Vol. XCI NOVEMBER, 1921 No. 11 
GOAT AND BEAR AT RIVERS INLET 
A TRIP UP THE OWIKANO RIVER ON THE BRITISH COLUMBIA 
COAST REVEALS A RUGGED COUNTRY WHERE GAME ABOUNDS 
W HILE on the coast of British 
Columbia, I received a letter 
from my friend, Jim Fitzger- 
ald, informing me that he had 
not been feeling well for some time and 
that he needed a change. As he had 
accompanied me on several hunting trips, 
I proposed that we carry out a previous 
arrangement and take a trip up the 
Owikano Lake, which empties by the 
Owikano River into Rivers Inlet. Jim, 
whose indispositions generally meant the 
call of the wild, readily accepted my sug- 
gestion. Accordingly, after a few days, 
we met in Victoria, and taking a coasting 
steamer we soon arrived at Rivers Inlet. 
We had a very good canoe and all 
camping equipment, which I had previ- 
ously sent up, and it did not take us long 
to get all our supplies on board and 
make a start. We poled up the river to 
the lake. On the way we passed an 
Indian fishing village, composed of about 
a dozen houses constructed of slabs split 
from cedar trees and which were now 
blackened by the weather. The houses 
were long and low, and each one was 
occupied by several families. 
The Indians live in these houses dur- 
ing the fall of the year while they catch 
their salmon to cure for winter’s use. 
To the north of the village and close 
to the river there were several Indian 
graves among the shrubbery, over one 
of which stood the totem poles of an 
Indian chief and his wife. 
After reaching the lake we kept on for 
about seven miles, and early in the after- 
noon entered a well-sheltered bay on the 
north side of the lake, where we decided 
to say for the night. All our camping 
outfit having been taken ashore, and the 
tent up, I took a pail to fetch some water 
from the creek, and on my way saw the 
fresh tracks of a bear. It must have 
crossed the creek during the last few 
minutes, as its tracks in the sand were 
still wet with the water that had dripped 
from its paws. 
Hurrying back to the tent I got my 
By H. BEAU FORD 
rifle and told Jim that I had seen the 
fresh tracks of a bear and was going 
after it. Picking up the trail, I followed 
it up the creek. The creek bottom was 
full of wind-falls, lying in all manner of 
positions. Crawling under some and 
climbing over others, I kept always in 
touch with the bear’s trail. At one place 
I could see where it had stopped to nibble 
at some skunk cabbage. I had followed 
it for about half a mile when I came to 
a bunch of wind-falls that looked as if 
a cyclone had struck the place, and here 
I lost the trail. 
Rocky Mountain Goat 
Hoping to find it farther on, I climbed 
over some logs to have a look around, 
and while standing against the root of 
an upturned tree, watching a porcupine 
feeding on some roots, I caught sight of 
the bear as it came from under a wind- 
fall and was climbing up among the 
logs. It was fifty yards away and going 
up the creek. I took a shot at it and it 
fell, the bullet having struck it low on 
the back of the head, and death was in- 
stantaneous. It was a small black bear. 
As bears feed very largely on salmon 
at this time of the year, and in this part 
of the country, the flesh was unfit for 
use. I took off the skin, which might 
be used as a rug in camp. 
H AVING had supper, we took a look 
around to see what the country was 
like and found it very rough and not a 
likely place for much sport, so we de- 
cided that next morning we would cross 
the lake to a small river which seemed 
to run through a fairly wide valley. 
After a fine sleep (it is wonderful how 
the fresh air makes one sleep) we ate 
breakfast and made a start. 
There was a nice wind blowing on the 
lake and we made good time crossing to 
the river. Here there was a very pretty 
and perfectly sheltered cove, but instead 
of a valley the rocks rose straight from 
the water, and over them came pouring 
the river, which finally fell into the lake 
in a drop of about thirty feet. 
We were disappointed in not getting 
any fresh meat, but we caught some fish, 
using red squirrel for bait, and selected 
a couple of dozen of the largest ones to 
take to our next camp. 
As we were leaving the cove we met 
an Indian with his wife and son coming 
in. I was struck with the fine appear- 
ance and workmanship of his canoe, 
which was hollowed out of a single cedar 
tree. The Indian had made it with the 
simple tools at his disposal, namely, an 
axe and a small adze. No rule had been 
used, all measurements being made by 
the eye, and there was not a nail in it. 
The thwarts w r hich were used as seats 
constituted the only bracing and were 
fastened to the side by small spruce roots 
laced through the ends of the seats and 
