368 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[May 19, 1887. 



"That reminds me." 

 214. 



OUR friend John M. is a famous story teller. He has 

 a memory like wax and a style all his own. An 

 audience will stay by John as long as the lamp holds out 

 and longer, too. Into his open ear the boys love to pour 

 their "best ones," well knowing that when they come out 

 of his storehouse they will not hate lost any of their rich- 

 ness, but will rather have gained a flavor which he alone 

 can impart. John's comments on a story when he takes 

 it in and puts it away for safe keeping, are sometimes 

 better than the deposit itself. Listen to this: 



One day last summer Jack E. came up the river for a 

 day in town. He was loaded with a couple of "good 

 ones." He soon ran across John surrounded by one of 

 his congregations and quickly joined the company. At 

 the first break in the conversation, Jack said: "John, 

 have you heard the stories Brock is telling about his boy 

 Sam and the deer?" 

 John had not heard them. 



"Well," said Jack, Sam is a great chunk of a boy about 

 18 years old. He is something of a shot and also an ama- 

 teur photographer. He had a chance to go to the moun- 

 tains with "a hunting party a spell ago, and was promised 

 his first deer. He packed his camera, etc., with his traps, 

 thinking he would get some fine views of mountain scen- 

 ery. Toward evening of the first day in camp, while 

 they were all lounging about, a fine buck dashed through 

 the timber in plain sight, and took to the water in fine 

 style. 



"Young Sam sprang to his tent and in a minute appeared 

 with a rifle. Running to the bank of the river he fired 

 two shots in quick succession, just as the deer reached 

 the further shore. The monarch of the forest fell dead 

 in his tracks. A post mortem disclosed the fact that the 

 first shot had broken his lower jaw so that it hung by the 

 skin only. The second had done the same for the upper 

 jaw. The verdict of the jury was that "that thare buck 

 would never be able to browse no more." 



Here this story ended, John had listened unmoved. 



"But that's not all," said Jack. "The next day a hunt 

 was organized and the boy Sam was placed on a runway 

 by the stream. He took his camera along to while away 

 the spare time. He had been at the crossing for some 

 time and had just focused his instrument on a pretty 

 riffle about a hundred yards above, when a fine doe 

 came bounding into the water on the spot covered by the 

 camera. In an instant Sam had a negative of the pretty 

 leaping creature on a dry plate, and a second later had 

 shot the deer dead with a load of buckshot from his 

 double-barreled. " 



As this story ended a smile might have been seen play- 

 ing around John's mouth and working its way up into 

 the corners of his eyes and he said: "Well, now, d'ye 

 see. Jack, if Brock had told you that his boy took that 

 deer's photograph with the double-barreled shotgun and 

 shot her with the camera, I might have believed it." 



Blivens. 



Stkubenatxle, o. 



'ame j§<tg and (j$tit\. 



Address all communications to the Forest and Stream Pub. Co. 



A BRITISH SUBALTERN IN CANADA. 



I GOT my commission in June, 187 — , and joined the 

 — th Regiment at Halifax, Nova Scotia. Among my 

 new friends was a merchant of Halifax, an old moose 

 hunter. We agreed to start out together to call for 

 moose. The time selected was September, during the 

 full of the moon, for it is then the lords and lady moose, 

 tired of roaming forest glades alone, meet and make 

 preparations for passing the winter en famille. It took 

 the little steamer thirty-six hours to carry my friend C. 

 and myself to Shelburne, where we had arranged to meet 

 M., our guide. He was a man of about fifty-five, full of 

 energy, and with cordial manners. He prophesied good 

 sport with a confidence that made us wish to embrace 

 him on the spot. Sending the ox team ahead he took C. 

 and myself in a rickety dugout and paddled along a deep 

 stream, on the banks of which were many traces of old 

 beaver dams. We finally came to a broad sheet of water, 

 and reached M.'s camp on the opposite shore about five 

 in the afternoon. We could hear in the distance the 

 creaking and groaning of the ox team on its way to join 

 us. 



The next morning, after tying all our traps securely on 

 the cart, we started for the mocse country. M. and his 

 son, a stout lad of sixteen, went ahead to clear the way 

 witn an axe. Tom looked after the team and C. and my- 

 self deployed as skirmishers — and berry-eaters. We jogged 

 along steadily to the north over a country that had evi- 

 dently once been swept by fire. Hill and dale were 

 covered with a growth of young trees, interspersed with 

 granite boulders and huckleberry as well as blueberry 

 bushes laden with the most delicious fruit. I had heard 

 the expression "walking on your ear," but never realized 

 what it meant until I saw the capers of our cart. It 

 seemed able to clear everything, and while one wheel 

 towered high in ah, hung on nobly with the other. On 

 our way we picked up a piece of moose horn. C. and M. 

 on examining it declared it had been broken off in a fight. 

