312 
[Oct. 14, 1905. 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
Caribou Hunting in Newfoundland 
Our hunting party, consisting of Senator S. K. 
Warnick, Henry E. Greene and the writer, of Amster- 
dam, N. Y., and Allan I. Smith, of Philadelphia, left 
, Montreal_ Aug. 28, over the Intercolonial Railway. 
,Our destination avas Newfoundland and our object to 
hunt the woodland caribou, for which that island is 
famed. Our route took us through the provinces of 
Quebec, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia and Cape Breton 
Island, to North Sydney, a distance of 988 miles. The 
Intercolonial is owned and operated by the Canadian 
Government. It ha's a smooth road bed and its trains 
are well appointed and make good time. At North 
Sydney we boarded the fast steamer Bruce, and soon 
were rolling on the arm of the sea, 103 miles wide, 
;which separates Newfoundland from Cape Breton 
Island. 
As we approached Newfoundland early the next 
morning it presented a cold and forbidding aspect, with 
its bleak, rocky bluffs and scant vegetation. The boat 
docked at Port-aux-Basque about 8 A. M. On the 
wharf the train was waiting, and after we had run the 
gauntlet of the custom house officials, and procured our 
hunting licenses, we started for Spruce Brook, 118 
mile-s distant. 
The Reid Newfoundland Railroad is a unique institu- 
tion, and is run on the easy-going plan in force in the 
good old days of our grandfathers. It is a narrow- 
gauge road, with primitive rolling stock and no road- 
bed to speak of. The trains, which run tri-weekly 
across the island to St. John’s, the capital, will stop 
anywhere to pick up or drop passengers, and time is no 
object. The average speed is sixteen miles an hour. 
At every stop the passengers got off and picked red 
raspberries, which grew abundantly along the track. 
And there was no danger of getting left, for it was 
easy to catch the train after it had started. 
The region which the railroad traverses, like all the 
rest of the island except the sea coast, is practically a 
total wilderness, abounding in brooks and rivers teem- 
ing with brook trout, which will rise to almost any lure. 
The little train started out bravely enough and had 
gone about fifty miles when an accident occurred to 
vary the monotony of the journey. The locomotive 
broke down, and a delay of five hours resulted. A 
cut was made in the telegraph line and another engine 
ordered from a point seventy miles distant. The delay 
was taken, as a matter of course by most of the pas- 
sengers, who proceeded to pass the tinie as agreeably 
as possible. However, there was one irate passenger, 
who summoned the conductor and made some rather 
pointed remarks about the railroad and its service, 
which he characterized as “the worst ever.” The con- 
ductor, getting huffy, asked him why he didn’t get off 
and walk if he didn’t like the railroad. “I would,” re- 
plied the irate passenger, “but they don’t expect me till 
the train arrives.” 
Two of our party got out rods and flies, and caught a 
nice string of brook trout in a small stream not more 
than fifty yards from the stalled train. We had the 
fish cooked and served on the dining car, along with 
our dinner, to which they made a very acceptable ad- 
dition. 
Meanwhile the locomotive which had been tele- 
graphed for was hurrying to our assistance, but in its 
anxiety to reach us it hurried too much, for it jumped 
the track three miles from where we lay, and had to be 
jacked back on the rails. One of the passengers, walk- 
ing to the scene of the wreck, saw two bears, but had 
ijo gun with which to try a shot at them. 
Late in the afternoon the engine arrived, and the train 
resumed its delayed journey. The direction was north- 
erly, at times skirting the coast, and again working 
back into the wilderness through dense forests and 
desolate, moss-covered barrens. 
Stations were few and far between, and for the most 
part consisted of one or two huts, where the section 
gang of the railroad lives. A more unsettled country 
would be hard to find, and to us it gave every indica- 
tion of being a sportsmen’s paradise. 
The train finally arrived at Spruce Brook in a pouring 
rain, eight hours late, according to the time table; but 
we were informed that in that country a train is con- 
sidered on time if it arrives the same day it is due. 
