BUD MOOSE POSES. 



H. B. BROWN. 



It was a cold, bleak day late in Novem- 

 ber, and a gale swept across the Northern 

 slope of Spotted Spruce ^mountain. Except 

 for the noise made by the wind, the occa- 

 sional tap of a woodpecker, the lonesome 

 "yank, yank," of an industrious nuthatch, 

 or the discordant call of some Canada jay, 

 silence lay unbroken over the vast forest. 



High up the mountain, exposed to the 

 chilling blasts, a lone bull moose was peel- 

 ing the bark from saplings, pausing at 

 times to listen, or to gaze at the surround- 

 ings, thus repeatedly convincing himself 

 that nothing threatened his safety. He 

 moved slowly and cautiously along paths 

 well beaten in the snow, making no noise, 

 and it was apparent that he was familiar 

 with the range. 



Suddenly both large ears were cocked 

 back, his jaws ceased munching and he 

 listened intently. Then he swung his huge 

 head around, trained his ears in the new 

 direction, and stood as if carved from 

 granite. His nostrils quivered as he in- 

 haled the air, seeking in it the taint of ap- 

 proaching danger; his small, dark eyes eag- 

 erly scanned the downward slope and 

 searched among the trees for signs of the 

 author of the sound which had reached 

 him; his ears showed by their rigidity how 

 intently they listened, and his whole bear- 

 ing was of wary alertness. Then he turned 

 and with noiseless tread retreated until 

 sheltered behind a mass of tree tops felled 

 by some bygone storm. There he waited, 

 watching and listening. A dark form 

 could soon be seen laboring up the slope, 

 and he who was hidden by the blowdown, 

 recognizing another of his kind, advanced 

 to greet him. 



"Hello, Bud," the newcomer saluted in 

 moose language, "I got to thinking about 

 you and this old time resort, so I came up 

 to see you. Alone, aren't you? I thought 

 so by the sign I noticed when I first struck 

 your feeding trails. Nice lonesome place 

 up here, isn't it!* Pretty hard to beat this 

 locality ! Perhaps you think it strange I 

 should seek you out after the drubbing you 

 gave me early in the fall, but I've forgiven 

 you. It was either you or I, and the abler 

 won. There's more snow in the air and I 

 shouldn't be surprised if a big storm were 

 brewing. If it^should be, and the snow 

 should get deep, you'll see that old fellow 

 who has been loafing around the swamp 

 down by Spectacle pond getting up here as 

 soon as his weak legs will let him." 



"You're mistaken there," replied Bud, 

 "you'll never lay eyes on him again." 



"Why not?" the other asked. "Has he 

 left this part of the country?" 



"Yes," continued Bud ; "he has departed 

 by the 30-30 route, and his troubles are 

 over. I saw the old chap when I was on 

 my way up here several weeks ago and 

 urged him to join me, but he would not 

 heed my arguments and advice. I had 

 been up in sight of the Kibby camps and 

 had seen smoke arising from them. By 

 that I knew a party of hunters was expect- 

 ed there, and told the old fellow that if 

 they came he would surely be found, with 

 results probably fatal to him. This year 

 his antlers grew in freak style. One was 

 small and the other looked more like a 

 cow's crumpled horn than the headpiece of 

 a veteran bull moose. He was sensitive 

 about it and afraid the others would impose 

 on him. He had fared badly during the 

 mating season, and the many defeats he 

 received then had taken away his courage. 

 He insisted on staying by himself, and paid 

 for his folly with his life." 



"You were captured," inquired the new- 

 comer, "weren't you, when you were a 

 youngster? Got stuck in the mud and 

 were dragged out by men?" 



"Yes ; I was a prisoner many days, and 

 learned much about our enemy which has 

 been of value to me since. They make, 

 with considerable ceremony, rules to gov- 

 ern their conduct toward us at certain sea- 

 sons, and then some of them deliberately 

 violate those rules. They call the rules 

 'laws' and impose severe penalties for their 

 infringement. When I was in captivity I 

 heard it said that there was always close 

 time on cow and calf moose, yet when I 

 had been released and was searching for 

 my mother, whom I didn't find for several 

 days, I came across evidence of how the 

 lust for blood in some men's breasts over- 

 comes their respect for all laws. 



"I had searched for Mother in the di- 

 rection she was going when I had last 

 seen her, and my hunt had carried me to 

 Dead river. I went down the bank look- 

 ing for some place where others had 

 crossed, for I had learned to keep out of 

 water where there was no sign that other 

 animals had entered it. While going down 

 the river I came to the body of a cow 

 moose, lying at the edge of the water where 

 it fell. She had evidently been drinking 

 when shot either from a canoe or the op- 

 posite bank. Just conceive, if you can, 

 what instincts the man who did that must 

 have! He had been afraid even to ap- 

 proach close to his victim, as the wet 



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