Maegh 14, 1963.}; 
Many of the skins bear curious marks, Indian signs 
or letters scratched or painted on them, the hunter's 
brand of ownership, or his greeting to the trader. 
Scattered among them are wolf skins with the grin- 
ning heads still attached; dusty hides of black and 
brown and grizzly bears; moose and deer skins, and 
myriads of martens and fisher and beaver, of mink 
and musquash. In the early spring, before the ice has 
left the rivers, the \vorkmen at the trading posts pack 
the furs into bales of eighty to one hundred pounds 
each, carefully covering them with rawhide. Later, 
when the ice gives way and the boats begin to move, 
they are shipped to the nearest depot fort, to find 
their Avay thence to the company's house in London. 
Wjth the houses of the lower employes, the list 
of buildings within the stockade is complete. Outside 
there are likely to be a few scattered structures, 
stables, a shop for the repair of boats, perhaps the 
cabin of boatmen or half-breed retainer. A vegetable 
garden may lie close to the walls, and a meadow slop- 
ing away to the waterside affords pasturage for horses. 
Above all rises the tapering pole bearing the flag of 
the fur trade with its singular motto: "Pro Pelle 
Cutem" — skin for skin. 
Isolate, lonely and remote as are these trading posts 
standing by lake and stream and marsh, to the trav- 
eler approaching them through long reaches of swamp 
and forest, or along ice-bound rivers, the}'- seem suit- 
able havens of rest and content. And certainly they 
have thus far proved the only means through which 
the Indian population of the far north has been com- 
mercially benefited, and the products of that vast region 
turned to profitable account. But how much of priva- 
tion and hardship their establishment has cost is 
indicated by the names given some of them — Resolu- 
tion, Providence, Reliance, Good Plope — names sug- 
gestive of dreary marches through the wilderness, of 
long winters of famine and suffering, and of a daunt- 
less courage that never failed. 
The loneliness and monotony of life at some of the 
remoter posts, and the privation to which the win- 
tering agents are subjected, are, indeed, difficult to 
picture. Mail reaches some of them but once a year; 
and their nearest neighbors may be from one hundred 
to two hundred miles away. Life is as unvarying as 
it is in the rocky regions of Arabia. The landscape is 
ahvays the same, the only change being from the gray- 
green of summer to the dead white of winter. For 
weeks not a strange, face is seen, save, perhaps, some 
hungry Indian seeking food. The work of the post 
and its surroundings are precise^ what they were in 
the middle of the eighteenth century. At man}^ of the 
stations food is limited entirely to flesh and fish; at 
York Factory, for example, thousands of geese and 
ptarmigan and fish being dried or frozen, and stored 
away for winter use. At other posts flour is classed 
as a luxury; the few sacks annually allowed being care- 
fully hoarded and sparingly used. Vegetables, in many 
localities, cannot be successfully grown, and the cost 
of transport prevents the use of the canned article. 
At the most northerly station — on the Mackenzie 
River within the Arctic circle — the cold is so intense 
that axes have to be specially tempered lest they break 
when striking wood. At the posts on Hudson's Bay, 
the spirit thermometer often indicates sixty-five de- 
grees below zero. Water has been known to freeze in 
a room heated by a red-hot stove. At old Fort Yukon 
the temperature was not infrequently seventy-two de- 
grees below zero; and at Fort Chipewyan, on Lake 
Athabasca, a thousand miles south of the Frozen Sea, 
the mean winter temperature is about twenty degrees 
below, or some thirty degrees colder than that of the 
citadel at Quebec. Churchill Factory, near Hudson's 
Bay, is covered with snow during winter — which there 
lasts from mid-October to mid-June — to the depth of 
from six to ten feet. Before supplies of fuel were sent 
out from England, the wood available in the neigh- 
borhood permitted of only a single fire morning and 
evening. The remainder of the time the emploj'es 
were forced to keep warm as best they could by exer- 
cising in the guard room in tliick garments of fur. In 
summer, on the other hand, the mosquitoes and sand 
flies, in many localities, render outdoor life, save at 
midday, scarcely endurable. 
At most of the trading posts, however, the monotony 
of life is considerably modified by the observance of 
a daily routine of duties. At certain seasons, and espe- 
cially in the midwinter months, this routine often be- 
comes a mere formality, there being very little to do. 
