354 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[May 23, 1888. 



SPORT IN CAPE BRETON. 



HOW many of the American readers of the Forest 

 and Stream know anything about the Island of 

 Cape Breton, its magnificent scenery of mount, river and 

 glen, its cool, saline airs, delightful autumns, and, above 

 all, its grand salt lakes where the Bras d'Or winds its 

 way through sloping hills, quiet farms, forests and mead- 

 ows? Many of them have doubtless read Mr. Warner's 

 •'Baddeck and that Sort of Thing," and laughed heartily 

 over his "hand-mixed coffee" and "double-barreled 

 sermons," but few indeed, I venture to say, know Cape 

 Breton as it should be known — one of the most delightful 

 spots on earth for sport. True, it cannot give the tourist 

 the hotel accommodations he finds at his own summer 

 resorts, but for bathing, fishing, shooting, few places 

 excel this favored land. 



I have caught trout here weighing seven pounds, and 1 

 have seen a fisherman of Fourchie in Richmond county 

 catch in an evening with an ordinary cod hook baited 

 with herring gills a dozen bass, some of which weighed 

 over twenty pounds each. I have seen as many as eighty 

 caribou in a herd on our northern barrens, and have shot 

 two moose on my first, day in. 



Probably the best place on the island for sport is near 

 the village of Ingonish, a small fishing settlement on the 

 northern coast of the Island containing about five hundred 

 souls. The interior of this part of the country consists 

 chiefly of immense barrens, hemmed in by mountains, 

 many of which rise to a height of one thousand feet from 

 the sea. Here and there are long stretches of forest, 

 steep ravines, rivers and lakes. At one time, a little over 

 a century ago, moose were so numerous in these forests 

 that over seven thousand hides were exported from the 

 village of Ingonish alone in one year; and to this day the 

 natives are frequently reminded of the wholesale slaugh- 

 ter of these animals indulged in by their forefathers by 

 excavating from their farms antlers, hoofs and other 

 relics of what might properly be termed the butcher 

 period. 



I have never hunted this part of the country in the 

 fall, but have gone there the past four winters for caribou 

 and moose, and with one exception have always been 

 successful. 



In the winter of 1885 my brother and I, accompanied 

 by three hands, spent six days inland after caxibou. 

 Meeting with very severe weather we were unable to 

 hunt the barrens for four days. On the fifth day we fell 

 in with a party of five men from Ingonish, going to a 

 favorite haunt of caribou called Chetticamp Lake, and 

 on being invited to join them we gladly consented. 

 After a tramp of seven miles on snowshoes we made our 

 camp in a tongue of woods a mile or a mile and a half 

 from the barren, known as the Great Western Barren, 

 and here we stopped the remainder of that day and the 

 following night, as a strong wind suddenly sprang up, 

 blowing such dense masses of snow over the barrens that 

 one could not see an object 30yds. away, let alone do any 

 hunting. 



The next morning being fine and clear we strapped on 

 our snowshoes at 8:20 and went out to reconnoitre. No 

 sooner had we got to the edge of the woods than we saw 

 at about three miles from us on a gentle rising of the 

 barren a herd of fully eighty caribou, some of which 

 were lying down, some feeding, some gamboling over 

 the hard crust. The whole herd being directly to wind- 

 ward we felt quite sure of our game, and having placed 

 six guns in ambush on the side of a pass leading to an- 

 other barren, our guide sent three men to drive. In less 

 than an hour they had circled to windward and given 

 their scent, when the whole herd came tearing down 

 toward the guns at a speed swifter than that of the fleet- 

 est dogs. From the time we saw them start it seemed 

 but a moment, when we heard their loud breathing on 

 the clear morning air, and the next moment they were 

 upon us. Crack! bang! went the rifles, and every cari- 

 bou stood perfectly still. Then with a bound they sprang 

 through the pass and were out of sight in a moment, 

 except five that lay bleeding on the snow. 



There being six guns among us and only five caribou 

 down, the question arose among some of the men as to 

 who missed his mark, but somehow or other it was never 

 satisfactorily answered. I may say . however, that it was 

 a fortunate event, as the laws of the Game Society of Nova 

 Scotia limit the number of caribou to be taken by a party 

 during any one season to five; and although we did not 

 exceed the limit, I felt confident that few, if .any, of us 

 thought at the moment of civilized laws or anything else 

 other than the panting, flying things, speeding by us for 

 life and liberty. 



In the winter of 1886 we went in again, but out of six- 

 teen days we could only hunt two, when we got on the 

 track of three running moose, and after following them 

 forty miles on snowshoes, over barrens, through woods 

 and down rivers, we wound up in a rainstorm which left 

 not a particle of snow on the ground, and returned home 

 empty handed. 



