602 
FOREST AND STREAM 
November, 1920 
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Mention this Magazine 
WILDERNESS DWELLERS 
HUNTING BIG GAME WITH A CAMERA IN THE HEART 
OF THE NEW BRUNSWICK WILDS— CHAPTER TEN 
By DR. THOMAS TRAVIS 
URING the day we 
went out locating. 
For we were after a 
big bull whose tracks 
we had seen. Deer 
were plentiful. Every 
trail was pockmarked 
with their hoof- 
prints, and scarcely 
an hour of the whole 
trip but we could 
see several of them 
feeding at the edge 
of the lake, or crossing some open space. 
Just off Armstrong brook, in First 
Bathurst lake, we saw three deer close 
up, and watched them as they went gal- 
loping off in the shallow water at the 
edge of the lake. Scarcely had they dis- 
appeared when out stepped a big bull 
moose and stood watching us from the 
shore. We got several photos at long 
range before he turned and disappeared 
in the forest. 
Everywhere the bulls seemed far more 
alert and shy than the cows. For ex- 
ample, right near where the big bull had 
stepped into the forest we came across 
a cow, and my mate handled the camera. 
Slowly the guide, Fred Waters, put her 
near and nearer till we were almost on 
her. Every moment we expected her to 
jump and go. But she stood there lazily 
watching us over her shoulder, while we 
drifted steadily nearer. 
When we were within twenty feet she 
deliberately made her toilet, gazing at us 
the while, till a grin spread over mate’s 
face and she signalled to go ahead. And 
go ahead we did, the while she took pic- 
tures and wound on new films. We went 
ahead till we were within five feet in 
broad daylight and in the open. We 
went till we were three feet, and then, 
with another grin Fred bumped right 
into her with the prow of the canoe. On 
the film recording this fact can be seen 
the cow on a run, splashing the shallow 
water in wavelets, and the dim prow of 
the canoe at her heels. 
But the big bulls were different. We 
sighted them from afar, — easy rifle 
range of course, but too long for a good 
film. We saw their great tracks, with 
the rounded toes clean cut, and the great 
dew-claws clearly marked. We saw them 
step from the trail like weird shadows as 
we rounded a bend. But not a single 
close-up could we get. And in all that 
trip we never got nearer than a hundred 
feet of any bull moose except by sur- 
prise or by stalking and cutting them 
off in the lake. 
A T dusk we prepared our gear for 
the night attack, watching a mink 
the while as it tugged at a trout 
I had nailed to the logs of the landing. 
This time we figured to make no mis- 
takes. We experimented with the paper, 
and we nailed not one but four sheets 
to the barrel head. Also we selected long 
strips of fine birchbark and soaked them 
in oil. We prepared a box handy for 
the spare sheets, and a platform for the 
camera. For something told us that this 
night was to be our night to howl. And 
it was. 
To bed we went, to sleep till two in the 
morning, when the moon would have set. 
Then with the lamp polished till it shone, 
with everything in readiness and all pre- 
pared that could be prepared, we drifted 
out from our wharf into the midnight 
and silence of the lake, headed down 
stream and through the narrows to the 
lake where we had shot the four-eyed 
cow. 
Again the spell of the night came over 
us. Once more the mysterious Northern 
Lights burned above the silent crags of 
the great divide. Again the invisible 
moose of the wilderness rode the mystic 
arc, shattering its glory-light to great 
opals as if moon-sheen shone on hidden 
gems. As we cast the light where some 
Instantly he swerved and made for the shore. 
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