JUNE 16, 1906.] 
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FOREST AND STREAM. 
947 

the river. The forest becomes distinctly dwarfed in 
the Devonian area, and apparently because of the 
firm character of the clay bed, with shallow 
humus, the tree roots not being able to penetrate 
the clay freely. The forest consisted chiefly of 
small black spruce, aspen, and tamarack, with no 
pines, and this character persisted as far as we 
went along the shores of Hudson Bay. 
Below the falls at the foot of the eight mile 
portage we came to another fish, the moon eye 
herring, called by the Indians “Nebogatis.” It 
was a surprise to run across the nebogatis. We 
had been looking for a fish that Nat called the 
“awatoose.” He said that it could be caught 
easily, and that in the old days, when supplies 
came this way from England for Flying Post, it 
was the custom for the men to catch awatoose 
whenever they stopped to camp for the night. 
We did not manage to capture a single specimen 
of this fish, but from the presence of some stone 
heap nests that I saw in the river, and the simi- 
larity of the name to “ouitouche” of the Montag- 
nais Indians, I am pretty sure that the fish is the 
great dace. One evening while standing near the 
river bank after dark I heard a strange fish 
breaking water in the eddy close by, and got out 
the fly rod, supposing that the awatoose was to 
be captured at last. Instead of that I immediately 
captured a nebogatis, and it was a great delight. 
The nebogatis we found to rise freely to the fly, 
and it chose the Parmachenee Belle almost exclu- 
sively. It was the most beautiful species of fish 
that we caught on the trip. Shaped like a shad, 
it has large scales of flashing silver over which 
plays an iridescence of lilac, purple, and pea 
green. It is a delicate and evanescent coloring, 
very different from the substantial beauty of col- 
oring of the brook trout, but most pleasing in its 
surprises of changing iridescence. The nebogatis 
was a delicious fish for the table, with firm, white 
flesh, and the brown fat characteristic of the her- 
tings. It lives in trout water, and promises to be- 
come a game fish of consequence, as it makes a 
fine fight, dees not know when it is beaten, and 
leaps freely from the water when _ hooked. 
Another beautiful fish that we found in the lower 
water was the silvery, red-finned mullet (VM. leu- 
seurt), but it was a rather coarse and insipid fish 
for eating purposes. It “would do” on a pinch 
for breakfast, but on this trip we never had to 
depend upon anything that “would do.” 
The finding of our old friend the brook trout 
(S, fontinalis) in these waters was another sur- 
prise. We were about fifteen miles above Moose 
Post when I stopped to talk with a family of Cree 
Indians engaged in smoking fish and rabbits. We 
were now in the land of the Crees and out of 
the hunting and fishing range of the Ojibways. 
After asking the father of the family about var- 
ious fish to be found in the locality, I jokingly 
said, ‘“Kawin oyi mushamegos,” to which he in- 
stantly answered with an affirmative grunt, and 
turning to the smoking rack, brought out a brook 