Nevertheless, every employee is expected to be on 
duty, and the fact that he is generally results in finding 
something to engage his attentions. It also con- 
tributes to exact knowledge of the requirements and 
details of the fur trade, on the part of the employe, 
and to the strict economy with which it is conducted. 
This is further facilitated by the assignment of em- 
ployes to specified duties for long periods; an ap- 
prentice, for example, generally being sent to pass the 
first years of his service in the remoter northern posts, 
in order to learn the practical working of the Indian 
trade. His first duties are those of clerk, from which 
he is advanced to the accountant's office, with, per- 
haps, further promotion to the charge of a small post 
as chief clerk. But in these positions he remains for 
fourteen years before he is admitted into the ranks of 
the "Fur Trade," or "Wintering Partners," which con- 
stitutes the directing class of employes in the field under 
the Hudson's Bay Company. Inevitably, with these 
years of training, he has acquired so thorough a 
knowledge of the details of the service, and is so 
identified with its tradition, as to be fully qualified for 
the charge of a district over which he is placed. For 
with posts dotted over an area one-third larger than 
that of the whole of Europe, it is indispensable for 
purposes of direction and supply that the territory 
should be divided into sections. 
In this division there are, first, four great depart- 
ments. The northern comprises the country lying be- 
tween Hudson's Bay and the Rocky Mountains; the 
southern, that between James' Bay and Canada; the 
Montreal, the business of the Canadas, and the west- 
ern, the country west of the Rocky Mountains. The 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
depots -to which supplies are sent' to be distributed to 
'the sinaller posts are for the first department, York 
Factory, on Hudson's Bay; for the second. Moose 
Factory on the southern shores of the same bay; for 
the third Montreal, and for the fourth Victoria, on 
the west coast. In recent years, however, the routes 
of transport have greatly changed, the larger part of 
the supplies once passing through Hudson's Bay, now 
going through Canada and the United States; a condi- 
tion which has made Winnipeg and Norway House, at 
the head of Lake Winnipeg, great centers of distribu- 
tion for the fur trade. 
The four great departments are, in turn, divided into 
fifty-three districts, each with its depot and directing 
office, and these again into one hundred and fifty- 
three minor establishments, factories, houses, forts, 
posts and outposts. Owing to the vastness of the 
territory under the influence of the Hudson's Bay Com- 
pany, these posts are necessarily widely separated, the 
intervening space varying from fifty to three hundred 
miles. Indeed, were the scheme applied to this coun- 
try, the inhabitants of each State would have about 
three posts at which to trade. 
While the collection of fur skins throughout the 
company's domain is made during the autumn and 
winter months, summer is the busy season for the 
occupants of the trading posts. The transportation 
of goods to the various districts, the concentration of 
furs at the depot.s, and the collection of provisions for 
the ensuing winter there leaves the employes little 
occasion to complain of the loneliness and monotony 
of their existence. H. M. Robinson. 
My First Experience Over Decoys. 
The first day of March dawned bright, clear and 
w^arm. The snow on the hills under the strong rays 
of the sun was rapidly melting, and the ice in the 
river pushed out by heavy freshets was fast breaking 
up. In the cove a large hole had opened at the mouth 
of the Croton RiA^er, offering a tempting place to decoy 
the wily black duck and tough old sheldrake into the 
range of shot. In this region one must make the best 
of such a day, for they are few and far between. Every 
condition has to be perfect or the duck hunter will, as 
a general rule, return empty handed. 
The "Veteran," whom the reader must recognize as 
my much respected daddy, had surmised during the 
wmter that a good day might turn up in March, and 
as this was to be my first experience shooting over 
decoys on the ice, preparations for a trip to the Cove 
had been commenced some, time before. Our duck 
boat was thoroughly overhauled, and the decoys 
painted and repaired, so that if the right sort of a day 
came, we would be all ready without any delays. 
I had done some field shooting, killed a few deer in 
the North Woods, and also shot a good many pigeons 
from traps, and, by the way, I think this latter sport 
entails less cruelty than any other, for seldom or 
never does a bird escape wounded, but never as yet 
had I experienced the pleasures and excitements of 
shooting over decoys. While I do not approve of late 
sprmg shooting after the .birds are mated, I see no 
more harm in killing a few ducks early in March than 
shooting them in the fall. 
