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FOPvEST LIFE TN AOADTE.

SKETCHES OF SPORT AND NATURAL HISTORY

IN THE LOWER PROVINCES OF THE

CANADIAN DOMINION.

r.v CAPTAIN CAMPPKLL HARDY.

ROYAL ARTILLERY

AUTUUR OF "SPOBTIMO ADVKNTURKS IN THE NEW WORLD."

View on Gold River, N 8.

LONDON:
CHAPMAN & HALL, 193, PICCADILLY.

1869.

[Tfir lUijhl (i/ Traiislaiinii U !tix(rt(At.]

; >.'

C/ O cv* 5 «> J

PREFACE.

The Author having brought out several years since
fl, work on sporting in Atlantic America, which was
favourably received, is induced to present the present
volume of more recent experiences, especially as the
interval since elapsed has been unmarked by the produc-
tion of any English publication of a similar kind.

Many inquiries concerning the sports and physical
features of the British Provinces bordering on the
Atlantic, evidently made by those who meditate seeking
a transatlantic home, appear from time to time in the
columns of sporting periodicals, and elicit various and
uncertain replies.

The Author's sojourn in the Acadian Provinces having
extended over a period of fifteen years, he trusts that the
information here afforded will prove useful to such querists.

It will appear evident that he has formed a strong
attachment to the country, its scenery and wild sports,
and by some it will probably be said that the pleasures
of forest life are exaggerated in his descriptions of a
country possessing neither grandeur of landscape nor
inducements to the " sensational " sportsman. There is,
however, a quiet, ever-growing charm to be found in the

vi • ^ PREFACE.

woodlands or on the waters of Acadie, which those who
have resided there will readily admit. Many wlio have
touched at its shores as visitors within the Author's
recollection, have made it their home ; whilst those of his
vocation who have been called away, have almost invari-
ably expressed a hope of speedy return.

Several of the descriptive sporting scenes found in this
work will be recognised as having appeared in "The
Field," and the Author begs to express his appreciation
of the Editor's courtesy in permitting their republication.
The notices on the natural history of the Elk and Beaver
are reproduced, with slight alterations, from the pages
of *' Land and Water," with the kind consent of the
managers, the articles having appeared therein over the
signature of " Alces."

The acknowledgments of the Author are also due to
several old friends across the Atlantic — to " The Old
Himter," for anecdotes of camp life, and to Dr. Ber-
nard Gilpin for his valuable assistance in describing
the game fish, and in preparing the illustration of the
American Brook Trout.

■m-

^.r?"*!.;

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.

THE MARITIME PHOVINCES

PAOIB
1

CHAPTER II.

> THE FORESTS OP AOADIE

. 23

CHAPTER III.

THE ALCINE DEER OF THE OLD AND THE NEW WORLDS

CHAPTER IV.

MOOSE HUNTING

. 84

CHAPTER V.

THE AMERICAN REINDEER

. 120

CHAPTER VI.

CARIBOO HUNTING

135

CHAPTER VII.

LAKE DWELLERS .

» •

164

VI" CONTENTS.

OAVE LODOERS

CHAPTER VIII.

i>A(ii>:
11)1

CHAPTER IX.

ACADIAN FISU AND FI8UIN0 . . . . . . .211

CHAPTER X.

NOTES ON NEWFOUNDLAND 201

CHAPTER XI.

CAMPINO OUT 2a3

CHAPTER XII.

THE PROGRESS OF THE SEASONS 307

APPENDIX.

NOCTURNAL LIFE OF ANIMALS IN THE FOREST . . .336

ACCLIMATISATION IN AOADIE 344

MISCELLANEOUS NOTES A^\D ANECDOTES ON NATURAL HISTORY . 355

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

• •

SALMO FONTINATJS (OOLOURED).

VIEW ON GOLD RIVER, N.S.

THE LUMnERKR's CAMP IN WINTER

ELMS IN AN INTERVALE

MOOSE RIDINO-nOWN A TREE

MOOSE-CALLINO RY NIOHT

HOPNS OF THE CARIBOO

ON THE BARRENS .

BEAVER-DAM ON THE TOBIADUC .

MUSQUODOBOIT HARBOUR

THE PABINBAU PALLS, RIVER NEPISIOUIT

THE (!RAN/) FALLS, NEPIHIOUIT

FrontUpicce.
Vignette for Title Page.
. To face Page 28
>» 44

». 72

105
128
155
173
» 227

244
254

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FOEEST LIFE IN ACADIE.

CHAPTEK I.

THE MARITIME PROVLXCES.

Y^n canoe, it occurred to me to .2 th ' T '" ""
the proper Miemae pronunciation of tie naL T'"
plied, " We call 'om ' q < i ^- ^^ ^'e-

potatoe._,ili;^|j:t:^:w'^^^^^^^^
Paul, what does that mea^ r- LUed !'m""''"'
where you find W," said the Indian. ' ''"™-

ine termination, thereforp ^f « j-
place where this » thit 1'^ tlTf "^ "^
occurrence in the old Indian nai nf^, '"''""'''
to have been readily adopted bvT 1 ^ '' '"'^"^
aottle. in Nova Scotia to' desil f ""' ^'^^--t
trict, though one with 7^"*'' '^n extensive dis-

' "S" one with uncertam limits _d.o a ,•

-atotTvcnlftrf-"-"-^^^^

3ent provinces or;ors::r^:r£r- 1 ^'^-

W Edw.rd Island. With a in SrSte^?

8 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

Maine."^'' Tlio peninsula of Nova Scotia was, liowcver,
Acadic proper, and herein was laid the scene of the
expulsion of the French neutrals from their settlements
by the shores of Minas Basin and elsewhere — an event
round which has centred so much misconceived sym-
pathy of authors and poets, but which has since been
shown to have been a most justifiable and necessary

* Having had access since these lines were written to Dr. Dawson's
second edition of "Acadian Geology," recently published by Macmillan
and Co., I was at once struck with the author's account of the derivation
of the term " Acadie," which he has given in language so similar to my
own (even to instancing the Indian name of the same river), that I think
it but just to notice this fact — his work being produced some time prior to
my own. From this standard work on the Geology of the British Pro-
vinces, I will also quote a few passages in further e.\emplification of the
subject.

The author is informed by the Eev. Mr. Eand, the zealous Indian Mis-
sionary of the Acadian Indians, who has madi; their ways and language his
whole study for a long period of years, and translated into their tongue the
greater portion of Scripture, that " the word in its original form is Kady
or Cadie, and that it is equivalent to region, field, ground, land, or place,
but that when joined to an adjective, or to a noun with the force of an
adjective, it denotes that the place referred to is the appropriate or special
place of the object expressed by the noun or noun-adjective. Now in
Micmac, adjectives of this kind are formed l)y suffixing ' a ' or ' wa ' to
the noun. Thus Segubbun is a ground-nut ; Segubbuna, of or relating to
ground-nuts ; and Segubbuna-Kaddy is the place or region of ground-nuts,
or the place in which these are to be found in al)undance."

As further examples of this common termination of the old Indian
names of places, Dr. Dawson gives the following : —

Soona-Kaddy (Sunacadie). Place of cranberries.

Kata-Kaddy. Eel-ground.

Tulluk-Kaddy (Tracadie). Probably place of residence ; dwelling place.

Buna-Kaddy (Bunacadic, or Benacadie). Is the place of bringing forth ;
a place resorted to by the moose at the calving-time.

Segoonunia-Kaddy. Place of Gaspereau-t ; Gaspereaux or Alewife river.

Again, " Quodiah or Codiah is merely a modification of Kaddy in the
language of the Malicects " (a neighbouring tribe dwelling in New Bruns-
wick, principally on the banks of the St. John), " and replacing the other
form in certain compounds. Thus Nooda-Kwoddy (Noodiquoddy or
Winchelsea Harbour) is a place of seals, or, more literally, place of
seal-hunting, Pestumoo-Kwoddy (Passamaouoddy), Pollock-ground, &c.
&c."

THE MARITIME PROVINCES. 8

step, from their unceasing plottings vith the Indians
against British dominancy, receiving, of course, strong
support from the French, who still held Louisburg and
Quebec.

Most interesting, and indeed romantic, as is the early-
history of Acadie during her constant change of rulers
until the English obtained a lasting possession of Nova
Scotia in 1713, and finally in 1763 were ridded of their
troublesome rivals in Cape Breton by the cession on the
part of the French of all their possessions in Canada and
the Gulf of St. Lawrence, a history political and statis-
tical of the Lower Provinces would be quite irrelevant to
the general contents of a work like the present The
subject has been ably and exhaustively treated by the
great historian of Nova Scotia, Judge Haliburton, and
more recently, and in greater bulk, by Mr. Murdoch.
Of their works the colonists are justly proud, and when
one reads the abundant events of interest with which the
whole history of Nova Scotia is chequered, of its steady
progress and loyalty as a colony, and of the men it has
produced, one cannot wonder at the present distaste
evinced by its population on being compelled to merge
their compact history and individuality in that of the
New Dominion.

An outline sketch of the physical geography of
Acadie is what is here attempted, and a description
of some of the striking features of this interesting
locale.

Nova Scotia is a peninsula 25G miles in length, and
about 100 in breadth ; a low plateau, sixteen miles wide,
connects it with the continental province of New Bruns-
i| wick. The greatest extension of the peninsula, like that

B 2

FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

of similar geographical confoimations in all parts of the
earth, is towards the south. The actual trend of its At-
lantic coast is from north-east to south-west — a direction
in which are extended its principal geological formations
agreeing with the course of the St. Lawrence and of the
Apellachian chain of mountains which terminate at Cape
Gasp^. Its dependency, Cape Breton, is an island, 100
miles long, and eighty broad, separated from Nova Scotia
by the narrow, canal-like Gut of Canseau, in places but
half a mile in width — " a narrow transverse valley," says
the author of " Acadian Geology," " excavated by the
currents of the drift period." The largest and the greater
proportion of the rivers flow across the province, through
often parallel basins, into the Atlantic, indicating a
general slope at right angles to the longer axis. The
Shubenacadie is, however, a singular exception, rising
close to Halifax harbour on the Atlantic side of the pro-
vince, and crossing with a sluggish and even current
through a fertile intervale country to the Bay of Fundy.
The Atlantic coasts of Nova Scotia are indented to a
wonderful extent by creeks and arms of the sea, often
running far inland — miniature representations of the
Scandinavian fiords. As might be expected, as accom-
paniments to such a jagged coast-line, there are numerous
islands, shoals, and reefs, which render navigation dan-
gerous, and necessitate frequent light-houses. The
outlines of the western shores are much more regular,
with steep cliffs and few inlets, somewhat similar on
comparison with the same features of the continent itself
as displayed on its Atlantic and Pacific coasts. To these
harbours and to the fisheries may be attributed the
position of the capital of Halifax on the Atlantic side.

ft
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THE MARITIME PROVINCES. 6

All, or nearly all, the best portion of the country, in an
agricultural point of view, lies in the interior and to the
westward. The old capital, Port Eoyal, afterwards named
by the English Annapolis Royal, has a most picturesque
position at the head of a beautiful bay, termed Anna-
polis Basin, on the western side of the province, and is
backed by the garden of Nova Scotia, the Annapolis
Valley, which extends in a direction parallel to the
coast, sheltered on both sides by steep hills crowned with
maple forests for more than sixty miles, when it termi-
nates on the shores of Minas Basin in the Grand Prd of
the French Acadians.

The whole surfjice of the country is dotted with count-
less lakes. Often occurring in chains, these give rise to
the larger rivers which flow into the Atlantic. In fact,
all the rivers issue directly from lakes as their head
waters ; these latter, again, being supplied by forest
brooks rising in elevated swamps. In the hollows of the
high lands are likewise embosomed lakes of every variety
of form, and often quite isolated. Deep and intensely
blue, their shores fringed with rock boulders, and gene-
rally containing several islands, they do much to diversify
the monotony of the forest by their frequency and pic-
turesque scenery. In a paper read before the Nova-
Scotian Institute in 18G5, the writer, Mr. Belt, believes
that the conformation of the larger lake basins of Nova-
Scotia is due to glaciation, evidenced by the deep fur-
rows and scratchings on their exposed rocks, the rounding
of protuberant bosses, and the transportation of huge
boulders — the Grand Lake of the Shubenacadie chain
being a notable instance.

Although the country is most uneven, sometimes

6 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

boldly undulating, at others broken up in extremely
irregular forms, tho only absolute levels being marginal
on the alluvial rivers, there are no lofty mountains in
Nova Scotia. The Cobequid Hills, skirting Minas Basin
towards the junction of the province with New Bruns-
wick, are tlie most elevated, rising to 1200 feet above
the sea. This chain runs for more than 100 miles nearly
due east and west. No bare peaks protrude ; it is
everywhere clothed with a tall luxuriant forest, with
a predominance of beech and sugar-maple.

Very similar in its general physical features to Nova
Scotia, New Brunswick is distinguished by bolder
scenery, larger rivers, and greater dimensions of the
more important conif(3rs. From the forests in its northern
part arise sugar-loaf mountains with naked summits —
outlying peaks of the AUeghanies — which occur also in
Maine, more frequently, and on a still larger scale. The
mountain scenery where the Rcstigonche divides the
Gasp^ chain from the high lands of northern New Bruns-
wick is magnificent ; and the aspects of Sussex Vale, and
of the long valley of the Miramichi, are as charming as
those of tlic intervales of Nova Scotia.

The little red sandstone island of Prince Edward, lying
in a crescent-shape, in accordance with the coast lines of
New Brunswick and Nova Scotia, in a deep southern bay
of the Gulf of St. Lawrence, is the most fertile of the
three provinces, and possesses the attractive scenery of
high cultivation pleasantly alternating with wood and
water.

The area of the Acadian provinces is as follows : — Of
Nova Scotia, with Cape Breton, 18,600 square miles ; of
New Brunswick, 27,100 square miles; and of Prince

THE MARITIME PROVINCES.

Edward Island, 2137 squaie miles. Their pojjulation,
respectively, being Nearly 332,000, 252,000, and
81,000. r<

To the Geologist, the most interesting feature of modern
discovery in a country long famous for its mineral wealth,
is the wide dissemination of gold in the quartz veins of
the metamorphic rocks, whioh occur on the Atlantic
shore of Nova Scotia, stretching from Cape Sable to the
Cut of Canseau, and extending to a great distance across
the province. Its first discovery is currently supposed to
have been made in 1861 in a brook near Tangier har-
bour, about sixty miles from Halifax, and to have been
brought about by a man, stopping to drink, perceiving a
particle of the precious metal shining amongst the pebbles.
This led to an extended research, soon rewarded by dis-
covery of the matrix, and general operations accompanied
by fresh discoveries in widely distant points, and thus,
perhaps, was fairly started gold mining in Nova Scotia.
I believe, however, that I am right in attributing the
honour of being the first gold finder in the province to
my friend and quondam companion in the woods, Captain
C. L'Estrange of the Eoyal Artillery, and understand
that his claim to priority in this matter has been recently
fully recognised by the Provincial Government ; it being
satisfactorily shown that he found and brought in
specimens of gold in quartz from surface rocks, when
moose-hunting in the eastern districts, some time before
the discoveries at Tangier. The Oven's Head diggings,
near Lunenburg, were discovered during the summer of
the same year ; and the sea-beach below the cliffs at this
locality afforded for a short time a golden harvest by
washing the sand and pounded shale which had been

8 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

silted into the fissures of the rocks below high water
mark. The gold thus obtained had of course come from
the . cliff detritus — the result of the incessant dash of
Atlantic waves over a iong period of time — and was soon
exhausted: the claims on the cliff, however have proved
valuable. Then followed the discovery of the highly-
prolific barrel-shaped quartz at Allen's farm, afterwards
known as the Waverley diggings, of the Indian Harbour
and Wine Harbour gold-fields on the Eastern Coast
beyond Tangier, and of others to the westward, at Gold
River and La Have. Farther back from the coast, and
towards the edge of the slate formation, the precious
metal has been found at Mount Uniacke, and in the most
northern extension of the granitic naetamorphic strata
towards the Bay of Fundy, at a place called Little
Chester.

Though no small excitement naturally attended the
simultaneous and hitherto unexpected discovery of such
extensive gold areas, the development of the Nova-
Scotian gold mines has been conducted with astonishing
decorum and order : the robberies and bloodshed incident
on such a pursuit in wilder parts of America, or at the
Antipodes, have been here totally unknown. The indi-
viduals who prospected and took up claims, soon finding
the difficulty of remunerating themselves by their own
uaaided labour, disposed of them for often very con-
siderable sums to the companies of Nova-Scotians,
Germans and Americans, which had been formed to
work the business methodically. Though constantly seen
glistening as specks in the quartz, close to the surface,
the metal Avas seldom disclosed in nuggets of great value,
and the operation of crushing alone (extracting the gold

THE MARITIME PROVINCES.

by amalgamation with quicksilver) proved remunerative
in the long run and when carried out extensively.

At the commencement of this important era in the
economical history of Nova Scotia, the interest attached
to the pursuit of gold-digging may be well imagined.
Farm labourers, and farmers themselves, deserted their
summer's occupation and hastened to the localities pro-
claimed as gold-fields. Shanties, camps, and stores
appeared amongst the rough rocks which strewed the
wilderness in the depths of the forest. At Tangier, when
I isited it (the same summer in which gold was first
discovered there), a street had risen, with some three
hundred inhabitants, composed of rude frame houses,
bark camps, and tents. Flags flaunted o>'er the stores
and groggeries, and the characteristic American " store "
displayed its motley merchandise as in the settlements.
Anything could be here purchased, from a pickaxe to a
crinoline. A similar scene was shortly afterwards pre-
sented at the Oven's Head ; whilst at the Waverley
diggings, only ten miles distant from the capital of Nova
Scotia, a perfect town has sprung up. This latter locality
is famous for the singular formation of its gold-bearing
quartz lodes, termed " The Barrels." These barrels were
discovered on the hill-side at a small distance below the
surface, and consisted of long trunk- like shafts of quartz
enclosed in quartzite. They were arranged in parallel
lines, and looked very like the tops of drains exposed for
repair-. At first they were found to be exceedingly rich
in gold, some really fine nuggets having been displayed ;
but subsequent research has proved them a failure, and
the barrel formation has been abandoned for quartz
occurring in veins of ordinary position. A German com-

FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

pany establislied here has succeeded in obtaining large
profits, working the quartz veins by shafts sunk to a gi*eat
depth. Their crushing mill, when I visited it, contained
sixteen ponderous "stampers" moved by water power.
Every three or four weeks an ingot was forwarded by
them to Halifax, weighing four or five hundred ounces.
Some beautiful specimens of gold in (piartz of the
purest white, from this locality, were exhibited by
the Commissioners at the last great International Exhi-
bition.

. Even at the present time it is impossible to form any
just estimation of the value of the Nova-Scotian gold-
fields. Scientific men have given it as their opinion that
the main seat of the treasure has not yet been touched,
and that the present workings are but surface pickings.
Then, again, we may refer to the immense extent of the
Lower Silurian rocks on the Atlantic coast. At one end
of the province, stretching back for some fifty miles, the
whole area of the formation has been stated to comprise
about 7000 square miles. The wide dispersion over this
tract of casual gold discoveries and of the centres of
actual operations naturally lead to the belief that gold
mining is still in its infancy in Nova Scotia.

The yield of gold from the quartz veins is exceedingly
variable : some will scarcely produce half an ounce, others
as much as eight ounces to the ton. I have seen a large
quartz pebble picked up on the road side between Halifax
and the Waverley diggings, rather larger than a man's
head, which was spangled and streaked with gold in every
direction, estimated in value at nearly one hundred
pounds. It is curious to reflect for how many years that
valuable stone had been unwittingly passed by by the

THE MARITIME PROVINCES.

iic<}(ly settler returning from market to his distant farm
on the Eastern Road. Now frequent roadside chippings
strewed about attest the curiosity of the modern traveller
through the gold districts.

Of much greater importance, however, to these colonies
than the recently discovered gold-fields are their hound-
less resources as coal-j)roducing countries, paralysed
though their works may be at present by the pertinacious
refusal on the part of the United States to renew the
Reciprocity Treaty. To this temporary prostration an
end must soon be put by the opening up of intercolonial
commerce, to be brought about by the speedy completion
of an uninterrupted railway communication between the
Canadas and the Lower Provinces, and Avell-established
commerciid relations throughout the whole of the New
Dominion.

The coal-fields of Acadie are numerous and of large
area, the carboniferous system extending throughout the
province of Nova Scotia, including Cape Breton, bounding
the metamorphic belt of the Atlantic coast, and passing
through the isthmus, which joins the two provinces, into
New Brunswick, where it attains its broadest development.
In the latter province, however, the actual coal seams are
unimportant ; and it is in certain localities in Nova
Scotia and Cape Breton where the magnificent collieries
of British North America are found, and from which it
has been said the whole steam navy of Great Britain
might be supplied for centuries to come, as well as the
demands of the neighbouring colonies. It is impossible
to over-estimate the political importance accruing from
so vast a transatlantic storehouse of this precious mineral
both to England and the colonists themselves, whilst

FOltKST F.II-'E IN ACADIK.

Binprularly enough, on the Pacific side of the continent,
and in British posscHsion, occur the prolific coal-fields of
Vancouver's Island. " That the eastern and western
portals of British America," says Mr. R. G. Haliburton,^^
"should be so favoured by nature, augurs well for the
New Dominion, which, possessing a vast tract of magni-
ficent agricultural (;ountry between these extreme limits,
only requires an energetic, self-reliant p(x:»ple, worthy of
such a home, to raise it to a high position amongst
nations."

The grand coal column from the main scam of the
Albion mines at Pictou, exhibited at the last Great Exhi-
bition in London, will be long remembered. This seam
is 37 feet in vertical thickness. With iron of excellent
quality found abundantly and in the neighbourhood of
her great coal-fields, and fresh discoveries of various other
minerals of economic value being constantly made, Acadie
has all the elements wherewith to forge for herself the
armour-plated bulwark of great commercial prosperity.
And yet the shrewd capitalists of the Great Republic are
rapidly becoming possessed of the mineral wealth of the
country, almost unchallenged by provincial rivalry.

(Considerably removed from the mainland, with a coast
line for some distance conforming to the direction of the
Gulf Stream, the northern edge of which closely approaches
its shores, the climate of Nova Scotia is necessarily most
uncertain; south-westerly winds are continually struggling
for mastery with the cold blasts which blow over the
continent from the north-west. In comparatively fine
weather in summer, the sea fog, which marks the mingling

* On the Coal Trade of the New Dominion, by R, G. Haliburton, F.S.A.,
F.R.S.N.A. : from " Proceedings of the N.S. Institute of Nat. Science."

THE MARITIME PUOVINCES.

of the warm waters of the gr(>at Athiiitic current witli
the colder stream which courHcs down the eastern coast
of Newfoundhmd from the P(jhir regions, carrying with
it trooj)8 of icebergs, is ahnost always hovering off the
land, from which it is barely repelled by the gentle west
winds from the continent. The funnel-shaped Bay of
Fundy, and the bight in the Nova-Scotian coast which
merges into the long harbour of Halifax are the strong-
holds of this obnoxious pall of vapour. A few miles
inhuid the v.'cst wind generally prevails ; indeed it is
often astonisliing with wh.at suddenness one emerges
from the fog on leaving the coast. A point or two of
change in the direction of the wind makes all the diffe-
rence. I have often made the voyage from Halifax to
Cape Race — the exact course of the northern fog line —
alternating rapidly between sunshine and dismal and
dangerous obscurity as the wind veered in the least
degree on either side of our course. Past this, the south-
easternmost point of Newfoundland, the fog holds on its
way till the great banks are cleared : it seldom works up
the coast to the northward, and is of rare occurrence at
St. John's. St. John, New Bnniswick, seems to be espe-
cially visited, though it has no footing in the interior of
that province.

Insidiously drawing around the mariner in these
waters in calm summer weather, the fog of the Gulf
Stream is always thickest at this season, although the
stratum of vapour scarcely reaches over the vessel's tops,
the moon or stars being generally visible from the deck
at night. Fog trumpets or lights are to a certain extent
useful precautions, yet even the strictest watch from the
bowsprit is often insufficient to avert collision.

FOREST LIFE IN ACADIB.

In winter time* tlm ])r()|»in([uity of the (iulf Stream pro-
duces frequent modenitions of temperature. Deep falls
of snow arc peqx'tually melting under its warm currents
of air when borne inland, though sucli phases are quickly
succccdeil hy a rcaaseition of true North American cold,
with a return of the north-west wind, arresting the thaw,
and enchasing the steaming snow with a film of glace ice.

During th(! spring months ag?»in, the Arctic currents,
acconqtanied by easterly or nor' li-eastcrly winds, exercise
a cliillinji: influence on the climate of the Atlantic coast
of the Lower Provincjcs. Immense areas of ficdd ice float
past the Nova-Scotian shores from the mouth of the St.
Lawrence and harbours of the Gulf, often working round
into Halifax harbour and obstnicting navigation, whilst
vegetation is thereby greatly retarded.

The mirage observed on apprt)aching these floating ice
plains at sea is very striking — mountains appear to grow
out of them, with waterfalls ; towns, castles, and spires,
ever fleeting and varying in form. I have observed very
similar effects produced in summer, off the coast, on a
clear day, on a distant wall of sea fog, by evaporation.
As might be reasonably expected, the commingling of
two great currents emanating from such far distant
sources as do the Gulf and the Polar streams, must be
productive at their point of junction, of phenomena inte-
resting to the ichthyologist. To the student of this
branch of natural history Halifax is an excellent position
for observation, and from the recorded memoranda of
Mr. J. M. Jones we find many curious meetings of
northern and southern types in the same waters — for
instance that of the albicore and the Greenland shark
(Thynnus vulgaris and Scymnus borealis) — the former a

THE MAIIITIMK PROVINCES.

i:»

well-known inljuhitiint of tho tropics, tin; latter a trim
horonl form. Tropical forms of fish tire of frinjuent oc-
currence in the }[alifiix market, and shoals of flyinnr
fish have l)een observed by Admiral Sir Alexander Milno
in the (lulf Stream as far as M7 de«(. fjO min. N.

A sketch, however slight, of the physical gfogrnphy of
the Acadian Provin(!e8 would be incomplete were notice
to be omitted of the famous Bay of Fundy tide — a page
of modern geological history much to be studied in eluci-
dation of phenomena of ages long past, as pointed out
by Dr. Dawson, the well-known author of a valual)lo
scientific work termed " Acadian Geology." On tlio
Atlantic sea))oard at Halifax the rise of the spring tide
is about six feet, a height attained at high water with
but little variation throughout this coast. After passing
Cape Sable, the southernmost extremity of the provin(!e,
the portals of the bay may be said t< be gained ; and
here an appreciable rise occurs in the tidal wave of
about three feet. Farther round, at Yarmouth, sixteen
feet is the height at high water in spring tides, reaching
to twenty-seven feet at Digby Gut, forty-three feet at
Parsboro, and, at the mouth of the Shubenacadie River
at the head of Cobequid Bay, occasionally attaining the
extraordinary elevation of seventy feet above low water
mark. In this, as well as in several other rivers dis-
charging into the bay, the tide rushes up the channel for
a considerable distance into the interior with an at-
tendant phenomenon termed " the Bore," — an advanced
wave or wall of surging waters, some four feet above the
level of the descending fresh water stream. The spec-
tator, standing on the river bank, presently sees a proces-
sion of barges, boats, or Indian canoes, taking advanta«>-c

F0RE8T LIFE IN ACADIE.

of this natural " Express " from the ocean, whirling past
him at some seven or eight miles per hour, whilst the
long shelving banks of red mud are quickly hidden
by the eager impulsive current. Out, in the open bay,
the eddying " rips " over the flats as the rising waters
cover them, or the tumultuous seas which rise where
the great tide is restrained by jutting headlands afford
still greater spectacles. With a strong wind blowing
in an opposite direction to the tide, the navigation of
the Bay of Fundy is perilous on a dark night, and
many are the victims engulfed with their little fish-
ing smacks in its treacherous and ever-shifting shoals.
It wears a beautiful aspect, however, in fine sunmier
weather — a soft chalky hue quite different from the
stern blue of the sea on the Atlantic shores, and some-
what approaching the summer tints of the Channel on
the coasts of England. The surrounding scenery too is
beautiful ; and the twelve hours' steam voyage from
Windsor, Nova Scotia, to St. John, the capital of New
Brunswick, past the picturesque headlands of Blomidon,
Cape Split, and Parsboro, in fine weather most enjoyable.
The red mud, or, rather, exceedingly fine sand, carried
by the surging waters, is deposited at high tide on the
flats and over the land overflown at the edges of the bay,
and thus have been produced the extensive salt marsh
lands which constitute the wealth of the dwellers by the
bay shores — soils which, never receiving the artificial
stimulus of manure, show no signs of exhaustion though
a century may have elapsed since their utilisation. The
occurrence of submerged forests, the stumps of which
still stand in situ, observed by Dr. Dawson, and indicat-
ing a great subsidence of the land in moderi^ times, and

THE iMARlTLME PROVINCES.

tlie frequent footprints of birds and animals on the suc-
cessive depositions of mud, dried by tlie sun, and easily
detached with the layers on AN-hich they were stamped,
are interesting features in connection with the geology of
this district.

