NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU HUNTING 



241 



killed. During five subsequent days 

 not a single pair of antlers was even 

 sighted. Pushing on up stream we 

 camped on the 24th in a spruce thicket 

 by the bank of Butt's Brook. That 

 very evening, before pitching the tents, 

 three of the party each had a caribou, 

 and five more first-rate heads were seen. 

 A week later, after six days of fruit- 

 less effort, and some eighty or ninety 

 miles apiece of useless tramping, we 

 started for Middle Ridge, our final 

 destination. More caribou were seen 



journey to the highlands. The great 

 autumn gathering has commenced. 

 This is the time for the man with a 

 gun, who is also anxious to be on the 

 spot during the very best period of the 

 open season. The velvet has rubbed 

 off and the fat venison still untainted 

 by the rut is in prime condition. It is 

 the merest murder to kill a stag during 

 the "running" season in October, after 

 which, in November, they are poor, 

 thin creatures at best, while in De- 

 cember no trophies are carried on their 



FOR INSPECTION. 



the day of our arrival than during the 

 remainder of the trip. Subsequent ex- 

 perience has proved that first hunt to 

 have been planned in utter disregard 

 of the habits of the very animals we 

 sought. I have since come to the con- 

 clusion that its success was due solely 

 to hard work and fair shooting, to which 

 might be added a goodly proportion 

 of blind luck. 



Early in September barrens previous- 

 ly deserted are seen to be dotted with 

 little groups of does and yearlings 

 feeding about, and a week or so later 

 (after a drenching rain) the stags, with 

 newly peeled and polished antlers, trot 

 proudly from their summer homes and 



heads. Strange as it may seem, the 

 oldest animals sheet their antlers during 

 November, three or four year olds a 

 month or so later, while does have been 

 known to carry their sharp little horns 

 well into spring. With their arrival on 

 the open country the caribou's habits un- 

 dergo a marked change. They are no 

 longer the quiet, seclusive, nocturnal 

 and locally disturbed animals that we 

 sought during the fly season, but wan- 

 derers, always traveling, constantly 

 roaming from place to place, often 

 many miles in a single day. As a conse- 

 quence, the sportsman may pitch a 

 large, comfortable home camp, he may 

 tramp for miles at pleasure, and at 



