206 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Maech 18, 1897. 
sun. The sighing of the pines and the murmur of the 
brook combine with the numerous other sounds in a con- 
fused harmony the music of tlie forest so dear to the lover 
of nature. The robins are making the air resound with 
their chirping, ae they congregate for the night in the 
beech thickets along the ridge yonder. Far away in the 
distance in the direction of the great cedar swamp comes 
the hoarse hooting of the owl, which is answered by a pair 
of screeching bluejays in the little pine grove by the creek. 
Smallflocks of blackbirds are passing over in their long 
southward journey. A loud rapping from the elms on the 
higher land, varied occasionally by a still louder "whick- 
whick-whick," reminds us that a pair of great northern wood- 
peckers have been seen in the vicinity for a week or more. 
As we cross the creek on a fallen tree, some muskrats that 
have been sporting along its willowed margin disappear 
under water with a loud splash, a steady, advancing ripple 
marking their course to the holes in the banks. Silently 
emerging from a grove of pines, we are surprised to see a 
woodchuck sitting upon a hollow pine stump, into which 
he rapidly dives out of sight. Out on the commons the 
turtledoves are coming in in small flocks to their roosting 
place in the solitary trees that dot the pasture. All nature 
is alive and full of music. Crossing the fields, the sounds 
of the forest give place to the tinkling of distant cowbells, 
lowing of cattle, shouting of farm hands and barking of 
watch dogs. Trudging wearily on through wheat and oat 
stubbles, climbing fences and crossing brooks, we at last 
reach the house. Yic, business-like, retires to the kennel, 
and awaits her hard-earned evening meal. The gun is put 
in the corner to be cleaned the first thing after supper. 
Thus ended another hunt, the memory of which will fre- 
quently give us pleasure throughout the long winter even- 
ings to come. ' J. A. Mackenzie. 
Ontario. 
HOURS IN THE BLIND. 
The Start. 
The sky was overcast and black; wind northeast, temper- 
ature 38°; prospect of snow or rain Huring the day. I had 
-eaten a good breakfast, had strugeled into the heavy outer 
clothing needed on a day like this, and was just leaving the 
house when the clock struck 6. This was in good time, for 
the sun did not rise until 7, and it would take us less than 
an hour to get to our point. 
Down at the boat house John was waiting in the skiff. 
Everything seemed to be there — guns, ammunition boxes, 
lunch kettle, my oil clothes — while from a little coop under 
one of the thwarts came the low chuckle of a live duck or 
two to be tied out with the wooden decoys. 
The mast was stepped and we pushed out from the little 
dock, the wind caught the sail, the boat heeled over and be- 
gan to glide swiftly along, with a pleasant ripple of water 
under the bow and a stronarer gurgle under the stern. We 
had gone but a very short distance when the whir of wings 
and a splashing on the water warned us that we had dis- 
turbed some ducks, and a little later vociferous quacking 
above the marsh which we were skirting told of black ducks 
frightened from their reedy resting places. Now and then 
as we passed close to some point of land, the boat's way was 
checked for a moment as the tall growth of canes cut off 
the wind and the vessel resumeed an even keel, while the sail 
for a moment shook in the still air. Again, when tbe point 
was passed and the breeze was felt once more, the skiff heeled 
over and darted forward like a good horse touched with the 
spur. 
Already the sky was beginning to grow light in the east 
when we heard before us the clear, trumpet-like calls of 
geese talking to one another, and a moment later the louder 
tones and the splashing of water, which warned ua that the 
birds had taken wing. In an instant the air resounded 
with their clamor, and now we could see them against the 
sky before, above us, and on either hand— some of them 
almost within oar's length of us. Still the guns remained 
in their cases and still I smoked my pipe, while John still 
tended sheet and tiller, for the law of Korth Carolina provides 
that birds shall not be shot except after sunrise and before 
sunset, and we respect the law. 
Soon the geese are gone, and now we can see against the 
sky long lines and wedges of canvasbacks and redheads wing- 
ing their flight north or south to the feeding grounds, which 
pleases them best, while through the quivering air falls the 
ringing whistle of a thousand wings. 
Such are the sights and such the sounds that meet us 
under the breaking day as we cross the Sound and enter a 
quieter bay, where the boat's prow touches .the marsh and 
we have reached our ducking point. 
The Land and Its Peoole. 
We had been sailing over the waters of Currituck Sound, 
from which the low^ sandy shore runs inland on a dead level 
for many miles. Much of this land is forest-covered, chiefly 
^ with tall trees of the Southern pine, whose straight, clean 
stems stand close together, often without any undergrowth, 
and remind one somewhat of the forests of the Northwest 
coast, if such small things may be compared with great. 