The Fauna and Flora of the three provinces constitut-
ing Acadia (the name, though, is now seldom applied
otherwise than poetically) are almost identical with those
displayed on the neighbouring portions of the continent,
in New England, and the Canadas, though of course, and
as might be expected, a few species swell the lists of
either kino-dom furtlier inland and on recedinu; from the
ocean. There are one or two noticeable differences
between the provinces themselves. Thus, for instance,
whilst the white cedar (Thuya occidentalis) is one of the
most common of the New Brunswick coniferae, frequent
up to its junction with Nova Scotia, there are but one or
two isolated patches of this tree existing, or ever known
to exist, in the latter province, and these not found near
the isthmus, but on the shores of the Bay of Fundy,
near Granville. Again, not a porcupine exists on the
island of Cape Breton, though abundant in Nova Scotia
up to the strait of Canseau, in places scarcely half a mile
broad. The migratory wild pigeon, formerly equally
abundant in New Brunswick and Nova Scotia, has now
entirely deserted the latter, though still numerous in
summer in the fonner province.

The Canadian deer (Ccrvus virginianus), connnon in
New Brunswick, has never crossed the isthmus ; and the
wolf (Canis occidentalis), though now and then entering
Nova Scotia, apparently cannot make up its mind to
stay, though there is an amplitude of wilderness country :

FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

seen at long intervals of time in different parts of the
province, and almost simultaneously, it rapidly scours
over the country, and retires to the continent.

There are no deer now indigenous to Prince Edward's
Island, though the cariboo was formerly found there in
abundance. The Morse or Walrus, once numerous on
the coasts, seems to have entirely disappeared even
from the most northern parts of the Gulf : it was once
common in the St. Lawrence as far up as the Saguenay.
Another disappearance from the coast of Nova Scotia
is that of the Snow Goose (Anser hyperboreus), now
seldom seen south of the St. Lawrence.

Of the former presence of the Great Auk (Alca im-
pennis) in the neighbourhood of the Gulf, it is to be
regretted tliat there are no living witnesses, or even
existing traditions. That it was once a resident on the
shores of Newfoundland is shown by the specimens
found in guano on the Funk Islands entombed under
ice. As has probably happened in the case of this bird,
it is to be feared that the retirement of other members of
the true Boreal Fauna within more Arctic limits forebodes
a gradual, though often inexplicable, progress towards
extinction.

The newly-arrived emigrant or observant visitor can-
not fail to be impressed with the similarity of forms in
both the animal and the vegetable kingdoms to those
of western Europe, here presented. To the Englishman
unaccustomed to northern fir forests and their accom-
panying flora, the woods are naturally the strangest
feature in the country — the density of the stems in the
jagged forest lines which bound the settlements, the long
parallel-sided openings, cut out by the axe, which mark

THE MARITIME PROVINCES.

tlie new clearings, where crops are growing rankly amongst
the stumps, roots, and rock boulders which still strew
the ground, and the wild tanglement of bushes and briars
on half-reclaimed ground — but in the fields and uplands
of a thoroughly cleared district he is scarcely reminded
of a difference in the scene from that to which he has
been accustomed. In the pastures he sees English
grasses, with the buttercup, the ox-eye, and the dandelion ;
the thistle and many a well known weed are recognired
growing by the meadow-side, with the wild rose and the
blackberry, as in English hedge-rows. Though the house-
sparrow and the robin are missed, and he is surprised to
find the latter name applied everywhere to the numerous
red-breasted thrushes which hop so fearlessly about the
pastures, he finds much to remind him of bird life at
home. Swallows and martins arc as numerous, indeed
more so ; the tit-mouse, the WTcn, and the gold-crest are
found to be almost identical with those of the old
country, the former being closely analogous in every
respect to the small blue tit, and many of the warblers
and flycatchers liaA^e much in common with their Trans-
atlantic representatives. The rook is not here, but its place
is taken by flocks of the common American crow, often
as gregarious in its habits as the former, whilst the
various birds of prey present most striking similarities
of plumage Avhen compared with those of Europe; and
the appropriateness of calling the American species the
same common names as are applied to the goshawk,
sparrowhawk, or osprey, is at once admitted. The wasp,
the bee, and the house-fly, present no appreciable diffe-
rences, nor can the visitor detect even a shade of dis-
tinction in many of the butterflies.

80 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

The seafaring man arriving from Europe will find even
less of (livergenee amongst the finny tribes and the sea-
fowl on these coasts, and indeed will not pretend to assert
a difference in most cases.

The very interesting question thus readily suggests
itself to the naturalist — in what light are many analogous
forms in Western Europe and Atlantic North America to
be regarded in reference to each other ? The identity of
the species which almost continuously range the circum-
arctic zoological province is perfi^ ,ly well established in
such instiinces as those of the arctic fox, the white bear, and
of many of the Cetace£e and Phocidse amongst mammals ;
of the eiders, common and king, the pintail and others of
the Anatidce, and of the sturgeon, capelin, herring, and
probably the sea-salmon amongst fishes. Nor could the
fact be reasonably doubted in the case of creatures which
are permanent residents of a limited circumpolar zone, or
even in that of the migratory species which affect polar
regions for a season, and thence regularly range south-
wards over the diverging continents. The question, how-
ever, which is offered for solution is respecting those
analogous forms which have apparently permanent habi-
tats in the Old and New Worlds, and have always
remained (as far as is known) geographically isolated.
With regard to the arctic deer the author's considerations ?

will be found given at some length, but there are many I

other analogies in the fauna and flora of the two hemi- |

spheres, which, on comparison, naturally lead to a dis- |

cussion on the subject of local variation, and as to how |

far the system of classification is to be thus modified. ^

Buffon's idea that many of the animals of the New
World were the descendants of Old World stock would

■.*

,;< THE ^rAIUTTME PROVINCES. 21

'iii-

I seem not only to be »et aside but reversed in argument
I by a new and growing belief that transmission of species
i. has extensively occun-ed from America to Europe and
Asia. "America," says Hugh Miller, "though emphati-
cally the New World in relation to its discovery by
civilized man, is, at least in these regions, an old world
in relation tc geological type, and it is the so-called old
world that is in reality the new one. Su* Charles Lyell,
in the " Antiquity of Man," states that " Professors
linger and Heer have advanced, on botanical grounds
the former existence of an Atlantic continent, during
some part of the tertiary period, as affording the only
plausible explanation that can ].)e imagined of the
analogy between the miocene flora of Central Europe and
the existing flora of Eastern America. Other naturalists,
again, have supposed this to have been effected through
an overland communication existing between Ann'rica
and Eastern Asia in the direction of the Aleutian
Islands. Sir George Simpson has stated that almost
direct proof exists of the American origin of the
Tcliuktchi of Siberia ; whilst it would appear that
primitive customs and traditions in many parts of the
globe are being traced to aboriginal man existing in
America.

Professor Lawson, of Dalhousie College, Halifax, N.S.,
in referring to the recent and Avell-established discovery
of heather (Calluna vulgaris) as indigenous to the
Acadian provinces, observes, " The occurrence of this
common European plant in such small quiintitics in
isolated localities on the American continent is very in-
stnictive, and obviously points to a period when the heath
was a widely-spread social plant in North America, as it is

FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

still in Europe where oft-recurring fires are yearly lessen-
ing its range. In Calluna we have probably an example
of a species on the verge of extinction as an American
species, vvliUe maintaining a vigorous and abundant
growth in Europe. If so, may not Europe be indebted
to America for Calluna, and not America to Europe V

With such scanty data, however, valuable indeed as
they are in building up theories, but few and uncertain
steps can be made towards solving so important a ques-
tion. An irresistible conclusion is however forced on the
mind of the naturalist that in many of the analogies he
meets with in animal or vegetable life in this portion of
the New World it is not fair to call them even types of
those of the Old ; they are analogous species.

CHAPTER 11.

THE FORESTS OF ACADIE.

A GLANCE at a physical map of the country will serve
to show the relative position of the main bodies of the
North American forest, the division of the woods where
the wedge-shaped north-western corner of the plains comes
in, and their well-defined limit on the edge of the barren
grounds, coincident with ihe line of perpetual ground
frost.

Characterised by a predominance of coniferous trees,
the great belt of forest country which constitutes the
hunting grounds of the Hudson's Bay Company, has its
nearest approach to the Arctic Ocean in the Mackenzie
Valley, becoming ever more and more stunted and
monotonous until it merges at length into the barren
waste.

In its southern extension, on meeting the northern
extremity of the prairies, it branches into two streams — ■
the one directed along the Pacific coast line and its great
mountain chain ; the other crossing the continent
diagonally between the boundaries of the plains and
Hudson's Bay towards the Atlantic. On this course
the forest soon receives important accessions of new
forms of trees, gradually introduced on approaching the
lake district, and loses much of its sterner character.

FOREST LIFE IN ACADIF.

The oak, bcecli, und maple groves of the Caiiadas are
equally eharaeteristic of the forest scenery of these
regions, with the white pine or tlu; heniloek sjiriKte.

On approaching the Atlantic; seaboard, the forest is
again somewhat impoveiished by the a])sence of those
forms which seem to require .an inland climate. In the
forests of Acadie many Canadian trees found farther
westward in the same latitude are wanting, or of so rare
occurrence as to exercise no influenije on the general
features of the country, such as the hickory and the
butternut. "In Nova Scotia," says Professor Lawson,
" the prepo^iderance of northern sjjccies is much greater
than in correspondiug latitudes in Cana(hi, and many of
our common })lants are in Western Canada either entirely
northern, or strictly confined to the great swamps, whose
cool waters and dense shade form a shelter for northern
spi cies."

Though certain soils and physical conformations of th(^
country occasionally favour exclusive growths of either,
the woods of the Lower Provinces display a pleasing
mixtur'' of what are locally termed hard and soft wood
trees — -^ther words, of deciduous and evergreen vege-
tation. Broken only by clearings and settlements in the
lines of alluvial valleys, roads, or important fishing or
mining stations, the fcn-est still obtains over large sections
of the country, notwithstanding continued and often
w^anton mutilation by the axe, and the immense area
annually devastated by fire. The fierce energy of
American vegetation, if allowed, quickly fills up gaps,
and the l)urnt, blackened waste is soon re-clothed with
the verdure of dense copses of birch and aspen.
. The true character of the American forest is not to

•Tf

■ii

THK I'OURSTS OF ACADIK.

■"is

■*i
:■€

be studied from tlic road-side or along the edges of
the cleared lands. To read its mysteries aright, we must
plunge into its depths and live under its shelter through
all the phases of the seasons, leaving far behind the sound
of tlie settler's axe and the tinkling of his cattle-bells.
The stranjre feelini^s of ])leasure attached to a life
in the majestic solitudes of the pine forests of North
America cannot be attained by a merely marginal
acquaintance.

On entering the woods, the first feature which natu-
rally strikes us is the continual occurrence of dense copses
of young trees, where a partial clearing has afiorded a
chance to the profusely sown germs to spring up and
perpetuate the ascendancy of vegetation, though of
course, in the struggle for existence, but few of these
would live to assert themselves as forest trees. As we
advance we perceive a taller and straighter growth, and
observe tliat many species, which in more civilised
districts are mere ornamental shrubs, throwing out their
feathery branches close to the ground, now assume the
character of forest trees with (dean straight stems,
thouijh somewhat slender withal, enoenderino; the belief
that, left by themselves in the open, they would offer but
a short resistance to wintry gales. The foliage predomi-
nates at the tree top ; the steins (esiK'cially of the
spruces) throw out a profusion of spikes and dead
branchlets from the base upwards. Unhealthy situa-
tions, such as cold sw\amps, are marked l)y the utmost
confusion. Everywhere, and at every variety of angle,
trees lean and crciik against their comrades, drawing a
few more years of existence through their support. The
foot is being perpetually lifted to stride over dead stems,

20 FOllEST LIKK L\ ACAIJIK.

somotimos so intiicutely interwoven that the traveller
becomoa fairly pounded for the nonce.

This tangled jippearance, however, is an attribute of
the spruce woods ; there ia a much more orderly ariunjije-
inent under the heniloeks. These j^rand old trees seem
to bury their dead decently, and long hillocks in the
mossy carpet alonc^ mark their ancestors' gi-aves, which
are generally further adorned by the evergreen tresses
of the creeping partridge-berry, or the still more delicate
festoons of the capillaire.

The busy occupation of all availalJe space in the
American forest by a great variety of shrubs and herba-
ceous plants, constitutes one of its principal charms — the
multitudes of blossoms and delicate verdure arising from
the sea of moss to greet our eyes in S2)ring, little maple
or birch seedlings starting up from prostrate trunks or
crannies of rock boulders, with wood violets, and a host
of the spring flora. The latter, otherwise rough and
shapeless objects, are thus invested with a most pleasing
appearance — transformed into the natural flower vases of
the woods. The abundance of the fern tribe, again, lends
much gi'ace to the woodland scenery. In the swamp the
cinnamon fern, 0. cinnamomea, with 0. interrupta, attain
a luxuriant growth ; and the forest brook is often almost
concealed by rank bushes of royal fern (0. regalis).
Rocks in Avoods are always topped with polypodium,
whilst the delicate fronds of the oak fern hang from their
sides. Filix foemina and F. mas are common every-
where, and, with many others of the list, present appa-
rently inappreciable differences to their European repre-
sentatives.

There is a beauty peculiar to this interesting order

THE FORESTS OF ACADIR. 87

especially pleasing to tlio eye when .stuclyiiig details of
a landseape in whieh the various forms of vegetation
form the leading features. The luxuriant mosses and
great lichens whieh cover or cling to everything in the
forest act a similar part. Even the dismal hlack swamps
are somewhat enlivened by the long beards of th(^ Usnca;
fallen trees are often made quite brilliant ))y a profusion
of scarlet cups of Cladonia gracilis.

But now let us examine further into the specific cha-
racter of at least some of the individuals of which the
forest is composed. As we wander on we chance, perhajis,
to stumble upon what is called, in woodsman a j^cirlaucc,
a " blazed line " — a broad chip has been cut from the side
of a tree, Jind the white surface of the inner wood at once
catches the eye of the watchful traveller ; a few paces
farther on some saplings have been cut, and, keeping the
direction, we perceive in the distance another blazed mark
on a trunk. It may be a path leading from the settle-
ment to some distant woodland meadow of wild grass, or
a line marking granted property, or it may lead to a lot
of timber trees rnai'ked for the destructive axe of the lum-
berer — perhaps a grove of White Pine. This is the great
object of the lumberer's search. Ascending a tree from
which an extensive view of the wild country is commanded,
he marks the tall overbearing summits of some distant pine
; grove (for this tree is singularly gregarious, and is gene-
i rally found growing in family groups), and having taken
* its bearings with a compass, descends, and with his com-
g rades proceeds on his errand of destruction. In the
I neighbourhood of the coast, or on barren soil, the pine is
a stunted bushy tree, its branches feathering nearly to the
ground ; but the pine of the forest ascends as a straight

FoltKST LIKK IN ACADIK.

towtT U) tlie li('i;^lit of fionio 120 foot, two or thrt'C niiis-
Hivo braiiclu's hcin^ tlirown out in twisted mid faiitJiHtic
nttitudcs. Am if awaro of itn proud position as monarch
of tln' fi)n'st, it is often found on tiic summit of a preci-
pice ; and these conspicuous positions, wliicii it seems to
prefer, liave doomed this nohhi specimen of the cone-
l)earin<( ever<^reenH to uhimati^ extermination as certain
i\H that of thi' re<l man or the hirmn' <j!:ame of this (tonti-
nent. Some half-century since, the pine was found on
tlie margins of all tJie lar^e lakes and streams, hut of late
the axe and devastatin<x fires have, us it were, drivc^n tin;
tree far back into the remoter solitudes of tlio forest, and
lone; and ex[)en8ive expeditions must he undertaken ere
the head-(iuarters of a gang of lumber-men can be fixed
upon for a winter employment. At th(! head waters of
some insignificant brook, and in the neighbourhood of
o;ood timber, these hardv sons of the forest fell the trees,
and cut and scpiare them into logs, dragging them to the
edge of the stream, into whose swollen waters they are
rolled at tlu; breaking u}) of winter and melting of the
snow, to find their way thrcmgh almost endless difficulties
to the sea. That most useful animal in the woods, the
ox, aceomjmnies the luml)erers to their remote forest
camps, and drags the logs to the side of the stream. It
is really wonderful to watch these animals, well managed,
performing their laborious tasks in the forest : urged on
and directed solely by the encouraging voice of the team-
ster, the honest team drag the huge pine-log over the
rough inequalities of the ground, over rocks, and through
treacherous swamps and thickets, with almost unaccount-
able ease and safety, where the horse would at once be-
come confused, frightened, and injured, besides failing on

TIIK UMHKKKHS (AMP IN WINTKR

Ill;

THE FORESTS OF ACADIE. 29

the score of comparative strength. Slowly but surely
the ox performs incredible feats of draught in the woods,
and asks for no more care than the shelter of a rough
shed near the lumberers' camp, with a store of coarse wild
hay, and a drink at the neighbouring brook.

This aristocrat of the forest, Pinus strobus, refuses to
grow in the black swamp or open bog, which it leaves to
poverty-stricken spruces and larches, nor in its communi-
ties will it tolerate much undergrowth. Pine woods are
peculiarly open and easy to traverse. Bracken, and but
little else, grows beneath, and the foot treads noiselessly
on a soft slippery surface of fallen tassels. A peculiarly
soft sulidued light pervades these groves — a ray here and
there falling on the white blossoms of the pigeon berry
(Cornus Canadensis) in summer, or, later, on its bright
scarlet clusters of berries, sets frequent sparkling gems in
our path. That beautiful forest music termed soughing
in Scotland, in reference to the sound of the wind
passing over the foliage of the Scotch fir, is heard to per-
fection amongst the American pines.

The white pine, according to Sir J. Eichardson, ranges
as far to the northward as the south shore of Lake Wini-
pog. ' Even in its northern termination," he says, " it is
still a stately tree."

The Hemlock, or Hemlock Spruce (Abies Canadensis
of Michaux), is a common tree in the woodlands of
Acadie, affecting moi'=<t mossy slopes in the neighbour-
hood of lakes, though generally mixing with other ever-
greens in all situations. It is found, however, of largest
growth (80 feet), and growing in large groves, principally
in the former localities, where it vies with the white pine
in its solid proportions. The deeply grained columnar

J 30 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

( trunk throws off its first hranelies some 50 feet <above the

ground, and the light feathery foliage clings round the
, summit of an old tree in dense masses, from which pro-

i' trade the hare twisted limbs which abruptly terminate

( the column.

, Perched high up in its branches may be often seen in

I . winter the sluggish porcupine, whose presence aloft is

first detected by the keen eye of the Indian through the
scratches made by its claws on the trunk in ascending its
favourite tree to feed on the bark and leaves of the
younger shoots.

Large groves of hemlock growing on woodland slopes
present a noble appearance ; their tall columns never
bend before the gale. There is a general absence of
undergrowth, thus affording long vistas through the
shady grove of giants ; and the softened light invests the
interior of these vast forest cathedrals with an air of
solemn mystery, whilst the even spread of their mossy
carpet affords appreciable relief to the footsore hunter.
The human voice sounds as if confined within spacious
and lofty halls.

Hawthorne, describing the wooded solitudes in which
he loved to wander, thus speaks of a grove of these
trees : — " These ancient hemlocks are rich in many things
beside birds. Indeed, their wealth in this respect is
owing mainly, no doubt, to their rank vegetable growths,
their fruitful swamps, and their dark, sheltered retreats.

"Their history is of an heroic cast. Eavished and
torn by the tanner in his thirst for bark, preyed upon by
the lumberman, assaulted and beaten back by the settler,
still their spirit has never been broken, their energies
never paralysed. Not many years ago a public highway

■'f.

THE FORESTS OF ACADIE. 3T

passed through them, hut it was at no time a tolerable
road ; trees fell across it, mud ami limhs choked it up,
till finally travellers took the hint nnd went around ; and
now, walking along its deserted course, 1 see only the
footprints of coons, foxes, and squirrels.

" Nature loves such woods, and places her own seal
upon them. Here she shows me what can be done with
ferns and mosses and lichens. The soil is marrowy and
full of innumerable forests. Standing in these fragrant
aisles, I feel the strength of the vegetable kingdom and
am awed by the deep and inscrutable processes of life
I going on so silently about me.

" No hostile forms with axe or spud now visit those
solitudes. The cows have half-hidden ways through
them, and know where the best browsing is to be had.
In spring the farmer repairs to their bordering of maples
to make sugar ; in July and August women and boys
from all the country about penetrate the old Barkpeeling
for raspberries and blackberries ; and I know a youth
who wonderingly follows their languid stream casting for
trout.

" In like spirit, alert and buoyant, on this bright June
morning go I also to reap my harvest, — pursuing a sweet
more delectable than sugar, fruit more savoury than ber-
ries, and game for another palate than that tickled by
trout." *

Hemlock bark, possessing highly astringent properties,
is much used in America for tanning purposes, almost

* There is no mistaking tlie authorship of this passage from the note-
liooks of Nathaniel Hawthorne. It is not embodied in the recently
imblished English edition of his notes ; I found it in a contribution of his
to an American periodical many years since, and preserved it as a gem.

38 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

entirely superseding that of the oak. Its surface is very
rough with dee}) grooves between the scales. Of a light
pearly gray outside, it shows a madder brown tint when
chipped. The sojourner in the woods seeks the dry and
( easily detached bark which clings to an old dead hem-

lock as a great auxiliary to his stock of fuel for the camp
fire ; it burns readily and long, emitting an intense heat,
and so fond are the old Indians of sitting round a small
conical pile of the ignited bark in their wigwams, that
it bears in their language the sobriquet of " the old
Grannie."

The hemlock, as a shrub, is perhaps the most orna-
mental of all the North American evergreens. It has
none of that tight, stiff, old-fashioned appearance so gene-
rally seen in other spruces : the graceful foliage droops
loosely and irregularly, hiding the stem, and, when each
spray is tipped with the new season's shoot of the
brightest sea-green imaginable, the appearance is very
beautiful. The young cones are likewise of a delicate
green.

This tree has a wide range in the coniferous wood-
lands of North America, extending from the Hudson's
Bay territory to the mountains of Georgia. The great
southerly extension of the northern forms of trees on the
south-east coast, is due to the direction of the Allegha-
nian range, which, commencing in our own province of
vegetation, carries its flora as far south as 35 degrees
north latitude, elevation affording the same conditions of
growth as distance from the equator.

It would ai)pear that this giant spruce has no analo-
gous form in the Old World as have others of the genus
Abies found in the New. All the genera of conifers.

THE FORESTS OF ACADIE.

however, here contain a larger number of trees, which,
though they arc exceedingly .similar in general appear-
ance, are specifically distinct from their European con-
geners.

Under the Arctic circle, as pointed out by Sir J.
Richardson, and beyond the limits of tree growth, but
little appreciable difi'erence exists in circumpolar vegeta-
tion, and so we recognise in the luxuriant cryptogamous
flora of the forests we are describing most of the mosses
and lichens found across the Atlantic, which here attain
such a noticeable development. As with nobler forms,
America, however, adds many naw species to the
list.

The Black Spruce is one of the most conspicuous and
cliaracteristic forest trees of ^ orth-Eastern America,
forming a large portion of the coniferous forest growth,
and found in almost every variety of circumstance.
Sometimes it apptnxrs in mixed woods, of beautiful
growth and of great height, its immerous branches
drooping in graceful curves from the apex towards
the ground, which they sweep to a distance of twenty
to thirty feet from the stem, whilst the sunmiit ter-
minates in a dense arrow head, on the short sprays
of which are crowded heavy masses of cones. At
others, it is found almost the sole growth, covering
large tracts of country, the trees standing thick, with
straight clean stems and but little foliage except
at the summit. Then there is the black spruce swamp,
where the tree shows by its contortions, its unhealthy
foliage, and its stem and limbs shaggy with usnea,
the hardships of its existence. Again on the open
bog gro^\'s the black spruce, scarcely higher than a cab-

84 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

bage sprout * — the light olivo-grcen foliage living on
the compressed summit only, whilst the grey dead twigs
below are crowded with pendulous moss ; yet even here,
amidst the cold sphagnum, Indian cups, and cotton grass,
the tree lives to an age which would have given it a
proud position in the dry forest. Lastly, in the fissure of
a granite boulder may be seen its hardy seedling ; and
the little plant has a far better chance of becoming a tree
than its brethren in the swamp; for, one day, as frost and
increasing soil open the fissure, its roots will creep out and
fasten in the earth beneath.

In unhealthy situations a singular appearance is fre-
quently assumed by this tree. Stunted, of course, it
throws out its arms in the most tortuous shapes, sud-
denly terminating in a dense mass of innumerable
branchlets of a rounded contour like a beehive, disj)lay-
ing short, thick, light green foliage. The summit of
the tree generally terminates in another bunch. The
stem and arms are profusely covered with lichens and
usnea. As a valuable timber tree the black spruce ranks
next to the pine, attaining a height of seventy to a hun-
dred feet. Being strong and elastic, it forms excellent
material for spars and masts, and is converted into all
descriptions of sawed lumber — deals, boards, and scant-
lings. From its young sprays is prepared the decoction,

* Indeed tlicse miniature trees in bogs wliere the sphagnum perpetually
bathes their roots with chilling moisture, have a very similar appearance to
Brussels sprouts on a large scale. The water held in the moss is always
cold : on May 5th, 1866, the tussacs of sphagnum were frozen solidly
within two or three inches of the surface. The centre of these bogs, often
called cariboo bogs by reason of this deer frequenting them in search of
the lichen, Cladonia rangiferinue, is generally quite bare of spruce chunps,
which fringe the edge of the surrounding forest, the trees increasing in
height as they recede from the open bog.

■'ff

THE FORESTS OF ACADIE. 35

fermented with molasses, the celebrated spruce beer of tlie
American settler, a cask of which every good farmer's wife
keeps in the hot, thirsty days of haymaking. To the
Indian, the roots of this tree, which shoot out to a great
distance immediately under the moss, are his rope, string
and thread. With them he ties his bundle, fastens the
birch-bark coverings to the poles of his wigwam, or sews
the broad sheets of the same material over the ashen ribs
of his canoe.

For ornamental purposes in the open and cultivated
glebe the black spruce is very appropriate. The nume-
rous and gracefully curved branches, the regular and
acute cone shape of the mass, its clear purplish-grey
stem, and the beautiful bloom with which its abundant
cones are tinged in June, all enhance the picturesqueness
of a tree which is long-lived, and, moreover, never out-
grows its ornamental appearance, unless confined in
dense woodland swamps.

The bark of the black spruce is scaly, of various shades
of purplish-grey, sometimes approaching to a reddish hue,
hence, doubtless, suggesting a variety under the name of
red spruce, which is in reality a form depending on situa-
tion. In the latter, the foliage being frequently of a
lighter tinge of green, strengthens the supposition. No
specific differences have, however, been detected between
tlie trees.