For sometime I had been anxious to secure a speci- 
men of the bulf-breasted merganser, which I wanted 
to mount and add to a collection. The Veteran told 
me I would be pretty sure of obtaining a shot at one 
that morning; he also added that these old green- 
headed rakes were fast flyers, coming like bullets on to 
the decoys, and it would take a careful and well-aimed 
charge of shot to bring one down. 
Shortly after breakfast, guns and ammunition ready, 
we started off, our hopes high in expectation of the 
morning's shoot. A walk of three-quarters of a mile 
or so up the railroad track brought us to Crawbucky 
Point, a sandy piece of land that jutted out into the 
Cove. Here our two men were to meet us, and cross- 
ing over to the back we soon perceived them at the 
upper end with boats and decoj's waiting our arrival. 
It took but a few minutes to don the white caps and 
jackets, and then the Veteran and I got in one of the 
duck boats and roAved out in the hole to find a good 
place, while the men followed with the other boat and 
decoys. 
A light breeze ruffled the waters of the hole, which 
was o£ very wide extent, probably a quarter of a mile. 
Each moment it increased in size, for the heavy cur- 
rent pouring in from the Croton River was steadily 
pushing the ice southward. 
Finally we succeeded in selecting a good spot on 
the south side of the hole, where the ice was massed 
and more compact, then in other places. Shoving the 
boat in alongside of a large cake that protruded be- 
yond the main body of ice, we prepared for the morn- 
ing's shoot. While the men were setting out the de- 
coys, we put up the screen, and settled ourselves 
comfortably in the boat. The Veteran placed me in 
the bow, while he lay in the stern, and this meant, of 
course, that I was to have first crack at anything 
which should come along. The decoys arrayed in front 
of us presented a very lifelike appearance and were cal- 
culated to deceive the most wary of ducks. 
The men now rowed ofif to some distance from our 
hiding place, while we crouched low in the boat and 
awaited events. Probably fifteen minutes had elapsed 
when suddenly the Veteran, who had been keeping a 
sharp lookout in every direction, said, "Mark left! 
Here come two ducks." A waye of excitement swept 
over me at his words, and I gripped the gun closer 
and peered out by the screen toward the west. There, 
coming swiftly and silently toward us, were two black 
specks in the distance. "Get ready." came the order 
from the Veteran, and cocking the gun I slowly pushed 
the muzzle up to the edge of the screen. My heart 
thumped furiously, and certainly if ever a person had 
an attack of "buck fever," I was afflicted at that mo- 
ment with what might be termed "duck fever." Nearer 
and nearer came the two dark specks, gradually shap- 
ing themselves into a pair of sturdy black ducks. Now 
^08 
they were just outside the decoys, now hovering direct- 
ly over them. "Shoot!" cried the Veteran. Bang, 
bang, went both barrels of the 12-gauge, but to my 
chagrin and amazement the birds, untouched, raised 
higher about to dart ofif, when two sharp i-eports rang 
out behind me, and down came both ducks, striking 
the water with a loud splash! I had been too hasty 
and made a most beautiful "Dutch double," while the 
Veteran scored a clean kill with right and left. 
After picking up the birds, the men who had come 
over to where we were, moved the decoys closer to us, 
for the current had drifted us some distance away from 
them, and everything arranged once more, we began 
watch, hoping that we would obtain such another 
chance at a pair of duskies. The warm sun beating 
down upon us, and the water stirred by a gentle breeze 
lapping softly against the side of the boat, produced 
a drowsy and comfortable sensation. 
Happening to glance over toward Crawbucky, wheii 
taking a look around, I noticed one of our men ges- 
ticulating wildly on the beach, and evidently shouting 
something to us, and then without warning, except for 
a whirr and whistle of wing.s, by shot a flock of seven 
or eight sheldrake on our right-hand side. The Vet- 
eran seized his gun and four barrels quickly followed 
them, but failed to bring any down, for a right-handed 
shot is always a hard one, and the birds coming up 
from behind, had taken us unawares. 
