FLASHLIGHT STORY OF PORCUPINE AND COON 



583 



Photo by George Shiras, 3rd 

 THE TOMB OF THE WHITE PORCUPINE, IN WINTER 



this one coon — with several cameras set 

 at different angles — I never saw the ani- 

 mal during the entire bombardment. 



This latter method is by far the most 

 effective in taking night pictures of many 

 predaceous animals — as they are not only 

 hard to locate from a canoe, but usually 

 show great distrust of the approaching 

 jack-light, which, however, is only re- 

 garded with slight curiosity by the dif- 

 ferent members of the deer family. 



THE ALBINO PORCUPINE OE WHlTEElSH 



LAKE 



When the writer was a lad intent upon 

 killing his first deer, one early autumn 

 he followed in the wake of an old O jib- 

 way trapper, and on the second day 

 reached the shores of a beautiful little 

 lake twenty miles east of Marquette, 

 Michigan, and located, as was deter- 



mined in after years, some eight miles 

 south of Lake Superior. This lake was 

 situated in what was then not only one 

 of the wildest and least known portions 

 of the Upper Peninsula, but the very cen- 

 ter of the summer range of the white- 

 tail deer. Of each successive trip there- 

 after and the many victims of the gun 

 there is no need of giving an account 

 here — for the score with the flashlight 

 and the sensitive plate has long ago sur- 

 passed the record of former destruction. 

 And it was here in 1888 that night pic- 

 tures of wild animals had their inception, 

 and many innocent lives have been saved 

 by reason thereof. 



On the afternoon of July 1, 1901, I 

 had been photographing deer in a long, 

 narrow slough at the end of the lake, 

 which received the waters of the upper 

 river and lay mortised in between sloping 



