Aug. 10, 1895.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



117 



THE DEER'S CHALLENGE. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



Some time ago I was reading an article in Forest and 

 Stream asking, does the white-tailed deer challenge? As 

 an old time deer hunter I can safely say they do. For 

 instance, I was hunting on the first snow. It was in open 

 growth. I was following a large buck. Coming up on 

 the side of the ridge I heard this low, muttering sound, 

 as though it was made in the throat. It was coming 

 toward me at the time. I did not know what it was. I 

 crept down toward the sound and a large buck deer, with 

 neck curved and nose most to the ground, was making 

 the sound mentioned. I shot him on the spot. At the 

 sound of the gun the one that I was following jumped 

 from some bushes, not 20ft. from where tbis one stood 

 that I shot. 



Then another time I was hunting in burnt land; was 

 coming up over a horseback; on the other side I heard 

 the same noise, only made by two. I crept up so I could 

 see over the other side. There were the two large bucks 

 some 20 or 30ft. apart. They were both hooking the 

 bushes and making that same rattling sound. I shot both 

 on the spot; and when I went to them I expected to see 

 the snow all torn up; but they had not come together. 

 So I assume to say that they never come to a fight with- 

 out giving that same or some other challenge. 



Now I would ask Mr. A. Y. Walton to answer one 

 question for me— that is this, did he ever see any two ani- 

 mals come together for a fight without some kind of a 

 challenge? I will ask him to just name one instance 

 either of domestic or wild animals; I won't except 

 Jiuman, for no two men will start into a fight without 

 words in way of challenge. Let two dogs come to a fight; 

 will they come together without growling at each other? 

 That is their way of challenge. Also let two bulls come 

 together for a fight; don't they bellow and paw up the 

 earth? That is their way of challenge. Now deer have 

 their way just the same as all others; at least, I shall al- 

 ways think so until some one convinces me different, for 

 the reason that I heard them at different times. 



A. McLain. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



I had thought some one else would respond to this in- 

 teresting question before now. I have had some ten 

 "years' experience in still-hunting deer, about evenly divi- 

 ded between the black-tail of the Coast Range in 

 California and the white-tail of the eastern cordillera of 

 the Sierra Madre in Mexico. Only once during- that time 

 have I heard any vocal sound from deer except the cry 

 of the wounded. 



The exception was during my Christmas hunt of 1894. 

 I was slowly climbing a long steep point toward camp 

 about 11 o'clock one morning. I had hunted all the 

 morning, most of the time for a crippled deer that finally 

 escaped, and was tired and disgusted. My attention was 

 suddenly arrested by a rather coarse and short bawl or 

 bleat, very like that of a goat. I looked across the canon 

 to my right and saw a fine buck deer. When my eyes 

 first lighted on him he was trotting with his nose to the 

 ground, but at that instant he stopped and threw up his 

 head. I was too anxious to retrieve my lost morning to 

 wait and see whether he would call again or not, but 

 took a hasty aim and fired. The shot was a long one and 

 my nerves were unsteady, so that I scored a miss. The 

 distance was probably over 200 yards, but I had 

 heard him distinctly. He pitched over the hill without 

 ever seeing me, as I judged, being frightened chiefly by 

 the impact of the ball. 



I went around the head of the canon, and when I crept 

 up found three deer instead of one — two bucks and a doe. 

 Whether the one which challenged had been driven off 

 by the other, or whether he had been in search of a mate 

 and had just then come up on the pair, I had no means 

 of knowing. Nor did I see him when he made the call 

 above described. But he certainly made it. My own 

 belief is that he was alone and seeking a mate, that is a 

 doe, for December is the height of the running season 

 here. What little I saw of hia movements gave me that 

 impression. 



Speaking of the bawling of wounded deer, I should 

 like to ask if others have concluded, as I have, that the 

 cry is chiefly the effect of fright rather than of pain. A 

 deer may be wounded in such a way that the pain must 

 be acute, without making any moan. But if he is not ren- 

 dered helpless, especially if the wound does not greatly 

 impair his vitality, he will invariably bawl. Of course 

 the outcry is not the less trying to the sensitive hunter, 

 but possibly it may be of slight relief to some to think 

 that it is a symptom of fright and not of excruciating 

 pain. 



We ai'e all indebted to the gentleman who gave us so 

 clear and full an account of the deer of Western Texas. 

 He has thrown not a little light on the habits of those 

 found in this section, which are, as I said above, Virginia 

 deer. Their chief peculiarities are that they have no red 

 coat at any time, and that the breeding season is quite two 

 months later than in the Middle and Southern States of 

 our own country. They are, I should say, about of aver- 

 age size, though not often very fat. Why they should 

 have a late running season I cannot conjecture. The 

 summers are not hot, as my readers might suppose, but 

 quite cool. While the inhabitants of the United States 

 are sweltering, we have cool breezes and pleasant nights. 

