FOREST AND . STREAM 
tJuNE II, i9d4. 
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A Woman's First Moose Hunt. 
When cruising in the Temagami Lake region in the 
Slimmer of 1902, we were chased by a bull moose, and 
signs of moose were so abundant, we began to discuss a 
njoose hunt. When our guides said they could take us to 
a region where moose were quite numerous and easy to 
get, we engaged them then and there to take us on a 
moose hunt the next fall. I was determined to kill my 
own moose, and not have the guide kill it for me, and 
on our return home began to practice diligently. A 15- 
yard range was made in the cellar, and there, with a 
Winchester .22 short, model 1890, I took my first lessons 
in traget practice. I knew absolutely nothing about a 
gun, and after a few lessons decided to do my shooting 
when alone. I took the gun and cartridges, and in fear 
and trembling started to the cellar. On several occasions 
the gun surprised me, but fortunately with no more 
serious result than to shoot a hole in the jacket of my 
china kiln. After many trials and more vexation of spirit, 
I could hit the bullseye occasionally, and feel reasonably 
sure the other bullets had hit the stone wall. But, best 
of all, I had learned the mechanism of the gun, could 
load and clean it, and was not being sui-prised any more. 
My greatest difficulty now was in sighting. I could sight 
with both eyes open, but my left eye was the range 
finder, and shooting right-handed was awkward ; still, I 
was afraid to try to shoot left-handed for fear I would 
never learn, as I could do so little with my left hand. 
About this time it was considered advisable to buy a tar- 
get rifle nearer the weight of the one I would use when 
hunting, and a Stevens single shot, weighing 7^/2 pounds, 
was purchased from Mr. Webber, of the Great Western 
Gun Works. When we were making a selection, Mr. 
Webber noticed the trouble I had in sighting, and insisted 
on me shooting left-handed. I went home determined 
to learn it all over again, if necessary, but learning to 
shoot left-handed was not difficult, and I could do much 
more accurate work. . , 
We felt the need of a longer range, and when the 
weather got warm, found one we could reach by driving 
several miles into the country. There was a loo-yard 
range in a pasture field where cattle were grazing. When 
taking up the rifle to shoot I felt a good deal of curiosity 
as to what would get hit, for the cows and horses scat- 
tered over the hillside made our target at the foot of the 
hill look Oh, so small ! Fortunately the cattle did not 
suffer, and the targets were almost as good as new. My 
enthusiasm was somewhat checked one day when a young 
man who was plowing corn in a field just over the brow 
of the hill, came down to inquire what we were shooting 
at. He said that two bullets had whizzed by so close to 
the horses that they jumped to one side. I thought I had 
aimed for the foot of the hill and not the top, and could 
not account for the vagaries of the bullet. After a great 
deal of heart-ache and wounded vanity, I could occasion- 
ally hit the bullseye at 100 yards. 
As it was now time for me to learn to handle the new 
hunting rifles, they were taken along to the range. They 
were the .35 Winchester, model 95, weighing 8j4 pounds. 
When I heard the report and saw the recoil, I was afraid 
of them, and it was some time before I had the courage 
to fire one. With the recoil pad the gun did not hurt me, 
but I knew that when I pulled the trigger I would get a 
bump on the shoulder, and my attention was divided be-' 
tween the target and the bump; and, as might have been 
expected, I almost always flinched. The disgrace (?) of 
not hitting the bullseye and the fear of the recoil grew to 
be a kind of nightmare, which seemed to increase with 
each day's practice. When reading Dr. Hudson's work 
on "Modern Rifle Practice," I had been profoundly im- 
pressed by this advice: "Keep everlastingly at it." I 
therefore kept on, using up more than my share of the 
cartridges, and felt that I had entered the ranks of those 
who led "The Strenuous Life." But I would be rewarded 
for all this when I looked at my moose head hanging on 
the wall. I had no doubt about getting the moose, and_ 
had decided to shoot the first bull moose I saw, without 
regard to the size of the horns. Then I could spend the 
remainder of my vacation in a more leisurely way, 
I was able, eventually, to do fair shooting, but I be- 
lieve the gun is too heavy for me, for I never became 
accustomed to the recoil, and on my next moose hunt I 
shall carry a lighter gun. 
The target practice was over at last, and we were on 
our way to the North Woods. 
The forests between North Bay and Temiscaming were 
a splendid blaze of color. The red of the maples and the 
yellows of the birch and poplar, mingling with the dark 
green spires of the tall pine trees, covered all the hills, 
between which could occasionally be seen the blue water 
of some lake or river. The forests had donned their gay 
robes for the last fete before the white mantle covered 
them. 
