1178 
FOREST AND STREAM 
[Drawing for Forest and Stream by C. H. Lockwood] 
The Moose Had Emerged from the Heavy Timbers Between Us and the Lake. 
PARDNER JACK’S SOFT SPOT 
SENTIMENT MIXED WITH GOOD, COMMON 
SENSE PRESERVED THE LORDLY MOOSE 
By Charles H. Lockwood. 
W E were located in northeastern Cook 
county, Minnesota, about ten miles back 
from the shore of the great Gitchee Gu¬ 
rnee. One day in November we packed our 
cruising outfits preparatory to a hike back into 
the wilder regions, where the sounds and smells 
of camp life had not disturbed the wild animals 
and where we could see Nature at her best. 
Let me add that at the time of our visit to 
this lake it was little known on geographical 
papers, much less had it ever been honored by 
a name; yet it was certainly a most beautiful 
body of cold, clear water where later we found 
excellent fishing and game about its shores .in 
abundance. But the first thing that attracted 
our attention as we looked out over the waters 
were the numerous little islands nestled here 
and there through the lake. Thus, in the ab¬ 
sence of a better name, we called it Island Lake. 
We were looking for a place where we could 
get in touch with the things of Nature in their 
original state, and here we found it, evidently 
just as God had made it, without much touch¬ 
ing up. Moose tracks were visible everywhere 
and around the shore line a deep runway showed 
the marks of years of travel by moose and deer 
and other wild animals. 
Early morning found us back among the 
higher hills some distance from the lake shore. 
From a rocky hill top we sighted our first 
moose. He was wending his way down to water 
and in the dimness of early morn he looked no 
larger than a black speck. The dot continued 
to grow in size, as it drew near, until Pardner’s 
far-seeing eyes pronounced it a bull. The moose 
had emerged from the heavy timber between 
us and the lake and would no doubt return 
there after his drink. We were at a distance of 
a possible six hundred yards and after a whis¬ 
pered conversation we decided (the wind being 
in our favor) to approach nearer. 
Our objective point of observation was an¬ 
other hilltop some three hundred yards closer. 
Imagine our surprise on reaching this place to 
see the moose standing on a high shelf of rock 
with the big pines looming up directly behind 
him. Whether he had become suspicious or not 
was problematical, but we conjectured a few 
steps might easily take him out of sight. 
“It’s now ot never,” I whispered to Pardner 
(who, by the way, carried our only big game 
rifle, leaving to me the small-calibered game- 
getter). “It’s now or never,” I reiterated as we 
peered out through the bushes. As I looked I 
turned my eyes for an instant on Pardner’s face. 
Was it imagination that I caught a fleeting 
glimpse of a peculiar soft look in his eye? 
His next action belied the thought, however, 
for lying low, he took a deliberate aim. The 
rifle spurted its flame and ball, but I was sur¬ 
prised to note that the big moose stood as mo¬ 
tionless as before. Neither the sound of the 
rifle or the closeness of a speeding bullet seemed 
to disturb him. 
Again Pardner repeated this performance and 
again the same results. I was now puzzled con¬ 
siderably for I knew Pardner was an exception¬ 
ally good shot, and while the distance was con¬ 
siderable yet the target certainly was a large one. 
The third shot brought better results; the 
huge bull wheeled and I caught a distinct view 
of a large set of antlers. Like hounds we took 
up the trail. There was no blood in sight but 
the footprints were of such size, the depth of 
the impressions so great that we had little dif¬ 
ficulty in following the trail. 
After reaching the thicker woods the bull 
soon slowed down to a walk and we felt that 
he little suspected the presence of man. Per¬ 
haps in all his life he had never had any dealing 
with the two-legged bipeds and their shot-sling¬ 
ing smoke poles. 
Down into the soft, oozy depths of a spruce 
forest he led us, where yielding, spongy moss 
more completely silenced our foot falls. Here 
we crossed a tiny stream that seeped away 
through underlayers of decaying mosses. Here 
also a pungent odor of cedars and withering 
leaves was noticeable; then up a steep hillslope 
among the birches intermingled with thickets 
of balsam and pine. Now the tracks began to 
wander and we surmised he was looking for a 
place to lie down. The wind continued to be in 
our favor and we crept forward with the utmost 
stealth. 
Finally, just as we were passing through an 
exceptionally thick tangle we again started Mr. 
Moose and this time there was no mistaking his 
fright. He had caught his first smell of man, 
but one sniff was enough. We were within 
plain sight of him as he leaped from his bed 
and went crashing at full speed down hill. 
As he wheeled I caught a view of his antlers 
and in that same instant I heard the report of 
Pardner’s rifle. 
The big bull had adroitly sprung behind some 
green balsams, barring further shooting. As he 
crashed away I could distinctly hear the tattoo 
of his antlers on the bushes. Each moment I 
expected to hear a dull thud, as of a heavy body 
falling to earth; but in this I was disappointed. 
The sounds faded away and I turned to where 
Pardner Jack stood leaning upon Iris rifle. 
Searching that mask-like face I thought I again 
noticed a soft expression in his usually cold 
gray eyes; but as we silently searched for blood 
signs I could not bring myself to utter words 
of criticism. 
“Missed him clean” was Pardner’s only com¬ 
ment after a short search, but to me his simple 
words, or way of saying them, seemed to carry 
a world of meaning, more like a clarion note of 
triumph than the thought of regret. 
The following day I stood upon the same spot 
alone. There, on a big limb, some thirty feet 
from the ground I finally discovered the tell¬ 
tale marks of a bullet. I also learned that the 
moose had been first started, by our third shot, 
from a flying splinter off a nearby log. 
Yes! We had killed many deer together, 
Pardner Jack and I, but as Pardner afterwards 
explained, “There was no use killing a huge 
moose and leaving the greater part of his meat 
to rot in the woods.” 