The White Spruce or Sea Spruce of the Indians (Abies
alba, Mich.) is a conifer of an essentially boreal character.
Indeed in its extension into our own woodlands it ap-
pears to prefer bleak and exposed situations. It thrives
■ on our rugged Atlantic shores, and grows on exposed
, and brine-washed sands where no other vegetation ap-

T) 2

FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

pears, and hence is very useful, both as a shelter to the
land, and as holding it against the encroachment of the
sea. Its dark glaucous foliage assumes an almost impene-
trable aspect under these circumstances. I have seen
groves of white spruce on the shore, the foliage of which
was swept back over the land by prevailing gales from
the south-west, nearly parallel to the ground, and so
compressed and flattened at the top that a man could
walk on them as on a platform, whilst the shelter be-
neath was complete.

The Balsam Fir growinff in these situations assumes a
very similar appearance in the density and colour of its
foliage and trunk to the white spruce, from which, how-
ever, it can be quickly distinguished, on inspection, by
the pustules on the bark and its erect cones. In the
forest the white spruce is rare in comparison with the
black, whose place it however altogether usurps on the
sand hills bordering the limit of vegetation in the far
north-west. The former tree prefers humid and rocky
woods.

Our Silver Fir (Abies balsamea, Marshall) is so like the
European picea that they would pass for the same
species were it not for the balsam pustules which charac-
terise the American tree. Both show the same silvery
lines under the leaf on each side of the mid-rib, which,
glistening in the sun as the branches are blown upwards
by the wind, give the tree its name. We find it in moist
woods — growing occasion ally in the provinces to a height
of sixty feet where it has plenty of room — a handsome,
dark-foliaged tree ; short-lived, however, and often falling
before a heavy gale, showing a rotten heart.

The silver fir is remarkaljle for the horizontal regularity

THE FORESTS OF ACADIE. 87

of its branches, and the general exact conical formation

of the whole tree. An irregularity in the growth of the

^ foliage, similar to that occurring in the black spruce, is

* frequently to be found in the fir. A contorted branch,

± generally half-way up the stem, terminates in a niulti-

^ tude of interlaced sprays which are, every summer,

clothed with very delicate, flaccid, light- green leaves,

,| forming a beehive shape like that of the spruce. It may

f be noticed, however, that whilst this bunch foliage is

*^' perennial in the case of the latter tree, that of the fir is

.^1 annually deciduous. Up to a certain age the silver fir in

'i the forest is a graceful shrub. Its fiat delicate sprays

^ form the best bedding for the woodman's couch ; the

fragi'ance of its branches, when long cut or exposed to

the sun, is delicious, and their soft elasticity is most

grateful to the liml)s of the wearied hunter on his return

to camp. The bark of the larger trees, peeling readily

in summer, is used in sheets to cover the lumberer's shanty,

which he now takes the opportunity to build in prospect

of the winter's campaign.

The large, erect, sessile cones of the balsam fir are very
beautiful in the end of May, when they are of a light
sea-green colour, which, changing in June to pale laven-
der, in August assumes a dark slaty tint. They ripen in
the fall ; and the scale being easily detached, the seeds
are soon scattered by the autumnal gales, leaving the
axis bare and persistent on the branch for many years.
In June each strobile is surmounted with a large mass of
balsam exudation.

A casual observer, on passing the edges of the forest,
cannot help remarking the brown appearance of the
spruce tops in some seasons when the cones are unusually

i '

I pi

38 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

alnuidiint. 'I'hoy aro rrowdcid togothcr in huslids, and
often kill the upper part of tlic troo and its leading Hhoot,
after which a new leader appears to be elected amongst
the nearest tier of branchlets to continue the upward
growth. From such a crop the Indians augur an un-
usually hard winter, through much the same process of
reasoning as that which the English countryman adopts
in prophesying a rigorous season from an abundant crop
of haws and other autumnal hedge fruits, and generally
with al)0ut the same chance of fulfilment.

No less majestic than the coniferae are many of the
species of deciduous trees, or "hard woods," which, inter-
mingled with the former, impart such a j)leasing aspect
to the otherwise gloomy fir forests of British North
America. Growing, as the firs, with tall straight stems,
and struggling upwards for the influence of the sunlight
on their lofty foliage, the yellow and black birches aspire
to the greatest elevation, attaining a height of seventy or
eighty feet. Mixed with these are beeches and elms ;
and in many districts the country is covered with an
almost exclusive growth of the useful rock or sugar-
maple.

In these " mixed woods,'* as they are locally termed
(indicative, it is said, of a good soil), the prettiest con-
trast is afforded by the pure white stems of the canoe
birch (Be tula papyracea) against the spruce boughs; and,
as these are generally open w^oods, the latter come sAveep-
ing down to the ground. The young stems of the yellow
birch (B. excelsa) gleam like gilded rods in sunlight ;
their shining yellow bark looks as though it had been
fresh coated with varnish.

These American birches are a beautiful family of trees,

THE FORESTS OF ACADIE.

particularly the canoo or paper birch, so caHecl from tho
readiness with which its folds of bark will separate from
the stem like thick sheets of paper. Smooth and round,
without a knot or branch for some forty feet from the
ground, is the tree which the Indian anxiously looks for;
it atlbrds him the broad sheets of bark which cover his
wigwam and the frame of his canoe, and long journeys
does he often undertake in search of it. The bark is
thick as leather, and as pliable, and in the summer can
readily be separated for any distance up the stem. From
it the Indians make the boxes and curiosities, by the sale
of which these i)uor creatures endeavour to earn a liveli-
hood. Their fanciful goods cannot, however, compete
with the useful productions of civilised labour, and are
only bought by the stranger and the charitable. The
white birch of the forest is as closely connected with the
interests of the Indian as the pine is with those of the
lumberer, and the former dreads the ultimate comparative
scarcity of the birch as the latter does that of the noble
timber-tree.

From the mountains of Virginia, on the south-east,
this imjjortant tree ranges northwardly in Atlantic
America far into the interior of Labrador, whilst in the
extreme north-west it ascends the valley of the Mackenzie
as far as G9 degrees N. lat.

In travelling the forest in summer it is quite refreshing
to enter the bright sheen of a birch-covered hill, exchang-
ing the close resinous atmosphere of heated fir-woods for
its cool open vaults. The transition is often quite sudden
— the scene changing from gloom to brightness with a
magical effect. Such a contrast is presented to the
marked lights and shades of the pine forest ! The silvery

40 FOREST LIFE IN At!AUIK.

stoma witli tlicir lipjlit oaiiojiy of sunlit Icavo.s, through
the l)rojiks in wliich tl»e l)hio Hky ahowH <piite durk an a
Inickf^round, the iunumorable lifjfhts falhn*^ on tlic li;j;ht
gvcvn unch'rj^rowth of plants and Hlirub.s beneath, and the
general al>sence of appreciable; lines of shadow eveiy-
whcre, stamp these hard-wood hills with an almost fairy-
land appearance.

\\ If at all n((ar the borders of civilisation, wc soon strike

i/|! a "hauling road," leading fnmi such localities into the

I'! settlements — a track broad enough for a sled and pair of

jil' oxen to pass ovc^r when the farmer comes in winter to

! ' transport his firewood over the snow. And a goodly

'I stock indcitd he rcipiires to battle with the cold of a

North American winter in the backwoods; logs, such as

l''< it would take two men to lift, of birch, beech or maple,

j' are piled on his ample hearth ; the abundance of fuel

I and the readiness with which he can bring it from the

I neijilibourino; bush, is one of his greatest blessings. He

1 '. deserves a few comforts, for perhaps his lifetime, and that

j. [ of his father, has been spent in redeeming the few acres

ji; round the dwelling from the fangs of gigantic stumps

■ : and boulders of rock. A patch of potatoes, an acre or

I ' so of buckwheat, and another of oats, and a few rough-

looking cattle, are his sources of wealth, or perhaps a

rough saw mill, constructed far up in the forest brook,

and the whirr of whose circular saw disturbs only the

wild animals of the surrounding woods.

How vividly is recalled to my memory the delight
experienced on many occasions by our tired, belated
party, returning from a hunting camp through unknown
woods, on finding one of these logging roads, anticipating
|i in advance the kindly welcome of the invariably hospit-

THE FORESTS OF ACADIE.

{il»lo l)!U'kw»K)(lH fiiiiiKU", titwnnla wlio.so {'IcariunjH it was
Runi to tiviul. Pcrlmits for lioiirrt Itcforc wo hiul almost
despaired of ([uitting the forcnt by niglitfiill. On Hriiding
thf IiKliaiiH into tree-tops to rcconiioitiv, the disheartening
ery vvouKl be, " Woods all round as far ns we can see."
Further on, p 'rliaps, we should hear that there were
" Lakes all round ! " Worse again, for then a wearisome
detour must be made. Jiut at last some one finds signs
of chop}iing, then a stactk of cord-wood, and then we
strike a regular blazed line. Now the spirits of every
one revive, and we soon emerge on the forest road with
its elean-eut track, corduroy i>latfonnM through swamps,
and rude lojx bridijes over the brooks, which brings us
witliin the welcome sound of cattle bells, and at length
to the broad c;lare of the clearinijjs.

Ik'fore leaving the woods, however, we may not omit
to notice those characteristic trees of the American forest,
the maples, partieulaily that most important member of
the family, the rock or sugar ma[»lc — Acer saccharinum.
lAjund generally interspersed with other hard-wood trees,
tliis tree is seen of largest and most fre(|uent growth in
the Acadian forests on the slopes of the C-ol»equid hills,
and other similar runnjes in Nova Scotia, often ffrowinjr
together in large clumi»s. Such groves are termed
" Sugaries," and are yearly visited by the settlers for
the plentiful supply of sap which, in the early spring,
courses between the bark and the wood, and from which
the maple sugar is extracted. Towards the end of
March, when winter is relaxing its hold, and the hitherto
frozen trees begin to feel the influence of the sun, the
settlers, old and young, turn into the woods with their
axes, sap-troughs, and boilers, and commence the opera-

42 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

tion of sugar-making. A fine young maple is selected ;
an obli(|ue incision made by two strokes of the axe at a
few feet from the ground, and the pent-up sap im-
mediately begins to tri(ikle and drop from the wound.
A wooden spout is driven in, and the trough placed
underneath ; next morning a bucketful of clear sweet
sap is removed and taken to the boiling-house. Some-
times two or three hundred trees are tapped at a time,
and require the attention of a large party of men. At
the camp, the sap is carefully boiled and evaj^orated
until It attains the consistency of syrup. At this stage
much of it is used by the settlers under the name of
" maple honey, or molasses." Further boiling ; and on
pouring small quantities on to' pieces of ice, it sud-
denly cools and contracts, and in this stage is called
" maple-wax," which is much prized as a sweetmeat.
Just beyond this point the remaining sap is poured
into moulds, in which as it cools it forms the solid
saccharine mass termed " maple sugar." Sugar may also
be obtained, though inferior in quality, from the various
birches ; but the sap of these trees is slightly acidulous,
and is more often converted into vinegar.

White or soft maple (A. dasycarpum), and the red
flowering maple (A. rubrum), are equally common trees.
Both contribute largely to the gorgeous colouring of the
fall, and the latter species clothes its leafless sprays in
the spring almost as brilliantly with scarlet blossoms.
Before these fade, a circlet of light green leaves appears
below, when a terminal shoot has a fitting place in an
ornamental bouquet of spring flowers.

As a rule, all the Aceracea3 are noted for breadth of
leaf, and, being even more abundant than the birches in

THE FORESTS OF ACADIE.

the forests of Acadie, the solid appearance of the rolHng
hard- wood hills is thus accounted for. These great
swelling billows in a sea of verdure form the grandest
feature of American forest scenery. In Vermont and
New Hampshire, to the westward of our provinces, they
become perfectly tempestuous. The black arrow-heads
of the spruces, or the slanting tops of the pines, pierce
through them distinctly enough, but the summits of the
hard-woods are blended together in one vast canopy of
light green foliage, in which the eye vainly seeks to trace
individual form.

Amongst the varieties of scenery presented by our
wild districts, I would notice the burnt barrens. These
sometimes extend for many miles, and are most dreary in
their appearance and painfully tedious to travel through.
Years ago, perhaps, some fierce fire has run through the
evergreen forest, and its ravages are now shown in the
M spectacle before us. Gaunt white stems stand in groups,
presenting a most ghost-like appearance, and pointing
with their bleached branches at the prostrate remains of
their companions, which, strewed and mixed with matted
bushes and briars, lie beneath, I'cndering progress almost
impossible to the hunter or traveller.

In granitic districts, where the scanty soil — the result
of ages of cryptogamous vegetation and decay — has been
clean licked up by the fire, even the energetic power of
American vegetation appears utterly prostrated for a
period, as if hopeless of again assimilating the desert to
the standard of surrounding features.

As a contrast to such a scene, and in conclusion to
our dissertation on the forests, turn we to the smiling
intervale scenery of her alluvial valleys, for which

1 1

1 1 •
I .

44 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

Acadie is so fomous. Many of the rivers, coursing
smoothly througli long tracts oi the country, are broadly
margined by level meadows with rich soils, productive
of excellent pasture. The banks are adorned with orange
lilies ; and the meadows, which extend between the
water and the uj)lands, shaded by clumps of elm (Ulmus
americana).

Almost the whole charm of these intervales (in an
artistic point of view) is due to the groups of this
graceful tree, by which they are adorned. Its stem,
soon forking and diverfjino: like that of the Enfjlish horn-
beam, nevertheless carries the main bulk of the foliage
to a good elevation, the ends of the middle and lower
branches bending gracefully downwards. The latter often
hang for several yards, quite perpendicularly, with most
delicate hair-like branchlets and small leaves. We have
but one elm in this part of America ; yet no one at first
sight would ever connect the tall trunk and twisted top
branches of the forest-growing tree with the elegant
form of the dweller in the pasture lands.

Whether from appreciation of its beauty, or in view of
the shade afforded their cattle, which always congregate
in warm weather under its pendulous branches, the
settlers agree in sparing the elm growing in such situa-
tions.

These long fertile valleys are further adorned by
copses of alders, dogwood, and willows — favourite haunts
of the American woodcock, which here alone finds
subsistence, the earth-worm being never met with in the
forest.

KLM^S 1\ AN INTKKVALE.

fi;

:'l

ti.il ^r

CHAPTER III.

THE ALCINE DEER OF THE OLD AND THE NEW WORLDS.

THE MOOSE.

(Alee, Hamilton Smith ; Alee Americanus, Jarcline.)

Muzzle very liroad, produced, covered with hair, except a small, moist,
naked spot in front of the nostrils. Neck short and thick ; hair thick
and lirittle ; throat rather maned in hoth sexes ; hind legs have the
tuft of hair rather above the middle of the metatarsus ; the males
have palmate horns. The nose cavity in the skull is very large,
reaching behind to a line over the front of the grinders ; the frtoi-
niaxillaries are very long, but do not reach to the nasal The nasals
are very sLort.

In the foregoing diagnosis, taken from " Gray's Knowsley
Menagerie," are summed up the principal characteristics
of the elk in the Old and New Worlds. In colour alone
the American moose presents an unimportant difference
to the Swedish elk, being much darker ; its coat at the
close of summer quite black, when the males are in their
prime. The European animal varies according to season
from brown to dark mouse-grey. In old bulls of the
I American variety the coat is inclined to assume a grizzly
hue. The extremities only of the hairs are black ; to-
wards the centre they become of a light ashy-grey,
and finally, towards the roots, dull white — the diffe-
rence of ci^lour in the hair of the two varieties thus

t. ',

''il

ni, I

if:

'■■'■'

40 FOREST LIFE IN ACAD IE.

being quite superficial. The males have a fleshy appen-
dage to the throat, termed the bell, from whicli and the
contiguous parts of the throat long black hair grows
profusely. A long, erect mane surmounts the neck
from the base of the skull to the withers. Its bristles
are of a lighter colour than those of the coat, and
partake of a reddish hue. At the base of the hair
the neck and shoulders are covered with a quantity of
very fine soft wool, curled and interwoven with the hair.
Of this down warm gloves of an extraordinarily soft
texture are woven by the Indians.

Moose hair is very brittle and inelastic. Towards its
junction with the skin it becomes wavy, the barrel of
each hair suddenly contracting like the handle of an oar
just before it enters the skin.""'

Gilbert White, speaking of a female moose deer which
he had inspected, says : " The grand distinction between
this deer and any other species that I have ever met
with consisted in the strange length of its legs, on which
it was tilted up, much in the manrier of birds of the
gralloe order." This length of limb is due, according to
Professor Owen, "to the peculiar length of the cannon
bones (metacarpi and metatarsi)."

The other noticeable peculiarities of the elk are the

* In " Aiuitoniical Descriptions of Several Ci'catures Dissected l)y the
Royal Academy of Sciences at Paris, Ijy Alexander Pitfield, F.R.S., 1688,"
the above peculiarity is thus described : — " The hair was three inches long;,
! (j and its biqness equalled that of the coarsest horsehair; this bigness grew

' ' 5|! lesser towards the extremity, Avhich was pointed all at once, making, as it

were, the handle of a lance. This handle was of another colour than the
rest of the hair, being diaphanous like the bristles of a hog. It seems that
this part, which was finer and more flexible than the rest of the hair, was
so made to the end, that the hair which was elsewhere very hard might
keep close and not stand on end. This hair, cut through the middle,
appeared in the microscope spongy on the inside, like a rush."

THE ALCINE DEER OF THE OLD AND NEW WORLDS. 47

great length of the head and car, and tlic muscular
development of the upper lij^ ; the movements of which,
directed by four powerful muscles arising from the maxil-
laries, prove its fitness as a prehensile organ. In form it
has been said to be intermediate between the snout of
tlie horse and of the tapir. I am indebted to Mr. Buck-
land for the following description of a skull, which had
been forwarded to him from Nova Scotia • —

" This splendid skull weighs ten pounds eleven ounces,
and is twenty-four inches and a-half in length. The
inter-maxillary bones are very much prolonged, to give
attachment to the great muscle or upper prehensile lip,
and the foramen in the bone for the nerve, which
supplies the ' muffle ' with sensation, is very large. I
can almost get my little finger into it. The ethmoid
bone, upon which the nerves of smelling ramify them-
selves, is very much developed. No wonder the hunter
has such difficulty in getting near a beast whose nose
will telegraph the signal of * danger ' to the brain, even
when the danger is a long way off, and the ' walking
danger,' if I have read the habits of North American
Indians, is in itself of a highly odoriferous character. The
cavities for the eyes are wide and deep. I should say the
moose has great mobility of the eye. The cavity for the
peculiar gland in front of the eye is greatly scooped out.
The process at the back of the head for the attachment
of the ligamentum nuchae — the elastic ligament which,
like an india-rubber spring, supports the weight of the
massive head and ponderous horns without ftitio-ue to the
owner, is much developed. The enamel on the molar
teeth forms islands with the dentine somewhat like the
pattern of the tooth of the common cow."

(

. i

i : [

I, I 48 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

The height of the elk at the withers but little exceeds
! that at the buttock ; the back consequently has not that

slope to the roar so often misrepresented in drawings of
the animal. The appearance of extra height forwards is
j given by the mane, which stands out from the ridge of

j I the neck, something like the bristles of an inverted

) j hearth-broom. The ears, which are considerably over a

foot in length in the adult animal, are of a light brown,
with a narrow marginal dark-brown rim ; the cavity is
filled with thick whitish-yellow hair. The naked skin
fringing the orbit of the eye is a dull pink ; the eye itself
of a dark sepia colour. Under the orbit there is an arc
of very dark hair. The lashes of the uj^per lid are full,
and rather over an inch in length. A large specimen
will measure six feet six inches in height at the shoulder ;
length of head from occiput to point of muffle, following
the curve, thirty-one inches ; from occiput to top of
withers in a straight line, twenty-nine inches ; and from
i; , ! the last point horizontally to a vertical tangent of the

buttocks, fifty-two inches. A large number of measure-
ments in my possession, for the accuracy of which I can
vouch, show much variation of the length of back in
proportion to the height, thus probably accounting for a
commonly received opinion amongst the white settlers of
the backwoods that there are two varieties of the moose.

ii,'

Si w THE PAST HISTORY OF THE ELK.

The study of northern zoology presents a variety of
considerations interesting both to the student of recent
nature and to the palaeontologist. Taking as well known

THE ALCINE DEEIl OF THE OLD AND NEW WORLDS. 49

instances the reindeer and musk-ox, there arc forms yet
inhabiting tlie arctic and sub-arctic regions which may-
be justly regarded as the remains of an ancient fauna
which once comprised many .species now long since
extinct, and which with those ah-eady named, occupied a
far greater southerly extent of ea(;h of the continents
converging on the pole than would be possible under the
present climatal conditions of the world. With those
great types which have entirely disappeared before man
had recorded their existence in the pages of history, in-
cluding the mammoth (Elephas primigenius), the most
abundant of the fossil pachyderms, whose bones so crowd
the beaches and islands of the Polar Sea that in j^arts the
soil seems altogether composed of them, the Rhinoceros
tichorinus, and others, were associated genera, a few
species of which lived on into the historic period, and
have since become extinct, whilst others, occupying
restricted territory, are apparently on the verge of dis-
appearance. " All the sftecies of European j^liocene
bovida3 came down to the historical period," states Pro-
fessor Owen in his " British Fossil IMammals," " and the
aurochs and musk-ox still exist ; but the one owes its
preservation to special imperial protection, and the other
has been driven, like the reindeer, to high northern lati-
tudes." Well authenticated as is the occurrence of the
rangifer as a fossil deer of the upper tertiaries, the
evidence of its association in ages so remote, with Cervus
Alecs, has been somewhat a matter of doubt. The elk
and the reindeer have always been associated in descrip-
tions of the zoology of high latitudes by modern natural-
ists, as they were when the boreal climate, coniferous
forests, and mossy bogs of ancient Gaul brought them

50 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

UTidor notice of tho classic pons of Crosar, Paitsnnias, and
Pliny. And tlicro is a Romctliing in common to l)otli of
these 8in<j;iilai' deer wiiicli M'ould seem to connect tliem
equally "svitli the period when they and tlie gigantic
contemporary genera now extinct roamed over So large
n, portion of the earth's surface in the north temperate
zone, where the fir-tree — itself geologically typical of a
great antiquity — constituted a predominant vegetation.
/ j The presence of the remains of Cervus Alces in associa-

tion with tliose of the mammoth, the great fossil musk-ox
(Ovil)os), the fossil reindeer, and two forms of bison in
the fossiliferous ice-cliffs of Eschscholtz Bay, as described
by Sir Jolm Richardson, would seem to lu; an almost
decisive proof of its existen(;e at a time when the tempe-
rature on tli(i shons of the Polar Sea Avas sufficiently
genial to allow of a vegetation affording l)rowse and
cover to the great herds of mammals which have left
tlieir bones there, with buried, fossilised trees, attesting
the presence of a forest at a latitude now unapproached
save by shrubs, such as the dwarf birch, and by that only
at a consideral)le distance to the south. The elk of the
present day, as Ave understand his habits, unlike the
musk-ox and reindeer, for which lichens and scanty
grasses in the valleys of the barren grounds under the
Polar circle affijrd a sufficient sustenance, is almost
exclusively a Avood- eater, and could not have lived at
the locidity above indicated under the present physical
aspects of the coasts of Arctic America, any more than
the herds of buffaloes, horses, oxen and sheep, whose
remains are mentioned by Admiral Von Wrangell as
having been found in the greatest profusion in the
interior of the islands of New Siberia, associated Avith

I THE ALCINE DEER OF THE OLD AND NEW WORLDS. 61

mammoth boiios, could now exist in that icy wilderness.
On these grounds a high anti(iuity is claimed for tho
sul)-genus Alcea, probably as great as that of the rein-
deer.

As a Britisli fossil mammal, the true elk has not yet
been descril)ed, though for a long time tho remains of
the now well-defined sub-genus Megaceros were ascribed
to the former animal. Then^. is a statement, however, in
a recent volume of the " Zoologist " to the effect that the
painting of a deer's head an<l horns, which were dug out
of a marl pit in Forfarshire, and presented to the Royal
Society of >](linl)urgh, is n^ferablo to neither the fallow,
1 red, nor extinct Irish deer, but to the elk, which may be
;{' therefore re'^arded as having once inhabited Scotland.

,/a " ^

I The only recorded instance of its occurrence in England

I is the discovery, a few years since, of a single horn at the
bottom of a bog on the Tync. It was found lying on,
not in, the drift, and therefore can be only regarded as

^ recent.

9 Passing on to prehistoric times, when the remains of
the species found in connexion with human implements
prove its subserviency as an article of food to the hunters
of old, we find the bones of Cervus Alces in the Swiss
lake dwellings, and the refuse-heaps of that agy ; whilst
in a recent work on travel in Palestine by the Rev. IT.
B. Tristram, we have evidence of the great and ancient
fauna which then overspread temperate Europe and Asia

1 luiving had a yet more southerly extension, for he dis-
covers a limestone cavern in the Lebanon, near Beyrout,
containing a breccious deposit teeming with the iUhris of
the feasts of prehistoric man — flint chippings, evidently
used as knives, mixed with bones in fragments and teeth,

1. 1

52 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

ns.signiiljlo to red or rciiidctu*, a bison, and an .elk. " If,"
Hays tlio author, "nn Mr. Dawkins considur.s, tlicsc teeth
are referable to thoHC now exeb lively nortlieru (iuadiiipeda,
we have evidence of tlic reindeer and elk ]iavin«( l)een
the food of man in the Lebanon not long before thi;
historie period ; for there is no nceesHity to put back to
any date of immeasurable antiquity tho deposition of

, 1 these remains in a limestone cavern. And," he adds,

with sicjnitieant reference to the great extension of the
ancient zoological province of which we arc speaking,
*' there is notiiing more extra.ordinary in this occurrence

]| than in the discoveiy of the bones of the tailless hare of

Siberia in the breccias of Sardinia and Corsica."

The first allusion to the elk in the pages of history is
made by Cresar in the sixth book " Dc Bello Callico" —
"sunt item quw appeUantur Alecs," etc. etc., a descrip-
tion of an animal inhabiting the great Hercynian forest
of ancient Germany, in common with some other remark-
able fera3, also mentioned, which can refer to no other,
the name being evidently Latinised from the old Teutonic
cognomen of elg, elch, or aelg, whence also our own term
elk. He s|iaks of the forest as commencing near the
territories of the Helvetii, and extending eastward along
the Danube to the country inhabited by the Dacians.
" Under this general name," says Dr. Smith, *' Ctesar
appears to have included all the mountains and forests
in the south and centre of Germany, the Black Forest,
Odenwald, Thuringenwald, the Hartz, the Erzgebirge, the
lliesengebirge, etc., etc. As the Romans became better
acquainted with Germany, the name was confined to
narrower limits. Pliny and Tacitus use it to indicate
the rana:e of mountains between the Thiiringjcnwald and

111

■(IH

tij

TIIK ALOINE DEER OF THE OLD AND NEW WORLDS. 03

the Curpftthitiiis. Tlic iiamo in still preserved in the
moileni Harz aiul Erz." Gronovius Htutes that the
Uernian -word was HirtsenwaUl, or fcnvst of stags. In
un old tianshition of the Commentaries I find the word
"alces" rendered "a kind of wild asses," and really a
l)etter term could iiardly \m ap[)lied, had the writer,
unacquainted with the animal, caught a paivsing glimpse
of an elk, especially of a young one without horns. But
it is evident that Cicsar alludes to a large speeies of deer,
and, althougli he compares them to goats (it is nearly
certain that the original word was "eapreis," "caprea"
hi'ing a kind of wild goat or roel)Uck), and received from
his informants the stoiy of their being jointlcss — an
attribute, in those days of popular errors jind super-
stitions, ascriljed to other animals as well — the very fact
of their being hunted in the mannt'r described, by
weakenino; trees, so that the animal leaning ai::ainst them
would l)reak them down, involving his own fall, proves
that the alec was a creature of ponderous bulk.