Here and there the land bas been cleared and the stumps 
rooted out, the fields for a few years plowed and sown with 
corn or cotton or sweet potatoes, and then their cultivation 
abandoned when new growths of seeding pines spring up, 
and after a while the old fields start new forests again. 
Most of the inhabitants of this country are to day small 
landholders — farmers during the summer and fishermen and 
gunners in winter. They are a kindly, well-disposed people, 
truly Southern in the deliberateness of their actions, in their 
courtesy and in their hospitality. Many of the most intel- 
ligent and well-to-do of them barely know how to read and 
write. Although the winter weather here is often very cold, 
the houses are not built for cold weather, the chimneys are 
on the outside of the house, and the edifice itself is perched 
on stilts above the ground; either piers of brick or sections 
of thick pine logs supporting the timbers of the frame. At 
intervals of a few miles at the edge of the road may be seen 
standing in the pine forest churches at which the people 
gather on Sunday, for they are most of them regular attend- 
ants at church, this being the only form of entertainment 
and diversion which they have. 
In the corner of some iot along the road near each farm 
that one passes may be noticed tiny shingled pent roofs, 6 or 
3ft. long and half as broad, standing a foot above the ground 
and supported at each corner by a post. For several years, 
as I passed through the country, 1 speculated as to what these 
might be. 
These roofs are shelters built over the graves of the dead, 
^nd there is surely a deep pathos in this custom of protecting 
from beating rain and drifting, snow the last resting places of 
the forms of those whom we love so well. Many a mourn- 
ing mother in her comfortable home, her heart rent with the 
anguish of recent bereavement, has suffered an added pang, 
as the storm beat upon the house, at the thought that the 
dear form which she has so often held in her arms lies in a 
grave out of doors exposed to all the fury of the tempest. It 
is a sweet thought in these simple North Carolinans 
to erect these shelters over tbe dear ones who have left 
them. 
Some of these roofs are new, some are now gray and 
weathered, and others still have fallen to decay and lie in 
little heaps upon the ground. The generation by which they 
were erected has passed away. There are left now no liv- 
ing hands to tend these old time graves. Even the names 
of the dead are only vague memories or have been for- 
gotten. 
The dwellers on these little farms make fair livings from 
their produce, which they ship by rail or by steamer to a 
market; or if by chance their crops fail, they turn to the 
waters of ihe sound to supply them with food or with money. 
For his canvasback ducks the gunner receives $2 per pair, 
and the common duck and the fish find a ready market in a 
little city only forty miles away, which is reached by water 
transportation. So really the Sound is the people's salva- 
tion, and to day, just as it did centuries before the white 
man's foot touched this continent, it supports tho^e who dwell 
along its shores. 
These men, between the gatheilng of their crops in early 
autumn and the preparing of their land in early spring, 
spend much of their lives on the Saund ; so they are good 
boatmen and, as a rule, know all the sloughs, leads and 
channels in these waters. Many of them are good shots and 
from bush blinds and batteries kill, first and last, a great 
many ducks. They are also fond of hunting on the shore, 
chieiiy with the aid of hounds, and sometimes follow the 
fox or drive the deer through lines of waiting men. They 
are a kindly people and easy to get along with, the worst 
faults of the worst of them being drunkenness and a failure 
to respect the game laws. 
Of course, there is a large negro population here, though 
it is said to be only 25 per cent, of the whole for Currituck 
county. As a rule, the negroes have made very little pro- 
gress since the war. They still fail to appreciate the neces- 
sity of economy and the saving of money; and eat, drink 
and wear all that they earn. The number of negroes who 
have accumulated property and become landholders in the 
county is very small. 
The Waters." 
Currituck Sound is a long and shallow lagoon two or 
three miles wide, separated from the ocean by a narrow 
sand beach. The Sound is bordered by low marshes, in 
which are many shallow ponds, leads, and creeks, and is 
dotted with islands, also low. All this low marsh land 
supports a growth of tall cane, which in summer is bright 
green, turning yellow in the autumn. 
In ancient times — there are men still living who can re- 
member it — the water had nearby connection with the sea. 
There were inlets through the sand beach and tne tide 
ebbed and fiowed through these channels. Beds of oysters, 
clams and scallops flourished here, and even now the boat- 
man who is unfamiliar with the channels may sometimes 
run aground on the old shell banks whose life has long de- 
parted. 
