882 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Nov. 4, 1893. 



noticed that very often what has been a blustery day, 

 becomes a perfect evening for moose calling, the wind 

 going down with the smi. It was so the day I got ray 

 first moose. Probably a more unpromising day could not 

 have begn imagined. A strong east wind had prevailed 

 throughout the morning and cold rain was intermittent 

 until afternoon. The lakes were lumpy and at times 

 quite a "sea" was running. Crawford and I had spent 

 the day paddling about the lakes, looking for fresh 

 moose tracks, and incidentally to make selections of 

 likely places to "call," when a favorable evening should 

 come. We had paddled many miles, but saw but few 

 signs, and noplaces that we thought suitable for "calling," 

 and it was therefore with not a little fatigue, and con- 

 siderable discouragement that we arrived at camp about 

 4 o'clock in the afternoon. We were encamped on Line 

 Lake at this time, and as we approached camp, Craw- 

 ford with his canoe over his head, and I, with my riiie 

 across my shoulder, we met Walt and Seymour similarly 

 equipped, striding through the carry. In answer to my 

 interrogations Walt informed me that he was tired of 

 waiting for suitable weather, and that he was going to 

 paddle across Hamilton Lake to a place he had spotted, 

 and there should call, wind or no wind. This may have 

 seemed to me, for the moment, like folly, but Walt's 

 courage never flags, and hke a true hunter that he is, he 

 never allows a chance to go by, and so this windy, un- 



outlet I had the satisfaction to note that the wind had 

 gone down and the lower part of the lake was as smooth 

 as a mirror. 



Somehow I felt that fortune was with us that evening. 

 The fact that within the short space of time it bad taken 

 us to paddle from camp the wind had gone down seemed 

 to argue that things were going our way; and when at 

 last we ran the nose of our canoe silently on a little sandy 

 beach and I stepped out, I felt that we had not come there 

 in vain. Crawford pulled the canoe carefully up upon 

 the shore, while I made sui-e my rifle was all right, sure 

 that the cartridge was in the barrel, sights right, and 

 everything clear and in perfect order. Then I advanced 

 about 20ft. to a slightly rising piece of firm ground cov- 

 ered with bushes waist high. 



Let me describe the spot as I stood there. Behind me, 

 Line Lake, some eight or nine miles long, dotted with 

 many islands. A most beautiful body of water, as pure 

 and as clear as crystal— ahead of me— looking south, an 

 impassable bog of many hundred acres in extent, across 

 which nothing in the shape of man or beast could possibly 

 make its way. To my right and left tall mountains cov- 

 ered with a hard wood growth well up to their summits. 

 But for a hundred paces immediately in front of me, and 

 extending from mountain to mountain on either side, 

 was a sort of natural dam to the lake, and across this bit 

 of terra firma any animal in going from one mountain to 



der^one. "I thought I did, over there on the left." he 

 answered. "Yes, yes, that's right," I whispered, and im- 

 mediately I called again. Listen! Theie is no mistake 

 this time. Sure as there is a sound upon earth, that is 

 the deep guttural grunt of a bull moose. I could feel my 

 heart leap and the blood rash, through every vein in my 

 body, but the sound was far off, to the left of the bog, and 

 up the moimtain side. I knew considerable time must 

 elapse before he could come within rifle shot of us. A 

 thousand thoughts chased through my mind at this mo- 

 ment, but I think the foremost of these was as to where I 

 should first see him. 



A thick growth of alders fringed the bog, and back of 

 them a dense growth of small fir, mountain ash, birch 

 and tamarack extended well up upon the rising ground. 

 Somewhere through these he must approach. Would he 

 come where I could get a fair shot, or would he scent us, 

 and with that keen and wary instinct for which these 

 animals are so famous, turn and seek safety in retreat? 

 But listen ! Now we can hear the thrashing of the bushes 

 as he rushes down toward the bog. I would never have 

 believed that a single animal could make so much com- 

 motion. It was as if a whole drove of cattle were rush- 

 ing toward us. Then stillness again. He has stopped to 

 listen. I call again, not so loudly this time, and with 

 a short quick grunt. Great heavens, hear him now! He 

 is only a hundred rods away, hear the snapping of the 



"WE ADVANCED SOMEWHAT CAUTIOUSLY." 



promising afternoon he was willing to tramp and paddle 

 several miles for the mere chance of an opportunity to 

 call. I think his example and resolute purpose reaUy 

 were the cause of my going out that evening, for when I 

 reached our tent I found myself thinking about Walt 

 and pondering over his words. Did he think the evening 

 would be a still one? The fact of his going so far argued 

 that that must have been his idea or at least his hope, 

 despite his defiant words about "wind or no wind." "Then 

 I'll go too!" was my mental decision. "Crawford," I 

 said, "if it is just the same to you, unlikely as it looks at 

 present, I think I should like to go down to the foot of 

 the lake and 'call' for a while this evening." "Very well 

 sir, just as you say," replied Crawford, as he laid down 

 my rifle, through which he had been running a greased 

 rag, and looked up at the sky through an opening in the 

 hemlocks, which were then swaying and moaning in the 

 stiff wind. "It don't look good, but may be the wind will 



I would like to get there by sundown, we will take our 

 regular supper when we return, for if this wind continues 

 we will be back here by 7 or 8 o'clock." I don't know 

 whether Crawford took his "snack" or not, I slipped a 

 half dozen cartridges (carefully greased) into the magazine 

 of my rifle (and incidentally a sardine sandwich into my 

 "Department of the Interior"), puUed on my heavy shoes 

 which I had hung before the camp-fire to dry, handed 

 my .44cal. Smith & Wesson revolver to Crawford, and in 

 a few minutes we were upon the lake heading for the 

 outlet. 



