RECREATION 



Volume XVI. 



MAY, 1902. 

 G. 0. SHIELDS (COQUINA), Editor and Manager 



Number 5, 



A MIX-UP WITH A LYNX. 



T. A. RYER. 



More years ago than I like to 

 reckon up, I was a boy and living in 

 Nova Scotia. My father was called 

 at that time the best moose hunter in 

 the Province ; so my brother and I 

 were born woodsmen, and we tagged 

 along at our best pace in the old 

 man's footsteps. Game was abun- 

 dant, though that is a meaningless 

 phrase. No one now can realize what 

 a Nova Scotian hunter of 50 years 

 ago meant by an abundance of game. 



Of big game there were moose, 

 caribou, bear and deer. Our fur- 

 bearing animals were beaver, otter, 

 mink, marten, fox and wildcat. Rab- 

 bits and grouse swarmed on the land 

 and ducks and geese on the water. 



My brother was a great trapper, 

 and especially skilled in catching 

 wildcats. Though I was too young 

 to be of much help, I always went 

 with him on his rounds. We had a 

 Newfoundland dog that was sudden 

 death to any cat trapped by the fore 

 feet. A cat caught by a hind foot 

 could generally stand off the dog un- 

 til we took a hand in the game. 



As I have said, my brother was al- 

 ways lucky. He killed the largest 

 moose ever seen in the Province. It 

 weighed over 1,400 pounds, and its 

 horns spread 6 feet from point to 

 point. We would often gather in 6 

 or 7 cats in a day, and all within 3 

 miles of our house. You may believe 

 I had more fun in those days than I 

 have ever had since. Our guns were 

 only smooth bore muzzle loaders, but 

 we got lots of game with them. 



Our dog did a lot of hunting on 



his own hook. When he found a 

 fresh track he would follow and gen- 

 erally tree a cat. Then he would 

 stand under the tree and bark until 

 my brother or I came. I well re- 

 member a mix-up that dog and I had 

 with a lynx, the first I ever saw ; and 

 it came near being the last. 



Early one morning my father 

 heard the dog barking on a ridge, a 

 half mile or so from the house. I 

 was called out of bed and sent to see 

 what the dog had. I took my old 

 single barreled smooth bore and 

 trudged along. About 30 feet up in 

 a tree over the dog was what I 

 thought was a large wildcat. I fired ; 

 down it came, and the dog was on it 

 in an instant. Gosh ! you should have 

 seen the hair fly ! The poor dog 

 had no more chance with that lynx 

 than I would have had with Samson. 

 The great cat had him on his back in 

 a flash, and was raking his belly with 

 its hind claws. 



I saw the dog would be killed in a 

 minute more. I had no time to load 

 the gun, but picked up the first thing 

 I saw, which happened to be a dead 

 limb that lay handily, and sailed in. 

 The limb was rotten, and flew into 

 bits at the first blow. All I accom- 

 plished was to turn the lynx's atten- 

 tion to myself. It let go the dog 

 and, with a spitting yowl, sprang at 

 me. I ran backward a few feet, 

 tripped, and fell, with the lynx on 

 top, raking me fore and aft. 



But the old dog was good stuff. 

 He worried the brute so savagely that 

 it had to turn and fight him off. I 



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