Still longer ago the primitive dwellers on this coast drew 
a fat living of shellfish from the waters, and to-day at 
many points on the marshes of the mainland may be found 
heaps of shells which represent spoils gathered from the 
waters and carried to the camps, where the shells were 
thrown away after their contents had been extracted. Per- 
haps investigation of these shell heaps — true kitchen mid- 
dens — might yield implements of this primitive time which 
would be of real interest. 
Tying Out. 
The skiff's nose struck the soft marsh and Gunner sprang 
joyfully ashore, while the sail slatted furiously in the breeze. 
Then John ran forward, unshipped the sprit, rolled up the 
sail against the mast, and unstepping this and raising it on 
his shoulder, jumped ashore and carried it into the cane out 
of sight and left it there. I handed out on to the marsh the 
different articles needed in the blind, until at length nothing 
was left in the skiff except her furniture and the decoys. 
Then we carried the things up hack of where the blind was 
to be made, and while I began to arrange matters there John 
returned to the skiff and pushed it off to put out his 
decoys. 
These were piled in the skiff on either side of the center- 
board trunk, and there were perhaps in all seventy-five of 
them The lines by Which their weights were attached 
were 10ft. long. Using his pushing oar, John moved his 
boat about 20yds. from the point, and then, thrusting the 
oar down into the mud, tied his painter to it by a close hitch, 
and picking up the decoys began to throw them overboard. 
He rapidly unwound the line from each, and then holding 
decoy in one hand and the line about 2 or 3ft. above the 
weight in the other, he tossed them in all directions about 
the boat. It seemed to be very quickly and carelessly done— 
but there was no lack of care in it. When all that were 
needed had been thrown out it was seen that the head decoys 
were well up to windward of the blind, while the others 
were strung along from them to leeward, so that the last of 
the decoys were just a little to leeward of the blind. About 
opposite the windward decoys, but a little inside — toward the 
marsh — from them, were put the three wooden goose decoys. 
The finishing touch was to set out the live decoys — ^three in 
number, two ducks and a drake. For each live decoy there 
is a "stool," which consists of a sharpened stick 2iU. long, 
surmounted by a circular or oval piece of board 6in across. 
Fastened to the stick which supports tfiis board is a leather 
line 3ft. long and terminating in two loops, which are slipped 
over the duck's two feet and drawn tight so that the bird 
cannot get away, yet not so tight as to press unduly on the 
flesh. 
Pushing his boat up to the head of the decoys and fasten- 
ing it as before, John pressed the point of one of the duck 
stools into the mud until the little table on which the bird 
was to stand was ain. below the water's surface. Then 
opening the coop, he took out the drake, passed its legs 
through the loops, drew them close and put tl>e bird in the 
water. It flapped away fiom the boat with frighttned 
quackings, but recovering at once, began to bathe and to dab- 
ble in the water. The boat was now pus-hed to tbe tail of 
the decoys, and the two ducks put out there. Then John 
pushed the skiff along the marsh, hid it behind a little point. 
and soon was heard coming crashing through the cane 
toward the blind. 
Meantime 1 had not been idle. I had brought everything 
to the blind, had s. t up in the ground the four forked sticks 
which were to supp-^rt the two guns, had taken off the gun 
covers, opened the ammunition box. loaded one gun with 
duck cartridges and one with those for geese, had fixed the 
chairs, had broken an armful of cane and begun to repair 
the blind. In a short time, with John's assistance, the work 
was all done and I was standing in the blind waiting for the 
birds to come. 
This, then, was the condition of things: The wind was 
northeast and I was facing south. The leading decoys were 
a little south of east of the blind, and the tail ones about 
south. Any birds coming from east, south or west would 
swing out in front of me and lead up over the decoys, and I 
ought to shoot at them just as they were passing over the tail 
decoys. My two guns, loaded and cocked, lay across their 
rests, muzzles to the left. Behind me was my chair, into 
which 1 would crouch if birds appeared. ■ My clothing was 
yellowish gray, harmonizing well with the surrounding veg- 
etation. The top of the cane which formed the blind was 
broken off about breast high, so as not to interfere with the 
shooting. 
As we approached the point in the morning we had dis- 
turbed a flonk of 200 or 300 ducks arid a small flock of geese, 
which had flown away unharmed to other feeding places. 
These birds we confidently expected would come back a little 
later, and now we began to watch for them with all our eyes. 