At Temiscaming we went to the Belleview Hotel for 
dinner. The tables were decorated with autumn leaves,, 
and the effect was so striking we unconsciously paused a 
moment in admiration on the threshold of the dining- 
room. The walls of the room were white, the woodwork 
a dull yellow, and the floor a walnut brown. The three 
long tables were laid with linen fresh from the laundry, 
and in the center of each were branches of the most 
beautiful autumn leaves. The leaves on one table were 
yellow, on another red, and on the other one red and 
green, while on the sideboard were branches combining 
all the colors. From the three windows on the side could 
be seen a grove of maple trees in their gorgeous colors, 
bathed in sunlight and filling the room with a soft glow. 
• It was raining when we reached Haileybury Sunday 
rnoniing, and was cold and disagreeable 'all day. We 
went to the hotel and were shown to a cold, cheerless 
room. Haileybury was chahged. Its beauty and charm 
were gone. A rafJroad was being built from North Bay 
through the Temagami region north through Haileybury, 
and the streets were full of Italian and French laborcs. 
This ruad will be completed as far as Haileybury by next 
fall. _ The afternoon and evening would have been ex- 
ceedingly dull and cheerless but for the kind thoughtful- 
ness of a lady in the town, who invited us to her home 
for tea. We had sent our provision list to Mr. Cobbold, 
that he might have them packed with a complete camp 
outfit. He had everything in readiness, and we after- 
wards found them very satisfactory. 
Monday morning, September 28, found us, with two 
guides and provisions to last three weeks, on the dock at 
Haileybury waiting for the Geisha, a little steamer that 
run? to Tom's Town, a new town located about thirtv- 
■ five miles up the White River. It was a miserable morn- 
ing. A cold wind was blowing, with an occasional shower 
of rain, followed by a snowstorm. The little steamer 
was full of passengers, principally settlers in the new 
farming district. 
The trip up the White River was full of interest. The 
country is level and wonderfully fertile. Along the river, 
where the clearing had been done several years ago, were 
beautiful fields of clover, and the more hardy vegetables 
were growing luxuriantly, while the oats were just being 
harvested. Sorne timothy pulled up by the roots measured 
over six feet in height. There are miles and miles of 
this level country with its wonderful soil, but it is covered 
with a dense growth of small pine, birch and poplar that 
must be cleared off. To start in to clear 160 acres, or a 
lot, as it is called, seems an endless task ; but to me the 
utter hopelessness was appalling, when the trees had been 
felled in windrows and burned, and I looked on those 
acres and acres of stumps. Nothing can be done until 
these innumerable little stumps have one by one been 
taken out. 
The pioneers who go into this country — or any other, 
for that matter — must be men and women of grit and 
courage, as we found the majority of these to be. Their 
lives are a continual round of hardship, privation, and 
often of danger. We saw many of their houses, and 
were in a few of them. Their little log homes were neat 
and clean, but they contained few of the comforts and 
none of the luxuries of life. The settlers were of all 
ages, from old men and women, whose hair was already 
turning white, to the boy of seventeen. They had come 
from the towns and the cities; from the rented farm, the 
work shop, the mill and the desk, to hew out a home in 
this new country. They were intelligent, and many of 
them well educated, and on the steamer were discussing 
sorne of the latest books and magazines. We almost in- 
variably found them the kind of men and women who 
make good citizens, as indeed a man almost always does 
who owns his own home — or at least a piece of the face 
of the earth. 
To take up and clear a lot is a tremendous undertaking; 
many of the settlers start out with little idea of what it 
means, and finding the hardship too great, are compelled 
to give up. _ This is especially true of the man who takes 
his family in before he has done any clearing, and has 
little or rio money to see him through. There is but little 
opportunity here to earn money, and provisions are very 
expensive. Cows, horses, pigs, and even chickens can- 
not be taken in until some land has been cleared and 
broken, as there is not even a blade of grass for them to 
live on. If cutting down the timber does away with the 
summer frosts this will be a wheat country rivaling that 
of the Northwest, and the pioneer or his descendants will 
reap the reward. 
A good, well cooked dinner was served on the boat, 
and we reached Tom's Town, which is the head of navi- 
gation, about two o'clock. 
A number of years ago a man past middle life came up 
the White River in his canoe, and landing here built him- 
self a log cabin, where he lived alone, hunting and trap- 
ping in the winters, little dreaming that in a few short 
years steamers would be coming up the river to stop at 
liis dock, from which a Government road would extend 
for miles back into the country, and his little clearing be 
turned into a town site, with talk of a railroad in the 
near future. "Uncle Tom," as everyone calls him, still 
lives alone by the river bank in his two-roomed log cabin, 
snd a board over the door bears this inscription, "Uncle 
Tom's Cabin." He is an old man now, with a soft, quiet 
voice and courteous manner, who does not want to live 
in town, but is too old to move on. A beautiful bed of 
pansies grew at his door, and when I admired them, he 
gathered a bunch for me. Besides "Uncle Tom's Cabin," 
the town consists of a boarding-house or hotel, a store 
and post-ofiice combined, a blacksmith shop, and three or 
four houses. 