Spruce Brook consists solely of a commodious and 
comfortable two and one-half story cottage, called the 
Log Cabin, and conducted as a sportsmen’s hotel by 
Mr. Charles E. Dodd, an agreeable and entertaining 
English gentleman. Through Mr. Dodd we had made 
arrangements by letter for guides, provisions and camp- 
ing outfit for our caribou hunting trip, on which we 
were to start the next morning. 
We were soon registered and seated in easy chairs 
around the log fire roaring in the huge fireplace, and 
the storm without was forgotten. Dinner wa,s^ served 
shortly. There were four courses, the piece de resutmce 
being a large and delicious salmon, freshly caught in 
Harry’s River, nearby. rr j 
Toward the conclusion of the meal, Mr. Dodd offered 
to bet that he could produce a live caribou right there 
in the dining room.. He was promptly taken up by the 
Senator. Mr. Dodd stepped out, and in a minute or 
two returned leading a pet caribou fawn named Carrie. 
Early the next morning we were awakened by the 
violent Heatings of Carrie, and as our ' imprecations ; 
failed to stop the racket, we hastily organized a quartet 
and struck up “Good Morning, Carrie.” One verse 
with chorus, was enough to quiet the beast. 
The mixed freight and passenger train which was to 
convey us sixty-five miles further along the line to 
the foot of Grand Lake; was only two hours late, much 
,|;o, our Eurprisf, 4-istance was coYered in about | 
five hours, and we reached Grand Lake about 3 P. M. 
Here our four guides, cook and helper met us. They 
are all residents of St George’s Bay, and are of French 
descent, with a trace of Indian blood. They had pre- 
ceded us the day before with tents, provisions and three 
dories. 
We stopped long enough to “bile the kittle” and then 
loaded the dories, embarked and rowed up the lake eight 
or ten miles against a strong head wind. Camp for the 
night was made on a point in a sheltered piece of 
woods. The tents were quickly pitched, bough beds 
made, fires started, and the fragrant odors of frying 
ham and boiling coffee pervaded the atmosphere. As 
the shadows lengthened a feeling of peace and con- 
tentment crept over us. The only sounds were the 
lapping of the waters of the lake on the pebbly beach 
and the whispering of the wind in the tall spruce and 
pines. We were in very truth in. the heart of the wilder- 
ness. and were once more experiencing the delights 
of camp life. 
Grand Lake is a beautiful body of water about sixty 
miles long and four or five miles wide. At the top of 
the wooded hills, which rise sheer from the lake, are 
extensive barrens, where the caribou are to be found 
in large numbers. It is the largest lake in Newfound- 
land. The upper half is bisected by a large island, 
partly wooded and partly barrens. 
We were astir early next morning, having had a 
good night’s sleep. After a hearty breakfast we struck 
camp and continued the thirty-mile row to the Nar- 
rows, about half way up the lake, and near the lower 
end of the island. There was a heavy fog, which turned 
to rain. The monotony of our voyage was varied by 
coming upon a flock of black ducks. We opened fire 
with rifles, and managed to knock one over. We ate 
him next day, and he was delicious. Some sheldrakes 
and loons also were bombarded, but without result. 
In the afternoon we reached our destination and made 
camp in a heavy rain. However, our discomforts were 
soon forgotten at the sight of a caribou swimming 
across the lake to the island. We were in the game 
country at last. 
Next morning three of the guides, each carrying a 
pack, made the four-mile trip back from the lake up 
the wooded ridge to the barrens, cutting out and blaz- 
ing a trail as they went along. Meanwhile we remained 
at camp and occupied ourselves with trout fishing and 
watching for caribou swimming in the lake. We saw 
eight in all. One of them was a large stag with a 
good set of antlers. We fired at him at long range, but 
he kept right on going, and disappeared in the woods. 
Toward evening the three guides returned, having left 
the packs at our next camping place on the edge of the 
barrens. 