 The horn is very tough and it is no easy matter for a strong 

 man to break one up with an axe. The shipwrights in 

 that country often use it as a caulking iron when the 

 manufactured article is not to be had. If must be a thrill- 

 ing sight, a duel between two big bulls weighing eight 

 hundred pounds or more, and the impetus when they 

 meet must be indeed tremendous to shiver such a formi- 

 dable lance. 



We were nearing a lake and in went the team, pawing 

 and splashing, under the skillful guidance of M.'s boy, 

 who maintained his equilibrium in a truly wonderful 

 manner as the cart rolled over the uneven bottom of the 

 ford. We on foot took a turn to the right and joined the 

 team further on. Late in the afternoon we came to one 

 of M.'s old camps on the top of a hill, unyoked the oxen, 

 and prepared a supper of fresh meat from a moose M, 

 had lulled two days before. The meat resembles a verv 



tender beefsteak, and some people cannot tell the differ- 

 ence, though a keen palate can always distinguish the 

 peculiar moose flavor. 



We were ready for a start early the next morning, and 

 said good-bye to Tom, who was to drive the oxen back to 

 M.'s meadows. Our packs were soon ready and carried 

 on our backs Indian fashion by means of a rope or strap 

 going across the chest and over the arms. Rifle in hand 

 we descended the other side of the hill, which was thickly 

 wooded. At the base was an immense caribou bog. 



A caribou bog is comparatively dry and spongy, cov- 

 ered in spots with a white moss or lichen, a favorite food 

 of the caribou. During one of our halts M. pointed out 

 a rock whence he had one winter seen a wildcat make 

 several ineffectual springs at a herd of caribou standing, 

 as it seemed, directly under the rock. At every attempt 

 they moved away only to return to the same spot, while 

 the baffled cat climbed back to his vantage ground to 

 renew the attempt. Pointing to another spot, M. told us 

 that one winter he met there a moose cow completely 

 exhausted, followed by three dogs in the same state. As 

 it is against the law to hunt them with dogs in the winter, 

 on account of the cruelty of their legs being cut to pieces 

 by going in and out of the thin crust of ice on top of the 

 snow formed by the sun's rays by day and frost by night, 

 M. tried to drive the dogs off. Tired as they were they 

 showed fight, when three cartridges from his Winchester 

 settled their hunting forever. 



At last our weary march across the bog came to an end. 

 Right in front of us was a heavy belt of timber skirting 

 the rising ground beyond. M. and his boy here left us 

 to return for the rest of our traps. We started to get 

 through the woods, not thinking it worth while to un- 

 pack our compasses, as there was only an eighth of a 

 mile of timber to cross. After a long tramp we found 

 we had lost our way and got into a dispute as to our 

 future course, C. pointing one way and I insisting on 

 going in an entirely contrary direction, C.'s eyes sud- 

 denly flashed with intelligence, and with a smile of con- 

 fidence he started off in what I fancied must be the wrong 

 direction. After fifteen minutes' tramp we came out on 

 the right side. C. then explained that he had caught 

 sight of some hackmatack trees that grow to a fine feath- 

 ery point with an inclination to the northeast. He got a 

 northerly direction by keeping the trees a little to the 

 right. 



M. and his boy soon joined us, and together we began 

 seeking a suitable camping ground for the night. Wad- 

 ing knee deep through the long, dry ferns, we came to a 

 regular fairy dell, with the scarlet pigeon berry, blue- 

 berry and huckleberry scattered around in beautiful con- 

 trast and abundance. 



Here we found traces of a forest tragedy, the bones of 

 a moose and the tracks of a large bear. The two experts 

 disputed over the point as to whether the moose (a small 

 one) had been wounded and had crawled to die before be- 

 ing found by bruin, or whether he had crept up on her 

 unawares when she was calling, coming from the 

 direction whence she expected her loving lord. M. told 

 us his brother, formerly famous as a caller and woods- 

 man, never went to call now since a shock he had re- 

 ceived by nearly falling a victim to bruin's habit of creep- 

 ing upon a calling moose. He had been imitating the 

 call for some time, and was creeping noiselessly forward 

 when a slight rustling made him swing around" to see an 

 enormous bear almost on top of him. Bruin, luckily, was 

 as much startled and surprised as he, and beat a hasty 

 retreat. Though the compliment to his calling powers 

 was great, M.'s brother has not been much of a caller 

 since. 