Shortly after this we espied far in the distance an- 
other flock of "shellers." As they flew up toward the 
meadow creeks in the upper end of the Cove, they 
suddenly veered in their course and came directly for 
our decoys. As they drew closer I perceived they were 
led by a large drake in full plumage. Llere was my 
chance to obtain the specimen I had so wanted to pro- 
cure. On they came like bullets shot from a gun, and 
when within range I raised up and fired at the old 
leader of the flock. But, alas! I had been too slow in 
shooting, and instead of firing when he was coming 
straight into the decoys, I waited until he swung off 
to the right and the shot struck harmlessly several feet 
behind him. The second barrel proved of no avail, 
and away sailed the flock unscathed. This was dis- 
couraging to say the least, and much disgusted with 
my bad shooting, I doubted at the time whether I 
could have hit a barn door had it come flying by. But 
the sight of swift, scudding ducks sailing on to decoys 
seen for the first time, is liable to upset the equilibrium 
of one's nervous system. It did mine, at any rate! "I 
guess you are a little excited," said the Veteran, "but 
you may get one yet, so don't be discouraged." 
No more ducks showing up for some time, we de- 
cided to move, and hailing the men, we picked up our 
decoys and crossed over to the west side of the hole, 
which had by this time broadened out into a small 
lake. 
No sooner had we become fixed in our new position 
than a pair of young drake sheldrakes put in an ap- 
pearance, lighting among the decoys. "Now is your 
chance," whispered the Veteran. "Give it to them in 
the water, and maybe you'll kill one." So taking care- 
ful aim at the nearest bird I fired, and placed five or 
six shot in the head of a decoy! But the second bar- 
rel worked better, and I knocked the duck down as he 
jumped, while the Veteran doubled the other up, and 
we secured the pair. At last, after many futile at- 
tempts, I managed to kill one duck. "It may be good 
practice to shoot at decoys," said the Veteran, "but 
if you give many more a dose like that we won't have 
any left." And those shot in that old wooden decoy's 
head have been a standing joke ever since. 
Later a single sheldrake flew by on the outside of 
the flock, oflfering a hard cross shot, but his career 
was stopped short by a charge of shot from the Vet- 
eran's trusty fowling piece. 
It was now rather late in the morning, and as no 
more ducks seemed to be moving and the inner man 
was crying out for the noonday meal, we decided to 
pick up and go home. The men came over from Craw- 
bucky and in a few minutes the decoys were all tucked 
snugly away in their boat. 
Rowing ashore, we counted our bag and found it 
consisted of one pair of black ducks and three shel- 
drakes. The former were, of course, worth a dozen of 
the latter, for a "sheller," as far as eating goes, is any- 
thing but appetizing, and requires the same method, of 
cooking as does a loon, graphically described by an 
Irishman, who said, "Put your burd' in the pot with a 
couple o' bricks settin' on him, an' bile him till the 
bricks is soft, an' he'll be done, oi'll bet!" 
So ended my first duck shoot over decoys. Certainly 
our bag was far from a large one, and to those who 
have killed fifty and one hundred biids in a day, five 
ducks will probably seem a very small amount of game. 
But, then, the shooting does not include all the pleas- 
ures of such a trip, and our beautiful surroundings, 
combined with the perfect weather, doubly repaid 
us. The blue mountains and brown hills, here and 
there dotted with a patch of lingering snow; the white, 
glittering ice broken by the dark waters of the hole, 
and the clear, warm spring air, all tended to add great- 
ly to the pleasures of the morning. Although I failed 
to secure the old green-headed drake, yet every minute 
had been filled with intense enjoyment, and we are only 
hoping that this spring will bring us such another day, 
when we can again try our luck duck shooting in the 
Cove. Camilla. 
Long Island Ducks. 
Bayport, L. I., March S.— Editor Forest and Stream: 
The spring duck shooting commenced here last week in 
good style, several bags of from 25 to 50 broadbills being 
reported. Guide Will Brown in one day got 71. There 
are more ducks in the Bay than have ever been seen at 
this season of the year. Geese and brant are coming in 
in good_ numbers, though I have heard of very few of 
them being shot. There ought to be some good shooting 
after the last three days' storm. Henry Stokes. 
All communications intended for Forest and Stream should 
always be addressed to the Forest and Stream Publishing Co 
N?w York, an4 not to any individual connected with the paper. ' 