Our third trip, in the following winter, yielded us four 

 caribou, an account of which has already appeared in the 

 Forest and Stream. 



Our fourth and last trip was in the winter of 1888. 

 Leaving Ingonish at 4:30 on a cold, calm morning in Jan- 

 uary, we drove four miles over the ice of the "lake" — a 

 basin of salt water about five miles long, surrounded by 

 mountains, at whose feet the village is situated — and bid- 

 ding adieu to the comforts of civilization, proceeded to 

 make the ascent of the mountains. Two hours' hard 

 toiling brought us over this difficulty, and after a tramp 

 of eleven miles more on snowshoes we reached our camp. 

 There were eleven men of us in all, and after a dinner of 

 cold meat, bread and tea, we decided to try our luck. 

 Just here let me say, that I doubt if Delmonico ever fur- 

 nished a repast to tickle the epicurian palate as our 

 dinner tickled ours that day. 



It was decided that four of us including the writer 

 should go down stream after moose, while five went to 

 the barrens for caribou, leaving two in camp to cut wood 

 and prepare for night. 



Proceeding down the river— called Chetticamp River — 

 four or five miles, our guide finally found some "work" 

 consisting of the top of a small "dogwood" nipped off in 

 that clumsy manner peculiar to moose, and in a few 

 moments more be had discovered the tracks by digging 

 fcutheanert^ .4£tor scooping 'ike %b.t snow from these 



and carefully examining them he assured ub that the 

 moose had gone down the stream. There were but two 

 guns with us. J., one of the hands, carrying a single-bar- 

 rel muzzleloader, while I had a double-barreled rifle. The 

 snow was not more than a foot deep, so the greatest cau- 

 tion was necessary, as the slightest move might start the 

 moose, and they who have followed a startled moose know 

 what it means. Having had this experience myself two 

 winters before, it is needless to say that I drew my very 

 breath as softly as possible. Proceeding in Indian file 

 for a mile or more we finally came to a bend in the river, 

 and there not more than 40yds. from us on the same side 

 of the stream we were on and about 5yds. from the bank 

 was a huge bull moose lying down, facing us, and star- 

 ing at us with the most puzzled expression imaginable. 

 I raised my rifle and at the same instant the bull sprang 

 to his feet. In doing so he turned side on. This was 

 my opportunity, and quick as lightning I took aim and 

 fiied the right barrel. With a thud the monster fell to 

 the ground, the bullet, as we subsequently discovered, 

 having passed through his heart. 



"Look! look!" exclaimed the guide, and there, not 

 more than ten yards fi - om where the bull fell, I saw an 

 old cow rushing up the side of the hill, and firing my left 

 barrel sent the bullet through her, while at the same 

 moment snap went J.'s muzzleloader, and refused to go 

 off. Quick as a flash the cow turned in her tracks and 

 charged toward us with the speed of an infuriated Span- 

 ish bull. So quickly did she do this that by the time I 

 had put another cartridge in my rifle I had to fire at her 

 point-blank, without putting the gun to my shoulder, but 

 the ball luckily crashed through her skull, and she fell 

 dead not more than six feet from where I stood, my hair 

 at the time being in a state of elevation similar to that 

 described by the ghost in Hamlet. 



it was 10 o'clock that night before we had skinned the 

 two moose, buried the meat in the snow and got back to 

 camp, where we found the rest of our party not a little 

 anxious about our long absence. They who had gone 

 after caribou had not been successful in shooting any, 

 although they saw many tracks, some of which were 

 quite fresh. 



As I write I can see from my window overlooking the 

 ocean myriads of glittering-winged sea ducks speeding 

 toward their summer havens in the far-off Labrador, 

 while the reports of the fishermen's guns tell what havoc 

 is being done to these wanderers of the sea and air. 

 Enough ! The bumps behind my ears begin to tingle; 

 the kaleidoscope of memory closes on past winters' pic- 

 tures of frozen solitudes and silent hills, and I must out 

 to the rocks and waves with my gun, for it is April now, 

 and each month yields its own unrivaled sport to Cape 

 Breton. H, E. Baker. 



Fourchie, O. B. 



REMINISCENCES OF THE RAQUETTE. 



Y memory is stored with reminiscences of many 

 happy days passed on these waters, and the follow- 

 ing sketch is an attempt to embody some of them, but 

 which I fear only inadequately conveys the attractive 

 feature of the picture as it exists in my mind. Those 

 who have had experience can perhaps fill it out from 

 their own recollection. 