A STORY WITHOUT WORDS. 
“and some smaller ones 

LYNX TRACK, 
trout of about six pounds weight. On arriving 
at Moose Post later, we learned not only that 
the brook trout was abundant, but that it grew 
to a very large size. Responsible men at the 
Post said that specimens of eight or ten pounds 
were frequently caught, and that it sometimes 
reached fifteen pounds in weight. I remember 
the disturbance that followed the capture of a 
ten pound brook at the Rangeleys, and the later 
capture of an eleven pound trout in Lake Nipi- 
gon. It is probable that some one is now to fur- 
nish us with a bigger one yet for the records. 
The largest trout that I caught during our short 
stay at Moose Post weighed just three pounds, 
in a tributary stream 
were as brightly colored as any trout that I have 
seen. They rose to almost any sort of fly, but 
we did not have time to work out the haunts of 
the big fellows. It may seem strange to enthu- 
siastic fishermen that one of their number on 
record grounds, perhaps, could not stop to look 
for fifteen pounders, but we have to consider that 
at this point the mighty Moose River is three 
miles wide, with rapids, shallows, channels, 
islands, winds and calms, and that it is difficult 
even to find one’s way without the aid of a 
compass. It is different from the Connecticut 
brooks, in which I caught trout as a boy, when 
we sometimes had to stand up on a bog to see 
which way the brook ran. In the Moose River, 
brook trout and white whales actually leap side 
by side, and seals raise their heads above the 
pools. The white whale is one .of my favorite 
animals, and one never tires of watching the 
beautiful things roll out lazily from the dark 
flood. 
The entrance of the Abitibi River into the 
Moose is a profound spectacle. The Abitibi itself 
is a monstrous river, and after impressing the 
wilderness with its rearing and running and rest- 
ing, it finally gives up the fight for identity with 
a titanic rush over rapids half a mile wide, 
and with a last roar that makes the rocks and 
the air and the forest tremble for miles away. | 
About ten miles of the lower Moose River is 
tide water, but perfectly fresh, as the current is 
so great that the sea simply backs it up six or 
eight feet on the rising tide. At high tide, be- 
lugas, grampus, porpoises and bearded seals run 
up the river as far as the water is set back. 
About the islands we saw many terns, which I 
took to be Wilson’s and the arctic tern, but they 
were evidently breeding and we did not care to 
shoot any for identification. The mellow ringing 
whistle of the great yellowleg snipe could be 
heard all day long above the roar of the waters, 
‘buttercups, and it was not troublesome, 
and here and there we saw the solitary sand- 
piper and the spotted sandpiper. On tide water 
we saw blue herons and bitterns for the first 
time on the trip. We found two salt water mol- 
luses (Yoldia and Corbula) abundant in the per- 
fectly fresh tide water. I have not mentioned 
mosquitoes and black flies previously, because 
they are able to speak for themselves, but on the 
lower Moose River and along the shores of Hud- 
son Bay we found one notable mosquito that we 
named the “oat hull.” It was very large and light 
colored. Whenever we landed we would be in- 
stantly covered with these mosquitoes as quickly 
and:quietly as though a puff of wind had blown 
oat hulls all over us. They were more compan- 
ionable than vicious. At one time I set out to 
count the number upon the back of one of the 
Indians at the bow of the canoe, and by count- 
ing the number in a small square and then adding 
up the squares I estimated that there were eight 
hundred mosquitoes upon his back alone, but out 
of the whole covey not more than three or four 
were attempting to kiss him at any one time. 
On the trip we depended upon the mixture of 
one part of carbolic acid and nine parts of 
sweet oil to keep off various things that sought 
our acquaintance. A very little of this mixture 
on the face and hands was effective. It is a pre- 
paration that I learned to use in Labrador, where 
none of the common applications would suffice. 
It was on July 30 that we arrived at Moose Post, 
situated on the beautiful park-like Moose Island 
at tide water. We made camp on one of the 
thoroughfares. where there was a sand beach 
and a fine cold spring. Moose Post is an oasis of 
civilization consisting of about five hundred 
people, but with few whites. The Post factor, 
Mr. J. B. Mowat, made our stay a very agree- 
able one, and we were entertained by his family. 
There is a church with English service, presided 
over by Rev. T. B. Holland; an hospital in charge 
of a trained nurse, Miss Johnson; and a school 
under the care of Mr. Oxley. At the time of 
our arrival the whole Post was engaged in hay- 
ing. There was a heavy crop of timothy, with 
considerable fescue and agrostis. The only weed 
in the meadows seemed to be one of the common 
We saw 
a handsome herd of Durham cattle, and some 
Clydesdale horses.. I did not ask about the flock 
of sheep that was feeding at a distance; but they 
appeared to be Shropshires. owls do not do 
well at the Post, as they are apt to lose toes, 
combs and courage during the long winter, but 
we saw a number that looked hardy. In the 
garden we found some dear old flowers, pansies, 
rocket, Sweet William, primroses, and others that 
were associated with the happy days of childhood. 
I do not know if these old-fashioned flowers are 
really more beautiful than the more gorgeous 
modern ones, or if it is simply a matter of first 
love. The pansies are perfectly hardy in this 
latitude, and come up every year from self-sown 
The mustards that do well 
seed. in the Post 

A BROOK TROUT FROM LOWER MOOSE RIVER. 
