giv- 

 ing an angry grunt, as if he resented the 

 awakening from his dream of love. I did 

 not shoot at him because he was an under- 

 sized animal with small, nubby horns. 



Every morning and evening for a week 

 we paddled around the lake without seeing 

 another bull, although there were always 



2 or 3 cows feeding in the inlet. 



At last the guide proposed we go to 

 Foster's caribou holes — a chain of small, 

 deadwater ponds, 6 or 7 miles from Nic- 

 tan camp. Accordingly we packed a small 

 shelter, tent, sleeping bags and provisions 

 for several days, and started. Arriving 

 where we were to camp, we left our packs 

 and went quietly to the water holes. 

 There was no moose in sight, though one 

 had evidently just left, as the water was 

 soiled and there were fresh tracks. For 

 the remainder of the day, while Dave put 

 the camp in order, I watched that hole 

 faithfully. The next morning I was there 

 before light, but not even a cow moose 

 put in an appearance. Late in the day we 

 went the length of the deadwater; there 

 were plenty of signs, but nothing else. 



About 7:30 that evening, just as the full 

 moon rose over the ridge behind us, we 

 heard a moose calling. The sound came 

 from the direction of the water holes, 34 

 mile away. While we were arguing wheth- 

 er to go there or not, the call was repeated 

 loudly. In a few minutes we heard the 

 long, weird, plaintive call of a cow moose, 

 which was at once answered by the bull. 



I immediately took my rifle, and telling 

 Dave to follow, went in the direction of 

 the sounds. I thought that by going quiet- 

 ly along the deadwater we might get near 

 enough to the bull to obtain a fair shot in 

 the bright moonlight. When we got in the 

 woods, however, it was so dark we could 

 keep on the trail only by feeling for the 

 blaze marks on the trees. In that way 

 we stumbled along, sometimes on the trail, 

 but more often off, until we came within 

 200 yards of Foster's pond. There we 

 heard something coming toward us. The 

 guide was beside a big spruce and at once 

 stepped behind it. I remained perfectly 

 still, standing in the trail. 



Presently a dark object appeared on the 

 trail and stopped about 60 feet from me. 

 I took a step toward the guide to ask if he 

 thought it was a cow or a bull. When I 

 moved, the animal disappeared to one side 

 of the trail, but its place was immediately 

 taken by another. That was surely a bull, 

 as we could distinguish the horns when he 

 put his nose to the ground and raised it 

 again. I wanted to shoot, but the guide 

 told me to wait ; he was apparently more 

 interested in the actions of the animals 

 than in my shooting. Finally he said, "Let 

 him have it !" I threw the gun to my 

 face and fired. 



Almost before I heard the report I saw 

 the moose coming at me like a rocket. If 

 the brute had been as large as he looked 

 to me then, he would be the record breaker 

 of the century. With ready courtesy I 

 tried to step aside and let him pass. My 

 foot caught, I fell, and the animal went 

 directly over me. In an instant I was up 

 again and shooting, and had knocked him 

 down. "Come on," cried Dave, "and fin- 

 ish him !" Before we got near, the moose 

 was up and off. Again I fired and knocked 

 him down, only to have him spring up 

 and run. I put another bullet in him and 

 down he went the third time. That 

 left me but 2 more cartridges. We were 

 almost to the moose, when once more he 

 got up and ran. I fired my remaining 

 shots at him, but did not think either took 

 effect. By that time the guide was dancing 

 like a madman and swearing like a pirate, 



25 



