September, 1918 
FOREST AND STREAM 
521 
Meeting the cow moose unexpectedly I 
hardly knew just how to conduct myself 
me to mount. I told him he’d get his feet 
wet, but he said he didn’t give a whoop if 
he did. Much against my wishes I finally 
got on his shoulders and draped my legs 
around under his arms. Then he arose 
and started across. We got along fine 
until we were half over. I was just be¬ 
ginning to breathe easier when suddenly 
one of Jock’s feet skidded and he lurched 
sidewise! I tried to help him get straight¬ 
ened up and pulled him over backward! 
Result—we both sat down with a splash in 
about 14 inches of cold, wet water! Soon 
as I got unsnarled from Jock I beat it 
ashore wet to the waist and he followed 
suit bent double with laughter. 
“You did that on purpose!” I gurgles. 
‘‘No, I didn’t, Newt—honest,” giggles 
Jock; “you pushed my hat down over my 
eyes and I couldn’t see where I was step- 
pin’.” “That’s right—blame it all on me,” 
I growls; “if we’d both waded over in the 
first place we’d only have got our feet wet. 
whereas now look-at us!” Jock seemed 
to think it was a great joke, altho he 
was moister than I was—which was some 
consolation. We partly disrobed and 
.wrung out our clothing. Then we dressed 
and jogged on another half mile when we 
icame to an old lumber camp. It was nearly 
noon, so here we paused long enough to 
boil tea and eat our lunch, deciding to 
spend the afternoon hours at the Lick. 
A FTER a short smoke Jock took the 
lead and we proceeded cautiously. 
Bye and bye we crossed several game 
rails deeply worn into the turf by the 
roofs of countless generations of moose 
md deer who had journeyed to this saline 
ilecca. We were now walking in one of 
hese trails that serpentined in and out 
imong the trees. Jock motioned me up 
nd whispered to go ahead and to go softly 
>ecause the Lick was not more than ioo 
eet in advance. Jock had detoured so 
fiat the light breeze blew in our faces. 
As I pussy-footed it along that game trail 
nder a thick canopy of foliage I turned 
corner and there, not more than io feet 
rom me, was a big cow moose standing 
uietly and looking me right in the eye! 
was not only surprised, but embarrassed 
-I am not in the custom of making the 
cquaintance of lady mooses—I mean lady 
leese, without a formal introduction. I 
olitely lifted my hat to her—or, rather, 
ly hair lifted my hat for me! I was try- 
ig to decide whether to climb a tree, or 
etreat when she ponderously swung off 
le trail and with swift and surprisingly 
oiseless strides, drifted into the brush. It 
as evident she had been after a few swal- 
Ambushed in the brush we watched the 
deer and moose menagerie come and go 
lows of tonic and was on her way out. 
When my pulse was back to normal I 
soft-shoed it forward again with Jock at 
my heels and we were presently able to 
peep into Dingy Brook Lick, the source of 
Dingy Brook. Let me briefly describe it: 
This quiet and dingy spot in the forest’s 
depths is perhaps 200 feet long and 75 
wide, oval shaped somewhat like a steak- 
platter, with a low ridge around its edge. 
The surface is comparatively flat, stony 
and nude of trees or vegetation. Here and 
there are shallow, muddy pools, only a few 
inches deep and it is this unappetizing 
looking water the animals journey from 
miles in all directions to drink. Bright 
sunlight flooded the spot. 
A T the farther end of the Lick stood 
two handsome does. We crawled 
over the edge of the “platter” and con¬ 
cealed ourselves behind a screen of thick 
brush. With his knife Jock quietly trimmed 
a peep-hole so we could command a view 
of the Lick. Then I got my camera in 
hand and we settled down to wait and 
watch; Apparently the does heard us, but 
didn’t see us or scent us. They were ner¬ 
vous, however, and shortly both skulked 
off out of sight. By this time the black- 
flies had found us. Jock passed me his 
bottle of home-made dope which I smeared 
on my face and hands. It was black, evil 
looking stuff that would make any self- 
respecting skunk feel that it had lived in 
vain, but it sure did discourage the ambi¬ 
tion of the black-flies. 
Perhaps 10 minutes passed. There was 
a movement in the brush opposite and pres¬ 
ently a big, stately doe tip-toed in fol¬ 
lowed by her babies—two of the cutest 
late-spring freckled fawns you ever clapped 
your eyes on. The mother came on cau¬ 
tiously to one of the choicest pools about 
25 feet from us and lowering her head 
began to greedily drink that muddy water. 
The two youngsters ran up eagerly and 
thrusting their little muzzles in close be¬ 
side their mother’s, took a swallow. Then 
they drew back and shook their heads for 
all the world like a couple of kids who 
have been given a dose of nasty medicine 
as much as to say, “Gee, that’s rotten, 
mother!—how can you ever drink it!” I 
aimed the camera at the trio and pulled 
the trigger. At the click of the shutter 
“Mother” snapped up her head and gazed 
at our “blind” with big wondering eyes in 
which suspicion was plain. Then she 
turned and walked briskly toward cover, 
her offspring trotting meekly along behind- 
At the edge of the brush she paused long 
enough to look suspiciously toward us 
The.big doe and her two freckled babies 
interested me very much indeed 
again, then disappeared among the trees. 
Hardly had this trio made their exit 
untd from the opposite side entered Mr. 
Bulliam Moose, but he entered on the 
“safety first” basis. With only his 
head in sight (crowned, by the way, with 
a handsome set of half-grown antlers in 
the velvet) he stopped to sniff, listen and 
give the Lick the once-over. This took 
him probably five minutes. Satisfied that 
all was well he came slowly and boldly in, 
as handsome a forest monarch as you 
could wish to see. At a puddle 50 feet 
from us he drank deep. When I snapped 
him he either didn t hear the click or paid 
no attention to it. 
While he stood there a cow moose poked 
her head in below him to look things over. 
She saw the bull, but he didn’t see her— 
not until she stepped forth and walked de¬ 
terminedly toward him. Right on she came 
with a nasty glint in her eye and the stiff 
hair on her neck began to rise. I don’t 
know what made her take a dislike to the 
bull—unless he got fresh and tried to flirt 
with her. At any rate when she had come 
up within a few feet of Mr. Bull without 
stopping and looking more disagreeable 
than ever, he stepped quietly and polite'ly 
aside while Madam Moose appropriated the 
pool where he had been drinking. The 
Bull stood sheepishly aside for a moment 
as much as to say, “Ladies first, always,” 
then he seemed to remember an appoint¬ 
ment he had and walked out of the Lick 
with considerable . less pride than he 
brought in. 
The cow watched him out of sight, then 
she turned her head in the direction she 
had entered and gave a low, caressing, gut¬ 
tural grunt. At this signal out wabbled an 
awkward big, little mouse-colored boy- 
moosie. Mother had left him under cover 
while she came in to reconnoiter. That 
grunt, interpreted, said, “Come on, my son 
—everything’s all right.” The mother 
drank with great gusto, but this saline dope 
didn’t interest her* calf in the least. He 
lay down in the sun close to her and closed 
his eyes, but he wasn’t asleep because he 
kept his jaws going busily. If a calf moose 
has a cud that’s what he was chewing. 
I TURNED the camera on mother and 
child and snapped. Mrs. Moose re¬ 
mained about xo minutes and drank 
three times, then she started out toward 
the upper end of the Lick which brought 
her within 15 feet of us. She passed chose 
to her calf, but paid him no attention. She 
had taken only a few steps from him, how¬ 
ever, before he “woke up,” rubbered after 
(continued on page 564) 