The next day was bright and sunny. The entire out- 
fit hit the trail and journeyed to the barrens, the scene 
of our hunting operations. After a hurried lunch, we 
shouldered rifles, and, spreading out, climbed a neigh- 
boring ridge, where we might use our binoculars to ad- 
vantage in spying out the game. Our licenses permitted 
each of us to kill three stag caribou, and it was our 
purpose to get those having the largest and best heads, 
which could be mounted and preserved as trophies of 
the hunt. 
' My guide, Paul Benoit, a powerful young six-footer, 
with an eagle eye, soon spied a stag. With the aid of 
the glasses we found that he had a large set of antlers, 
which were still in the velvet. The wind was favorable 
for the stalk. The animal was feeding behind a hedge 
of brush, which prevented him from seeing us , as we 
crept up to within close range. One .33 Winchester 
bullet through the forward shoulder brought him down. 
.Alter securing a good photograph of him where he fell, 
we skinned out the head' and cut off a hindquarter, as 
there was no fresh meat in camp. That night we ate 
our first caribou steak. It is of a fine flavor, resembling 
the meat of our red deer, but of a little coarser grain. 
Meanwhile Smith (he of sleepy old Philadelphia) had 
been putting in a busy afternoon. He and his guide, 
from their point of vantage, -saw a doe feeding at some 
distance. Deciding that she was a good subject for a 
photograph. Smith prepared the ever-ready kodak for 
action. The stalk was successful, and a snap shot was 
secured before Miss Caribou, now thoroughly alarmed, 
made off, only touching the high places in her haste. 
But Smith’s fun was not yet over. A goodly stag was 
sighted and bagged, after an exciting bombardment. 
The head was very pretty, with an even, symmetrical set 
of horns. The Senator and Greene saw a number of 
does that afternoon, but no stags. 
After a bountiful and appetizing supper, with venison 
featured on the menu, we turned in early, thoroughly 
tired, after a rather strenuous day, and were soon 
asleep. 
But we were not destined to enjoy our night’s rest. 
About half past eleven one of us awakened to find the 
front end of our tent a mass of flames, which were 
sweeping back in our direction. The wind had blown 
a spark from the camp-fire -on to the tent, which was an 
oiled affair, very inflammable. We were in consider- 
able danger, but all managed to get out unscathed ex- 
cept Greene, who was badly burned about the face 
and arms by a blazing piece of canvas, which fell on 
him as he was rushing from the tent. 
Our shouts aroused the guides, who quickly ran 
over, pulled down what was left of the tent, and 
stamped out the flames. Fortunately our belongings 
escaped serious damage. The guides kindly gave up 
their tents to us, and next day made a shelter for 
themselves out of some pieces left from the burned 
tent. . 
A heavy fog enveloped the barrens next morning, and 
lilnmtjng wqs out of th^ question. Tbe b^ads bf th^ 
caribou shot the previous day were skinned out and 
the hides scraped and salted. Toward noon the fog, 
lifted, and we at once started out in quest of game. 
Evidently the shooting of the day before had driven the 
caribou back into the barrens to the east, and we saw 
nothing but a few does. We had not been out more 
than three hours when the fog once more came drifting , 
along, and there was nothing for us to do but to return 
to camp. A council of war was held, and it was de- 
cided to move back next day into the barrens east- 
ward, in the direction of Red Indian Lake. 
Early next morning, Sept. 4, the cook and his assist- 
ant were sent down to the lake to get some flour which 
we had cached at the last camping place. Upon their re- 
turn we ate a hasty lunch, packed up and were off 
before noon. The trail we followed was a well-worn 
path, made and used by caribou probably for ages. In 
all our walking on the barrens we used these caribou 
trails, which traverse the country in every direction, 
forming an interminable network. They make travel- 
ing comparatively easy, except where they cross the- 
numerous marshes, or pass through patches of tangled ^ 
brush and scrub woods. The barrens are by no means 
level, but on the contrary, are rolling and hilly, and in' 
places mountainous. Lakes, ponds and brooks are' 
numerous. 