I should say the distance from camp was about two or 

 two and half miles, and we both put our muscle to the 

 paddles with a firm determination to cover the distance 

 in the shortest possible time, for the sun was fast ap- 

 proaching the mountain top to the west of us, and night 

 comes quickly among those mighty hills. Our little birch 

 bark fairly flew through the water, and at every stroke I 

 could feel upon my face the spray from her pointed bow, 

 as she split the waves with which the surface of the lake 

 was ruffled, but before the first mile was covered I noticed 

 the spray was less frequent, and before we reached the 



the other must necessarily pass. An ideal place, truly, 

 for calling moose, for, should you be fortunate enough to 

 call your animal down he must pass within rifle shot. I 

 had "called" here the previous evening, but a light wind 

 was stirring the trees and bushes, and getting no answer, 

 had returned early to camp. 



Selecting a stout bush against which to lean my rifle, I 

 raised my moose horn for the first caU. I have forgotten, 

 by the way, to describe this instrument, which I may 

 say is simply a horn made from birch bark by twisting it 

 into shape very much as a confectioner makes a cornu- 

 copia by winding a sheet of paper about his hand. Mine 

 is about sixteen inches long, five inches in diameter at 

 the large end, tapering to a diameter of three-quarters of 

 an inch at the small, or mouth, end. With one of these 

 horns, upon a still clear evening, among mountains and 

 across lakes, I am quite sure a good caller can send his 

 voice (which must imitate the "calling" of the cow moose) 

 a good three miles or more. To my first call there was 

 no answer, Crawford was just behind me crouching in 

 the bushes. Our ears were strained to catch the faintest 

 sound as the echoes died away among the mountains. 

 Stillness reigned. A small bird fluttered in a bush near 

 at hand, a trout rose to the surface of the lake, just back 

 of our canoe hid in the bushes, gulped his poor victim of 

 a fly and with a little splash was gone, leaving a swM 

 upon the smooth water, glimmering, but silent. 



A second and a third call, reverberating echoes, then 

 dense stillness. Nature seemed hushed in slumber. I 

 thought as I knelt there listening to the echoes of my calls 

 from far across the bog and lake that surely I must be 

 answered. But not a sound broke the almost pamful 

 quietude. A pair of ducks came with a whir just over our 

 heads and settled in the water a few yards away. They 

 had not seen us, but at the next call of the horn rose with 

 a great splash and flutter and rapidly flew off up the lake. 

 I think it was the fifth or sixth call (I had been calling at 

 intervals of about five or six minutes, and a half hour or 

 so had passed) when I thought I heard a sound not quite 

 like an echo. Could it be an answer? I felt, rather than 

 saw, Crawford half rise to his feet. Ah, he too had 

 thought he heard it. 



''Did you hear anything, Crawford?" I asked in an iin- 



trees and the thrashing of the branches as he carries 

 everything before him in his wild rush! Hear him grunt 

 and snort, and hear the blades of his antlers ring against 

 the trees! He is coming with a thundering rush, and it 

 is a moment to fill a hunter's soul with delight. 



Crawford whispered just one sentence, as the moose 

 came tearing toward us, it was this, "Golly, he's a big 

 wan, hear them shovels agin the trees," and the words 

 were scarcely uttered, when I saw the moose come to a 

 full stop just to the right of the nearest bimch of alders. 



What a magnificent sight! There he stood in all his 

 glory, antlers thrown back, nose high in air, his nostrils 

 dilated and his great mane erect, uttering quick, short 

 grimts, and occasionally looking from one side to the 

 other for that cow he had heard calling! "A fuU minute 

 he stood thus," I was about to write, but I presume it was 

 actually some five or six seconds, while I gazed uj)on the 

 sight I had so long wished to see, and for which I had 

 spent so many patient hotrrs. Now had my supreme 

 moment come! Was I excited? When I first heard him 

 answer, yes. Now that he stood before me, no. I had 

 had time to think what to do, and in another instant I 

 was prepared to do it. 



Some moments before the moose had appeared from 

 behind the alders I had laid down my moose horn and 

 taken my rifle from its place against the bush. Again I 

 carefully but quickly looked it over to assure myself it 

 was aU right (I have had two friends miss their moose 

 through defective rifles, and Walt's experience on tSpider 

 Stream flashed through my mind), and then rising to my 

 feet I quickly brought my rifle to my shoulder, and 

 settling my eye carefxdly into the sights aimed for his 

 heart and pressed the trigger. I do not think the animal 

 saw me, and I had a fair shot into his right side as he 

 stood broadside to me. 



At the report of the rifle I saw him rise upon his hind- 

 feet and, as I thought, fall to the ground behind the 

 clump of alders, and I started to run forward, but had 

 advanced but a few paces when I saw him moving back 

 in the direction from whence he came. As he passed an 

 opening between two bunches of the bushes, I again had 

 a fair shot, though necessarily a quick one, this time intQ 

 his left side. 



