538 FOREST AND STREAM . December, 1921 
Trapper’s cabin at Barley Cache Attaching the outboard motor 
BEAR HUNTING ON NORTHERN RIVERS 
SANE AND HAPPY IS THE MAN WHO EACH YEAR CLEANSES HIS 
SPIRIT BY CLOSE CONTACT WITH THE PRIMAL FORCES OF NATURE 
1 AM at variance with those who usu- 
ally speak of hobbies in terms of 
disparagement, or even of ridicule; 
for nothing is more conducive to 
happiness than hobbies if temperately 
ridden. No diversion is productive of 
so much well-being as riding some hobby. 
One of my hobbies is hunting, but for 
fear of riding it to death I make fre- 
quent change of mounts. 
Sane and happy is the man who is en- 
grossed in normally changing diver- 
sions. Childhood, boyhood, manhood, 
old age — to each is due a different form 
of diversion and each form is a hobby. 
I can trace mine with pleasure. Marbles, 
tops, baseball, Indian relics, quail hunt- 
ing, pheasant propagation, shrubbery, 
golf, politics, photography, big-game 
hunting, books, pioneer history, each has 
been my hobby; and I am under a deep 
sense of obligation for the pleasure de- 
rived from them. If you are skeptical 
about regarding hunting as a hobby, 
weigh the enthusiasm bestowed by sports- 
men upon the chase and the implements 
of the chase. 
I acknowledge my hobbies and profess 
in extenuation that none has ever in- 
fringed upon my duty toward others. 
Hunting has brought me the beauties 
and wonders of Nature and I have re- 
joiced. Borrow writes: “For of all the 
pleasures which a bountiful God per- 
mitteth his children to enjoy, none are 
so dear to some hearts as the music of 
forests and streams, and the view of 
the beauties of His glorious creation.” 
This is the music and these are the beau- 
ties the hunter enjoys. He sees Nature 
in every phase and, as he grows in 
knowledge of her ways, his love for 
her increases. The hunter moves in 
alert leisure; he has both time and op- 
portunity to listen to the music of the 
woodlands and to view the beauties of 
the mountains. The admonition of the 
railroad guide-posts,, “stop, look and 
listen,” is the precept of the hunter. 
I have a predilection for hunting 
grounds that are familiar; for camp sites 
By HENRY BAN NON 
that are known full well. In his beau- 
tiful essay, “The Open Fire,” Henry 
Van Dyke is persuasive that the fisher- 
man finds superior delight in fishing 
streams that are old to him rather than 
in angling in waters that are new; that 
the memories clinging around the camp- 
grounds of other times give more charm 
to the angler than tenting in places that 
are strange. I have found this to be 
true also of the hunter. And most ten- 
der reflections have I enjoyed upon re- 
turn to western camp-sites where my 
children have been happy. Among these 
familiar scenes I have had delight not 
only in the visible pleasures of the mo- 
ment but also in the memories of days 
gone by. Try as one may he cannot 
divorce mind and sentiment, for without 
sentiment life is barren and desolate in- 
deed. How beautifully Stevenson ex- 
presses the idea in “The Lantern Bear- 
ers”: “His (man’s) life from without 
may seem but a rude mound of mud but 
there will be some golden chamber at 
the heart of it in which he dwells de- 
lighted.” 
CENTIMENT, no doubt, has had 
^ much to do with my making four 
journeys into the land of the Cassiars. 
I enjoy hunting along those streams and 
among those mountains with which I 
have an acquaintance; I enjoy hunting 
with the man who has ceased to be a 
guide to become a companion. In the 
sub-arctic forest all streams, all gla- 
ciers, all mountains are similar; as are 
also the fish, fowl, and the mammals 
that inhabit them. Moose, caribou, 
bears, sheep and goats frequent the 
ranges best adapted to them; the range 
of each has its counterpart anywhere in 
the sub-arctic forest, and these animals 
are good game wherever found; the 
trout and the salmon are as vigorous in 
one stream as in another; the wild duck 
and the grouse are swift of flight in any 
marsh and woodland; the mosquito, 
which flourishes everywhere in this re- 
gion, is as vicious in one vicinity as in I 
another. Nature in the North is every- ; 
where the same. 
My recent journey up the Stikine was ! 
made in a canoe, propelled for part of 
the way by an outboard motor. Al- 
though the motor did not furnish power 
to convey us to our destination, it did i 
take us over the greater part, and over 
the strongest waters of our journey, 
before breaking down ; and we were 
grateful for what we got. After the 
motor played out we hoisted sail when 
the wind was favorable; when not fa- 
vorable, the canoe was lined or poled 
against the current. As my companion 
was more accustomed to canoeing up- 
stream than was I to tramping over 
rocky bars, the honors of weariness were ij 
even at nightfall in spite of his more 
strenuous labor. At any rate one is 
tired only if he thinks “tired,” and on i 1 
such a trip as mine things other than 
physical weariness occupy the mind. 
Innumerable gulls and hair seals were 
on the shoals at the mouth of the Stik- 
ine. They were attracted thither by the 
schools of eulachons, or candlefish, a 
small fish greatly prized by the Indians 
for food and for candles. Further up- 
stream were many gulls resting on 
snow-covered bars. Geese, mallards and 
teal, all very palatable fowl, were not 
in the least afraid and we could approach 
within easy gunshot of them; but the un- 
savory mergansers were so wild that 
they would take flight long before we 
came within range. Charles Lamb 
quoted the saying, “the foolisher the 
fowl or fish, the finer the flesh thereof.” 
I do not know the author of this epi- 
gram, but he must have been both hun- 
ter and angler. 
At the boundary between Alaska and 
British Columbia I saw a seal catch a 
large salmon. A loud splash attracted 
my attention ; I looked across the river 
and saw a swirl in the water. Near the 
swirl was a seal swimming upstream in 
pursuit of a salmon that occasionally 
rose to the surface. Suddenly the sal- 