The descriptive paragraph alluded to contains one of
the fallacies which have always been attached to the
natural history of the elk, ancient and modern ; and,
even now-a-days the singular appearance of the animal
attempting to browse on a low shrub close to the ground,
his legs not bent at the joint, but straddling stifHy as he
endeavours to cull the morsel with his long, prehensile
upper lip, might imi I; to the ignorant observer the idea
that the stilt-like legs were jointlcss. The fabrication of
their being hunted in the way described was, of course,
based on the popular error as to the formation of their
limbs. *' Milt ilcBij lie sunt cornibus" may imply that
Cresar, or more likely some of his men, had either seen a

i':

64 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

female elk, or — as miglit l)c more acceptably inferred — a
male wliicli had lost one liorn, and consequently late in
the autumn, as it is well known that the liorns are not
shed simultaneously. Pausanias speaks of the elk as
intermediate between the stag and the camel, as a most
sagacious animal, and capable of distinguishing the odour
of a human being at a great distance, taken by hunters
in the same manner as is now pursued in the " shall" of
north Europe, and as being indigenous to the country of
the Cclta3 ; whilst Phny declares it to be a native of
Scandinavia, and states that at his time it had not been
exhibited at the Roman games. At a later period the
animal became better known, for Julius Capitolinus
speaks of elks being shown by Gordian, and Vopiscus
'} ' ;ji mentions that Aurelian exhibited the rare spectacle of the

1 1 elk, the tiger, and the giraffe, when he triumphed over

Zenobia.

In these few notices is summed up all that has been
preserved of what may be termed the ancient history of
the European elk. An interesting reflection is suggested
as to what w^ere the physical features of central Europe in
those days. It seems evident that ancient France, then
called Gaul, was a region of alternate forests and
morasses in which besides the red and the roe, the rein-
deer abounded, if not tlie elk ; that in crossing the Alps,
a vast, continuous forest, commencing on the confines of
modern Switzerland, occupied the valleys and slopes of
the Alps, from the sources of the Rhine to an eastern
boundary indicated by the Carpathia'i mountains, and
embraced, as far as its northern extension was known,
the plateau of Bohemia. Strange and fierce animals,
hitherto unknown to the Romans — accustomed as they

! i
III

■'■'I i

THE ALCINE DEER OF THE OLD AND NEW WORLDS. 55

had been to seeing menagerie.s of creatures bronglit from
other clhnes, dragged in processions and into the arena
— were found in these forests. The iinis or wikl hull,
now long extinct, " in size," says Ctesar, "little less than
the elephant, and which spares neither man nor beast
when they have been presented to his view." The savage
aurochs yet preserved in a Lithuanian forest, the elk and
the reindeer were their denizens, and formed the beef and
venison on which the fierce German hunters of old sub-
sisted. " The hunting of that day " may be well imagined
t<j have l)een very different to the most exciting of
modern field sports, and continued down to the thirteenth
century, as is shown by the well-known passage from the
Ki(;l3elungen poem, where the hero, Sifrid, slays some of
the great herbivoras — the bison, the elk, and the urus —
as well as " einen grimmen Schelch," about the identity
of which so much doubt has arisen, th(3Ugh the conjecture
has been offered Ijy Goldfuss, IMajor Hamilton Smith,
and others, that the name refers to no other than the
oreat Irish elk or meo;aceros.

The recent notices of the elk contained in some curious
old works on the countries of northern Europe and their
natural history arc valuable merely as indicating the
presence and range of the animal in certain regions. I'he
errors and extravai^ances of the classic naturalists still
obtained, and tinged all such writings to the commence-
ment of the great epoch of modern natural history
ushered in l)y St. Hilaire and Cuvier. A confused
account of the animal is given by Scaliger, and it is
mentioned bv Gmelin in his Asiatic travels. Olaus
Magnus, the Swedish bishop, says, " The elks come from
the north, where the inhabitants call them elf? or elges."

';■

iji

i,;i
;ili

5G FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

ScliefFer, in his history of Laphmd, piiljlishecl in 1701,
speaks of that country " as not containing many elks, but
that they rather pass thither out of Lithuania." Other
writers ment'on it, but, wlienever a scientific description
is attempted it is full of credulous errors, such as its
liability to epileptic fits — a belief entertained not only
by the peasants of northern Europe, but likewise,
with regard to the moose, by the North American
Indians ; its attempt to relieve itself of the disease by
opening a vein behind the ear with the hind foot, whence
pieces of the hoof were worn by the peasants as a pre-
ventive afjainst fallinoj sickness : and its beinsj obliGjed to
browse backwards through the upper lip becoming en-
tangled with the teeth.* There arc also ample notices
,||! of the elk in the works of Pontoppidan and Nilsson ;

Albcrtus Magnus and Gesner state that in the twelfth
century it was met with in Sclavonia and Hungary. The
former writer calls it the equicervus or horse hart. In
1658 Edward Topsel published his "History of Four-
footed Beasts and Serpents : to be procured at the Bible,
on Ludgate-hill, and at the Key, in Paul's Churchyard."
At page 1G5 he treats of the elk : " They are not found
but in the colder northern regio./?, as Russia, Prussia,
Hungaria, and Illyria, in the wood ; Hercynia, and
among the Borussian Scythians, but most plentiful in
Scandinavia, which Pausanias calleth the Celtes."

• Mr. Bucklaml, referring to the above statouient in " Land ami Water,"
says : — " Of cour.se some part of the elk -was used medicinally. Our
ancestors managed to get a ' pill et haustus ' out of all things, from
vipers up to the moss in human skulls. The Pharmacopoeia of the day
prescribes a portion of the hoof worn in a ring ; ' it resisteth and freeth
from the falling evil, the cramp, and cureth the tits or pangs,' Fancy an
hysterical lady being told to take ' elk's hoof ' for a "vveek, to be followed
by * hart's horn.' "

THE ALCINE DEER OF THE OLD AND NEW WORLDS. 57

The accounts given by the earlier American voyagers
of Cervus Alces — there found under the titles of moose
(Indian) or r original (French) — were also highly exag-
gerated ; though, considering that they received their
descriptions from the Indians, who to this day believe in
many romantic traditions concerning the animal, they
arc excusable enough. From the writings of Jossclyn,'"'
Denys, Charlevoix, Lc Hontan, and others, little can be
learnt of the natural history of the moose. Suffice it to
say, that they represented it as being ten or twelve feet
in height, with monstrous antlers, stalking through the
forest and browsinoj on the folia 2;c at an astonishini];
elevation. It was consequently long believed that the
American animal was much larger than his European
convener : and when the ffiijantic horns of the IMecjaceros
were first ascrilied to an elk, it was to the former that
they were referred by Dr. Molyneux.

RECENT NATURAL HISTORY OF THE SPECIES.

Commencing its modern histor}', let us now brii^fly
trace the limits within which the elk is found in Europe,
Asia, and — regarding the moose as at least congeneric —
America. It is to the sportsmen and naturalists who

• " The moose or elke is a creature, or rather, if you will, a monster of
superfluity ; a full grown moose is many times bigger than an English
oxe ; tlieir horns, as I have said elsewhere, very big and lirancht out into
palms, tlie tops whereof are sometimes found to be two fathoms asunder
(a fathom is six feet from the tip of one linger to the tip of tlie other, that
is four cubits), and in height from the toe of the fore feet to the pitch of
the shoulder twelve foot, both of which hath been taken by some of my
sccptii/ne readers to be monstrous lies." — Josseli/n's Voyages to New Enqland,
pub. I(i74.

ij'

I Ji

58 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

have recently written on the field sports of the Scandina-
vian Peninsula that we are indebted fur nearly all our
infornii'ition on the natural history of this animal, and its
geographical distribution in northern Europe. The works
of Messrs. Lloyd and Barnard contain ample notices.
*' At the present day," says the latter author, " it is found
in Sweden, south of the province of East Gothland.
Angermannland is its northernmost boundary." The late
Mr. Wheelwright, in " Ten Years in Sweden," which con-
tains an admirable synopsis of the fauna and flora of that
country, places the limits of the elk in Scandinavia
l)etween 58° North lat. and 64°. Mr. Barnard states that
" it likewise inhabits Finhmd, Lithuania, and Russia,
from the White Sea to the Caucasus. It is also found in
the forests of Siberia to the River Lena, and in the neigh-
bourhood of the Altai mountains." Von Wrangel met
with the elk — though becoming scarce, through excessive
hunting and the desolation of the forest by fire — in the
Kolymsk district, in the almost extreme north-east of
Siljeria. Erman, another eminent scientific traveller in
Siberia, describes it as {ibundant in the splendid pine
forests which skirt the Obi, and mentions it on several
occasions in the narrative of his journey eastward through
the heart of the country to Okhotsk. It has been recently
noticed amongst the niamm(dia of Amoorland, and as
principally inhabiting the country round the lower
Amoor. It is thus seen that the domains of the elk
in the Eastern Hemisphere are immensely extensive,
lying between the Arctic Circle — indeed, approaching the
Arctic Ocean, where the great rivers induce a northern
extension of the wooded region — and the fiftieth parallel
of north latitude, from which, however, as it meets

■A-

THE ALCINE DEER OF THE OLD AND NEW WORLDS. 59

grojitcr civilisation in tlic western portion of the Russian
empire, it recedes towards the sixtieth.

In the New AVorld, it would appear from old narra-
tives that the moose (as we must unfortunately continue
to call the elk, whose proper title has been misappro-
priated to Cervus canadensis) once extended as far south
as the Ohio, Later accounts represent its southern limit
on the Atlantic coast to be the Bay of Fundy, the coun-
tries bordering which — Nova Scotia, New Brunswick,
and the State )f ]\Iaine — appear to be the most fiivourite
abode of the moose ; for nowhere in the northern and
western extension of the North American forest do we
find this animal so immerous as in these districts. Absent
from the islands of Prince Edward, Anticosti, and New-
foundland, it is found on the Atlantic sea-board, and to
the north of New Brunswick, in the province of Gaspe ;
across the St. LawTcnce, not further to the eastward
than the Saguenay, though it was met with formerly on
the Labrador as far as the river Godbout. The absence
I of the moose in Newfoundland appears unaccountable ;
■| for, although a large portion of this great island is com-
^ posed of open moss-covered plateaux and broad savannahs
? — favourite resorts of the cariboo or American reindeer —
yet it contains tracts of forest, principally coniferous,
of considerable extent, in which birch, willow, and
swamp-maple are sufficiently abundant to afiord an
ample subsistence to the former animal, which is stated
by Sir J. Richardson to ascend the rivers in the north-
west of x\merica nearly to the Arctic Circle — as far, in
fact, as the willows grow on the banks.

Assuming that the moose is still found in New Hamp-
shire and Vermont, where it exists, accordinij to Audubon

(i-

. :ll

' I

60 FOREST LIFE IN AC^\ lE.

and Bacliman, at long intervals, wc may therefor^' define
its limits on the eastern coasts of North America as lying
between 43° 30' and the fiftieth parallel of latitude.

In following the lines of limitation of the species
across the continent, we perceive an easy guide in con-
sidering its natural veg<'tation. As regards the general
features of the forests which the moose afiects, wc find
them principally characterised l>y the presence of the fir
tril)c and their associations of damp swamps and soft
open bogs, provided that they are sufficiently removed
from the region of jierpctual ground-frost to allow of the
requisite growth of deciduous shr.Jjs and trees on which
the animal suljsists. The best indication, therefore, of
the dispersion of the moose through the interior of the
continent is afforded by tracing the development of the

jii, forest southwards from the northern limit of the growth

of trees.

The North American forest has its most arctic cxten-

j sion in the north-west, where it is almost altogether

composed of white spruce (Abies alba), a conifer which,
when met with in far more genial latitudes, aj^pears to
prefer bleak and exposed situations. Several species of
Salix fringe the river banks, and feeding on these we first
find the moose, even on the shores of the Arctic Sea,
where Franklin states it to have been seen at the mouth
of the Mackenzie, in latitude G9°. Further to the east-
ward Richardson assicjus G5'' as the hinjliest limit of its
range ; and in this direction it follows the general course
of the coniferous forest in its rapid recession from the
arctic circle, determined by the line of perpetual ground-
frost, which comes down on the Atlantic sea-board to the
fifty-ninth parallel cutting off a large section of Labra-

THE ALCINE DEER OF THE OLD AND NEW WORLDS. 01

(lor. To the northward of tliis line arc the treeless wastes,
termed barren-grounds, the territory of the small arctic
carihoo.

The monotonous character and paucity of species of
the evergreen forest in its southern extension continues
until the valley of the Stiskatchewan is reached, where
some new types of deciduous trees appear — balsam-
poplar, and maple — forming a great addition to the
hitherto scanty fare of the moose. Here, however, the
forest is divided into two streams by the north-western
corner of the great prairies — the one following the slopes
of the Rocky ]\Iountains, whilst the other edges the plains
to the south of "\Vinipeg and the Canadian lakes. In the
former district, and west of the mountains, the Columbia
river is assigned as the limit of the moose. On the other
course the animal appears to be co-occupant with the
wapiti, or ])rairie elk, of the numerous spurs of forest
which jut out into the plains, and of the isolated patches
locally termed moose-woods. Constantly receiving acces-
sion of species in its south-westerly extension, the Cana-
dian forest is fully developed at Lake Superior, and there
exhibits that pleasing admixture of deciduous trees with
the nobler conifers — the white pine and the hemlock
spruce — which conduces to its peculiarly beautiful as-
pect. This large tract of forest, wdiicli, embracing the
great lakes and the shores of the St. Lawrence, stretches
away to the Atlantic sea-board, and covers the provinces
of New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, and Prince Edward's
Island, including a large portion of the Northern States,
has been termed by Dr. Cooper, in his excellent mono-
graph on the North American forest-trees, the Lacustrian
Province, from the number of its great lakes ; it is chiefly

02 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

characterised l)y the predominance of evergreen coniferoc.
It was all at one time plentifully occupied l)y the mooHC,
which is now hut just frequent enough in its almost
inaccessible retreats in the Adirondack hills to be classed
amongst the quadrupeds of the State of New York.
The ranQ;e of the animal across the continent is thus
indicated, and its association with the physical features
of the American forest. As before remarked, tlie neigh-
bourhood of the Bay of Fundy appears to be its present
most favoured habitat ; and it seems to rejoice especially
in the low-lying, swampy woods, and innumeral)le lakes
and river-basins of Nova Scotia and New Brunswick.

The scientific diagnosis of the Alcine groups (Hamilton
Smith) having been detailed already, we pass on to
describe the hal)its of the American moose — the result
of a long period of personal observation in the localities

fl last mentioned. First, however, a few remarks on the

specific identity of the true elks of the two hemispheres
seem as much called for at this time as when Gilbert
White, writing exactly a century ago, asks, " Please to let

f|! me hear if my female moose " (one that he had inspected

at Goodwood, and belonging to the Duke of Eichmond)
" corresponds with that you saw ; and whether you still
think that the American moose and Euroj)ean elk are the

||^ same creature ? " In reference to this interesting ques-

|i ■ tion, my own recent careful oljservations and measurc-

|y ments of the Swedish elks at Sandringham compared

tl with living specimens of moose of the same age examined

in America, convince me of their identity; whilst the
late lamented Mr. Wheelwright, with whom I have had
an interesting correspondence on the subject, states in
" Ten Years in Sweden " : " The habits, size, colour, and

liii!

THE ALCINE DEER OF THE OLD AND NEW WORLDS. (13

form of our Swodinli elk so proriaoly agree witli tliosc of
the North Ameriean moose in every resi)eet, tliat unless
some minute osteological clifferenco can be found to exist
(as in the case of the beavers of the two countries), 1
think we may fairly consider them as one and the same
animal."* The only difference of this nature that I ever
heard of as supposed to exist, consisted in a greater
breadth being accredited to the skull, at the most pro-
tuberant part of the maxillaries, in the case of the Euro-
pean elk. This I find is set aside in the comparative
diagnosis at the Museum of the lloyal College of Sur-

• The foUowiii;^' coiroljorative Htateiueiit has appeareil in "Land ami
Water," from tlu; pen of a eonvspoiulent whose initialn are appenthnl : —
" I l)eg to state my oi)hiiou tliut the elk uf North America and ot Nurtlierii
Europe are iih-nticah Havinj,' lived fonr years in New Brunswick and
Nova Scotia, and liavinj,' had the ojiportunity since I have lieun living' in
Prussia of seeiiij,' tlie interesting' paintings of the elk of East Prussia,
executed hy Count Oscar Krochow, I have very little doulit (in the subject;
indc'djthe ditlerences are so trilling and so manifestl}' the result of climatic
iulluenceSj that as a sportsman I have no douhts whatever. The elk (I'^lund
thier, Elenn thier, Elech or Elk in (Jerman) is still found in the forest
lying between the Russian frontier and the Curische Hull", in the govern-
mental district of C!und)imieii, where it is strictly ju'eserved, and where
its numbers have considerably increased in late years. I think that only
six stags are allowed to be shot yearly in this district, and permission is
only to be obtained on very particular reconunendation to high authorities
in Berlin. The best ({erman sporting authorities and sjjorting naturalists
consider the moose deer of N(n'th Ameiica and the elk of Northern Europe
to be identical. The elk was not extinct in Saxony till after the year 174(5,
and is still found in Prussia, Livonia, Finland, Courland (where it is callcil
Halaiig), in the Ural, and in Siberia. Perhaps the greatest numbers are
fonnd in the Tagilsk forests in the Ural, where the elk grows to an
enormous size. The size and weight, shape of the antlers, its having
topmost height at the shoulder, the shape and mode of carrying the head,
prolongation of the snout to what is called (in North America) 'themooliie,'
the awkward trotting gait, and also its power of endurance and the dis-
tances which it travels when alarmed, all concur in establishing the identity
of the North American and Northern European elks. The elk of Northern
Europe goes with young forty weeks ; the rutting season commences in
Lithuania (East Prussia) about the end of August, and lasts through
September. As well as can be established by recent observation, the
dmation of life is from sixteen to eighteen years." — B. W. (Berlin).

lyji

ill

64 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

gcoiis, ill which no gruuiKla of distinction whatever arc
evidenced.

I consider tluit this and the other arctic deer — the
rangifers (excepting, perhaps, in the hitter instance the
small barren-ground cariboo, which is probal)ly a distinct
species) — owe any differences of colour or size, or even
shape of the antler, to local variation, influenced by the
physical features of the country they inhabit. There is
more variation in the woodland cariboo of America in its
"1 distribution across the continent than I am able to perceive

between the elks of the Old and New World. As migra-
tory deer, occupying the same great zoological province,
almost united in its arctic margin, we need not look for
difference of species as we do in the case of animals whose
zones of existence are more remote from the Pole, and
where we find identical species replaced by typical.

The remark of an old writer that the elk is a *' melan-
cholick beast, fearful to bo seen, delighting in nothing
but moisture," expresses the cautious and retiring habits
of the moose, and the partiality which it evinces for the
long, mossy sw^amps, where the animal treads deeply and
noiselessly on a soft cushion of spliagnum. These swamps
are of frecpient occurrence round the margins of lakes,
and occupy low ground everywhere. They are covered
by a rank growth of black spruce (Abies nigra), of stunted
and unhealthy appearance, their roots perpetually bathed
by the chilling water which underlies the sphagnum, and
their contorted branches shaggy with usnca. The cin-
namon fern (Osmunda cinnamomea) grows luxuriantly ;
and its waving fronds, tinged orange-brown in the fall of
the year, present a pleasing contrast to the light sea-
green carpet of moss from which they spring profusely.

Ill

THE ALCINE DEER OF THE OLD AND NEW WORLDS. 65

A fciWHwamp-iuuple snplinj^H, withnul bu.sliOH (vilniniiini),
and niouiitain-ji.sh, occur at intervals near the (ultre of
the swamp, wliere the ground is drier, and oticr a
mouthful of l)ro\vse to the moose, who, however, m(>stly
frequenting these lo(;alitie8 in the rutting season, sehh)m
partake of food. Here, accompanied by his ccmsort,
the bull remains, if undisturbed, for wcu'ks together ;
and, if a large animal, will claim to be the monarcli of
the swamp, crashing with his antlers against the tree
stems slundd he hear a distant rival approaching, and
making sudden mad rushes through the trees that can
be heai-d at a long distance. At frequent intervals the
moss is torn up in a large area, and the l)lack mud
scooped out by the bidl pawing with the fore-foot-
Eound these holes he continually resorts. The strong
musky effluvia evolved by them is exceedingly ofi'ensive,
and can be perceived at a considerable distance. Thty
are examined with much curiosity by the Indian hunter
(who is not over particular) to ascertain the time elapsed
since the animal was last on the spot. A similar fact is
noticed by Mr. Lloyd in the case of the European elk,
" g^'^P " lacing the Norse term applied to such cavities
found in similar situations in the Scandinavian forest.

The rutting season commences early in September, the
horns of the male being by that time matured and har-
dened. An Indian hunter has told me that he has called
up a moose in the third week of August, and found the
velvet still covering the immature horn ; however, the
connexion between the cessation of furtl'er emission of
horn matter from the system owing to strangulation of
the ducts at the burr of the completed antler, with the
advent of the sexual season, is so well established as a

FORKHT LIKE IN AC'ADIK.

I 1

»n ;

(

.'I

fact in the natural liiHtoiy of tho, C('rvina3 that 8Uoh an
instance niiiHt be rcganliMl as cxccptioiial. 'J'lic firHt two
or three days of Septeniher over, and the moose has
worked off tlie hist rafjff^ed strip of the deciduous skin
aj^ainat his favourite rubhiii<);-posts — the stems of young
hacmata(!k (hireli) and alder hushes, and with conscious
pride of condition and strength, with clean hard antlers
and massive neck, is ready to assert his claims against
all rivals. A nobler animal does not exist in the American
forest ; nor, whatever may have been asserted about his
ungainliness of gait and appearance, a form more entitled
to command adminition, calculated, indeed, on first being
'|f confronted with the forest giant, to produce a feeling of

awe on the part of the young hunter. To hear his dis-
tant ci'ashings thiougli the woods, now and then drawing
his horns across the brittle l)ranchcs of dead timber as if
to intimidate the supposed rival, fand to see the great
black mass burst forth from the dense forest and stalk
majestically towards you on the open barren, is one of
the grandest sights that can be presented to a sports-
man's eyes in any quarter of the globe. His coat now
lies close, with a gloss reflecting the sun's rays like that
of a well-groomed horse. His prevailing colour, if in his
prime, is jet black, with beautiful golden-brown legs, and
flanks pale fawn. The swell of the muscle surrounding
the fore-arm is developed like the biceps of a prize-
fighter, and stands well out to the front. I have mea-
sured a fore-arm of a large moose over twenty inches in
circumference. The neck is nearly as round as a barrel,
and of immense thickness. The horns are of a light
yellowish white stained with chestnut patches ; the tines
rather darker ; and the base of the horn, with the lowest

THK ALCINR DKEIl OF TIIK OLD AND NEW WORLDS. 67

nrroup of prongH projc'cting forwurtls, of a dark reddish
brown.

At this Hrasoii the l)ulls fi«^ht (h'spcratcly. IJuckod
by tho immonmj and (;oinpa<tt neck, the colliHion of tho
an tiers of two large nvalw is heard on a still autumnal
night, like the report of a gun. If the season is young,
tlu.' palm of the horn is ofti'U pierced by the tines of tho
adversary, and I have picked up broken fragments of
tincH where a fi; t has occturred. Though at other
seasons they rarely utter a sound, where moose are plen-
tiful they m.'iy be heard all dny and night. The cows
utter ii ])n»l()nged and strangely-wild call, which is imi-
tated by the Indian hunter through a trumpet of rolled-
u]) l)ir('h-biirk to allure the male. The bull emits several
sounds. Travelling through the woods in quest of a
mate, he is constantly " talking," ns the Indians say,
giving out a suppressed guttural scauid—tpioh ! quoh !
— which becomes much sharper and more like a bcHow
when he hears a distant cow. Sometimes he bellows in
rapid succession ; but when approaching the neighbour-
hood of the forest where he has heard the call of the cow
moose, and for which he makes a bee line at first, he
becomes much more cautious, speaking more slowly, con-
stantly stopping to listen, and often finally making a long
noiseless detour of the neighbourhood, so as to come up
from the windward, by which means he can readily
detect the presence of lurking danger These latter
cautious manoeuvres on the part f)f the moose are, how-
ever, more frequently exercised in districts where they
are much hunted ; in their less accessible retreats the old
bulls will often rush up to the spou without hesitation.
The suspicious and angry bull will often go into a thick

F 2

!i,

!i| G8 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

swamp and lay ahout liim amongst the spruce stems right
and left, now and then making short rushes — the dead
sticks flying before him with reports like pistol shots. I
have often heard a strange sound produced by moose
when "real mad," as the Indians would say — a half-
choked sound as if there was a stoppage in the wind-pipe,
which might be expressed — hud-jup, hud-jup ! When
with his mate, his note is plaintive and coaxing — cooah,
cooah !

A veteran hunter, now dead, well-known in Nova

.J!1! Scotia as Joe Cope — to be regretted as one of the last

■'• ■: examples of a thorough Indian, and gifted with extra-

'1 ordinary faculties for the chase — thus described to me,

over the camp-fire, one of his earlier reminiscences of the

\. ' woods — the subject being a moose fight.

': It was a bright niarht in October, and he was alone,

J calling, on an elevated ridge which overlooked a great

i extent of forest land. " I call," said he, " and in all my

; life I never hear so many moose answer. Why, the place

• was bilin' with moose. By-and-by I hear two coming

I just from opposite ways — proper big bulls I knew from

:, the way they talked. They come r.'g'it on, and both

come on thf 'Htle hill at same time — pretty hard place,

, too, to climl) ui), so full of rocks and windfalls. When

they coming up the hill, I never hear moose make such

a shockin' noise, roarin', and tearin' with their horns. I

just step behind some bushes, and lay down. They meet

^ just at the top, and directly they seen one another, they

! went to it. Well, Capten, you wouldn't b'lieve what a

,(: noise — ^just the same as if gun gone off. Well, they

, ripped away, till I couldn't stand it no longer, and I shot

one of the poor brutes ; the other he didn't seem to mind

Tl E ALCLXE DEER OF THE OLD AND NEW WORLDS, fif)

the gun one bit — no more noise than what he been
makin', and he thought he killed the _-."ose ; so I just
loaded quick, and I shot him too. V^ it fine moose
them was — both layin^ together on the rocks ! No moose
like them now-a-days, Ca})ten."

It is not long since that an animated controversy ap-
jtcared in the columns of a sporting paper under the
heading " Do stags roar ? " It was decided, I believe,
that such was the case with the red-deer of tlie Scottish
hills, by the testimony of many sjMDrt-smen. I can testify
that such is also a habit of the moose, and many will
corroborate this st<iteraent. On two occasions in the fnll
I have heard the strange and, until acquainted with its
origin, almost apjjalling sound emitted by the moose. It
is a deep, hoarsen, and prolonged bellow, more resembling
a feline than a bovine roar. Once it occurred when a
moose, hitherto boldly coming up at night to the Indians'
call, htid suddenly come on our tracks of the previous
evening when on our way to the calling-ground. On the
other occasion I followed a pair of moose for more than
an hour, guided solely by the constantly repeated roar-
ings of the bull, which I shot in the act.

Young moose of the second and third year arc later
in their season than the old bulls. Before the end of
October, when their elders have retired, though they will
generally readily a --er the Indians' call from a dis-
tance, they show great caution in approaching — steidthily
hovering round, seldom answering, and creeping along
the edges of the Ixvrrcn or lake so as to <]jet to leeward of
the caller, makiiig no crashing with their horns aixainst
the trees as do the older buUs, and always adopting the
movoc-paths. In consequence they are seldom called up.

70 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

When tliG moose wishes to beat a retreat in silence, his
suspicions being aroused, he can effect the same with
marvellous stealth. Not a branch is heard to snap, and
the horns are so carefully carried through the densest
thickets that I believe a porcupine or a rabbit would
make more noise when alarmed.

In the fall the bull moose, forgetting his hitherto cau-
tious habits of moving through the forest, seems, on the
contrary, bent on making himself heard, " sounding " (as
the Indians term it) his horns against a tree with a pecu-
liar metallic ring. Sometimes the ear of the hunter,
intently listening for signs of advancing game, is as-
sailed by a most tremendous clatter from some distant
swamp or burnt-wood, "just (as my Indian once aptly
expressed it) as if some one had taken and hove down a
pile of old boards." It is the moose, defiantly sweeping
his forest of tines riiijht and left amongst the brittle
branches of the ram-pikes, as the scathed pines, hardened
by fire, are locally termed. The resemblance of the
sound of the bull when he answers at a great distance off
to the chopping of an axe is very distinct ; and even the
practised ear of the sharpest Indian is often exercised in
long and anxiously criticising the sound before he can
make up his mind from which it emanates. There are
of frequent occurrence, in districts frequented by these
animals, what are termed moose-paths — well-defined
lines of travel and of communication between their feeding
grounds which, when seeking a new browsing country,
or when pursued, they invariably make for and follow.
These paths, which in some places are scarcely visible, at
other times are broad enough to afford a good line of
travel to a man ; they are also used by bears and wild

THE ALCINE DEER OF THE OLD AND NEW WORLDS, 71

cats. Sometimes they connect the little mossy bogs
which often run in chains through a low-lying evergreen
forest ; at others they traverse the woods round the
>dges of barrens, skirting lakes and swamps. I have
often obsei'ved that moose, chased from a distan(?e into a
strange district, will at once and intuitively take to one
of these moose-paths.