Willi a friend I bad rowed down from Blue Mountain 

 Lake in our own boat, intending to spend a few weeks on 

 the Raquette and its nearby waters. Being provided 

 with a tent, camp kit and blankets, we purposed to select 

 a station on the Lake as a sort of headquarters and make 

 excursions of a few days' length at a time to different 

 points on its shore, up the various streams that empty 

 into it and to nearby ponds that were accessible by easy 

 carries. We expected to fish some of the time, but for 

 the most part to float at random on the water, inhale the 

 balmy odors of spruce and hemlock, snuff the bracing 

 mountain ah', harden our muscles by exercise at the oars 

 and paddle, and in short enjoy our holiday as if we were 

 schoolboys again. 



On our way down the weather had been somewhat 

 stormy, the wind high and accompanied by gusts of rain. 

 Our boat also had developed some defects, and in addition 

 had sprung a leak when we were half-way down Uto- 

 wana Lake, which compelled us to pull ashore and make 

 temporary repairs. On the carry at the foot of that lake 

 we stopped at Fred Bassitt's cabin and procured some 

 white lead and other necessaries to make the patch on our 

 bark secure. This, and a bite we had there, delayed us 

 considerably, and by the time we had threaded the long, 

 monotonous pull of four miles down the Marion River, it 

 was pretty late in the afternoon. The showers of the 

 previous part of the day had gi ven i^lace to a heavy rain 

 storm, and when we issued from the stream into the open 

 waters of the Raquette we found a pretty lively sea run- 

 ning. 



My friend, who was making liis first acquaintance with 

 the lakes, had not expected to find such a capacity for 

 developing rough water, and the rain did not contribute 

 to heighten the favorable character of his first impres- 

 sions. It is notorious that these are the most lasting, and 

 are frequently not to be overcome by any subsequent 

 more agreeable experiences. 



Though amply provided with India rubbers we could 

 not entirely keep out the wet, and when we had got 

 down as far as Kenwell's, my friend hailed with delight 

 the appearance of human habitation and shelter, de- 

 clared himself emphatically, opposed to beginning his 

 experiment of tent life in such weather, and in favor of 

 stopping then and there, where fortune offered us a warm 

 fire ready made, shelter from the storm, something to in- 

 vigorate the inner man and a dry bed. 



To him who understands how to catch the fleeting 

 pleasure as it flies, and make the most of it, a better op- 

 portunity is seldom offered than when one arrives on a 

 stormy night at a comfortable inn. A bright, crackling 

 wood fire looks brighter at such a time than under ordi- 

 nary circumstances. The contrast of comfort with pre- 

 vious misery, of cozy security and congenial warmth, 

 is seducing. Few occasions in life afford such a concur- 

 rence of elements calculated to heighten enjoyment; and 

 an appetite whetted by a hard day's work in the fresh air 

 gave special zest to a bountiful supper of lake trout, cof- 

 fee and hot biscuits which the coot soon prepared. 



The comforts of civilization under such conditions 

 formed a contrast with the roughness and hardships to 

 be expected in camp, which, I fear, did not fail to strike 

 my friend. To how many another man has a similar ex- 

 perience at the start decided his opinion of a mode of 



life which perhaps might have been totally different 

 under favorable auspices. 



After supper we seated ourselves by the blazing fire, 

 smoked our pipes and listened to the wind and driving 

 rain, and to the dash of the waves, as they rolled in on 

 the shore. 



I knew my friend had some acquaintance with camp 

 life in former years, and though he made no pretensions 

 to care for fishing, he liked rowing and being in the 

 open air, and was physically in need of a change. 



When we awoke the following morning the sun was 

 shining brightly, the waters of the lake lay placid and 

 sparkling in the sunbeams; all nature had that feeling of 

 freshness which makes mere existence a delight, and like 

 an invigorating draught nerves the courage to brave 

 endeavors. The aspect of things was so completely dif- 

 ferent from that of the previous night that I thought it 

 must obliterate all bad impressions then made and deck 

 the future prospect in bright and attractive colors. 



After breakfast we started to make a survey of the 

 lake and see where we could. find an eligible place to 

 pitch our tent. My friend proposed to row, while I was 

 to tempt the bass with rod and line. Who that has ever 

 tried it, needs to be told how the heart leaps with joy 

 at setting out on such a glorious morning, of the pleasure 

 of pushing your cedar bark out upon the buoyant waters, 

 hearing the splash of the waves as they break on its prow 

 and sweep the sides, while it goes bounding like a thing 

 of life, light as a feather, yet obedient as a well-trained 

 steed? Of all boats give me the flat-bottomed, light- 

 built, graceful Adirondack. With a little practice you 

 learn to guide it instinctively, as a bird uses its wings. 