M. now proceeded to make a moose-call. Selecting 

 a birch tree, he removed from it a section of bark about 

 3ft. long and 6in. wide. This he trimmed and finally 

 rolled into a funnel, fastening it with the young roots 

 of the ground juniper. These are tough and pliable, and 

 frequently used here as cord. We determined to camp 

 without putting up our lean-to; so sending M. to look for 

 water — never very far off in this country — the rest of us 

 busied ourselves breaking up small spruce boughs. The 

 butt ends of these we afterward inserted in the ground, 

 much as a bird's feathers are imbedded in its skin. This 

 makes a delicious, springy and aromatic couch. When 

 covered with dried ferns and waterproof sheets it is a bed 

 fit for a king. Our task was hardly completed when M. 

 returned in great agitation with pail and dipper. He 

 hurriedly told us that he had been chased out of a swamp 

 by a big bull moose. C. and myself got our rifles, and, 

 telling M. to lead, moved rapidly in the direction, but 

 some hundred yards to leeward of the spot where the 

 bull had last made his appearance. At length we reached 

 a little valley. M. put the call to his hps. Almost in- 

 stantly we heard the answer on our left. There, on the 

 top of a hillock 200yds. away, stood the most magnificent 

 animal I have ever seen. We might have tried a shot, 

 but after what we had heard of his exploits, and his sud- 

 den appearance, we half expected to see him rush toward 

 us. I being a novice, waited to see what the others did. 

 To hesitate was fatal. He soon got our wind, turned and 

 fled. 



As it was getting late we returned to camp. At supper 

 M. gave us the details of his -being put to rout. While he 

 was in the swamp the moose suddenly arose from behind 

 some bushes. As M. was admiring the splendid beast, he 

 was amazed to find the animal moving slowly toward 

 him. He clapped his tin pail and dipper together, but it 

 had no effect. His surprise turned to fright, and he took 

 to his heels. His theory was that the animal was to wind- 

 ward, had never seen a man before, and being a big 

 fellow, came up to see who his disturber was. When he 

 got the scent he retreated, the reason of our finding him 

 so much to leeward. 



The next morning C. decided to retrieve his character 

 by going out "creeping" (Nova Scotian for stalking). M. 

 was to be his companion, while the boy remained with 

 me. I had hurt my leg over a boulder in the wild goose 

 chase of a day before, and was still very lame. We all 

 started out together, but soon separated, the boy and I 

 losing sight of C. and M., who had turned off to the right. 

 We came to running water, and I decided to refresh my- 

 self with a bath. I had hardly thrown my coat down 

 when I felt myself clutched from behind, and looking 

 around saw a very excited boy gesticulating and saying 

 something about a bull moose. Hurriedly slipping on 

 my coat, which contained my cartridges, and seizing my 

 rifle, I went a few yards to the edge of a little wood, and 

 there, on the barren, walking leisurely toward the wood, 

 I saw the noble animal, He must have been about 80yds, 



away. I could have stood there watching and admiring 

 him for an hour, but the boy was too anxious. Raising 

 my ri le I fired. Beyond a slight wince he seemed un- 

 conscious of hurt. I slipped in another cartridge and 

 fired again, when he rose up on his hindlegs and fell 

 over on his side. Running up wo found the blood bub- 

 bling up from two holes just behind his fore shoulders. 

 Both bullets had done their work, but the last one pierced 

 his heart. 



C. and M. came up at the sound of the shooting. M. at 

 once sent the boy over to the meadows for the ox team, 

 and the rest of our party set to work skinning and cut- 

 ting up the moose. During this process we found several 

 greenish stones, about the size of a chestnut, clinging to 

 the inside of the intestines. "They were for the purpose 

 of aiding the animal's digestion, and are a limestone for 

 mation," said M. Our disagreeable work over, we hung 

 the beef, while M. stretched the skin to dry in the sun 

 over a pole laid on a couple of crossed sticks. It re- 

 mained^ there during our stay. I afterward had it tanned 

 in Halifax, and it still makes an excellent rag. I noticed 

 C. skinning the animal's ears. I asked him why. He 

 answered with a grin that when he got his moose, he 

 would have the skin of four ears. Sewn together, with 

 the points hi the center, they make an excellent winter 

 cap. The hocks of the moose are also greatly prized. 

 Moccasins are made of them perfectly impervious to wet 

 and cold by simply sewing up the toes after cutting them 

 the desired length. All that is needed to preserve them, 

 after the meat has been scraped off, is to keep them filled 

 with salt when not in actual use. The butchering work 

 done, we moved our camp nearer the spring and put up 

 the "lean-to." This is a simple piece of oiled cotton 

 with flanges on each side, capable of sheltering four per- 

 sons. We built a good fire and prepared for an early 

 supper and a rest before going to call. 