For a time, however, nothing came, and 1 studied tbe actions 
of the live decoys. These were having a very good time 
washing themselves, preenine their feathers, and occasion- 
ally tipping up to feed on tbe bottom. After a while one and 
another of them swam up to its "stool" and clambered on it, 
standing there and arranging its feathers. From time to time 
the drake would call to the ducks and they would answer 
him, and when a buzzard or a blackbird passed over the 
water all three would call earnestly. Couples, 
[to be continued.] 
A MOOSE HUNT IN NEW BRUNSWICK. 
Fob the history and geography of New Brunswick I must 
refer you to the books, but if you are interested in big-game 
hunting I think that the followmg tale (a true one) will inter- 
est you; 
Three years ago I killed a bull moose way down in Maine, 
and I thought then that I should not care for any more 
moose hunting nights for many years to come; for in order 
to get him I spent many a long, dreary, cold night calling, 
cramped up in the prow of my birch-bark canoe, which I had 
entered before sunset and never once leaving it until after 
sumise. Toward dawn sometimes it was an open question 
which I most desired to see; the sun rise and a cup of hot 
coffee or a bull moose. 
But in spite of former hardships and privations the hunt- 
ing fever came on again this fall, and on Sept. 10 I packed 
my traps and left for the wilds of New Brunswick to try new 
hunting grounds and to see if I could not break the record; 
for I had heard that there were monster moose up in that- 
unknown wilderness. 
I left St John, N. B., via tbe Intercolonial Kailroad, which 
is advertised as "the fast line," in irony 1 suppose. After 
several hours' ride I got off at a little station, hired a team 
and drove twenty miles to the last settler's house, 
where I hired another team and drove some twenty 
milts more, still further from civilization, over an 
execrable road, so dangerous and so rough that I 
was often reminded of my latter end. At last we 
came to a river, and were glad at the prospect of a change in 
our mode of travel, though it did not prove to be any easier. 
We loaded aU of our stuff into a couple of pirogues or dug- 
outs, which were 28 and 30ft. long, and spent the better 
part of two days wadinp, poling, hauling (and I was about to 
add swearing, but that would not be true). With a little 
less water that so-called river would have made a very good 
road; yet in places it was deep, rocky and rapid enough, as 
we found out to our sorrow when one of our dugouts got 
capsized and we were obliged to plunge into the cold stream 
to save our clothing and provisions as best we could. The 
river was so full of trout, grilse and salmon that they fairly 
jostled each other, and I mourned over the fact that it was 
the close season and that 1 did not have my fly-rod. At the 
point where we left the river we pitched a shelter tent and 
stored some of our provisions, for we had more than we 
could carry in one trip. When the guide returned to get 
the things he found that bears had torn down the tent, eaten 
our pork, and had gone off with a jug of molassts and a 
stiff hat. After we left the river we made a long, hard day's 
carry of about ten miles, and pitched our teni^t last, just 
at dark, in a balsam grove in tbe very heart of that vast, 
wild and unbroken wilderness, through whose trackless 
wilds the southwett and northwest branches of that splendid 
salmon river, the Miramichi, flows. We named our camp 
Camp Indian Devil, m honor of a mysterious lake by that 
name which was supposed to be within a few miles of where 
we were camping. This lake had never been seen by but 
one sportsman. 
Early the next morning Arthur, my guide, and 1 struck 
out to look for moose signs and to select a good calling place 
from which to call moose some night. Unlike Maine, all 
the moose calling m IN. B. is done on the land, and on that 
account is both more exciting and more dangerous. For if 
the enraged or wounded bruie should charge upon you and 
you could not drop him before he reached you, it would 
probably be your last moose hunt, save in the "happy hunt- 
ing grounds." But if in a canoe, ami a moose should charge, 
you could easily slip away. I doubt if there is an Indian 
moose caller in the State of Maine who could be hired to call 
moose at night from the land, even if be were allowed to 
carry a rifle. My guide called many a night without a rifle. 
Toward the middle ot the aftf^rnoon we found fresh tracks 
headed toward Lake Indian Devil, but as it was getting late 
and we had to find our way back to camp as best we could, 
for there was no trail through ibe woods, we decided to re- 
turn to camp and to try again the next day to find tbe lake, 
and to come prepared for calling and to stay out all night. 
'The next morning gave every promise of a splendid night. 
The moon was at its full, and all signs pointed to a bright 
moonlight night, clear, cold and still, just the night for call- 
ing. 
After taking a "bite," or "grabbing a root," as they say 
out in the Rockies, we began to get ready for the tramp and 
for an all-night call at the lake. 
Since 1 had done a little pardonable bragging about my 
game hunting out in the Rockies, my guide took it for 
granted ttiat 1 could tramp, cany a pack, rough it, and 