, Leaving camp, we crossed a low ridge, descended a 
gradual slope and forded a small stream. Thus far we 
had seen no deer, but now we discovered a stag right in 
cur line of march. Greene and his guide made a short 
detour through a piece of woods, and got within easy 
range, while the rest of the party halted and watched 
the stalk through binoculars. One well-aimed shot 
through the neck and the caribou bit the dust — or, 
rather, the moss. The head was quickly skinned out 
and shouldered. We had advanced about a mile further 
when another stag interfered with our progress. It 
was the Senator’s tuim. He wormed his way along, 
on hands and knees to within about 250 yards of his 
quarry, and brought him down with one good shot from 
his trusty .30-40 Winchester. 
We saw several large flocks of wild geese, but could 
never get within range. A little further on, we made' 
camp in a patch of stunted trees. We were now in a 
splendid caribou country, and were eager to get down 
to business. Our prospects seemed good, for we could ' 
see three does feeding on a nearby ridge as we sat in > 
camp. The cook speedily prepared a lunch of enormous 
thick flapjacks, which were regular sinkers, However, 
we suffered no ill-effects from a hearty meal of them, 
and before long we had separated, each with his guide, ^ 
and were' ascending the ridges to the east. 
Paul and I had climbed about two miles, when right, 
ahead we made out a band of five caribou, . three stags 
and two does. As I was trying to determine whether 
there were any good heads among them, Paul whis- 
pered, “See the big one on the left?” Turning the 
glasses in that direction, I saw a large, light-colored 
stag rubbing his antlers on the ground. Evidently he 
was just getting rid of the velvet which .covers the 
horns until fall. 
■ At that distance we could not clearly distinguish! 
whether or not the horns were a good set, but they ; 
appeared to be large. Running low, dodging behind 1 
bushes and skulking along, we crossed two small valleys 
and managed to draw near enough to see that our 
quarry had a large and fine set of antlers. He was the 
kind of game we were after. But the next thing was to ■ 
get near enough for a shot. This was not so easy, for 
the stag saw us and started off. We chased after him, 1 
keeping out of sight as much as possible. Suddenly the 
animal veered to the left, affording a broadside shot at 
about 200 yards. The bullet passed through his body, ' 
and he fell, after running about a hundred yards. We ; 
had some difficulty in finding him, as he had run from! 
view over a rise of ground, and dropped in a dense j 
clump of bushes. His antlers were long and symmet- 
rical, with twenty-eight points. . We estimated the 
weight of the carcass at about 450 pounds. 
• While skinning out the head and a hindquarter, a 
second stag made his appearance. He did not have a 
specially good head, and while debating whether or not ' 
we had better try for him, he saw us and made off.; 
Then, when it was too late, we decided that we wanted 
him, and started on what proved to be a hopeless stern i 
chase. We must have run half a mile before I finally ; 
opened fire at about 400 yards, but the bullets had no 
effect except to hurry the caribou, and he vanished over ' 
the ridge. We then returned to camp, on the way ’ 
picking up the .head and meat of our slain stag. 
The other members of the party meanwhile also had 
been enjoying excellent sport. The Senator saw a very 
large white stag with magnificent antlers, but while 
stalking him scared up a smaller stag, which put the 
larger animal to flight. He shot four times at the 
former, each time failing to hit the mark, and then 
found that the- rear sight of his rifle was elevated sev- , 
eral notches. Smith _ shot a fusillade at a large stag ! 
and missed. Later in the day he saw a band of nine,, but 
was unable to get hear enough for a shot. ! 
During the afternoon Greene saw a total of fifteen; 
caribou, including two small stages. While nearing 
camp just before dark, he sighted a' large stag 200 yards 
away. It was a difficult mark in the poor light, 'but ; 
out of the seven shots fired, six took effect, and Greene 
brought into a camp a splendid head, with long, branch- 
ing antlers, somewhat resembling those of an elk. 
The next morning the sun rose bright and clear. A ■ 
brisk east wind made conditions favorable for hunting. ' 
Lunches were put up and we were off early for a full 1 
on the barrens. 
Taul and I climbed the eastward slope for six or seven ; 
iqi}?s, bht were surprised and disappointed qt the. 