AVith the exception of tlie leaves and tendrils of the
yellow pond lily (Nuphar ad vena), eaten when wallowing
in the lakes in summer, and an occasional bite at a tus-
sack of broad-leaved grass growing in dry bogs, the food
of the moose is solely afforded by leaves and young
terminal shoots of bushes. The foUowincr is a list of
trees and shrubs from which I picked specimens, showing
the browsing of moose, on returning to camp one winter's
afternoon. Red maple, white birch, striped maple, swamp
maple, balsam fir, poplar, witch hazel, mountain ash.
The withrod is as often eaten, and apparently relished
as a tonic bitter, as the mountain ash ; but the young
poplar growing up in recently burnt lands in small
groves, with tender shoots, appears to form the most
frequently sought item of diet. In winter young spruces
are often eaten, as, also, is the silver fir ; in the latter
case the Indians say the animal is sick. The observant
eye of the Indian hunter can generally tell in winter,
should drifting snow cover up its tracks, the direction in
which the moose has proceeded, feeding as he travels, by
the appearance of the bitten boughs ; as the incisors of
the lower jaw cut into the bough, the muscular upper lip
breaks it ofi" from the opposite side, leaving a rough pro-
jection surmounting a clean-cut edge, by which the
posit'on of the passing animal is indicated. The wild

FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

meadow hay stacked by the settlers hack in tlic woods is
never touched by moose, though I have s(>en th(!m eat
hay wlieii taken young and brought u[) in captivity. A
young one in my i)ossession wouhl also graze on grass,
which, vainly endeavouring to crop by widely straddling
with the forel(>gs he would finally drop on his knees to
eat, and thus would advance a step or two to reach
further, and in a liiost ludicrous manner.

To get at the foliaije out of reach of his mouffle the
animal resorts to the practice of riding down young
trees, as shown in the accompanying woodcut.

The teeth of the moose are arranged according to the
dental formula of all ruminants, though I once saw a
lower jitw containing nine perfect incisors. The crown
of the molar is deeply cleft, and the edges of the enamel
surrounding the cutting surfaces very sharp and hard as
adamant — beautifully adapted to reduce the coarse
sa})less branches on which it is sometimes compelled to
subsist in winter, when accumulated snows sluit it out
from seekinjij more favourable feedina: urounds. I have
often heard it asserted by Indian hunters that a large
stone is to be found in the stomach of every moose.
This, of course, is a fable ; but a few years since I was
given a calculus from a moose's stomach which I had
sawn in two. The concentric rings were well defined,
and were composed of radiating crystals like needles. The
nuch'us was })lain]y a portion of a broken molar tooth
which tlie animal had swallowed. A short time after-
wards I obtained another bezoar taken from a moose.
The rings were fewer in numl)cr than in the preceding
case, but the nucleus was a, very nearly perfe(^t and entire
molar.

-» I-

ts
o

a
m

■1

:>■■

THE ALCINK DI-^Ell OF THE OLD AND NEW WORLDS. 73

The young l)ull moose grows his first horn (a little
(lug), of a cylindrical form, in his second summer, i.e.,
when one year old. Both these and the next year's
growth, which are bifurcate, remain on the head through-
out the winter till April or May. The palmate horns of
succeeding years are dropped earlier, in January or
February — a new growth commencing in April. The
full development of the horn appears to be attained
when the animal is in its seventh year.*

As a means of judging age, no dependence is to be
placed on the number of the tines, but more upon the
colour and perfect appearance of the antler. In an old
moose, past his prime, the horns have a bleached appear-
ance, and the tines are not fully developed round
the edge of the palm. It is my imjiression that when
moose are much distui bed, and are not allowed to " breed"
their horns in (juiet, contorted and undersized horns
most frequently occur. Douljle and even treble palms,

* Old Winckell, perliaps the best uutliority aiiioii",' tlie Germans oii
sporting' zoolo<,'y, says on this point : — " lu the first year of lile, and indeed
earlier than the red deer, the elk calf shows knohhy projections on that
part of the head where the horns grow, which hy Sejiteniher attain an inch
in heij,'ht. In the sprini^' of the second year the true knolis appear, forming
single points i^even or eight inches in length. These are covered with
dark brown velvet. In the latter part of April, or beginning of May in
the year following, these arc cast, and are replaced t'itlier liy longer single
points or by forked antlers, according to which the young ell\ is culled
either ' spiesaer' or 'gabler.' These again are cast early in A])ril, aiul are
reidaced by heavier forks, or by shorter but six-pointed antlers, when the
elk obtains the designation of 'geringer hirsch.' In the fifth year the horns
are cast in March, and the new ones lose their velvet also at a correspond-
ingly earlier date. These are cast in February of the sixth year. I sliould
have previously remarked that they had already develoi)ed into branches,
which form they retain from henceforth, the number of points on the broad
shovel-shaped branches increasing with age. From this time forth the elk
casts in December and January, the complete reproduction of the great
antlers, which attain a weight of from ;il) to 40 lb., not being completeil
till June. The antlers of the young are light, those of the full-grown elk
are dark brown." -15. W.

74 FOREST LIFK IN ACADIE.

folded back one layer upon the other, arc not uncommon ;
and sometimes an almost entire absence of palmation
occurs, in which cjuse I have seen a pair of moose horns
ascribed to the cariljoo. Structural irregularity of the
antler is frequently the result of constitutional injury.
A friend in Nova Scotia, well known there as " the Old
Hunter," recently gave me a pair of horns of most
singular appearance, the original pcjssessor of which he
had shot a few falls previous. They were of a dead-
white colour, without palmution, and with immense and
knotted burrs and long bony excrescences sprouting from
the shafts of the antlers like stalactites. The horn
matter, instead of flowing evenly over the surface, had
been impeded in its course, and liad burst out at the base
of the horn. The animal, an unusually large and old
bull, when shot showed evident signs of having been in
the wars during the previous sd.oon. Several of his ribs
were broken, and the carcass bore many other marks of
injury. The very bones appeared affected by disease,
and were dried up and marrowless.

Even when badly wounded, the moose is seldom
known to attack a man unless too nearly approached.
There are instances, however, recorded to the contrary.
An old Indian, long since dead, called " Old Joe Cope "
(not the Joe previously mentioned), was for years nearly
bent double by a severe beating received from the fore-
foot of a wounded moose which turned on him. For
safety, there being no tree near, he jammed himself in
between two large granite boulders which were near at
hand. The aperture did not extend far enough back to
enable him to get altogether out of the reach of the
infuriated bull.

THE ALCFNE DEEIl OF THE OLD AND NEW WORLDS. TS

VVluitevcr may be Hiiid about the mild eyes of the
dying moose, a wounded animal, unable to get away,
asHuraes a very " ugly" (expression. The little hazel eye
and constricted muscles of the mouffle spoiik v(jlumes of
concentrated hate. Such scenes I have lost no time in
terminating by a quick coup de yrdce. When the
moose faces the hunter, licking his lips, it is a caution to
stand clear.

Portions of skeletons, the skulls united by firmly
locked antlers, are not unfrequently found in the wilder-
ness arena where a deadly fight has occurred, and the
unfortunate animals have thus met a lin<i;erin<; and
terrible death, to which may be Jipplied the well-known
lines of Byron in illustration — the contest, indeed, being
prolonged beyond the original intention : —

" FriendH meet to part : love lauylis at I'liitli ;
True foes, once met, are joine<l till death ! "

A Splendid pair of lo(;ked horns of the American
moose now adorn the Museum of the Royal College of
Surgeons.

In hot weather the moose appears much oppressed and
lazy ; he will scarcely stir, and a little exertion causes
him to pant and the tongue to hang out. Cold weather,
on the contrary, braces him up, and we always find that
on a frosty night and morning in the fall of the year
the moose is more inclined to travel and answer the
hunter's call than on a close night, though in the height
of the season. The best time for calling is on a cold
frosty morning just before sunrise, when a rime frost
whitens the barrens, and the air holds a death-like
stillness, the constant hooting of the cat-owls (Bubo
Virginianus) portending the approach of a storm.

70 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

Except in tlie lu'ight of i\w rutting Hca.son, the great
ear of the moose is ever on the idert to detect danger ;
the shglitest snap of a dead bough trodden on l)y the
advancing hunter, and lie ia off in a long swinging trot
for many a mile. He readily perceives the difference of
sounds occasioned hy the presence of his human foe to
those produced by the animals or birds of the forest, or
by the approach of his own species. '* The only way
you can fool a moose," says my Indian, " is when the
drops of rain are pattering off the trees on to the dead
leaves ; then he don't know nothing."

The presence of the moose is so difHcult to detect,
except by tracks and signs of browsing, that habitual
silence and caution in walkin*? throuah the forest be-
comes a leading trait in the moose hunter, whose eyes
are ever ghmcing around through the forest. By observ-
ing this strictly, and from long habit, I shot my last
moose unexpectedly. On our road to the calling ground,
a picturesque little open bog of a hundred acres or so in
the middle of a heavily-wooded evergreen forest, we had
passed through a descending valley under tall hemlock
woods on the soft mossy carpet which makes travelling
=50 easy and grateful to the moccasined foot. Not a word
had been sjioken save in cautious undertones, and de-
bouching on the bog, we w\alked up to a little pile of
rocks and dead trees near the centre, where we were to
try our luck wdth the moose-call on the approach of
evening, and quietly deposited our loads- -blankets and
camp-kettle. Lighting our pipes, we sat still for a few
moments, scanning the edges of the woods. It was per-
fectly calm ; not a sound except the cry of the jay or the
woodpecker's tap. Presently the Indian, who lay in the

THE ALCINK UEER OF THE OLD AND NEW WOULDS. 77

ItushcH (!l()Ho by, gave a little warning " liint ;" and, look-
ing up, 1 .saw a fine moosi; Htanding about eighty yards
off, and Hlowly looking about him. He had come out of
tile wood.s close to our point of exit, and we must have
becm j)as8ed by him quite handy. I was capped ; nnd in
a few minutes crowds of moose-birds had assembled to
share the hunter's feast. But for our caution we should
never have seen or heard him.

In November, the rutting season over, the bull moose
again seeks t\w water and recovers his appetite : re-
maining, nevertheless, in poor condition throughout the
winter. He may be now seen standing listless and
motionless for hours together, and seeming to tak(.' but
little notice of the approach of danger unless his nostrils
are invaded by the scent of a human being, which will
start a moose under any circumstances. About this
time the cows, young bulls, and calves congregate in
small parties of three to half a dozen, and aff(!(;t open
barrens and hill sides, where there is a plentiful su[)ply
of young wood of deciduous trees, constituting what is
termed a *' moose-yard." If undisturbed they will remain
on such spots, feeding round in an area more or less limited
in extent, for several weeks ; when, the supply of pro-
vender failing, they break up camp and proceed in search
of fresh ground. When the weather and state of the
snow permits, these shifts are practised throughout the
winter. In Canada, however, and in Northern New
Brunswick, the moose is a far less migratory animal than
he is in Nova Scotia, owing to the great depth of the
snow ; once he chooses his yard he has to remain in it,
and is quite at the mercy of the hunter who may have
discovered the locality, and who can invade his domains

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

I.I

ill 1112.5

IIIIIM iijzj^

IM III 2.0

1.8

1.25

1.4

1.6

-^ 6"

PhotograDhic

78 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE,

at any time and at his own convenience. The old bulls
become very solitary in their habits, and, indeed, seem to
avoid the society of their species, living in the roughest
and moet inaccessible districts, on hill sides strewn in
the wildest confusion with bleached granite boulders, and
windfalls where some forest fire has passed over and left
the land thus desolate.

In severe snow-storms the moose seeks shelter from
the blinding drift (poudre) in fir thickets. In the yard,
the animal spends the day in alternately lying down for
periods of about two hours, and rising to browse on the
bushes near at hand. About ten o'clock in the morning,
and again in the afternoon, they may generally be found
feeding, or standing, chewing the cud, with their heads
listlessly drooping. At noon they always lie down ; and
the Indian hunter knows well that this is the worst time
of day to approach a yard, as the animal is then keenly
watching, with its wonderful faculties of scent and hear-
ing on the alert, for the faintest taint or sound in the air
which would intimate coming danger. I have waited
motionless for an hour at a time, knowing the herd was
reposing close at hand, and anxiously expecting a little
wind to stir the branches so as to cover my advance,
which would otherwise be quite futile. The snapping of
a little twig, or the least collision of the rifle with a
branch in passing, or the crunching of the snow under
the moccasin, though you planted your footsteps with
the most deliberate caution, would suffice to start them.

The moose is not easily alarmed, however, by distant
sounds, nor does he take notice of dogs barking, the
screams of geese, or the choppings of an axe — sounds,
emanating from some settler's farm, which are borne

1 ■ ■

i f

•

1';

;^|-

;>j'

.'■; 1'

,'B'

THE ALCINE DEER OF THE OLD AND NEW WORLDS. 79

through the air on a clear frosty morning to an astonish-
ing distance in America. Indeed, I once was lying iji
the bushes in full view of a magnificent bull when the
cars passed on a provincial railway at a distance of four
or five miles, and the deep discordant howl of the
American engine-whistle, or rather trumpet, woke echoes
from the hill-sides far and near. Once or twice he raised
his ears and slowly turned his head to the sound, and ;i;

then quietly and meditatively resumed the process of .;:, .,

rumination. :'';

In April, about the time of the sap ascending in trees, j-i

the moose horns begin to sprout, the old pair having V;

fallen two months previously. The latest date that I '■■■■■W

have ever seen a bull wearing both horns was on the ,;■ ,: ||

2.9th of January. The cylindrical dag of the moose in l'

his second year, and the two-pronged and still impalmate ;,:' |;'

horn of the next season are, however, retained till
April. In the middle of this month the coat is shed,
and for some time the moose presents a very rugged ' p

appearance. Towards the end of May the cow drops one >;

or two calves (rarely three), by the margin of a lake,
often on one of the densely -wooded islands, where they '■■f'^l

are more secure from the attacks of the black bear or of
the bull moose themselves. It has been affirmed as one '

of the distinctive traits of the Arctic deer that the fawns
are not spotted. Though faint, there are decided dap-
ples on the sides and flanks of the young moose ; in the
cariboo they are quite conspicuous. In May the plague
of flies commences, driving the more migratory cariboo
to the mountains and elevated lands, and inducing the
moose to pass much of his time in the lakes, where they
may be frequently seen browsing on water-lilies near the

1' V

i ' '1

f ^

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I' '

L'EEeI

80 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

shore, or swimming from point to point. Besides the
clouds of mosquitoes and black flies (Simulium molestum)
which swarm round everything that moves in the woods,
there are too large Tabani, or breeze flies, that are always
about moose, a grey speckled fly, and one with yellow
bands. The former is locally termed moose-fly, and is
very troublesome to the traveller in the woods in summer,
alighting on an exposed part, and quickly delivering a
sharp painful thrust with its lance-like proboscis. A tick
(Ixodes) affects the moose, especially in winter and early
spring. The animal strives to free itself from their irri-
tation by striding over bushes and brambles. The ticks
may often be seen on the beds in the snow where moose
have lain down, and whence they are quickly picked up by
the ever-attendant moose birds, or Canada jays (Corvus
canadensis). These vermin will fasten on the hunter
when backing his meat out of the woods. The Indian
says : " Bite all same as a. piece of fire."

So many are the Indian tales illustrating the supposed
power that the moose possesses of being able to hide
himself from his pursuers by a complete and long-sus-
tained submergence below the surface of the water, that
one is almost inclined to believe that the animal is gifted
with an unusual faculty of retaining the breath. I kno\^
that moose will feed upon the tendrils and roots of
the yellow pond lily by reaching for them under water.
An instance occurring in the same district in Nova
Scotia that I w^as hunting in, and at the same time,
which was related to me, will serve as a sample of the
oft-repeated stories bearing on this point. We had
crossed a fresh moose track of that mornins-'s date on
proceeding to our hunting grounds on the Cumberland

THE ALCINE DEER OF THE OLD AND NEAV WORLDS. 81

hills in search of ciiriboo. Not caring to kill moose wc '|i:

'i ,1..

left it ; but shortly after the track was taken up and ijlp

followed on light new-fallen snow by a settler. Having fit

started the animal once or twice without getting a shot, ^

he followed its track to the edge of a little round jjond !|[,|

in the woods whence he could not find an exit of the I't

trail. Sitting down to smoke his pipe before giving it ;.\

up to return, his gun left against a tree at some distance,

he was astonished to see the animal's head appear above

the surface in the middle of the pond. On jumping up,

the moose (juickly made for the opposite shore, and,

omeroinsj from the water, reuained the shelter of the

forest ere he could get round in time for a shot. The

Indians have a tradition that the moose originally came

from the sea, and that in times of great persecution, some

half-century since, when no moose tracks could be found

in the Nova Scotian woods, they resorted to the salt

water, and left for other lands. An old hunter, now

dead, told me he was present when his fatlu^r shot the

first moose that had been seen since their return ; that

great were the rejoicings of the Indians on the occasion,

and that two were shot on the beach by a, settler who

had seen them swimming for shore from open water in

the Bay of Fundy. I can vouch for an instance of a

moose, when hunted, taking to the sea and swimming off

to an island consideral)ly over a mile from the mainland.

Such tales are evidently intimately connected with the

pow(>rs of the animal in the water, in which, as has been • |j

l)reviously stated, it passes much of its existence during f'

the hot weather. A similar hunter's story to the oue

rcslated above is quoted by ]\rr. Gosse in the " C'anadiau !

Naturalist."

: I-

-I

82 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

lu conclusion, it is with regict that the conviction
must be expressed that this noble quadruped, at no very
distant period, is destined to pass away from the list of
the existing mammalia. The animal has fulfilled its
mission ; it has afforded food and clothing to the primi-
tive races wlio hunted the all-r>ervadino; fir forests of
Central Europe and Asia to subarctic latitudes, whilst,
until very recently, its flesh, with that of the cariboo,
formed the sole subsistence of the Micmacs and other
tribes living in the eastern woodlands of North America.
To these the beef of civilisation — icenju-teeamwee, or
French moose-meat, as the Indian calls it — but ill and
scantily supplies the place of their once abundant veni-
son. It has enabled the early and adventurous settler to
push back from the coast and open up new clearings in
the depths of the forest. With a barrel of flour and a
little tea, rafted up the lakes or drawn on sleds over the
snow to his rude log hut, he was satisfied to leave the
rest to the providence of nature ; and the moose, the
salmon, and the trout, with the annual prolific harvest of
wild berries, contributed amply to the few wants of the
fathers of many a rising settlement. With but few and
exceptional instances, the moose or the elk has not be-
come subservient to man as a beast of burden as has the
reindeer ; neither is it, like the latter, still called upon
to afford subsistence to nomade tribes of savages who
live entirely apart from civihsation. Being an inhabitajit
of more temperate regions, it is brought more constantly
witliin the influences of the permanent neighbourhood of
man, and thus, whilst its extinction is threatened by
slaughter, a sure but certain alteration is being effected
in the physical features of its native forest regions. The

THE ALCINE DEER OF THE OLD AND NEW WORLDS. 83 if?

l! 1'

ii-O

r'ii

often purposeless destruction of woods by the axe, and i'f

the constant devastation of large areas of forest by fires, '||i ii jl'i

too frequently the result of carelessness, are reducing the |-f:|

moisture of the American wilderness, rcmovinii; the !■

sponge-like carpet of mosses by which the water was
retained, and rendering the latter a less fitting abode for
the moose. Kestriction of his domains and constant dis-
turbance arc undoul)tedly slowly dwarfing the species. i '■ ;
We no longer hear of examples of the monster moose of "':'•%
the old times of which Indian tradition still speaks, and •!
when the well-authenticated dimiimtion in the size of ' '' ■
the red deer of the Scottish hills is remembered, an ap- > ; .' %,
pearance of less exaggeration than is usually attributed
to them marks the tales of the early American voyageurs
concerning the moose.

When the Russian aurochs and the musk-sheep of
Arctic America shall have disappeared, it is to be feared
that Cervus Alces of the Old and New Worlds, his fir
forests levelled, his favourite swamps di-ained, find unable
to exist continuously in the broad glare and radiation of
a barren country, will follow, to be regretted as one of
the noblest and most important mammals of a past
age ; his l)ones will be dug from peat-bogs by a future
generation of naturalists, and prized as are now those of
the Great Auk of the islands of the North Atlantic, or of .

the Struthiones of New Zealand, which have perished %■

within tbe ken of the scientific record of modern natural
history.

■■*!

CHAPTEK IV.

MOOSE HUNTING.

Successful in the cliasc, or on the contrary, it must be
premised that many a sportsman who essays the sport of
moose-hunting in the North-American woods finds but
little excitement therein. The toil and monotony of the
long daily rambles through a wilderness countiy, strewed
with rocks and fallen trees, and covered w^itli tangled
vegetation, with tlie uncertainty of obtaining even a
distant sight of (much less a shot at) these cautious
animals, whose tracks one is apparently constantly fol-
lowing to no pui-pose, drive not a few would-be hunters
from the woods in a state of supreme disgust.

There is no country in the world where wild sports are
pursued, in which the goddess of hunting exacts so much
perseverance and labour from her votaries as the fir-
covered districts of North America, or bestows so scanty
a reward. The true and persistent moose-hunter (never
a poacher or a pot-hunter) is generally animated by other
sentiments, and achieves success through an earnest
appreciation of the external circumstances which attend
the sport. He loves the solitude of the forest, and
admires its scicncry ; is charmed with the ready resources
and wild freedom of camp life, and, instead of listlessly
following in the tracks of his Indian guides in a state of

Ill

111!* .' ;'

:\IOOSE HUNT I NO. • 8.')

semi-disgust, dorives the greatest pleasure in watching H ■,

their wonderful powers of tracking, their sagacity in ,i|-;||

finding the game, and general display of woodcraft. '!; '

It is, perhaps, to this art of tra(!ldng or " creeping " l|j'

that the sport itself owes all its excitement ; and it is in \'i ■

the lower provinces (Nova Scotia especially) that it is
carried out to j)erfection by the Indian hunters ; a race,
however, which, it must Ijc regrettingly stated, is fast , '

disappearing from the country. ;:

In Nova Scotia the moose may not he legally shot after
the last day of December, and are thus protected, by the '

absence of deep snow in the woods during the open
season, from such ruthless invasions of their restricted
" yards," and wanton massacres as are of fre(juent occur-
rence in New Brunswick and Lower Canada. ]\looso ;
hunting in the deep snows which choke the forests to-
wards the close of winter — the hunter being able to move :;'*'
freely over the surface by the aid of his snow-shoes,
whilst the animals arc huddled together, spiritless, and ■ I""
in wretched condition — is a stupid slaughter, and
decidedly deserves the imputation often cast upon it,
that it has no more merit of sport than the being led up
to a herd of cattle in a farmyard.

The light snow-storms, however, of the first winter
months cover the grcM'ad just suthciently to bring out
the art of creepi'i^ to its perfection, whilst the moose
cannot be run down, and snow shoes are never required.
The dense deciduous foliage of the hard woods is now all
removed, and the woods afford clear open vistas in wJiich
game may be far more readily detected than in the cover
of autumn ; a wounded animal seldom escapes the hunter
to die a lingering death ; and, lastly, there cannot l)e tlu^

fin FOREST LIFE IN ACAD IE.

sliglitcst excuse for leaving in the woods the spoils which
it hccomes the imperative duty of the huntciv for many
reasons, to remove.

At the same time fall-hunting has likewise its ad-
vantages. There is a double chance of sport now ])r(!-
sented, as creeping may be pursued by day, Avhilst at
sunrise and sunset, and, indtuul, throughout the night
when the moon is round, the "call" may be resorted to.
JVluch, too, in. the way of camp equipage may bo tlispensed
with at this season. One may travel till sundown and
camp in one's tracks amongst the ranlc ferns and bushes
of the upland barrens with but one rug or blanket for
cover, and sleep soundly and (*onifortal)ly in the ojien,
though a rime frost sparkles on every spray next morn-
ing. xVnd if, perhaps, the supply of firewood Jias been
somewhat short towards dawn, the excitement of heariuir
an answer in the still morning air warms you to action ;
a mouthful of Glenlivet from the flask, and a hasty
snatch of what small amount of caloric may be excited
by the Indian's breath amongst the embers of the night
fire, and you arc ready for the " morning call."

And then, when the sun dispels the vapours, raises the
thin misty lines which mark the water courses and forest
lakes, and, finally, mellows the scenery with the hazy
atmosphere of a warm autumnal day, what a glorious
time it is to be in the woods ! Give me the fall for
moose hunting, and the stealthy creep through glowing
forests on an Indian summer's day, wh(>n the air in the
woods holds that peculiar scent of decaying foliage which
to my nostrils conveys an impression as pleasing as that
produced by the blossom-scented zephyrs of ]\[ay.

Perhaps one of the most singular of the experiences

tr:l

vffli

'•'1

'^■■m

MOUSE HUNTING. 87

which the new hand meets with in moose liunting, and
the one which tcachos liim to lean entin.'ly for assistance
upon his Indian giii(h>, is tlie extreme unfrecjuency with
which an accidental siglit of game is obtained in the
forest. Moose tracks are perhaps plentiful, also signs of
fresh feeding on the bushes, and impressed forms of the
animals, where they have rested on the moss, (n* amongst
ferns, hut how seldom do we see the animals themselves l)y
chance. Suddenly emerging from thick cover on the edge
of an extensive barren occupying several thousand acres,
tlie eye of the hunter rapidly scans the open in eager 'i

quest of a moving form, but meets with continual disap-
pointment. Not a sign of life, perhaps, but the glancing ' : %
iVuAit of a v^oodpecker or the i^roak of a raven. One is |-
prone to believe that the country is deserted by largo 1 4
game. Presently, however, your Indian, who, leaving • |«
you to rest on a fallen tree and enjoy a fevv' whitFs of the
hunter's solace, makes a cast round for his own satisfac-
tion, returns to t(>ll you that there are moose within
(possibly) a few hundred yards of you. You discredit
it, but are presently induced to believe his assertion
when you are shown the freshly-bitten foliage (anyone
can soon learn to distinguish between a new-cropped
bough and a bite over which a few hours have passed),
or, perhaps, the mud still eddying in a little pool in
which the animal has stepped. You may listen, too, by |!;
the hour tofjether for some token of their whereabouts,
but hear no sounds but those of the birds or scjuirrels.

If there is daylight, and the wind pro})itious, your
guide will probably in half an hour or so point to a
black patch seen between tree stems, indicating a portion
of the huge body of a moose, unless you have bungled

' • »'

if'!

Kir

■f

■ W^

sa FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

tlio wliolo anair Ly an unlucky stunil)l(' over a brittle
wiiidfall, or clanked your o;un-stock against a tree-stem.
It will thus lie readily seen that success in moose hunt-
ing cutiit'ly depends upon (Ik; excellence of the Indian
hunter who acci^mpanies the sportsman. His art, or
" gift," is hardly to be comprehended by description ;
it is as evidently the result of long practice — not, per-
haps, individual practice, but of the skill whicli he has
inherited from his forefathers, who before the advent of
Eastern civilisation, regularly "followed the woods"— as
is the high state of perfection to which the various breeds
of sporting dogs have l)een brought by artificial means.