 That is, of course, on the highlands of Mexico. The 

 summer is our rainy season. I have reason to believe that 

 the breeding habits of most of the fauna here are affected 

 by the delay of the rains, when that happens. I believe 

 Mr. Walton noted a similar circumstance in regard to the 

 deer of Texas. That may prove to be a clew. Aztec. 



San Luis Potosi, Mexico, July 24. 



Minnesota Non-Resident Law. 



In our issue of July 27 a correspondent wrote that the 

 Minnesota non-resident law was not given in the Fish 

 Commissioner's compilation of the law, and had not been 

 approved by the Governor. This, it should have been said 

 at the time, was an error. The Commissioner's compila- 

 tion does not give it, but it was approved by the Gover- 

 nor April 25, and is contained in the Game Laws in Brief, 

 which compilation, by the way, has proved in many in- 

 stances even more reliable than official publications. The 

 Minnesota law exacts a hunting license fee of $25, but 

 only from residents of such other States as make non- 

 resident discriminations. 



wt(c unci (turn. 



A MOOSE PARADISE. 



It has long been conceded that to bring to bag a moose 

 is the goal of ambition for the great majority of big game 

 hunters in our region, but few have attained thereto, 

 owing to the scarcity of the quarry and the difficulties to 

 be met with in hunting it. 



We have, however, a "soft spot" here in Nova Scotia 

 for which we will claim the title of a "moose paradise," 

 so as to be upsides with our friend "Prowler" and his 

 "caribou paradise." Of course we cannot guarantee a 

 moose to any one, but there is a fair chance, and even 

 should a man fail, could he fail to be pleased with our 

 beautiful autumn weather and the rest, recreation and 

 pleasure of a few weeks in camp, such as was enjoyed by 

 the principals in the following narrative. 



We left Shelburne bright and early on the morning of 

 Sept. 15 and tramped to the foot of Lake John. Our 

 canoe, provisions, baggage of various kinds all having 

 gone on ahead per the Shelburne county ox team express; 

 we caught up on them about ten miles on the road, in 

 time for dinner. Then leaving the main coach road we 

 struck a wood road for the remaining twelve miles into 

 the lake. I think the less said about that tote road the 

 better. Certainly it was not macadamized. Imagine for 

 yourself a buck board wagon with a birch bark canoe and 

 lots of dunnage strapped on, the patient ox team ahead, 

 the patient (?) driver at one side, the front wheels stuck in 

 a mud hole, the rear ones elevated on a fallen tree or 

 stone, the prospect of a repetition of the scene for some 

 ten miles or so in uninterrupted succession,.and I am sure 

 you will join with me in saying there is lots of pure, unsul- 

 lied enjoyment in a moose hunt. 



After such a pleasant day we arrived about 6 P. M. at 

 the foot of the lake, and at once started into camp. The 

 ox team express and driver set out again after supper and 

 an hour's rest, with the understanding that they were to 

 be back for us in two weeks. Now, as we have got rid of 

 strangers, we can describe the party. 



First and foremost must come our guide "Frank," a full- 

 blooded Micmac Indian, who has been in at the death of 

 many a lordly moose, a perfect hunter, and one who is 

 acquainted with nature in all her varied moods. She 

 yielded to him at his bidding every necessity. Where an 

 ordinary man would have starved or frozen to death he 

 found an abundance of all things needful. An adept at 

 calling, which he learned in youth by endeavoring to 

 imitate the cow moose herself, his was no second-hand 

 learning, gained from a brother woodsman. But he shone 

 particularly at a still-hunt. He says himself, I know some 

 can call better than me, but I am the best at a still- hunt. 

 What an amount of study it must have taken to be able to 

 tell almost at a glance the age of a track, or the sex of the 

 animal which imprinted it, whether it was ' 'traveling" or 

 only cruising around a little. And then when we got 

 near the fawn how easily he knew from the formation of 

 the country where the moose lay. So much for our 

 guide. 



Next comes Ned, a rather light chap, but an old and en- 

 thusiastic man in the woods; and lastly the writer, strong 

 enough and enthusiastic enough, but fearfully liable to 

 strong and sudden attacks of buck fever when game is in 

 sight. 



After taking leave of our driver, the last vestige of 

 civilization, we had another "Bnack" of supper and 

 turned in, needless to say we slept as only tired men could 

 sleep. 