 It obeys the prompting of every impulse, and is so easily 

 propelled in smooth water you need never tire. Talk 

 about the glory of motion! For us men here it is em- 

 bodied. 



Of the number of fish caught on that morning I have 

 no recollection, and it is immaterial. I was more occu- 

 pied in pointing out the features of the landscape that I 

 hoped would favorably impress my friend — the project- 

 ing headlands, the deep bays, the rocky islands, the tempt- 

 ing nooks, the far-off glimpses of mountain and hilltop. 

 I tried to impart to him something of the enthusiasm I 

 felt for this splendid sheet of water. I narrated incidents 

 in my previous acquaintance with certain parts. Showed 

 him where I had on former occasions camped, the loca- 

 tion of streams, where streams emptied then cold waters 

 and at whose mouths trout were to be caught. For hours 

 we rowed, we floated idly, we watched the fleecy couds 

 floating in tne sky, we smoked and talked, we breathed 

 the blessed air of heaven and basked in the glorious sun- 

 shine, Was there any existence more luxurious? What 

 could man want, in the shape of enjoyment, more than 

 this? 



There were, however, some drawbacks. Had my friend 

 not remarked them they might have entirely slipped my 

 recollection. That side of the picture I owe to him. The 

 unusual exercise of rowing blistered his hands, and they 

 became very sore. His face and neck were inflamed by 

 the sun. There were rocks, at many places, so close to 

 the surface that we sometimes struck, and once or twice 

 fairly grounded on them. At localities where we touched 

 mosquitoes abounded, and they followed us even out into 

 the open water. Moreover, at the different camping 

 places, which we inspected, there was a great lack of 

 green grass, no place to stretch out comfortably and 

 take a nap, and none of them seemed to fill the bill of 

 requirements necessary for our purpose. 



I was desireus that my friend's taste should be suited 

 in the selection of a locality, but the morning passed 

 without finding one. We returned to Kenwell's to din- 

 ner, and repeated our explorations in other directions all 

 the afternoon; but with no better results. In despair, it 

 was finally decided to move over to Ha thorn's and try one 

 of his open bark camps, where every thing was fixed ready 

 to hand; we could get our meals without the trouble of 

 preparing them ourselves — and could find some society! 



My friend's visit to the Raquette lasted nearly a week. 

 He managed to pass the time in various ways, but it could 

 never be said that he actually enjoyed hiniself. The an- 

 noyances did not diminish. Black flies and midgets were 

 added to the list of his tormentors, and he pined for some 

 indispensable comforts of city life, which could not be 

 procured, here. Despairing of ever being able to see ob- 

 jects through my spectacles, he finally determined to 

 return home; and making arrangements with a guide 

 who was going up with his boat to Blue Mountain, he 

 departed, leaving in his retreat a collection of canned 

 goods and delicacies, which he had piu'chased in New 

 York for consumption during his stay and had brought 

 up at considerable expense. They were appreciated by 

 those whom he left behind, and served to keep the mem- 

 ory of the donor fresh in their recollections long after he 

 had gone. Ibis. 



WOODCHUCKS IN TREES. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



In the article by Mr. Oliver P. Hubbard, in your issue 

 of May 9, reference is made to a foreign statement, 

 that American woodchucks will sometimes climb bushes 

 and trees. I have several times seen similar statements 

 in years past, and have noticed that many persons ex- 

 pressed doubts as to the accuracy of these statements. 



When a lad about fifteen years of age, I lived in Ash- 

 tabula county, in this State. I had a little dog, a mixture 

 of terrier and spaniel, and the best little all-around hunt- 

 ing dog I ever saw. He weighed about 121bs., and would 

 kill woodchucks weighing 15 or more pounds, never 

 hesitating to tackle them under any and all circum- 

 stances. Ashtabula Creek, passing through a heavy, vir- 

 gin forest, was the boundary of a portion of the farm on 

 which I lived, At this point there was about 50 yards of 

 bottom land, from which rose a steep bluff some 20 feet 

 and then a stretch of tableland covered by a heavy forest. 

 In those clays, this forest was alive with game; occasion- 

 ally a bear, deer, some wolves, wildcats, wild turkeys in 

 droves; and, I believe, the only forest in which I ever saw 

 woodchucks. 1 rarely ever went into this forest, in warm 

 weather, that my little dog did not run woodchucks into 

 hollow logs or hollow trees. One day I was passing along 

 the edge of the wooded bluff before referred to, when I 

 suddenly heard an unusually loud commotion on the part 