Soon confused in the maze of woods through which
your Indian li-ads you after moose, you chance to ask
him at length where camp lies. He wull tell you within
half a point of the compass, and without hesitation,
though miles away from the spot. The slightest dis-
ar]-angement of moss or f(jliage, a piece of l)roken fern,
oi' a scratch on the lichens of a granite plateau, are to
liim the iiign-posts of the woods ; he reads them at a
glance, running. Should you rest under a tree or by a
brook-side, leaving, perhaps, gloves, purse, or pouch
behind, next day he Avill go straight to the spot and
recover them, though the country is strange. Under the
snow he will find and show you what he has observed or
secreted during the previous sunmier. He is the closest
observer of nature, and can tell you the times and
seasons of everything ; and there is not an animal, bird,
or reptile whose voice he cannot imitate with marvellous
exactness.

A faitliful companion, and always ready to provide
beforehand for your slightest necessities, the Micniac

MOOSE HUNTING. 8!)

I,
1 r

luiiitrr will never leave you in the woods in distress ;

and should you cut yourself with an axo, meet with a > ^

«;un aecith'ut, or ho taken otherwise sick, will cMrry you

himself out of the woods.* Under his guichmee we will

now introduce the rciider to the sport of moose hunting.

Old Joo Cope, the Indian hunter, is still to the fore ;"!■
his little le<L!;s, in sha])o reseml)ling the curved hiindle of
pliers, carry him after the; moose nearly as triistily as
ever. Perhaps his sight and hearing are failing him, iind
he generally hunts in company with his son Jem as an
assistant ; and Jem, Ijcing a lusty young Indian, does ' fi

most of the work in " backing out" the moosc-nn'at
from the woods. . W\

" Joe," said I, on meeting the pair one morning late
in Se})teml)er, a few falls ago, at the country-market at
Halifax, where they wei-c S(.'lling a large (quantity of
moose-meat, Joe's eyes beaming with ferocious satisfaction

* Tliu following aiiccdoto — a scmji from the notc-liook of an old comrailc fc-

in tilt! woods — is an interustiug I'xanipU'. of tlu! Indian's reilcctivu imiwcts : — '■}
" At length Paid, who is hiading, stops, and, tnrning towards ns, ])oints

towards a cleared line throiigh the forest. 'A road, a roa<l ! ' and we give .■ fil'v

three .s't(c/i eheers. It is a logging-road, leading from the settlements into ■'
the forest ; hnt which is the way to the clearings I If we tnrn in the wrong

direction it will delay ns another day, and we have only a little tea left and :. ' m,

six small biscuits. It is soon settleil ; wo turn to the h^ft, and jiresi'utly • *>

tind a wisp of hay dropjied c\oze to n tree. Now comes out a i)iece of ■; ^f

Indian "cuteness.' Paul has ohserved that when a tree knocks off a hand- ^',

I'ul of hay from a h)ad, it falls on that side of the tree to which tlu' cart is 'i-

going : the hay is on our .side of the tree, so we are going in the direction '}

whence the cart came. But it might ho wild hay, brought in from a ;; '

natural meadow. Thej- taste and smell it ; it is salt (in this country the p

farmers salt the meadow hay to keep it, but not the wild liay) : lience this ■ K;

was hay carted from the st'ttlements foi' the use of <i\en em]iloyrd in haul- ^;

ing out lumber. W'e are, therefore, going in the direction whence the cart ■ j|n

came, and towards the settlements." ' ; j^i'

t Sinci! this was written, jioor .loe has forever h'ft the hunting grounds ': ' K*'

of Acadie, having shot his last moose but a few weeks before he rested . i i;i

from ft life of singular adventure and toil. Requiescat in pace. -" «■(

■>••■ ?'<'

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•■:. :';

90 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

as lie pocketed the dollars by a ready sale. " Joe, I think
I must come and look at your castle, at Indian Lake ; tlicy
say you have exchanged your camp for a two-storey
frame-house, and .ire the squire of the settlement. Do
you think you have left a moose or two in your pre-
serves i

"Well, Capten, I very glad to fcio you always when
you come along my way. I most too old, though, to
hunt with gentlemen — can't see very well."

" We will make out somehow, Joe ; and Jem there
will help you through, if you come to a stand-still."

" Oh, never fear," replied Mr. Cope (he always speaks
of himself as Mr. Cope), laughing ; " that Jem, he don't
know nothing ; I guess I more able to put him through

yet."

And so we closed the bargain ; to wit, that we should
have a day or two's hunting together in what Joe fully
regarded as his own preserves and private property — the
Avoods around Indian Lake, distant twenty miles from
Halifax.

What would the old Indians, at the close of the last
century, have said, if told that in a short time a stage-
coach would ply through their broad hunting-grounds
between the Atlantic and the Bay of Fundy ? Think of
the astonishment of Mr. Cope and his comrades of the
present age, perhaps just stealing on a bull-moose, when
they first heard the yell of the engine and rattle of the
car-wheels ! This march has been accomplished ; the
old Windsor coach, with its teams of four, after having
flourished for nearly half a century, ha^* succumbed to
the iron-horse, and the discordant sounds of passing
trains re-echo through the neighbouring wouds, to the no

.<h

MOOSE HUNTING.

small disgust of Mr. Cope and those of his race in the
same interest.

Joe said that in the country we were going to hunt,
every train might be distinctly heard as it passed ; " and
yet," said he, "the poor brutes of moose don't seem to
T'.iind it much ; they know it can't hurt them."

A settler's waggon took our party over an execrable
road to the foot of Indian Lake. It had been raining
heavily all the morning, and we turned in to warm our-
selves at the settler's shanty, whilst the old Indian went
oft' by a path through the dripping bushes to his camp,
for the purpose of sending his canoe for me. This, and
a few scattered houses in the neiixhbourhood, was called
the Wellington settlement ; and here, as at the Ham-
mond's Plains settlement, which we had passed through
that morning, the principal occupation of the inhabit;uits
seemed to Ijc in making barreh- for the fishery trade.
Th(^y make them very compact, as they are intended for
herring or mackerel in pickle. The staves are sjiruce,
and are bound with bands of birch. The barrel is sold for
a trifle more than an English shilling. The Hammond's
Plains people are all blacks, a miserable race, descendants
of those who were landed in Nova Scotia at the conclu-
sion of the American war in ISl.'i. Their wretchedness
in winter is extreme, and in the summer they earn a hand-
to-mouth livelihood l)y Ijringing in to the Halifox market
a few vegetables grown in the small cleared patches
round their dwellings, bunches of trout from tlie brooks,
and the various berries which grow plentifully in the
wild waste lands round their settlement.

I'resently the canoe was signalled, and, going down to
the water's edge, I embarked, and in a few minutes stood

*; .

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■'i||;:

92 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

before Joe's castle. It was a substantial frame-house,
evidently built by some settler who had a notion of
making his fortune by the aid of a small stream which
flowed into the lake close by, and over which stood a
saw-mill. An old barn was attached, and from its rafters
hung moose-hides of all sizes, ages, and in all stages of
decomposition ; horns, legs, and hoofs ; porcupines de-
prived of their (piills, which are used for ornamental
work by the women ; and, in fact, a very similar collec-
tion, only on a grander scale, to that which is often dis-
played on the outside of a gamekeeper's barn in England.

A rush of lean, hungry-looking curs was made through
tlie door as Joe opened it to welcome me. " Walk in,
C'apten — ah, you brute of dog, Koogimooh! Mrs. Cope
from home, visiting his friends at Windsor. Perhaps you
take some dimier along with me and Jem before we start
up lake ? "

" All right, Joe ; I'll smoke a pipe till you and Jem
are ready," I replied, not much relishing the appearance
of the parboiled moose-meat which Jem was fishing out
of a pot. " No chance of calling to-night, I'm afraid,
Joe ; we shall have a wet night."

*' I never see such weather for time of year, Captcn ;
everything in woods so wet — can't hardly make fire ;. l)ut
grand time for creeping — oh, grand ! Everything, you
see, so soft, don't make no noise. AVhat sort of moccasin
you got 1 "

" A good pair of the moosc-slianks you sold me, last
winter, Joe ; they are the best sort for keeping out the
wet, and they arc so thick and warm."

The moose-shank moccasin is cut from the hind leo; of
the moose, above and below the hock ; it is in shape like

'F' Dl 1
' li H !

MOOSE HUNTING. 9;i

i^ I'.

<;'

an ankle-boot, and is sewn up tightly at the toe, and, I

with this exception, being without seam, is nearly water- v

tight. The interior of Cope Castle was not very sweet,

nor were its contents arranged in a very orderly manner

— this latter fact to be accounted for, perhaps, by the

absence of the lady. Portions of moose were strewed

everywhere ; potatoes were heaped in various corners, and I W

nothing seemed to have any certain place of rest allotted !••

to it. Smoke-dried eels were suspended from the rafters, '••

in comprmy with strings of moose-fat and dried cakes of

concrete blue-berries and apples. Joe had, however, some

idea of the ornamental, for parts of the Illustrated Nctvs

and Punch divided the walls with a number of gaudy . fe

puitures of saints and martyrs. %

The repast being over, the Indians strided out, replete, t\;

with lighted pipes, and paddles in hand, to the beach. ^ |'.,

Some fresh moose-meat was placed in the canoe, with a '• i;

basket of Joe's "'taters," which, Jem said, "'twas hardly ^:

any use boiling, they were so good, they fell to pieces."
A little waterproof canvas camp was spread over the rolls
of blankets, guns, camp-kettles, and bags containing the yf

grub, which were stowed at the bottom ; and, having
seated myself beside them, the Indians stepped lightly
into the canoe and pushed her off, when, pro^jclled by
the long sweeping strokes of their paddles, we glided
rapidly up the lake.

Indian Lake is a beautiful sheet of water, nearly ten
miles in length, and, proportionally, very narrow — per-
ha])S half a nule in its general breadth. Kolling hills,
steep, and covered with heavy fir and hemlock wood,
l)ound('d its western shore ; those on the opposite side
showing large openings of di'cary burnt country. The

i>:

FOllEST LIFE IN ACADIE.

maple-bushes, skirting the woter, were tinged with their
brightest autumnal glow; and in the calm water, in coves
and nooks, on the windward side of the lake, the reflec-
tions were very beautiful. I longed for a cessation of the
rain, and a gleam of sunshine across the hill-tops, if only
to enjoy the scenery as we passed ; and certainly a seat
in a canoe is a very pleasant position from which to
observe the beauties of lake or river scenery, the spec-
tator being comfortal)ly seated on a blanket or bunch of
elastic boughs in the bottom of the canoe — legs stretched
out in front, back well supported by rolls of blankets,
and elbows resting on the gunwales on either side.

" Ah ! here is the Halfway rock, what the old Indians
call the Grandmother," said Joe, steering the canoe so as
to pass close alongsi<le a line of rocks which stood out in
fantastic outlines from the water close to the western
shore of the lake. " Here is the Grandmother — we must
give him come thing, or we have no luck."

To the rocks in question are attached a supervstitious
attribute of having the power of influencing the good
or bad fortune of the hunter. They are supposed to be
the enchanted form of some genius of the forest ; and few
Indians, on a hunting mission up the lake, care to pass
them without first propitiating the spirit of the rocks by
depositing a small oflering of a piece of money, tobacco,
or biscuit.

" That will do, Capten ; anything a'most will do," said
Joe, as one cut off a small piece of tobacco, and anotlier
threw a small piece of biscuit or a potato on to the rock.
" Now ycu wouldn't b'lievc, Capten, that when you come
back you find that all gone. I give you my A\ord that's
true ; we always find what we leave gone." Whereupon

MOOSE HUNTING. 1)5

Joe commenced, a scries of illustrative yarns, showing the

chuiffcrs of omittin<i' to visit " the Grandmothei'," and how

Indians, who had passed her, had shot themselves in the

woods, or had broken their legs between rocks, or had

violent pains attack them shortly after passing the rock,

and on returning, and making the presentf, had imme- jv|':

diately recovered. 'i^'

" It looLo as if it were going to be calm to-night, Joe,"
said I, as we neared the head of the lake ; " which side ■!;

are we to camp on ? Those long mossy swamps and ;|;

boo;s which run back into the woods on the western 'f'

side, look likely resorts for moose." !|;;

" No place handy for camp on that side," said Joe ; . (l-;:

"grand place for moose, though — guess if no luck to- |

morrow mornin', we cross there. I got notion of trying
tliis side first." And so, having beached the canoe, £

turned her over, and drawn her into the bushes secure
from observation, we made up our bundles, apportioning
the loads, and followed Joe into the forest, now darkened I"-

by the rapidly closing shades of evening. In a very
short time the dripping branches, discharging their heavy , f

showers upon us as we brushed against them, and the
saturated moss and rank fern, made us most uncomfort- |..

ably wet ; and as the difficulties of travelling increased as \

the daylight receded, and the tight wet moccasin is not }

much guard to the foot coming in painful contact with
an unseen stump or rock, we were not sorry when the
weary tramp up the long wooded slope from the lake
was ended, and a faint light through the trees in the
front showed that we had arrived at the ed^e of the
barrens. "It's no use trying to make call to-night, that il

sartin," said Joe ; "couldn't see moose if he came. Oh, v'l

%■

It'.'

1 96 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

il dt'ur nic, 1 sorry for this weatlicr ! Come, Jem, we try-

make camp riglit away." It was a cheerless prospect, as
Ave threw off our buruUes ou the wet ground ; it was
quite dark, and, though nearly calm, the drizzling rain
still fell and ^^tittered in large drops, fidling heavily from
the tree-tops to the ground beneath. First we must
get up a good lire — no easy thing to an unpractised hand
in woods saturated by a week's rain. However, it can
be done, so seek we for some old stump of rotten wood,
easily knocked over and rent asunder, for we may, per-
liaps, find some dry stuft* in the heart. Joe has found
one, and, with two or three eftbrts, over it falls with a
heavy thud into the moss, and splits into a hundred
fragments. The centre is dry, and we return to the spot
fixed upon with as much as we can carry. The moss is
scraped away, and a little carefully-composed pile of the
dead wood being raised, a match is applied, and a cheer-
ful tongue of flame shoots up, and illumines the dark
woods, enabling us to see our way with ease. Now is the
an.aous time on which depends the success of the fire.
A hasty gathering of more dry wood is dexterously piled
on, some dead hard-wood trees are felled, and split with
the axe into convenient sticks, and in a few moments wc
have a routing fire, which will maintain its ground and
greedily consume anything that is heaped upon it, in spite
of the adverse element. A few young fir saplings are
then cut, and placed slantingly against the pole which
rests in the forks of two upright supports ; the canvas is
unrolled and stretched over the primitive frame, and our
camp has started into existence. The bi'aiiches oi the
young balsam firs, which form its poles, are AVell shaken
over the fii'e, and dis})osed in layers beneath, to form the

MOOSE HUNTING. 97

■ ^f

bed ; blankets are unrolled and stretched over the boughs, •, !i{!

and finding, to my joy, that the rain had not reached the ■ '

change of clothes packed in my bundle, I presently recline ' ,

at full length under the sheltering camp, in front of a

roaring fire, which is rapidly vaporising the moisture ;; '^ \

contained in my recent garments, suspended from the

top of the camp in front. Joe is still abroad, providing \:'^

a further stock of firewood for the night, whilst his son

is squatting over the fire with a well-filled frying-pan,

and its hissi j sounds drown the pattering of the rain-

di'ops.

After our comfortable meal followed the fragrant weed,
of course, and a discussion as to what we should do on

the morrow. The barrens we had come to were of o-reat ii-

extent, and of a very bad nature for travelling, the ground '^-i

being most intricately strewed with the dead trees of the ,'^i.

forest which once covered it, and the briars and bushes |:

overgrowing and concealing their sharp broken limbs and N^

rouo;h o;i"anite rocks, often cause a severe bruise or fall to w
the hunter. It was, as Joe said, a "grand place" for

calling the moose, as in some spots the countiy could be ,|

scanned for miles around, whilst the numerous small r

bushes and rock boulders would afford a ready conceal- | •

ment from the quick sight of this animal However, It

time would show. If calling could not be attempted next p

morning, it would most likely be suitable for creeping ; I

so, hoping for a calm morning and a clear sky, or, at all I"

events, for a cessation of the rain, we stretched ourselves |'

for repose ; and the pattering drops, the crackings and I' ;
sna])i)ings of the logs on the fire, and the hootings of the

owls in the distant fcirest, became less and less heeded or 'Ife;

. 1 ft.-.'

heai'd, till sleep translated us to the land of dreams, • I'

" "I'--'

' ■ w'-

'^i I.

08 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

To our disgust it still rained when we awoke next
morning ; the wind was in the same direction, and the
same gloomy sky promised no better things for us that
day. The old Indian, however, drew on his moccasins,
and started off to the l:arren by himself to take a survey
f of the country whilst the oreakfast was preparing, and I

6 gloomily threw myself back on the blanket for another

• snooze. After an hour or so's absence, Joe returned, and

I sat down to his breakfast (we had finished ours, and were

I smoking), looking very wet and excited. " Two moose

'^ pass round close to camp last night," said he ; " I find

i; their tracks on barren. They gone down the little valley

1: towards the lake, and I see their tracks again in the

j: Avoods quite fresh. You get ready, Capten ; I have notion

V we see moose to-day. I t-ee some more tracks on the

if barren going southward ; however, we try the tracks

!■' near camp first, — maybe we find them, if not started by

'! the smell of the fire."

We were soon at it, and left our camp with hopeful
hearts and in Indian file, stepping lightly in each other's

■ tracks over the elastic moss. Everything was in first-rate
order for creeping on the moose ; the fallen leaves did

!'. not rustle on the ground, and even dead sticks bent with-

out snapping, and we progressed rapidly and noiselessly

■ as cats towards the lake. Presently we came on the
tracks, here and there deeply impressed in a bare spot of

\ soil, but on the moss hardly discernible except to the

■ Indian's keen vision. They were going down the valley;
I. a little brook coursed through it towards the lake, and
III from the mossy banks sprung graceful bushes of moose-

'' wood and maple, on the young shoots of which the moose

had been feeding as they passed. The tracks showed that

MOOSE HUNTING. 00

tlioy were a young bull and a cow, those of tlie latter being
raueli longer and more ])ointed. Presently we came to
an opening in the forest, where the brook discharged
itself into a large circular swamp, densely grown up with
alder bushes and swamp maple, with a thick undergrowth
of gigantic ferns. Joe whispered, as we stood on the
brow of the hill overlooking it, " Maybe they are in there
lying down; if not, they are started;" and, putting to
his lips the conical bark trumpet which he carried, he
gave a short plaintive call — an imitation of a young bull
approaching and wishing to join the others. No answer
or sound of movement came from the swamp. " Ah, I
afraid so," said Joe, as we passed round and examined ;|

the ground on the other side. " I 'most all the time fear |,'';

they started ; they smell our fire this morning while Jem |;

was making the breakfast." Long striding tracks, deeply ' fj

ploughing up the moss, showed that they had gone oft' in , f!,

alarm, and at a swinging trot, their course being for the . §];■

barrens above. It was useless to follow them, so we went
off" to another part of the barrens in search of fresh
tracks. The walking in the open was most fatiguing
after the luxury of the mossy carpeting of the forest.
Slipping constantly on wet smooth rocks, or the slimy
surfaces of decayed trees ; for ever climljing over masses
of prostrate trunks, and forcing our way through tangled
brakes, and plunging into the oozing moss on newly-
inundated swamps, we spent a long morning without
seeing moose, though our spirits were prevented from
flagging by constantly following fresh tracks. The moose
were exceedingly "yary," as Joe termed it, and we started
two or three pairs without either hearing or seeing them,
until the same exclamation of disappointment from the

H 2 1;:;

100 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

Indian procliiiined tlio unwelcome fact. At lenotli avc
reached the most elevated part of the barren. We could
see the wooded hills of the opposite shore of the lake
i looming darkly thi'ough the mist, and here and there a

i portion of its dark waters. The country was very open;

nothing but moss and stunted hucklebeny bushes, about
I a foot and a lialf in height, covered it, save here and

I there a bunch of dwarf maples, with a ft'W scarlet leaves

i still clinging to them. The f(>rms of prostrate trunks,

i;- blackened by fire, lying across the bleached rocks, often

I gave me a start, as, seen at a distance through the dark

>: misty air, they resembled the forms of our long-sought

r game — particularly so when siiniiounted by twisted roots

!;' upheaved in their fall, w^hich appeared to crown them

j5 "with antlers.

ff " Stop, Capten ! not a move ! " suddenly whispered old

I,/ Joe, who was crossing the barren a few yards to my left ;

j!, " don't move one bit ! " he half hissed and half said

through his teeth. "Down — sink down — slow — like

i; : me ! " and we all gradually subsided in the wet bushes.

j I had not seen him : I knew it was a moose, though I

;"* dared not ask Joe, but cpiietly awaited further directions.

Presently, on Joe's invitation, I slowly dragged my l)ody

through the bushes to him, " Now you see him, Capten —

•t there; — there ! My sakes, what fine bull ! What pity

we not a little nearer — such open country ! "

There he stood — a oio-antic fellow — black as nioht,

moving his head, which was surmounted by massive

'< white-looking horns, slowly from side to side, as he

:,C scanned the country around. He evidently had not seen

us, and was not alarmed, so we all breathed freely. This

success on our part was partly attributable to the sudden-

/>•■,■

MOOSK [lUNTINO. lOl . ;

noss iiiid caution with wliicli wo .stopped and droj)[)('d wlicn
the quick eye of the Indian (h'tectcd liini, and partly to
the haziness of the atmosphere. J I is distance was aljout
five hundred yards, and he was standin*,^ directly facing
us, the wind Wowing from him to us. After a little dc- ;'%

liberation, Joe applied the call to his lijts, and gave out a
most masterly imitation of the lowing of a cow-moose, to
allure him towards us. He heard it, and moved his head
rapidly as he scanned the horizon for a glimpse of the
stranger. He did not answer, however ; and Joe said,
as afterwards proved correct, that he must have a cow
with him somewhere close at hand. Presently, to our great
satisfaction, he quietly lay down in the bushes. " Now we
have him," thought I; "but how to aitja-oach Jiim?" 1'.;

The moose lay facing us, partially concealed in bushes, >-

and a long swampy gully, filled up with alders, crossed
the country obliquely loetween us and the game. We
have lots of time, as the moose generally rests for a
cou})le of hoiu's at a time. iSlowly we worm along to- |''

wards the edge of the alder swanq) ; the bushes are pro- .J-';

vokingly short, but the mist and the dull grey of our '|j

homes})un favour us. Gently lowering ourselves down W'

into the swamp, we creep noiselessly through the dense *

bushes, their thick foliage closing over our heads. Now
is an anxious moment — the slightest snap of a bough, the
knocking of a gun-barrel against a stem, and the game i',';.

is off. IV

" Must go back," whispered Joe, close in my car ; t.

"can't get near enough this side — too open;" and the k)

difficult task is again undertaken and performed without
disturbing the moose. What a relief, on regaining our

'il''
old ground, to see his great ears flapping backwards and |'

I-.'.

102 FOIIKST LIFE IN ACADIE.

forwards above the busliosl Another half-hour passes in
creeping like snakes throu;i,li the wet Itushes, whicii we
can scarcely hope will conceal us much longer. It seems
an age, and often and anxiously I look at the cap of my
single-barrelled rifle. T am ahead, and at length, judging
one hundred and twenty yards to be the distance, 1 can
stand it no longer, ])Ut resolve to decide natters by a
shot, and fire through an opening in the uuslies of the
swamp, .foe understands my glance, and placing the call
to his lips, utters the challenge of a bull-moose. Slowly
and majestically the great animal rises, directly facing
me, and gazes upcm me for a moment ; a headlong stagger
follows the report, and he wheels round behind a climip
of bushes.

" Bravo ! you hit him, you hit sure enough," shouts
Joe, levelling and firing at a large cow-moose which liad,
unknown to us, been lying close beside the bull. " Come
along," and we all plunge headlong into the swamp.
Dreadful cramps attacked my legs, and almost prevented
my getting through — the result of sudden violent motion
after the restrained movements in the cold wet moss and
hue kit! berry-bushes. A few paces on the other side, and
the great bull suddenly rose in front of us, and strided
on into thicker covert. Another shot, and he sank life-
less at our feet. The first ball had entered the very
centre of his breast and cut the lower portion of the
heart.

Late that night our canoe glided through the dark
waters of the lake towards the settlement. The massive
head and antlers were with us.

" Ah, Grandmother," said Joe, as we passed the indis-
tinct outlines of the spirit rocks, " you very good to us

MOOSE-CALLING. 10.1

this time, anyhow; very much we thank you, Oiaud-
motlier."

" It's a pity, Joe," I ol)H{'rvc(l, " that wc have not time
to see whether our offerings of yesterday are gone or not ;
l)ut mind, when ycju go up the hike again to-morrow to *

bring out the meat, you don't forget your Grandmother,
for I really think she has been most kind to us." 'I

. i

MOOSE-CALLING.

Few wliite hunters have succeeded in obtaining the ;|.

amount of skill requisite in palming off this strange |'
deceit upon an animal so cautious and possessing such

ex(]uisite senses as the moose. It is a gift of the Indian, ';,•
whose soft, well modulated voice can imitate the calls of
nearly every denizen of the forest.

As has been stated before, September is the first month

for mouse-calling, the season lasting for some six weeks. p
I have seen one brought up as lat(,' as the 2.'3':1 of

October. ts

The moose is now in his prime ; the great palmated ?!

horns, which have been gi-owing rapidly during lue 'Z

summer, are firm as rock, and the hitherto-protecting ^.

covering of velvet-like skin has shrivelled up and dis- ;■

appeared by rubbing against stumps and branches, heaving '':.

the tines smooth, sharp, and ready for the combat. ■;■■

The bracing, frosty air of the autumn;il nights makes £

the moose a great rambler, and in a short time dis- |

tricts, which before would only give evidence of his jj:
presence by an occasional track, now show countless

impressions in the swamps, by the sides of lakes, and |

104 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

on tlie mossy bogs. He has found his voice, too, and,
where moose arc numerous, the hitherto silent woods
resound with the phxintive call of the cow, the grunting
response of her mate, and the crashings of dead trees, as
the horns are rapidly drawn across them to overawe an
approaching rival.

This call of the cow-moose is imitated by the Indian

hunter through a trumpet made of birch bark rolled up

in the form of a cone, about two feet in length ; and the

deceit is generally attempted by moonlight, or in the

early morning in the twilight preceding sunrise — seldom

after. Secreting himself behind a sheltering clump of

bushes or rocks, on the edge of the forest barren, on some

favourable night in September or October, when the

moon is near its full, and not a breath of wind stirs the

foliage, the hunter utters the plaintive call to allure the

'sii monarch of the forest to his destruction. The startling

«• and strange sound reverberates through the country; and

as its echoes die aw\ay, and everything resumes the won-

i derful silence of the woods on a calm frosty night in the

1 fall, he drops his birchen trumpet in the bushes, and

assumes the attitude of intense listening. Perhaps there

,'-;i is no response ; when, after an interval of about fifteen

■^' minutes, lie ascends a small tree, so as to give greater

range to the sound, and again sends his wild call pealing

through the woods. Presently a low grunt, quickly

repeated, comes from over some distant hill, and snapi)ings

of branches, and falling trees, attest the approach of the

bull ; perhaps there is a pause — not a sound to be heard

for some moments. The hunter, now doubly carefui,

knowing that his voice is criticised by the exquisite ear

of the bull, kneels down, and, thrusting the mouth of his

■ .i

7 I

||'fi.'i",F;i,|,
Ml '

'A
t-i
11

a
m
O

'§

MOOSE-CALLING. 105

I
"^1

" call " into the buslies close to the ground, gives vent to ,{■!

a loAver and more plaintive sound, intended to convey the #

idea of impatience and reproach. It has probably the .?J

desired effect ; an answer is given, the snappings of !*;

branches are resmned, and presently the moose stalks

into the middle of the moonlit barren, or skirts its sides

in the direction of the sound. A few paces further — a

flash and report from Ijchind the little clump of concealing

bushes, and the great carcass sinks into the laurels and |r

mosses which carpet the plains. :

Whatever may be adduced in disfavour of moose- ■'^

calling on the score of taking the animal at a tlisadvan-
tage, it is confessedly one of the most exciting of forest
sports. The mysterious sounds and features of night life
in the woods, the beauty of the moonlight in America — ■ !,

so much more silvery and bright than in England — the ;,',

anxious suspense with which the hunter regards the last •■

flutterings of the aspens as the wind dies away, and
leaves that perfect repose in the air which is so necessary i:-

to the sport, and the intense feeling of sudden excitement
when the first distant answer comes to the wild rinjiinff
call, are passages of forest life acknowledged by all who ;;•

have exi)erienced them as producing a most powerful •;

eflect on the imagination, both when experienced and in t

memory.