Next morning bright and early we were up, and after a 

 splendid breakfast of partridge, shot the previous evening, 

 and some trout, fresh from the lake that morning, we em- 

 barked in our birch bark and paddled away rapidly up 

 the lake, the sun shining brightly, the lake as calm as a 

 millpond, the deep green of the spruces, the varied tints 

 of autumnal color in the hardwood trees, the rising 

 ground surrounding the lake, the image of which beauti- 

 fully imprinted on the glassy surface, made a picture 

 which did indeed prove restful and refreshing to eyes, 

 for a whole year, used to city scenes. 



Traveling in a canoe has often been called the poetry 

 of motion, and truly we thought so that morning. How- 

 ever such ease and luxury could not last, for here we are 

 at the first portage, over which we have slowly and 

 laboriously to lug both canoe and dunnage. We arrived 

 at the end of our journey in time for dinner; and our 

 hopes were raised by numerous signs of moose, although 

 none very fresh. We were also much tempted to use our 

 guns on both partridge and rabbits on our way over, but as 

 we were now in good game country it was deemed 

 expedient to make as little noise as possible. Again on 

 coming in view of Lake Randy, at the end of the portage, 

 we found the blue wing duck very numerous feeding in 

 the sedge around the lake. After dinner we embarked 

 again and oh! what a commotion our appearance did 

 cause among the feathered tribe; crossing the lake we 

 entered a Stillwater about two miles long, and as the 

 country on either side was admirably adapted for moose, 

 we paddled up very cautiously, watching closely for the 

 quarry. However, although sign was very numerous and 

 recent, we saw no game. Leaving the Stillwater and 

 crossing another small lake, we arranged our camp for the 

 night. 



About 5 P. M. , the wind having fallen completely, we 

 took the canoe and paddled some distance up the lake to 

 a small open bog, and tried to call, but were unsuccessful, 

 although we were answered by a bull a long way off. As 

 he would only come a little and then go back, we con- 

 cluded he was already with a cow. 



The following morning being cold, rainy and blowing, 

 we were late of breaking camp, and while crossing our 

 second portage heard a cow call and the bull answer some 

 little way ahead. The wind was right, blowing down 

 from them to us. Ned being still back at the camp, Frank 

 and I started off on a still-hunt; but misfortune seemed to 

 follow us, because on reaching the vicinity where we 

 heard the call we found ourselves surrounded by a dense 

 thicket of spruce, and no signs or sounds of the moose. 

 Frank then sounded the bull call or challenge to fight. 

 The sound had hardly escaped from his lips, when 

 wough! wough! came our answer, accompanied by a crash- 

 ing and breaking of boughs that, I can assure you, 

 was calculated to frighten any one but a trained hunter. 

 I at once threw up my rifle and awaited his appearance 

 through the dense bushes, my inexperience of the vitality 



and power of the moose giving me courage to stand 

 directly in his path and wait. Frank, however, ran aside 

 to a stout tree, intending to get a side shot. However, a 

 slight air at that moment carried the scent to the moose 

 and all noise instantly ceased (to my astonishment, you 

 may well suppose), and although the Indian immediately 

 broke through in the direction where the moose was, he 

 never saw it nor heard it, so quickly and quietly can they 

 get away when they feel so inclined. It afterward trans- 

 pired that Ned, coming on our trail (unfortunately with- 

 out bis rifle), saw both cow and bull cross some 50yds. in 

 front of him. So ended our first chance of a shot. 



I should say, however, to show how thick was the cover, 

 that on measuring we found the place where the moose 

 turned was only eleven paces from where I stood. 



Our unsuccessful still-hunt took up a goodly part of the 

 forenoon, so that on reaching the end of our portage we 

 concluded to go into camp for the night, as it was blow- 

 ing and raining, altogether a most disagreeable day. 

 Toward evening we went down to the lake and spent 

 about an hour trolling for big trout, and had some 

 splendid sport; we reserved two only for our supper and 

 let all the others go. 



