fresri "moose works!” You are rather 
pleased that you did not insist that I 
make a fire, are you not? Even if you 
had to swallow your grub with the as- 
sistance of a dash of brook water. Look 
at this place, where the moss and earth 
are scraped away and roots peeled. 
That is where the bull has smelled ^where 
a cow has stood and then paw'ed up the 
place with hugh hoofs. See, here is his 
track in the black earth as plain as if 
stamped with a die. A big track, too, 
although it does not always follow that 
a moose with big feet carries a big head. 
The largest moose with the finest head 
I ever killed left a rather small track. 
Here is our blind. Just note how 
very carefully it has been prepared. The 
heart of a big bunch of white-wood has 
been cut out. All dead trash removed 
and the bottom carpeted with reindeei; 
moss. Over this we spread our 
sleeping bags and sit upon them 
in comfort. In front of us is a 
small meadow with a narrow dead- 
water in it. On our right front a 
growth of alders juts out to a 
rather sharp point, with a spruce 
swamp behind them. To the left of 
the meadow and some fifty yards 
from the still-water another sharp 
point of alders, backed by a mix- 
ture of spruce, fir and maple, af- 
fording thick cover and also feed. 
Behind us lies a small lake. It 
is the surest moose bet you ever 
made that if we see a bull he will 
come out of one of the two points 
on our front and step across the 
still-water to the opposite one, 
pausing to turn his head and look 
in our direction where he has lo- 
cated the call. Can some old 
moose caller tell me why a bull 
moose loves to walk through ald- 
ers? He likes to stop and hook 
them, too, twisting the stalks with 
his antlers; the penetrating sap 
of which dyes them to a rich chest- 
nut. The idea I give in explana- 
tion is that he drags and brushes 
the moose-flies from his belly and 
between his long legs. Every moose 
killed in September or early Oc- 
tober will be found to be infested 
with these flies. We will not call to- 
night. “Why not?” I fancy I hear some 
one remark, and my answer is: Because 
we want to kill a bull, and our chances 
of doing so will be infinitely better in 
the morning. Judging by all appear- 
ances it looks as if a frosty morning 
would greet us on the morrow. The sun, 
just setting, looks clear and, although it 
is hard to keep the horn down, yet we de- 
sist, “What did you bring me out here 
for?” you whisper. An easy answer 
again: To listen! Just suppose we call 
and start a bull tonight, he will, in all 
probability, wait until darkness screens 
him and then sneak out where we can’t 
see him, keeping us up all night playing 
hide and seek with him for fear he will 
steal up to our blind and, catching our 
scent, depart in a hurry. There is a way 
to fool these cute ones, but as it was 
largely responsible for the close season 
in Maine and is never practised here, I 
will not give the trick away; although it 
reall is a great temptation for me to do so. 
Bulls which have been lying up all 
day in the thickest, wettest swamps will 
begin to move about sundown searching 
for the cows. If there are ridges in the 
vicinity, they will be sure to travel up to 
the tops from where they can better hear 
the luring call of the cows. Here they 
will stand, with their great mule ears 
slowly moving, listening for the mating 
call. All is still save the occasional hoot 
of a great-homed owl or the soft quack- 
ing of a flock of black ducks from a dis- 
tant still-water. The woods appear abso- 
lutely dead. It has been a hot day and 
moose are not moving yet. When the 
night air cools the summer heat left by 
the sun we will hear them, if there are 
any in the vicinity. Swamps, barrens, 
bogs and ridges with granite boulders 
comprise our hunting grounds, with lakes 
and streams intermingled and separating 
them. The sun has disappeared ’oelow 
the horizon for some time and nothing 
has so far attracted the trained ear of 
your guide. Such noises as the hoot of 
an owl, the slap of a beaver’s tail upon 
the glassy surface of the lake, quacking 
of ducks, or the boom of a bullfrog all go 
unnoticed by him. He hears them but 
does not notice them. You begin to won- 
der if your hearing is the more acute! 
Suddenly a smile lights up the guide’s 
countenance. Cocking his head to one 
side he concentrates in the direction of a 
long spruce swamp off to the left of us. 
You have not heard a thing over there, 
but his trained ear has caught the “lock” 
— “lock” of a bull moose a long ways off. 
Even if you had heard him at that dis- 
tance there would be nothing in the 
sound that would have led you to suspect 
it was a moose. That far away “lock” — 
“lock” would sound very differently if only 
a half mile away, and again quite differ- 
ently if only a hundred yards or so dis- 
tant! 
Presently from the very heart of a 
swamp to our right and not more than 
four hundred yards away, a cow bawls; 
“Ah — Ah — Ou-wahah, squealing it out in 
a long dravTi sigh. Even if you have 
never heard one before you know at once 
it is a cow moose. There is no sound 
heard in the forest like it, and — she has 
a bull with her, for we now distinctly 
hear the thrash of antlers on the bushes 
and then his “buck” — ^“buck,” as he 
grunts to her. Now she begins to move 
away and is not at all impressed by her 
mate’s coaxing. That whining, resonant 
call of hers is not the note you want to 
copy and repeat through your moose call. 
It is the mating call that you should 
study. I speak of the amorous cow that 
is tired of being alone and wishes to take 
a partner for the fall. It is almost 
impossible to describe this sound in 
writing. Some morning or night 
you may hear it and in response 
the anxious grunts of a bull as he 
pushes his way straight through 
the forest towards it. When this 
opportunity comes to you, study 
the call and if you can imitate it 
through your horn, you will be a 
moose caller who will get results. 
Have you ever tried to sit perfectly 
still any length of time and listen? 
If not and this is your first at- 
tempt, you will find it extremely 
nervous and hard work, especially 
if you are excited by the noise of 
big game. 
UST here let me advise the tyro 
to wear soft clothing, and never 
anything like the canvas clothes 
that you may be offered by the 
clerk at the sporting goods store. 
Forestry green is a good color. 
Get wool clothes which will be fine 
for still-hunting and for any pur- 
pose where noise is a disadvantage. 
Nothing will aggravate your guide 
more than a hunter with a noisy 
suit of shooting clothes on. Every 
movement will make a noise and 
when scraped against the bushes or 
rubbed on the granite boulders they 
will make enough racket to frighten a 
moose fifty yards or more away. While 
on the subject of clothing I may say 
that there can be nothing better for 
your feet than cowhide, oil tanned moc- 
casins — the low kind that lace up to 
the ankle. Have them without soles so 
that you can walk in silence and feel the 
sticks through them with your toes. Shod 
in this manner you wdll avoid breaking 
sticks which you otherwise would do. 
Perhaps all these details may weary the 
old moose hunter but it will be well for 
the novice to know these things. It may 
mean success or disappointment. 
Well, we will go to our camp or tent 
now and turn in. You see our little trip 
out here has been the means of locating 
two bulls. You drop off to sleep as hap- 
py as a baby with a basket of clothes 
pins. Morning co:nes and by the first 
streaks of light in the east wo are ready. 
It is very frosty and unpleasantly cold. 
Thero is always a sort of shiver that 
Moose called and shot in Digby Co., Nova Scotia 
