AFTER MOOSE IN ONTARIO. 



D. R. TUCKER. 



Some years ago, with a friend and his 

 wife, I left New York in September for a 

 trip to Northern Ontario and Quebec. At 

 Bai des" Peres, a Hudson bay post, we out- 

 fitted with grub, canoes and 2 guides, both 

 Indians, for a fishing trip on the many ad- 

 joining lakes and streams. 



Black bass were abundant at each camp- 

 ing place. We had the Indians build fish 

 ponds, in which we put our daily catch, 

 killing only enough for our immediate use. 

 On leaving camp we liberated our captives. 

 I caught fish on a bass rod until I was tired 

 of the sport, then commenced on them 

 with a 4,1-2 ounce fly rod, prolonging the 

 struggle and thus keeping down our dailv 

 average. The lady of our party caught our 

 only lake trout, an 18 pounder, of which 

 she was exceedingly proud. 



After wandering up and down rapid 

 streams, portaging to beautiful lakes seem- 

 ingly numberless, having many little ad- 

 ventures and incidentally a glorious time, 

 we found our way back to Lake Tamis- 

 caming, where my friends took the boat 

 for home. 



I went on to the head of the lake and 

 outfitted at a store there for a trip up the 

 Blanche river after moose, Toussaint, a 

 noted Italian trapper and hunter, going 

 with me. Three days' hard paddling and 

 portaging took us to our hunting grounds. 

 About 75 years ago the whole country 

 along this stream was burnt over. No 

 new timber has grown up, but a thick 

 brush now covers the ground, making an 

 excellent moose country. On the way up, 

 while paddling around a sharp turn in the 

 stream, we almost ran into 2 yearling cows, 

 but, of course, did not shoot. After look- 

 ing at us a few seconds, they trotted off in 

 the shallow water, then bounded over the 

 bank and away. 



Arrived at our destination, 2 long, nar- 

 row lakes, connected by a short, reedy 

 stream, we pitched camp. Thence we went 

 on foot to a large barren, where Toussaint 

 expected to see moose. Luck was not with 

 us, and we returned to camp. Next morn- 

 ing we saw a cow and a calf, paddled up 

 within 50 yards and watched them trot 

 away. After lunch we went to the upper 

 lake. While watching for moose, I put out 

 my troll, soon hooking a large oike. The 

 fish gave my trout rod: about all it could 

 stand. In the middle of the fun a bull 

 caribou crossed the narrow outlet, about 

 200 yards away, but was out of sight be- 

 fore I could get the rifle. The pjike 

 weighed 17 pounds. 



Next 'day we saw only a cow moose. At 

 night Toussaint suggested that we should 

 go to a wonderful spring lake, where he 



was sure we would see a bull. Early in the 

 morning we crossed the lake, leaving our 

 canoe, but taking grub, blankets and rifle, 

 walked 2 miles to a little lake, where the 

 Indian found a small canoe. We loaded 

 up and got in, to find that our frail craft 

 was only about 2 inches out of the water. 

 Paddling carefully out of the lake down 

 one stream and up another, we came 

 to a small stream of clear water, which 

 the Indian said came from Spring lake. 

 Proceeding up it with great care, for 

 it was narrow and shallow, about , half a 

 mile, we made camp. After eating launch 

 we took the canoe and rifle and paddled 

 on to the springs about 1-3 mile. 



On the way up Toussaint stopped pad- 

 dling, softly whispering, "Bear," and point- 

 ed to a spot in the brush not 20 yards away. 

 I made out something black, which proved 

 to be Bruin's head. I pressed the trigger 

 and the bear was ours. He had been feed- 

 ing on a yearling moose, which, the Indian 

 said, he had killed. After skinning the bear 

 and taking some meat, we went on to the 

 lake, a short distance away. It was a 

 small sheet of water, not more than 5 or 6 

 acres in extent, situated in a lovely dell, 

 surrounded by low hills. No stream runs 

 into it, but it is fed by 14 large springs, 

 boiling up from craterlike depressions in 

 the white sand, which covers the whole 

 bottom of the lake. The water was so 

 pure and clear that it could hardly be seen 

 and, although the lake is 30 or 40 feet 

 deep, a pin could have been distinguished 

 on the bottom. The canoe seemed floating 

 in air and several times I dipped my hands 

 in the water to assure myself that we 

 were not suspended by some enchantment. 



As the light began to fade we reluctantly 

 headed for camp. Just before reaching it 

 a big bull moose loomed up in the dusk. 

 One quick shot finished him. We left him 

 where he fell until morning, when we 

 skinned him and took his head. By work- 

 ing hard all day and making 2 trips, we 

 got back to our permanent camp, leaving 

 skins and head over night at the lake 

 where we got the small canoe. 



During the next 2 days we saw several 

 cows and on the 3d day killed another 

 bull with a large head, after an exciting 

 chase. Then we said goodbye to our hunt- 

 ing grounds and headed "for" the Ottawa. 

 Two days of easy paddling, but some hard 

 portaging, down the rapid stream, took us 

 safely back. On our way down we saw 

 where many moose had crossed since we 

 went uo. A few days of rest at the head 

 of the lake and I paddled down to Bai des 

 Peres, where the steamboat was caught for 

 civilization again. 



13 