But few moose are shot in this manner — very few in
comparison with the numl)ers tracked or crept upon-— for
the per centage of animals that are thus brought up, even i^

by the best Indian caller, is very small, and it is the ?

attribute of native hunters in every wild country where ;

there are large deer — as the moose, reindeer, or sambur — ;

to attain their object by imitation of their voices.

v.-

t'i'

106 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIK.

Another method of calling which has fallen into disuse
was formerly practised by the Indians of the Lower Pro-
vinces in the fall. The hunter secretes himself in a
swamp — one of those damp mossy valleys in which the
moose delights at this season ; no moon is required, and
his companion holds an immense torch, made of birch
bark, and a match ready for lighting it. The moose
comes to the call ftir more readily than when the hunter
is on the open barren or bog, and, when within distance,
the match is applied to the torch ; the resinous bark at
once flares brightly, illuminating the swamp for a long
distance round, and discovers the astonished moose
standing amongst the trees, and apparently incapable of
retreat. The Indians say that he is fascinated by the
light, and though he may walk round and round, he can-
not leave it, and of course offers an easy mark to the
rifle.

It is no easy matter to make sure of a moose, even
should he be within pistol range, in the uncertain moon-
light ; chalk is sometimes used, the better to sliow when
the barrel is levelled. A highly-polished silver bead is
the best for a fore-sight, as it catches the light, and is
readily discerned when the alignment is obtained.*

Moose-calling is always a great uncertainty. Some
seasons there are when the moose will not come so readily
as in others, but stop after advancing for a short distance,
and remain in the forest for hours together, answering
the call whenever it is made, and tearing the branches
with their horns ; the hunter, his patience worn out, and

* "The old Bushman" rocoimnended for shooting larjie game at night a
V-ahaped forked stick to he hound on the muzzle, stating that he found it
of great service. Get the ohjoct in the field of view hetween the horns of
the V and you are pretty sure to hit.

MOOSE-CALLING. 107 '?

stiff witli cold and from lying so long and motionless in

the damp bushes, at last gives it up, and retires to his |

camp. Should there be the slightest wind, moose will f3

always take advantage of it in coming up to the caller, ^

and endeavour to get his scent. The capacious nostrils 'Jii

of the moose, up which a man can thrust his arm, show '^

the fine powers of that organ ; and should the hunter 'f

have crossed the barren or the forest intervening betwixt Ij:

him and the approaching bull at any time during the tl.

day, unless heavy rain has occurred and obliterated the |;

smell of his track, the game is up ; not another sound is ^

heard from the moose, who at once beats a retreat, and so ,:!•

noiselessly, that the hunter often believes him to be still "•• ;

standing, quietly listening, when, in fact, he is in full "

retreat, and miles away. In districts where moose are '.,

very numerous, a number of bulls will reply to the call at

the same time from different parts of the surrounding

woods ; and in such cases it becomes, as the Americans *:

express it, " a regular jam ;" they fear one another; and, f

unless one of them is a real old 'un, and cares for nobody, ; ;

cannot be induced to come out boldly, though they do

sometimes try to cheat one another, and sneak round the ;:

edge of the woods very quietly. ^;

Your patriarch moose, however, scorns a score of rivals, i

and goes in for a fight on every fitting occasion ; indeed,

you have only to approach him when with his partner in

the thick swamp, and, cracking a bough or two, put the

call to your lips and utter the challenge-note of a bull. ;

With mad fury he leaves his mate and crashes through ■

the forest towards you, and then — shoot him, or else

stand clear. I have known this plan to be successfully [

carried out when moose have been started, and are in full ll'.

108 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

flight ; the imitation of a rival bull has brought tho moose
suddenly round to meet his doom ; and it is a very com-
mon practice for the Indian to adopt, when a moose
answers but will not come to the call, and he has every
reason to believe that he is already accompanied by a cow.
A few falls since I was in the woods with a companion
and an excellent Indian, who is still at the head of his
profession, John Williams. We were in a hunting district
not containing many moose, being too much surrounded
11 l)y roads and settlements, but very accessible from

U Halifax, and one which would always afford a few days'

|»" hunting if the ground had not recently been disturbed.

We were not much incumbered with l)aogao;e : the
nature of our movements prevented our taking much
into the wood beyond the actual nec(\ssaries, i.e., a small
blanket apiece, which, rolled into a bundle, Indian ffishion,
and carried across the back by a strap 2)assing over the
chest and shoulders, contained the ammunition, a couple
1^; of pairs of worsted socks, brushes, combs, &c., and a few

packages of tea, sugar, and such light and easily-stowed
portions of the commissariat. The Indian carried in his
bundle the heavier articles — the half do;ien pounds of
fat pork, about twice that amount of hard i)ilot bread,
the small kettle with a couple of tin pint cups thrust
inside, they in theii- turn being filled with butter, or salt
and pepper, or perhaps lucifers — anything, in fact, which
could find a place and fit in snugly ; and lastly, and as
a matter of course, a capacious frying-pan, made more
portable by unshipping the handle. A large American
axe, its head cased in leather, passed through his belt,
from which were suspended the broad hunting-knife in an
ornamented moose-skin sheath, and the tobacco-pouch of

MOOSE-CALLING. 10!)

otter or miuk-slviii. Our suits were all of the strong grey

homespun of the country, an almost colourless material,

and on that account, as well as for its tendency to dry

quickly when wet, owing to its porosity, very valual)lc 'h

to the hunter as a universal clotii for every garment. ;f^

Thus accoutred, we marched through the forest in file,

laying down our bundles now and then to folbnv recent ^

moose-tracks which might cross our path, and to ascertain i .;

tlie whereabouts of the rnxme with ret>;ard to the barrens :K'

O O .,.1

towards which we were wending our way with the object 5'

of calling the moose. The previous night had been "^^

passed, under the shelter of a grove of enormous hem- ;■..

locks, where we had halted on our journey from the ':]

settlements, night overtaking us. All night the owls had '

hooted around our little primitive encampment — a sure '; ,

sign of coming rain ; and their melancholy predictions . ,

were this morning verified, for a damp, misty drizzle l)eat
in our faces as we emerged from the forest on a grassy
mejidow, which stretched away in a long valley, and was
dotted with stacks of wild meadow hay. It was one of
those miniature woodland prairies which aft'ord the settler
such plentiful supplies for feeding his stock in winter, and
which are the result of the laljours of the once abounding
beaver, and enduring monuments of its industry.

In crossing the meadows we came upon traces of a very
recent struggle between a young moose and a bear : tlie
bear had evidently taken advantage of the long grass to
steal upon the moose, and take him at a disadvantage in
the treacherous bog. The grass was much beaten down,
and deep furrows in the black soil below showed how
energetically the unfortunate moose had striven to escape
from his powerful assailant. There was a broad track.

no FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

plentifully strewed with moose huir, .showing how the
moose had strugsrled with the bear towards the woods,
where no doubt the affair was ended, and the bear dined.
The full-grown moose is far too powerfu' an animal to
dread the attack of the bear ; it is only the unprotected
calf, separated from its parent, which is occasionally
pounced upon.

We reached the barren that afternoon, wet and un-
comfortable, and were riglit glad when a roaring fire
rose up in front of the little gipsy-like cam}), pai'tly
of cut bushes and partly of bircli bark, which the
Indian constructed for us in the middle. We did
not care for the possibility of disturbing any stray
moose that might be in the immediate neighbourliood ;
the wind was rising and chasing away the murky
clouds from the northwartl, and there was no chance of
calling that niglit, so we passed the afternoon in drying
ourselves, and keeping up the fire, which was no easy
matter, as the woods skirting the barren were at some
distance, and the barren itself offered nothing but clumps
of wet green bushes, moss-tufts, ground laurels, and rocks.
The night was clear and frosty, as is generally the case
after rain ; it was so cold that we could not sleep much,
and our wood failed us. Once, on going out to search for
some sticks, I heard a moose calling in the thick forest
through which we w^ere to proceed in the morning, in
search of more distant hunting-grounds.

The prospect from our little grotto of bushes, as we
brealvfasted next morning, was charming ; the tops of the
maple-covered hills, which sloped down towards the
barren on either side, were delicately tinged with warm
brownish-red, deepened by the frost of the previous night;

MOOSE-CALLINQ. Ill t

and the Imslics wliicli skirtctl a little lake in front of us, *,;'

■J"
over \vlii«th liung a Htationaiy lino of mist, were painted -f

with every hue, warmed and gilded at their sunnnits by i^.

the slanting sun-rays. There was the deli(!ate rose-colour •

varying to blood-red and deep scarlet, of the smaller ;vi

maples, which are always brightest in swampy low situa- |

tions, and the bright gohlen of the birches, poplars, and '(

beeches. Sometimes a maple was wholly painted with ;

the darkest (daret, whilst in another a branch or two >;

were vermilion, and the rest of the foliage of vernal ]!

greenness. '^\

The rank patches of rhodora were tinged with a li<rht /.!

pinkish tint, a pretty contrast to the rich shining green ■•

leaves of the myriea growing with the former slirult in

damp spots. Thc^ flora of the fall, com])rising asters,

golden rods and wild-everlastings were all out, encircling i

the pearly grey rocks wliii-h strewed the bai'ren, ;ind

every bush was wri'athed with lines and webs of litthi

spiders, marked by the myriads of minute (lew-dro])S

with which they were strung. Gradually warmed by

the rays of the sun when, overcoming the surrounding

barrier of the forest, they poured over the whole face of

the scene, the little barren sparkled like fairy-land, the

morning resolving itself into one of those glorious days •

for which the fall of the year is noted ; days when the

light seems to bring out colours on objects which you

wouhl never see at other times; when all nature seems

brightened up by the peculiar state of the atmosphere ;

when the trees seem more beautiful, rocks more shapely,

and water nioix' pellucid ; when the sky has a greater

soitness and depth than c(mmionly, and one's own

feelings are in unison with all around. f-,

112 FOREST LIFE IN A.CADIE.

On sucli a morning the clear, iifTt'cting notes of the
hermit thrush seem more joyous than at his spring
advent, and otlier lingering songsters — the white-throated
sparrow, the red-breasted grosbeak, and the well-known
robin — pour forth their strains as if in praise for the
blessing of renewed summer life.

Our hunt through the neighbouring woods that fore-
noon was unsuccessful ; all the tracks, though recijnt,
showed that the moose liad left the immediate vicinity.
The "going" was bad, and, returning to camp, we deter-
mined to start immediately with our loads for some
extensive barrens, of which the Indian knew, at a few
miles' distance.

Our path lay through a large evergreen forest, and the
walking on soft feather-moss was most refreshinjx after
the painful morning's trudge over rocks and wind-falls.
The ground was gently descending ; and in the valley
were little circular SAvamjis and bogs where the firs
showed evidences of the unhealthy situation by their
scant foliage, and the profuse moss-beards which clung
to them.

A dense covert of fern, coloured a golden brown in its
autumnal decay, grew in the swamp : here and there a
bunch of bright scarlet leaves of swamp-maple glowed
amongst the colourless stem i of rotted trees.

In situations like this the moose likes to dwell in the
fall, and fr(iquent tracks attested the very recent presence
of these animals in the valley through which we were
travelling. Here and there the moss was scraped up in
barrows-full, and the dark soil beneath hollowed out in a
pit, giving out a strongly offensive odour as we passed ;
in fact, the moose had, as Williams told us, only that

if! m

MOOSE-CALLINQ. 113 &

morning passed, and we niiglit come on them at any {;!

moment. We now travelled witli great caution ; any I

little blunder committed, sucli as a slight snap caused ' ^j

by stepping on a rotten stick, or grnzing a gun-barrel '^

against a tree-stem, was invested with a plausible ap- ;;«

pearance by the Indian, who would innnediately apply jj'

the call to his lips, and utter a h)W grunt, as it were a /

moose Widking throunjh tlie woods. At last the forest >

opened ahead, the gloom of the pini'S gave place to '•il

briglitcr light, and we stood on the e<lge of the barren '-'

sought for. Below us lay the swamp through which we [^

had followed the moose, and we had the satisfaction of .-■

seeing, on crossing the stagnant brook which separated it :

from our present position, the mud still circling where the
animals had passed. Tliey had just crossed it before us, ■

and taken to the barren.

The barren, which was at some elevation al)ove the
swampy forest we had recently quitted, sloped from us
in an undulating wilderness of tangled brakes and dead
trees, whose tall, bleached forms reared themKelves like
ghosts in the fiist approaching twilight. It was quite
calm — a delightful evening for "calling" — and we dis-
encumbered ourselves of the loads, and sat down in the
bushes to smoke and converse in low tones until the
moon should rise and meUow the twilight.

Everything was perfectly still, except the occasional
tap of the woodpecker on the decayed trunk of some
distant rampike. As the sun sank below the horizon,
the gentle breeze gradually diminished, and now not a
leaf on the poplar and maple bushes around us flutters. ;

" Now, John," I whispered to the Indian, " it is almost 1

time to try your voice. We will make the moose hear

114 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

"|, US to-niglit, if there jiro ;iny in those woods. Ah I did

>•[" y . hear that ? Listen."

We ull heard it plainly — a heavy crash of hranches on

; ■ the barren right in front of us ; then another, followed by

a rush through the bushes of some evidently large animal;
then came the call of the cow-moose, followed by the
grunting of bulls.
■ " Two or three of 'em," said John ; " whole crew

fighting in little swamp just ahead. Grand chance this.
Put the bundles down behind the rock there, so as moose
can't see them, and look at your caps."

It was just the time to commence calling — the day-

' light had quite died out, and tlie young moon, nearly

half grown, shed an uncertain light over the gray rocks
and l)are gaunt rampikes of the barren. We moved on
to a little knoll a few yards ahead, whence was obtained

['■■ a view through the rocks and dead trees for over a hun-

I;-' dred yards in the direction of the moose, and lay down

a few paces apart in the thick bushes which grew some
two or three feet high everywhere.

The Indian crouched behind a massive trunk near us,
and we anxiously awaited his first challenge to the
moose, which were in a swam})y hollow in the barren,
not more than .'300 yards distant, though the thickly
standing rampikes and rocks, and the unevenness of the
ground, prevented us from seeing them. He seemed to
wait long and hesitathigly ; so much would depend upon
the skilfuliioss of his first call, and several times the bark
trumpet was withdrawn from his lips before he made up
his mind to the effort.

At length he called ; softly, and with a slight quaver,
the plaintive sound was drawn forth, a2)i)arently from the

MOOSE-CALLING. 115

lovvcHt jKirts of his throat, clioitked in the niichlln, then
again resumed, and its prohniged eadencca allowed gra-
dually to <lio away. It was a masterly peifornianee ; and
our pulses beat high as the echoes returned from tho
sides of the tliiek forest whieh skirted the barren, and wo
listened for some reply from tlu^ moose.

Then followed a ])i'()l()nged crashing, as if a whole
iirmy of giants was forcing its way through the brittle
rampikes ; it seemed impossible that a moose could have
caused su(.'h a, tremendous ujjroar — then a pause, and the
moose answered the call — (^)uoh ! ipiofh ! He was
evidently close at hand, though still concealed by tho
closeness of the covert ; and we wi're, moreover, lying
crouched as flatly as possible on the ground, and behind
a little rise in the barren, whic^li intervened most conve-
niently. Here he remained for some moments, occasion-
ally drawing his antlers with great rapidity and violence
against the dead stems on either side, and making tho
brittle branches fly in all directions ; then another ad-
vance, though with less noise, and his grunts became less
frequent ; at last, a dead stop, and not a sound for some
moments. He was evidently becoming suspicious, not
seeing the object of his desire on the barren before him
where he had expected, for moose have a wonderful
faculty of travelling through the woods towards a sound
if only once heard, I have known them to come for
miles, and straight as an arrow, to the exact spot where
the Indian had been calling an hour or more previously,
having left it in consequence of not hearing the answer.

There was a slight rustle just behind us, and, looking
round, I perceived the Indian rapidly worming his way
through the bushes, gliding like a snake. He beckoned

I 2

116 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

with liis luuid for us to iciiiaiii (luict, nud I at once
divined his ol)ject ; ho was making for the edge of the
woods, sonic hundred yards or so from the direction of
the moose. Presently a few loud snappings of dead
branches, purposely broken by the Indian as soon as he
had reached the covert, was folk)wed i)y the well-coun-
terfeited calk The ruse succeeded ; the suspicions of
the bull were allayed, and the horns were again dashed
against tlu^ stems as he unhesitatingly advanced towards
our ambush. At length we can plainly hear his footsteps,
and the rustling of the little bushes ; every now and then
he utters a low, satisfied grunt to himself, as he winds up
the ascent. Now our pulses and heartii beat so, that it
becomes a wonder they do not scare the moose, and we
grasp the stocks of our rifles tightly as \,o wait for his
appearance. Here he comes ! The moonlight just catches
the polislied surfaces of his great spreading horns ; a black
mountain seems to grow out of the barren in front, and
the bull stands innnediately before us, his gigantic pro-
portions standing out in bold relief against the sky, and
clouds of hot vapour circling from his expansive nostrils,
;»• he pauses for a moment to gaze forward from tlu^
.. . ;jred elevation. He must see the glitter of the moon-
light on our barrels as they are raised to the shoulder,
but it is too late for I'ctreat ; the sharp cracks of the two
rifles proclaim his doom, and as they are lowered the
great moose falls heavily over, without a }»ace accom-
plished in retreat, instantaneously dead. Our wild yell
of triumph was echoed by the Indian from the woods
behind, who hastened to join us ; the echoes, so strangely
and rudely evoked from the distant forest, gradually fade
away, and all is again still, save where a distant crack

iMOOSE-CALLTNG. 117

murks the flight of the startled moose, the late comrades ;'

of our noble bull. I

" Pretty handy on to five feet," said John, as he with %

difficulty raised tlie ponderous head from the bushes, to i

display the breadth of the antlers ; " that's a great moose,
old feller, that ; hind-cpiarters weigh goin' on for a hun-
dred and fifty weight ea(.'h ; we have to get two or three
smart hands to back him out."

The night wiis now far advanced, and it was with
well-earned satisfaction th;it we stretched ourselves in
front of a roaring fire, wrapping our blankets tightly
round us. Though frosty, it was clear and calm ; we
needed no camp, and Jolni dragged u}) log after log of
the dead dry tindu'r, whicli \v;is strewed in plentiful
confusion over the barren, until we had a fire large
enough to have roasted our moose Avhole. The kettle,
tilled from the brook below in the swamp, soon boiled,
and after a ri'frcshing cu]) ;uid a l)iscuita-])iece, we finally
tightened our blankets round oui- forms, and, with })ipes
in our mouths, gradually dozed off.

Towards the morninii is the coldest time of the iii<Tht>
and I more than once awoke from the cold, and went on
the barren for fresh fuel to supply the (piickly-decaying
end)ers. There was the same solenm stillness over the
face of that wihl scene : the moon was down long since,
but a few brilliant streamers of tlu' aurora played in the
cU'ar sk'y in the north, and by their light I could just
discern the great dark foi'm of the moose in the bushes,
all covered with the thii'k rime frost, and guarded by
two colossal stems, which pointed sternly at the victim
with their whitened branches, as if to demand vengeance
for the death of the forest monarch. At intervals the

118 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

melancholy and dcop-toned hoot of the eagle-owl came
from the recesses of the woods, and at length the effect
became so unbearingly solemn and mysterious, that I felt
a relief on stepping back into our little circle, and blew
the embers lustily until spires of flame seized hold of the
fresh wood, and the brilliant fire-light shut out the som-
breness of the dismal niijjht scene.

The sun was long up, and shone brightly in our faces
ere we awoke the next morning, and certain indistinct
sounds of frying and savoury odours were mingled with
tha latter portions of our dreams.

" Come on, Capten," said John ; " come on, and eat
some moose. This moose be very tender ; little later in
the fall not so good, though ; soon get tough and black."

It was excellent, not partaking of the rank musky
flavour which later in the; autumn pervades the whole
can^ase. John fried some liver for himself, and we all
felt more inclined to bask out the day in the sun than to
prepare for a start homewards. However, a couple of
hours found us plodding through the forest, the Indian
bearing across his shoulders the broad antlers, which
necessitated great management to insinuate through the
denser thickets. John, however, knew a lumberer's })atli,
leading out towards the settlement, and we soon had
easy walking. Once or twice a stream must be crossed,
and it was most interesting on such occasions to watch
the ease and dexterity with which the Indian would
fell a large tree to serve for a bridge, and, heavily bur-
dened as he was, cross on the stem, lo[)ping oft' tlie inter-
posing branches as he })ro(*eeded, to pre})ar(^ it for our
passage. Poor Williams ! no assistance could be procured
at the settlement ; and, iis we left him and started home-

MOOSE-CALLINQ. 1 lo

wards with our tro];)liy, lie had undertaken to retrace his
steps alone to the carcase of the moose, and by degrees
bring out every pound of the meat on his own back.
And this feat he performed, though the distance was
fully five miles ; and the four quarters, exclusive of the
head, skin, and the massive neck, would weigh more
than five hundred pounds. We far from envied him liis
task and the long trudge in the lonely forest.

CHAPTER V.

THE AMERICAN REINDEER.

THE CARIBOO.

{liangifer, Hamilton Smith ; liangi/er Caribou, Aiululjon and Bachman.)

Muzzle entirely covered with hair ; the tear bag small, covered with a
jiencil of hairs. The I'ur is hrittie ; in Kiiinnier, short ; in winter
lon;,'er, wliiter ; of tlie throat longer. The hoofs are hroad, depressed,
and lient in at the tip. Tlie external metatar.'^al gland is ahove the
middle of the k'g. Horns, in hoth sexes, elonj^ate, suhcylindric, with
the liasal liranches and tij) dilated and palniati'd ; of the females
smaller. Skull with rather large nose cavity ; ahout half as long as
the distance to the first grinder ; the intermaxillary moderate, nearly
reaching to the nasal ; a small, very shallow, suborhital pit.

The above diagnosis, taken from Dr. Gray's article on
the Riiniinantia in the Knowsley menagerie, seems to
embrace the chief characteristics of the reindeer of the
8ii])-arctic regions. The colour, habits, &c., of the variety
desimiated above will be found succeeding the following
general considerations. As a species subject to but slight
local variation (with one possible exception in the case
of the barren ground cariboo) the reindeer, Cervus
tarandus of Linna?us, rangifer of Hamilton Smith, in-
habits l)oth the old and tlu^ new worlds under similar
circumstances of climate and natural productions. Its
range across the Northern continents of Asia, Europe and
America is almost unbroken ; whilst in the North

THE AMERICAN REINDEER. 121

Atlantic, which presents the only serious interruption
to its circum})olar continuity, it occurs in Iceland, Green-
land and Newfoundland. Sometimes preferring the
barren heights of the Norwegian fjells, or the elevated
plateaux of Newfoundland, at others the seclusion of the
pine forest (as with the woodland cariboo of America),
its haunts and boundaries are always determined by the
distribution of those mosses and lichens which almost
exclusiv(ily constitute its food — the Cladonia rangiferina
or reindeer lichen, with two or three species of Cornicu-
laria and Cetraria.

When we consider the great anti(piity of the reindeer,
and its occurrence as a true fossil mammal coeval with
the mammoth and other gigiintic animals now extinct,
in connection with its singular adapt ition to feed on
lichens — those representatives of a primitive vegetation
which are still engaged in prisparing a S(jil for higher
I'orms in northern latitudes — we cannot fail in recog-
nishig its mission as an animal of the utmost import-
ance in affording food and clothing to the primitive
races of mankind of the stone age. With its remains
discovered in the bone caves and drift beds of that
period are associated stone arrow-heads and bone imple-
ments ; whilst a resemblance of the animal, fairly wrought
upon its own horn, leaves no room to doubt its uses as a
beast of the chase, though probably not (in those savage
times) of domestication.

Even in Caesar's day ancient Gaul was a country of
gloomy fir forests and extensive morasses, and its climate
more like that of Canada at present. The reindeer also
was still abundant throughout central Europe (though
probably it had Ljiig since disappeared from (ireat

122 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

Britain and the south of France), and was in a state of
gradual migration to its present northern haunts. A
more essentially arctic deer th:in the elk, the reindeer,
in its southern extension, is found with the latter
animal co-occupant of the wooded regions which
succeed the desert plains on the shores of the Polar
ocean, termed " barren grounds " on the American
continent, and " Tundras " in Euroi:)0 and Asia. Its most
southern limit in the Old World is reached in Chinese
Tartary in lat. 50°. A fact mentioned in the Natural
History Eeview, in an article on the Mammalia of Amoor
land, may be here quoted as showing a singular meeting
of northern and southern types of animal life. It is
stated that the Bengal tiger, ranging northwards occasion-
ally to lat. 52°, there chiefly subsists on the flesh of the
reindeer, whilst the tail-less hare (pikji) a polar resident,
sometimes wanders south to lat. 48° where the tiger
abounds.*

Following an ascending isotherm through Siberia and
Northern Russia, the reindeer comes down on the elevated
table-lands of Scandinavia to latitude G0°, " wherever,"
as Mr. Barnard observes in " Sport in Norway," " the
altitude is above the limit of the willow and the birch."
From the latter country the animal was successfully in-
troduced into Iceland in 1770 (a similar attempt being
made at the same time to acclimatize it in Scotland,
which ended in failure), and htis since so multiplied as
to be regarded with disfavour by the inhabitants, who
care little for it as a beast of the chase, on account of the

• Erman in his Siliorian travels, sjieakiii'T of the funna of Irkutsk, in
tlie trans-Bakalian districts, says : — " W<? see tlio Tunj,'u/o, niouiited on his
reindeer, passinj^ tlie IJiinu't witli his camel, and discover tlie tij^^i-rs of (,'hina
in the forests where tlie hear is taliing its winter sleep."

THE AMERICAN REINDEER. 123

damaw. it does to the grasses and Iceland moss on the
l)]Mi)i,s. According to Professor PuijkuU, author of " A
Summer in leehmd," the desert plains south of Lake
Myvatn are its principal resort.

Crossing the Atlantic to the south of Greenland, which
is inhabited by the variety (or species?) K. Groenlandicus,
the American reindeer, now termed the cariboo, is first
met with in Newfoundland. It is abundant on the
elevated plateaux and extensive savannahs of this great
island, and is sometimes seen on the cliffs even at Cape
Race.

The most southerly range attained by the species on
the Atlantic seaboard of North America is detcrmiued at
Cape Sable in Nova Scotia, in hit. 43° 30', or about that
of Mai-seilles. In this province the cariboo is becoming
very scarce, and almost altogether restricted to the high
lands of Cape Breton, and the Cobequid range of hills.
It is not found in Prince Edward's Island or in
Anticosti.

Toleral)ly abundant in New Brunswick and the ad-
joining portion of Canada south of the St. Lawrence to
the latitude of Quebec, of rarer occurrence in the State of
]\Iaine, we find the home of the woodland cariboo
in the great belt of coniferous forest which in Upper
and Lower Canada extends northwards from the basin of
the St. Lawrence over an immense wilderness country,
and embraces the southern area of the Hudson's Bay
basin. From the western shore of Lake Superior, and
at some distance back from the prairie country, the line
of its range across the continent curves to the north-
west, following the rapidly ascending isotlKn-m into
the Valley of the Mackenzie, and thence crossing the

124

FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

Rocky Mountains, passes into the American tenitoiy
of Alaska.

Accordino; to ]\Ir. Lord'"' it inhabits the hidi rido;es of
the Cascade ^Mountains, the Galton range and western
slope of the Rocky Mountains in British Columbia.

In evidence of the transmission of the cariboo into
Eastern Asia, it is stated by Dr. Godman that it crosses
from Behring's strait to Kanischatka by the Aleutian
islands.