In the morning Frank awakened us before daylight. As 

 there was not a breath of wind, quietly and I may say 

 coldly we picked our way out to the adjacent bog, and 

 after stowing ourselves away as comfortably as possible 

 in a small chimp of hackmatack trees waited for the break- 

 ing of day. As soon as it became light enough, Frank 

 made a call— oh I such a call! would that I could describe 

 it, once heard, never to be forgotten; so utterly unlike 

 anything we had ever heard, the early morn, the stillness 

 of the air and woods, and our expectancy all conducing 

 to enhance the mystery of it again. After a twenty min- 

 utes' pause he called again. Still no answer. Again he 

 called just as the sun was showing through the tree-tops 

 when "wough! wough!" came the answer from the 

 woods about a mile away. How eagerly we scanned the 

 fringe of bushes for a glimpse of him; how we examined 

 our rifles again to see that they were ready, though we 

 knew they were; how we strained every nerve to hear or 

 see anything. As he drew near, every now and then 

 striking his antlers on the trees, we were seized with an 

 extra bad attack of fever, which usually attacks men in 

 like circumstances. However, all suspense comes to an 

 end and so did ours, for now he comes out and skirts 

 round the fringe of bushes on the edge of the woods, al- 

 ternately appearing and disappearing. Finally he edges 

 toward us, and getting nearly over to the track we came 

 along, "Heaven grant he may not cross it," or good-bye 

 moose. Soon he came about 200yds. from where we were 

 and stopped, evidently trying to get a scent of his fair 

 enchanter — or of danger. He seemed very suspicious, 

 and as at that moment he presented his shoulder to us, I 

 took advantage of it and sent a hollow-pointed .50-110-300 

 Winchester ball. Almost at the same moment Ned fired 

 with his .45-90, and like a flash that animal made off into 

 the bushes. I got another shot at him as he disappeared, 

 and we immediately gave chase, as I was satisfied my 

 first shot had taken effect. On reaching the point where 

 he disappeared, I waited for Frank to come up. He said 

 that he was afraid we had missed, as he could find no 

 blood signs, and the tracks were quite plain and strong. 

 However, I was so sure of my shot that we followed on 

 and came upon him about 300 yards away. I would not 

 like to say how many steps I took to cover the interven- 

 ing space, nor would I like to say how loud I shouted. 

 Suffice to say I reached him, and found him lying in his 

 tracks, no sign of a struggle; each hoof in its last print. 

 Ned came up, and after a lot of handshaking and good- 

 natured rivalry as to whose shot had killed him, we 

 proceeded to skin him at once. We could only find one 

 bullet hole and from that there was scarcely a drop of 

 blood. After getting off the skin and head we cut off 

 some steak and returned to camp for breakfast. How 

 juicy that steak did taste, and how we enjoyed it! 



After breakfast Ned and Frank returned to the field of 

 action, while I was doing some needed work about camp. 

 On getting through I shouldered my rifle "Injun style," 

 i. e. , butt over my shoulder and holding by muzzle, picked 

 a piece of spruce gum and was slowly, contentedly and 

 happily making my way over the bog, when on looking 

 up, to my intense astonishment, I saw on the edge of the 

 woods 200yds. away a second moose eyeing me with as 

 much astonishment as I saw it. We both concluded to 

 act at the same moment, the moose bounding away into 

 the woods with a fearful crashing and I shooting after 

 him. As before, I followed up and was gratified to find 

 blood on both sides of his track. I now found. Frank run- 

 ning after me, attracted by the shooting, and we followed 

 that moose over bogs and barrens and sticks and stones 

 and windfalls and every barrier conceivable, till I was 

 utterly exhausted, but never got a sight of him, although 

 we found he had lain down several times. Finally we 

 concluded to leave him, as we would have to hurry any- 

 way in order to get the one shot in the morning out of 

 the woods without spoiling; in fact, we did almost lose 

 the head. On reaching the spot where the moose was 

 standing when I first saw him we found two distinct 

 clumps of hair, showing that the ball went through some 

 portion of him. 



We now cut up and quartered our moose and prepared 

 the meat for carrying out. When we opened the chest 

 box of the animal we found it full of blood, we cleaned 

 it out and saw that the bullet (a hollow point with brass 

 cap) had gone clean through the rib next to us when we 

 shot, had then spread, and torn its way through the 

 .lung, cutting off the large bloodvessel at its junction 

 with the heart (so accounting for internal bleeding), and 

 splintered the rib on the other side completely, in fact 

 just ground it up, and the ball itself was lying under the 

 skin. We found the little brass cap from the bullet in 

 the blood, thus establishing my right to the honor of kill- 

 ing my moose. 



After cutting it up and arranging it in bundles to 

 carry, we started back over our track to the foot of Lake 

 John. Ned then started out to the settlement for a team 

 to take out the meat. In the meantime Frank and I re- 

 turned to camp, which we reached at dusk, completely 

 fagged out. Next morning before daylight we were 

 away again with the rest of the meat. The morning was 

 so windy we were unable to call. On arriving at our 

 destination we found a man and team waiting for us, 

 having traveled all night, so we loaded up the team with 

 the moose and saw it start out. Ned had not come back, 

 owing to other engagements. 

 As it was now 1 o'clock we paddled to the outlet of the 



