| 
FOREST 
Vol, XCV, No. 9 

YSTREAM 
September, 1925 
Hunting Big Game in 
the Nipigon Country 
This Section of the Ontario Bush 
is a Fruitful Big Game Region 
66 NE lunch for two,” said Joe, 
O my guide of a recent Nipigon 
hunting trip, so we stowed 
this, together with a small hunting axe 
and a piece of rope, in my “ruck-sack.” 
We left camp about six o’clock, just as 
it was light enough to see, and we were 
soon out of sight in the thick timber. 
Joe is a wonderful still-hunter and 
loves the game. I found out that he 
looks down on other methods of hunt- 
ing moose, and that he did not approve 
of calling. Fortunately, I had had a 
long experience in still-hunting for 
deer, so I was able to go almost as 
quietly as he, although I had a hard 
time at first to keep pace with him. 
When I still-hunt alone I generally 
move quite slowly in order to look the 
country over thoroughly as I advance. 
Joe’s keen sight and hearing, however, 
allowed him to hunt faster than I was 
accustomed to, and for a while I had a 
hard time keeping up with him. One 
time as I was getting over a log I 
stepped on a dry stick on the other side 
and it broke with a loud snap. Joe 
turned a scowling face and shook his 
fist. ‘Make no noise as much as you 
can,” he said. This tickled me so I had 
a hard time to keep from laughing, but 
I coud see he was very much in earnest 
and I congratulated myself in having 
such a splendid hunter for my guide. 
_As we worked along through the bush, 
the sun came up and with it a light 
_ breeze. 


With this breeze in our faces 
and the ground moist, from a recent 
rain, underfoot, still-hunting conditions 
were perfect. 
BOUT eight o’clock, from far off 
. on a mountain side came a long- 
drawn-out howl. I had heard it once 
| before in Quebec, but could not be sure 
what it was. Joe turned and whispered 
' “Wolves.” We hunted on through a 
| little valley and then up a side hill, and 
I soon forgot all about the wolves, try- 
ing to keep up with Joe. There were 
moose signs everywhere—a great many 
ak 
By FREDERICK A. POTTER 

The guide carrying out the trophy. 
fresh tracks and countless places where 
they had broken over small maples to 
eat the young shoots, and also many 
places where they had rubbed their 
antlers. 
Vie we left camp I had not 
chambered a shell in my gun as 
the brush was very thick and I am al- 
ways afraid of an accident with some- 
one walking ahead of me. Now, how- 
ever, the country was more open and 
the game signs plentiful, so I stopped 
and put a shell in the barrel. Instead of 
flipping a shell from the full magazine 
into the barrel I took an extra shell 
from my pocket and put this in. By 
doing this I missed a chance that I 
don’t expect I will ever have again. I 
was carrying a model ’95 Winchester 
shooting the 30-06 cartridge with the 
180 Gr. Lubaloy bullet. I did not know 
at this time that this gun will only car- 
ry three of these square-nosed Lubaloy 
bullets in the magazine, and not four, 
Contents Copyrighted by Forest and Stream Pub. Co. 
Suddenly Joe, who had gotten a little 
ahead of me, stopped. On top of the 
ridge we heard something running, and 
then off to the right a stick cracked. 
Ae we cautiously topped the hill I 
looked off to the right and saw a 
small cow moose running parallel with 
us. Her tongue was out and she ap- 
peared to have run a great distance 
and was almost ready to drop. We had 
not scared her, for she had come up 
behind us and was running in the same 
direction we were going, only about 50 
yards away. Before I had time to 
figure this out Joe suddenly whispered, 
“Wolves, shoot!” He stepped to one 
side and ahead I could see long dusky 
forms running low to the ground. I 
counted seven wolves —they were 
spread out fan-wise and were only 
about 50 yards away. I picked out the 
largest one which was the furthest 
away and fired. It fell in a heap and 
the others all stopped, not knowing 
where the shot came from. I threw 
back the lever of my gun and ejected 
the old shell, but when I tried to close 
the action the new shell jammed on the 
edge of the chamber. I worked on it 
frantically and finally got my hunting 
knife under the nose of the shell and 
pried it up. By this time the other 
wolves were all moving. I got four 
good running shots, but scored four 
misses. Joe was mad. “Damn!” he 
said, “If I have my gun I get whole 
bunch—bounty $40 each. Hell!” 
E skinned out the wolf which 
turned out to be a large female. 
She was over seven feet long and we 
judged weighed about 80 pounds. Joe 
said the pack was made up of the 
male, female and five pups. The 
pups were as large as a big police 
dog, and in the bush at a distance 
looked quite like one. These animals 
are very destructive to game, and for 
a number of years the Ontario Gov- 
ernment has paid a $40 bounty per 
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