As it was late in the afternoon, besides being, cold and 
v/et, we made arrangements to spend the night at the 
hotel. There was fire in but one of the, sitting rooms, 
and it being full of men, I was taken to the kitchen to get 
warm. While sitting there I was struck with the beauty 
of some rugs on the floor. They had been made from 
scraps of cloth and pieces of worn-out garments, but with 
what nifinite pains these pieces had been selected, cut, 
and worked into rugs. The color schemes were quite 
artistic, and the simple geometric designs were very ac- 
curate. There was one rug, not quite finished, which 
was really beautiful. It was a bunch of red roses with 
then- green leaves worked on a white ground with a 
scroll border. I could but wonder at the tireless energy 
of the woman, when I learned that the day before, with 
• what little assistance her husband, who kept the store 
could render, she had cooked and served dinner for forty- 
three men. 
Three boys, the youngest about seventeen, whom we 
. had noticed on the Geisha, stopped at the hotel for the 
night. They had each taken up a lot and were going in 
to do some clearing before cold weather. We had quite a 
talk with the hoys, and found them very gentlemanly. 
The next morning we crossed the river, took the shot- 
gun and started over the eight-mile portage, leaving the 
guides to load the duffle in the wagon. We could have 
gone up the river in the canoes, but by taking this route 
we not only avoided a long, hard pull in heavily-loaded 
canoes against a swift current, with one three-mile and 
sirveral shorter portages, but saved almost a day. 
It was a beautiful morning, and we had not gone more 
than half the distance when the wagon overtook us. We 
were getting warm and tired, but threw our coats on the 
^vagon, gave Sam the guns, and tried to keep up. We 
soon found that impossible, and Bob fell back with us 
while Sam kept on. I kept pace with Bob and the Doc- 
tor for a mile or two, but was compelled to fall behind, 
and would find them sitting on a log where the trail was 
obscure. At the end of the portage we found the canoes 
in the water, and Sam had his loaded ready to push off. 
Before dinner we had tried our new shotgun on a duck 
at about forty yards, and were much pleased with the re- 
sult. From that time, until we came out of the bush we 
vrere not a day without either birds or fish. 
Near the head of the narrows in Wendigo, or Ghost 
Lake, the shores are very rugged, the bluffs rising in 
many places 100 feet or more above the surface of the 
v/ater. At the head of Wendigo we crossed a portage to 
another lake, and reached the guides' hunting camp late 
m the afternoon, where we found a kitchen table and a 
raised platform for provisions near the fire-place, and a 
dining table with seats, over which we stretched a tar- 
paulin. Our camp was made in a grove of birch and pop- 
lars, averaging from thirty to fifty feet in height, grow- 
ing straight and tall, with no branches except at the top. 
The trees grew close together, and their tops were 
covered with bright yellow autumn leaves, which formed 
an almost unbroken canopy of sunlight over our heads, 
for the branches met and interlaced so closely that only 
m places could we see the sky. The yellow leaves threw a 
warm glow- as of sunshine over us, that, even on cloudy 
days, had the effect of sunlight. The water in the lake 
111 front of our camp was clear and sparkling, while that 
m the lake across the portage to the east was muddy. 
Standing on the shore and looking out over this lake, a 
line of blue hills could be seen along the horizon, and we 
knew if we crossed those hills we would stand where the 
water flows north. This lake lay on the border of the 
"Enchanted Land," and I loved to cross the portage to its 
shore, where I could sit and look out over its waters to 
'that line of blue hills and dream of the time when I 
should cross them and see some of the wonderful things 
that lay beyond the Height of Land. I was building air 
castles in dreamland. 
When onr tent was up, two sticks from four to five 
inches in diameter were cut the width of the bed; then 
small saplings were cut and laid on these, making a plat- 
form on which the pine boughs were laid, and raising 
our bed off the ground. That 'evening our larder con- 
tained three grouse and a duck. The next morning was 
spent getting camp in good shape, cutting wood and 
hunting birds. 
Taking our rifles and a lantern we went on our first 
moose hunt in the afternoon. Sam took one canoe and 
started ahead, while Bob, Doctor and I followed in the 
other. We paddled across the lake, drew the canoe up on 
the rocks, and I was told that this was a portage. There 
vvas no sign of a path; indeed, I did not see how one 
could be made, for the hill appeared to rise straight up, 
and its surface was covered with broken rocks that 
-twisted and turned and slid when we stepped on them, 
rnaking the climb anything but pleasant. Bob toolc my 
rifle and the lantern and started up the hill, and we fol- 
lowed as best we could. I expected to sit down and rest 
when we reached the top, for I was about out of breath, 
but there was Bob just going out of sight, so we hurried 
on as fast as we could. I wish I could describe that 
portage. It vvas a revelation to me. I knew when I left 
camp that we were going to hunt moose, and that was 
about all I did know; but as we proceeded on our way. 
I got Bob to say this was a portage to another lake where 
we were going to hunt. On that- mile-portage— the guides 
said it was a mile, but it might have been twenty; I was 