As the evening wore on with every appearance of an 

 ideal night, a full moon and perfect calm, my impatience 

 and excitement became intense. At last, just as the sun 

 sank to rest and the pale moon began to shed its mysteri- 

 ous light we arose and started for the barren, the site of 

 our old camp, and three hundred yards from our present 

 one. C. and I had blankets and pipes. We chose a place 

 in the middle of the barren. Leaving us at the foot of a 

 huge lx»ulder and cautioning us against making any noise, 

 he clambered on top of the boulder and gave his first 

 "call." One must experience to realize the curious sensa- 

 tions felt at the moment this peculiar sound breaks the 

 silence of the night, when all is quiet except the 

 quickened breathing of the hunters, amid witching 

 scenery changing with every shadow of the moon. A 

 pause of expectation follows the sound that dies quivering 

 among the treetops. The call resembles that of a domes- 

 tic cow, but is far more plaintive and broken, and pitched 

 in a higher key. When given by a good caller it is not 

 unmusical. 



M. called several times without result. He then 

 climbed a "ramspike" (that is, a tree blighted by fire or 

 lightning), but still retaining a firm hold on the ground, 

 leaving the branches bare, but sound. When he recov- 

 ered breath after the effort, we heard again the call that 

 seemed now to fill the whole atmosphere. In a minute or 

 so he waved his call and nodded to us to show that he 

 heard something. He called again, and now, surely from 

 a great distance, I heard a sound as if some one had struck 

 an axe into a tree. C. heard it too, and told me it was an 

 answer, M. slid down from his tree, and as he did so we 

 heard the answer repeated and coming nearer every few 

 seconds. C. and I left M. at the boulder, crept with in- 

 finite precautions abcut 70yds. in advance, and knelt 

 down behind two rocks 10 or 12ft. apart. By this time 

 we heard the monarch of the glen coming through the 

 wood, his horns every now and then striking a tree. The 

 noise he made seemed to come from deep down in his 

 throat, like gulps of intense excitement spontaneously 

 ejected to save him from suffocation. He came steadily 

 on, and I expected every moment to see him; but just 

 then M. gave a call, and ft, who was more excited than 

 such an old hunter should have been, in trying to change 

 his position snapped some dry sticks. The" moose stopped 

 short on the verge of a snialf thicket not 80yds. away, and 

 although we could distinctly hear we could not see him. 

 He remained in this position about half an hour when, 

 with a sudden snort, he began to walk around us, keep- 

 ing well out of sight until he got to leeward when, of 

 course, he was off like a shot. 



We stumbled over the broken ground back to camp, 

 where a supper of Digby herrings and biscuits consoled 

 us a little for our disappointment. I could not resist the 

 temptation to chaff C. about losing the moose. M. told 

 us that the a nimal, hearing the call and then hearing the 

 stick snap so much nearer him, knew there was some- 

 thing between him and his inamorata, and was afraid of 

 being attacked from ambush by a rival. We Were sur- 

 prised to hear him add that he had never known a cow 

 to call unless a bull was with her. The general idea is 

 that when the September moon is at its full the cow is 

 alone or only accompanied by a calf. She then begins to 

 call until answered by the bull, with whom she remains 

 until spring. She then goes off to calve and the bull 

 returns to bachelor life, growing the massive horns that 

 attain perfection about the middle of September. M. cer- 

 tainly ought to know, for he has spent whole days and 

 weeks lying down in the woods listening to the different 

 sounds made by the moose. I have never since heard 

 either white or red man call like him; certainly not as 

 successfully. His theory was, that if his lordship, in 

 paying his attentions t o the lady of his choice, does not 

 meet with ready acquiescence, he prods her with his 

 terrible brow antlers. She cries out and brings to her 

 assistance any chivalrous bachelor or dissipated husband 

 of another cow who may be within hearing. The two 

 bulls then fight it out. The weaker goes to the wall; the 

 other takes the lady. 



We called in the same place at early dawn the next 

 morning, but had no luck. After breakfast we packed 

 the moose meat for transportation in the ox team, which 

 was to meet us at the edge of the little wood we had lost 

 our way in. The night promised to be fine. Reducing 

 our fire to a few live embers we went a short distance 

 from camp and began to call. For a time we got no 

 answer, but just as we were about to give it up we heard 

 a loud reply in the valley beyond the hill and soon heard 

 the call of a real cow in the same direction, luring the 

 wanderer back. We kept up the competition for some 

 time, The bull would come a little distance and then be 