Closely associated witli man in a state of semi-
domestication in Siberia and Lapland, the wild rein-deer
also largely contributes to the support of the various
nomadic tribes of these countries, by whom it is
slaughtered on the paths of its two great annual migra-
tions. In America likewise, though no attempt lins
been made to convert the cariboo into a betist of burden,
its flesh is the mainstay of many wandering Indian
tribes who inhabit the subarctic forest region from
Labrador to the northern spurs of the Rocky Mountains,
and its skin their principal resource for clothing. In its
distribution across the Anu'rican continent, indicated
al)ove, it is pursued in the chase by tlie ]\Iontagnais and
Nasquapee Indians of Labrador, the Crees and Chipe-
wyans of Hudson's Bay, and the Dog-ribs and other tribes
of the Mackenzie Valley. To the Micrnacs, ]\Ialicites and
others, south of the St. Lawrence, it is no longer indis-
pensable as a staple of subsistence ; they are now
intimately associated with the civilisation of the wliite
man, who completely possesses their hunting-grounds,
and with whose mode of life tliey partially comply ; but
to the wilder races designated above, its gradual dis-
* The Naturalist in British Colnmliia.

THE AMERICAN REINDEER. 125

appciiniuce must bring starvation and a corresponding
progress towards extinction.

With regard to the l)arren ground cariboo (R.
Groenhindicus) being distinct from the hirger animal of
the forests, the separation of the two as species by
Professor Baird of the Smithsonian Institution at
AVashington in the description of North American mam-
mals, which accompanies the War Department Reports
of the Pacific Route, joined with the opinion expressed
by Sir Jolm Richardson in his " Journal of n Boat
Voyage through Rupert's Land and the Arctic Sea," and
the further testimony of Dr. King, surgeon to Back's
expedition, appears to leave no room for doubt. Mr.
Baird says " the animal is much smaller than the wood-
land reindeer ; the does not being larger than a good
sized sheep," The average weight of ninety-four deer shot
in one season by Captain INPClintock's men, when cleaned
for the table, was sixty pounds. '* A full-grown, well-fed
buck," says Sir J. Richardson, " seldom weighs more than
one hundred and fifty pounds after the intestines are
removed. The bucks of the larger kind which were men-
tioned as frequenting the sj)urs of the Rocky ]\[ountains,
near the Arctic circle, weigh from two hundred pounds to
three hundred pounds, also without the intestines." He
also states that " this kind does not penetrate far into the
forest even in severe seasons, but prefers keeping in the
isolated clumps or thin wot^ds that grow on the skirts of
the barren grounds, making excursions into the latter in
line weather." Dr. King mentions that the barren-
ground species is peculiar not only in the form of its
liver, but in not possessing a receptacle for bile. This
species ranges along the shores of the Arctic Ocean and

1,'

1 :

1 ■'

120 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIK

of Hudson's Buy, above tlic northern limit of forest
growtli ; it ii)liiil)its Melville and other Islands of the
Aretic arehipelago, and is found in Greenland.

The earil)(jo of the forests of Lower Canada, New-
foundland and Nova Scotia, which we now proceed to
describe, seems to attain in this portion of America, the
finest development of which the species is susceptible.
It is a strongly-built, thick-set animal, (that is by com-
parison with the more graceful of the Cervidic), yet far
from ])eing as ungainly and slouching as the Norwegian
reindeer is conmionly depi(3ted in drawings, though
these are })i"obably generally taken from donn^sticated
specimens, whicli they resemlile nnich more closely than
they do the wild deer of the mountains. A very large
buck in Newfoundland will exceed four hundred pounds
in weight, and measure over four feet in height at the
shouhhn". 1 have seen a cariboo in Nova Scotia that
must have considerably exceeded four feet six inches in
height, and was thought by the Indian at a distance off
to have been a moose.

Reindeer of a similar development, and in colour
(dosely resembling the cariboo of Eastern America, were
met with Ijy Erman in Eastern Asia, where tliey are used
for the saddle (placed on the shoulder — the only part of
the l)a(tk where the deer can support a load) l)y the
Tunguzes. He states that the Lapland reindeer of
menageries and museums appeared to him but dwarfs in
com})arison with those of Northern Asia, and with th{>ir
size and strength seemed also to have lost much of their
beauty of form.* Certainly the cariboo of Nova

* Sjicakinfi; of the Tuiii^'uzcs, Erman f^ays :— " Tim diiirm of their hxtk
liita in llieir .slim and aclive figure, an also in tlieir c.onrilant connection with

TTTE AMERICAN REINDEKR.

127

Scotiii or Now Ihiinswick, ns I luivc seen tliora, pjmrc.
fully trotting over the plains on li_Li;lit aiiow, and in Indian
till', or, when alarmed, eireling round the; hunter Avitli
neck and head braced u[) and seat erect, 8te])ping with
an astonishing elasticity and spring, is a noble creature
in comparison with the specimens of the reindeer of
Nortluirn Europe that liave ajipeared in the Society's
gardens at Regent's Park : tliey are, nevertheless, in-
(Uibitably the same species and simply local varia-
tions.

The colour of the American caril)oo, as described by
Audubon and Bachmaii, is as follows : — •

" Tii)s of hairs light dun gray, whiter on the neck than
elsewhere ; nose, cars, outer surface of legs and shoulders
brownish. Neck and throat dull white ; a faint whitisli
patch on the side of shoulders. Belly and tail white ; a
band of white around all tlie legs adjoining the hoofs."
From this general description there is, however, consider-
able variation. Bucks in their prime are often of a rich,
rufous-brown hue on the back and legs, having the neck
and pendant mane, tail and rump, snow-white. A patch
of (hirk hair, nearly black, appears on the side of the
muzzle and cheek. As the hair grows in length, towards
the approach of winter, it lightens considerably in hue :
individuals may frequently be si'en in a herd with coats
of the palest fawn colour, almost white. Young deer are
dai>[>led on the side and flank with light sandy spots.
The white mane, reaching to over a foot in length in old
males, which hangs pendant from the neck with a graceful

oik; of the handsomest of luiiinals ; for wlu'ii one sees a Timi^u/e ait, with
tlie proudest (h'portnient, ou his rein(h'er, they hoth seem made foi' each
other, and it is hard to dccicUi whether the reindeer lends grace to the jiiler
or luirroWB it from ]nui." — Tmrck in l^ihiria, by Adoljili Erinaii.

1'^

ill

186 FOREST LIFE IN Af'ADIE.

curvo to tlio front, is one of the most noticoablo and
orniiniontal attrihutos of the Hi)ecit'8.

TliG horns of difforont specimens vary greatly in form
hoth as regards the development of pnlmntion and the
position of the principal branches. As a general rule,
the horns of the Norwegian reindeer are (aecording to
my impression) less subject to palmation of the main
shaft, "which is longer, and l)roaden8 only at the to})
where the principal tines are tlirown off. I have, how-
ever, met with precisely the same form in antlers from
the Labrador. The accompanying figures will illustrate
the forms alluded to. The middle snag of the cariboo's
horn is also more developed than in the case of the
European variety.

In most instances there is but one well-developed
brow antler, the other being a solitary curved prong ;
sometimes, however, as shown in the illustration, very
handsome specimens occur of two perfect brow snags
meeting in front of the forehead, the prongs interweaving
like the fingers of joined hands.

Except in the cas(> of the does and young bucks,
which retain theirs till spring, it is seldom that horns are
seen in a herd of cariboo after Christmas. The reason
to which the retention of the horns by the female reindeer
during winter has been attributed by some speculative
writers — namely, in order to clear away the deep encrusted
snow, and enable her fawns to get at the moss beneath
■ — is simply wrong. The animal never uses any other
means than its hoofs to scrape for its moss ; whilst the
thin sharp prougs of the doe would prove anything but an
efficient shovel. The latter and true mode of proceeding
I have often watched when worming through the bushes

UOKXS 01'' TlIK CAUllJdO.

1. The ordiiiiiiy CiiiuKliau typu.

2. IJ;iri1)0ii Imiiis froiii NcwfciiiiulKuiil.
;j. Uiiriis fiDiu Lubiiidui-.

I I

THE AMERICAN REINDEER.

129

round tlie edge of a barren to get a shot. Both Mr. Bar-
nard, and the author of " Ten Years in Sweden," allude
to the female reindeer using her horns in winter to pro-
tect the fawns from the males, thus rightly accounting
for this singular provision of nature in the case of a
gregarious species in wliicli the males, females, and
young herd together at all seasons.

Another misrepresentation has aj)peared with regard
to the reindeer : it has been compared, when obliged to
cross a lake on ice, to a cat on walnut-shells ! I cannot
conceive any variation in a point so intimately connected
with its winter habits on the part of the European rein-
deer, if the two are, as I believe, identical in configura-
tion and subservience to cxistenc^e under precisely similar
circumstances ; but for the cariboo I can aver that its
foot is a beautiful adaptation to the snow-covered country
in which it resides, and that on ice it has naturally an
advantage similar to that obtained artificially by the
skater. In winter time the frog is almost entu-cly ab-
sorbed, and the edges of the hoof, now cpiite concave,
grow out in thin shar}) ridges ; each division on tho
under surface jiresenting the ap})(\iranco of a huge
mussel-shell. According to "The Old Hunter," who has
kindly forwarded to me some specimens shot by himself
in Newfoundland in the fall of 18G7 for comparison with
examples of my own shot in winter, the frog is absorbed
by the latter end of Nov(nnber, when the lakes are
frozen ; the shell grows with great rapidity, and the
frog does not fill up again till spring, when the antlers
bud out. With this singular conformation of the foot,
its great lateral spread, and the additional assistance
afforded in maintaining a foot-hold on slippery surfaces

130

FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

by the long stiff bristles which grow downwards at
the fetlock, curving forwards underneath between
the divisions, the cariboo is enabled to proceed over
crusted snow, to cross frozen lakes, or ascend icy pre-
cipices with an case which places him, when in flight,
beyond the reach of all enemies, except perhaps the
nimble and untiring wolf.

The pace of the cariboo when started is like that of
the moose, a long, steady trot, breaking into a brisk walk
at intervals as the point of alarm is left behind. He
sometimes gallops, or rather bounds, for a short distance
at first ; this the moose never does. When thorouglily
alarmed, he will travel much further than the moose ;
the hunter having disturbed, missed, or slightly wounded
the latter, may, by following him up, very prol)ably g(!t
several chances again the same day. Such is seldom the
case in cariboo hunting, even in districts where the
animals arc rarely disturbed. Once off, unless wounded,
you do not see them again.

The cariboo feeds principally on the Cladonia rangi-
ferina, with which barrens and all permanent clearings in
the fir forest are thickly carpeted, and which a})pears to
grow more luxuriantly in the sul)arctic regi(ms than in
more temperate latitudes. Mr. Hind, in "Explorations
in Labrador," describes the beauty and luxuriance of this
moss in the Laurentian country, " with admii'ation for
which," he says, " the traveller is inspired, as well as for
its wonderful adaptation to the climate, and its value as
a source of food to that mainstay of the Indian, and con-
sequently of the fur trade in these regions — the caribou."
The recently-announced discovery by a French chemist
who has succeeded in extracting alcohol in large quanti-

THE AMERICAN REINDEER. 131

tics from lichens, and especially from the reindeer moss
(identical in Europe with that of America), is interesting
and readily suggests the value of this primitive vegeta-
tion in supporting animal life in a Boreal climate as a

heat-jDroducing food. Besides the above, which ap})ears *

to be its staple food, the cariboo partakes of the tripe de ' j

roche (Sticla pulmonaria) and other jxirasitic lichens '

growing on the bark of trees, and is exceedingly fond \ \

of the Usnea, which grows on the boughs (especially j
affecting the top) of the black spruce, in long, pendant

hanks. In the forests on the Cumberland Hills, in Nova '

Scotia, I have observed the snow quite trodden down |

during the night by the cariboo, which had resorted to j;

feed on the " old man's beards " in the tops of the spruces ' jj

felled by the lumberers on the day previous. In tlie .'j

same locality I have observed such frequent scratchings li

in the first light snow cf the season at the foot of the , j|

trees in l)eecli groves, that I am convinced that the i|

animal, like the bear, is partial to the rich food ati'orded ■

by the mast. f

I am not aware that a favourite item of the diet of the \\

Norweuian reindeer — Ranunculus y'lacialis — is found in '

America, and the woodland carilwo has no chance of ex- J)

hi])itiiiu: the stran<2;e but well-authenticated taste of the ;:;

former animal l)y devouring the h'lnming ; otherwise the '-^

habits of the two varieties are perfectly similar as regards ^
food.

The woodland cariboo, like tlie La[)lander's reindeer, ^.

is essentially a migratoiy animal. Thei'e are two well- y

defined pt^riods of migration — in the spring and autumn — ^

whilst throughout the winter it a[)pears constantly seized \

with an unconquerable desire to change its residence. i

K 2

132

FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

The great periodic movements seem to result from an
instinetivo impulse of the reindeer throughout its wiiole
circumpolar range. Sir J. Richardson, in America, Erman
and Von Wrangell, in Northern Europe and Asia — the
three distinnuished aavant.s who have contril)uted so

lai-gely to the natural history of the northern regions —
all athrm the regularity of its migrations to the open
steppes, barren grounds, and bare UKJuntains, and point
to the chief cause — a desire to escape the insupportable
torments of the Hies which swarm in the forest. In
Newfoundland tlic cariboo acts in a manner precisely
similar to that described 1 )y Wrangell, in speaking of the
reindeer of the Aniui. ^ -ey leave the lake country and
broad savannahs of the interior for the mountain range
which vers the h)ng promontory terminating at the
Straits :f Belleisle, at the commencement of summer,
and return when warned by the frosts of Se[)tember to
seek the lowhinds. At this time the deer passes, and
valleys at the head of the Bay of Exploits may be seen
thick with deer moving in long strings ; and here the Red
Indians of a past age, like the hunters of the Aniui,
would congregate to kill their winter's supply of venison.
With regard to the restlessness of this animal at
intervals in the forest country in winter time, I have
frequently observed a sudden and contemporary shift of
all the cariboo throughout a large area of country. One
day quietly feeding through the forest in little bands, the
next, perhaps, all tracks would show a general move in
a certain direction; the deer joining their parties after
a while, and entirely leaving the district, travelling in
large herds towards new feeding-grounds, almost invari-
ably down the wind. The little Arctic reindeer of North

THE AMERICAN REINDEER. 133

America is fiir Icsh nntjjratory in its hal)it8 than the larger
species, and with the mnsk-sheep (()vil)os) ri'inains in the
same localities throughout the year.

In forest districts, in many parts of its range over the
1 Northern American continent, the cari])oo is found to-

gether with the moose in the same woodlands. They
a[»pear, however, to avoid each other's com]);tny; and I
luive observed in following the tracks of a travellino- band
of cariboo, that, on passing a fresh moose-yard, they have
broken into a tr(jt — a sure sign of alarm. In many
districts, especially those in which the existing southern
limits of the caril)00 are marked, this animal is gradually
disappeai'ing, whilst the moose is taking its place. To a
great extent this is the result of an inci-easing settlement
of the country by man. The moose is a much more i

domestic anim;d in its habits, and will remain and '■•

multipl}' in any small forest district, however the latter *

may be surj-ounded by roads or settlements ; whereas the ;'

caril)oo is a great Avanderer, and recjuires long and i

unbroken ranges of wild country in which he can r

uninterruptedly indulge his vagrant habits. Being more- ',

over more jeahjus of the advance of civilisation than the I'

moose, he is surely disappearing as his old lines of i*

periodic migration are encroached upon and broken by j\

new settlements and their connectinr^ roads. i

In winters of great severity the cariboo always travel
to the soutliernmost limits of their haunts, which i.-

thev occasionallv exceed and enter the settlements. '■•

Some years aw, durini'' an unusuallv cold winter, the ;•

deer crossed in large bands from Labrador into New-
foundland over the frozen straits. As assumed by Dr. j-

Gray, a variety appears to be established in the case of 1^

134 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

the Newfcnindland cnril)(w. Theses dcor certainly attain
a greater development than the generality of the speci-
mens shot on the continent: I have heard of hneks
weighing six lunidred pounils, and even over. The
general colonr of the former animals is lighter — to be
accounted for, i)erhai)s, by the fact that Newfoundland
is a far more open country than the eastern parts of
Canada and the Lower Provinces. The herds are more-
over comparatively undisturbed, and the moss grows in
the gi'eatest profusion. I have seen the fat taken off the
loins of a Newfoundland deer o the depth of two inches.
Further ])arti('ulars concerning the cariboo on this island
and its migrations will be found in a chapter on New-
foundland.

CHAPTER VI.

CARIBOO HUNTING. j

The caril)oo of the British provinces is only to 1)0
approached by tlic sportsman with the assistance of a ';,

regular Indian hunter. In old times tlic Indians pos- ij

sessed and practised the art of calling the Luck in Sep- ij,

tember, as they now do the bull moose, the call-note being '

a short hoarse bellow ; this art however is lost, and at
the present day the animal is shot by stalking or I

" creeping " as it is locally termed, that is, advancing i

stealthilyand in the footsteps of the Indian, bearing in mind [

the hopelessness of success should sound, sight or scent
give warning of approaching (hinger. As with the moose, <

the latter faculty seems to impress the cai'iboo most with '|

a feeling of alarm, which is evinced at an almost in-
credible distance from the object, and fully accounted for, ;
as a general fact, by the size of the nasal cavity, and the •
development of the cartilage of the septum. As the >
cariboo generally travels and feeds down wind, the
wonderful tact of the Indian is indispensal)l(? in a forest ,
country, where the game caimot be sighted from a dis- '
tance as on the fjelds of Scandinavia, or Scottish hills. !
Of course, however, on the plateaux of Newfoundland ^
and Labrador, and on the large cariboo-plains of Nova j
Scotia and New Brunswick, less Indian craft is brought ;|

136

FOREST LIFE IN ACADTE.

into play, and tlie sport becomes assimilated to that of
deer-stalking.

It is almost hopeless to attempt an explanation of the
Indian's art of huntiiio; in the woods — stalkiiijx an
invisiljle (piarry ever on the wateh and constantly on the
move, through an ever- varying succession of swamjts,
burnt country, or thick forest. A review of all tlu;
shifts and expedients practised in creeping, from the first
finding of recent tracks to the exciting moment when the
Indian whispers " Quite fresh; put on cap," would be im-
pra('tical)le. I confess that like many other young hunters
or lik(i the conceited blundering settlers, who are for
ever cruising through the woods, and doing little else
(save by a chance shot) than scaring the countiy, I once
fondly hopeil to be able to mast(>r the art, and to hunt on
my own ficcount. Fifteen years' experience has unde-
ceived me, and compels me to acknowledge the superiority
of the red man in all mattei's relating to the art of
" venerie " in the American woodlands.

When brought up to the game in the forest, thei-e is
also some difficulty in realising the presence of the
caril)oo. At all times of the year its colour is so similar
to the pervading hues of the woods, that the animal,
when in repose, is exceedingly difficult of detection : in
winter, especially, when standing amongst the snow-
da})pled stems of mixed spruce and birch woods, they are
so hard to see, and their light gray hue renders the judg-
ing of distance and aim so uncertain, that many escape
the hunter's bullet at distances, and under circumstances,
which should otherwise admit of no excuse for a miss.

And now let us proceed to our hunting gr<jund.

The first light snow had just fallen after two or three

CARIBOO IIUNTINO. 1:37

piort'ingly cold and frosty days towards the close of
Novembor, when our party, consisting of ua two and our
attendant Indian, tlie faithful John Williams, (than
whom a more artful hunter or more; agrceahle companion
in camp never stepped in mocassin) arrived at the little
town of Windsor, at the head of the l)asin of j\linas,
whence embarking in a small schooner, wc W(H-e to cross
to the opposite side to hunt the cariboo in the iicighbcnu-
hood of Parsboro'. I'he distance across was but a matter
of thirty miles or so, and with light hearts we step})c(l on
board, and stowed our camping apparatus, bags of pro-
visions, l)lank('ts and rifles in the hold of the "Jack
Easy," when presently the rai)i(lly ebbing tide bore us [

swiftly down the course of the Avon into the dark- f

coloured waters of the arm of the Bay of Fundy. i

Tlu; first part of the voyage was pleasant enough ; a '

lio;ht thouuh freshening brecjic from the eastward filled i

the sails ; and we swe})t on with the surging tide of i-cd I

mud and water past the OT*''^t dark headland of IMomidon :

with its snow-streaked furrows and crown of evergreen '

forest, enjoying both our pipes and the [)rospect, and '^

recalling the various interesting traditions of this famed
location of the old Acadians whose memory has been so .1

beautifully perpetuat(;d by Longfellow. lUit on leaving I

the cape and standing across the open bay, we soon ,;

encountered a rouglier state of affairs. The dai'k nmrky •

clouds now commenced discharging a heavy fall of danij)
snow, which froze upon everything as soon as it fell,
rendering the process of reefing, which had become neces- il

sary from the increasing breeze, very difficult of accom- ^

plishment. The sheets were coated with a film of ice, j

and frozen stiffly in the blocks, and the deck became so I

138

FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

,1
'!'

wet and slippery that wc "wcrc glad to retire below into
the close little caltin. We had cniburkcd at .sunset, as
the tide did not suit until then, and not even a small
schooner of the dimensions of the "Jack Easy" can leave
the Windsor river until the impetuous tide of this curious
Lay swee}»s up, and, rising to the heiglit of forty f(?et,
bears up all the craft around the wharves from their soft
repose in the red mud. It was now dark, and the storm
increased ; the wind, being against tide, raised a tumul-
tuous sea. Presently there were two or tliree vivid fla.sh(\s
of lightning, followed by increased violence of the wind
and dense driving hail, and the little schocmer lay heavily
over. We, the passengers, were huddled together in a
cabin so small that it was with difficulty Ave could keep
our knees from teaching the stove round which we
crowded. Everyone smoked, of cour.se, and the strong
black tobacco of the settlers vied with the ru.shes of
smoke, driven by the wind down the stove-pipe, in pro-
ducing in the den a state of atmosphere threatening
speedy suffocation, and we were glad to grope our way
into the dark hold and seek an asylum among.st the tub.s,
barrels, and potato sacks which were rolling about in
great uneasiness. At last it was over : a quieter state of
atiair.^',, a great deal of stamping and .slipping on d(;ck,
and, finally, the long rattle of the cable, told us we were
anchored off Parslioro' — a fact which was corroborated
by the captain opening the hat('h and lowering him-
self amongst us, one mass of ice and snow ; his clothes
rattled and grated as he moved as though they were
constructed of board. There was no shore bed for our
aching bones that night ; the tide did not suit to reach
the wharf, the village was a mile and a half away, and

CAUinOO IIITNTINO. 139

tlin nlglit was still stormy, so we again sought soft s|)ot3
on the inexorable benches aroiuid tlic stove in our den.

" Hurrah, John ! " said I, as we followed the Indian
up tlu! ladder, and emerged into the eold morning air ;
" here's snow enough in all conscience — ^just the thing for
our hunting — step out now for the village^, and let's tiy
and scare up a breakfast somewhere."

It was still snowing heavily, and the countiy looked
as wintry as it could do even in North America. In the
distance appeared the little white? wooden houses and
church of the village, and l)eliind them rose up the great
grey form of the (*obe(pud Hills. The brisk walk
through the snow soon recalled warmth to our benumbed
frames, and, the village inn once reached, it was not
long ere the ample breakfast of ham and eggs and pijta-
tocs, pickles and cheese, cold s(piasli-pie, and strong black
tea, was arranged before us.

" Will the Indian make out with you, gents ? " asked
the exceedingly pretty innkeeper's daugliter. AVe all
glan(;;cd at John, who laughed as he anticipated our
reply.

" Oh, of course, yes ; we are all on the same footing
this morning, we gue.ss. Come on, John, sit up and give
us some ham."

The landlord — who aftcctcd to be a bit of a sportsman,
of course — told us there were lots of cariboo back in the
hills, and some moose, which he reckoned would bo the
great object of our hunting; for, in this part of 'Nova
Scotia, the moose has oidy recently mad(^ his appearance,
and the settlers look upon him as fiir nobler game than
the common cariboo. Presently a sleigh with a stout \

pony appeared for us at the door, and, loading it with

ItO FOREST IJFK IN ACADTE.

our l)agg;io;o, we left to tlic tuno of a ponl of mony bells
which the pony (^JiiTicd attm:) d to (litlrrciit parts of tho
1 Kin loss.

Our roiul lay throui^di a valley, skirted Ity the lofty
wooded sloj)es of the ColxMpiids. These hills are the
J jijreat stronghold of the carihoo, aiul his last resort in

i Nova Scotia ; they extend through the isthmus whirh

' connects the province with that of New lirunswick, and

I are covered with large hard-wood forests of sugar and

, white maple, hirch, and beech. On their l)roa<l tops and

sides tlu^ carihoo has an unl)roken raniic of more than a
\ hundred miles, and their eastern sj»urs, descending into

f a tlat district of dense fir forests, with numerous chains

• of lakes, offer secure retreats in the breeding season.

! The country was new to us, and its features novel :

I the evergreen forest, so (;hara(;teristic of the greater jwr-

i tion of the province, here almost entindy gave way to

! hard-woods, narrow lines of hemlock or s})ruce springing

i up from some deep gorge on the mountain side, here and

there showinji; their dark summits, and coursing like
veins through the great i-oUiug si'a of ma])les. The latter
part of the stonn had l)een unaccompanied by wind, and
the snow lay in heavy masses on the trees, giving the
forest a most beautiful aspect ; it covered every branch
and every twig, and was thickly spattered against the
stems, and all the complicated tracery of the denuded
lu'anches was l)rought to noti<*e, even in the; deepest
recesses, by the white pencil of the snow-storm. In the
fir forest the effect of nc^wly-fallen snow is very fine also,
but the very masses which cover the broad and retentive
bi'anches of the evergreens and clog the younger trees
until they seem like solid cones of snow, hinder and

lV_!.

CARIliCH) IIUNTINQ. Ml

cli()k(5 the view ; wlicrciin in tlioso lofty hanl-woods,
under wliicli j^rowM nothintf l>ut slender wiplin^H, a most
extcnsivi! glimpse, of tiieii" furtliest de[»ths is ol)t!iined,
and thousands of delicate little rami ilea t ions, Itofore un-
noticed, now stand (»nt in l»n)d reliel" in the gi-cy olodm
of tlie distance. And tiien, when tiie storm has passed
l)y, and that ))eautifid l»Iue tint of a wintry sky, coursed
by light fleecy scud, succeeds the heavily laden cloud,
how i'X(|uisitely tlu; scene lights up! what a soft warm
tint is thrown upon the light-cok)ured bark of the ma[»les
and birclies, and upon tlie })roniinent (h)ttings and lines
of snow which mark their forms, and how lovely is that
liglit purple sl)ad(! "wliicli continually crosses the road,
marking the shadcnvs ! As the sun increases in warmtli,
or a passing gust of Avind (;ourses through the trees,
avahinches of snow fall in sparkling spray, and the new
snow glitters in myriads of little scintillations, so that
the eye becomes i)ained by the intensity of brilliancy
pervading the face of nature.

We stopi)ed the sleigh opposite a group of Indian bark
wigwams, which stood a sliort distance from the road ;
the noise of voices and curlini>' wreaths of smok(> from
their tops proved them to be occupied, and, as we re-
quired a second Indian hunter, particularly one who was
well accpiainted with the neighbourhood, we followed the
ti-ack Avhich led u]) to them, and entered the largest.
The head of the f;. '^y, who sat upon a spread cariboo-
skin of gigantic proportions, was one of the finest old
Indians I ever saw — one of the last living models of a
race now so changed in physical and moral develoi)mcnt
that it may be fairly said to be extinct. An old man of
nearly eighty winters was this aged chief, yet erect, and

142

FOREST J.IFE IN ACADIE.

with little to mark liis age save the grizzly hue jiervading
the long hair wliieli streamed over his broad shoulders,
and half concealed the faded epaulettes of red scalloped
cloth and l)ead-work. A necklace of l)eads hung round
his neck, and, suspended from it, a silver crucifix lay on
his bare expansive chest. His voice, as he welcomed us,
and beckoned us to the post of honour opposite to the
fire and fuithest from the door, though soft and melo-
dious, was deep-toned and most impressive. Williams,
our Indian, greeted and was greeted enthusiastically ; he
had found an old friend, the protector of his youth,
in whose hunting camps he had learnt all his science ;
the old squaw, too, was his aunt, whom he had not seen
for many years.

The chief was engaged in dressing fox-skins : he had
shot no less than twenty-three within the week or two
preceding, and whilst we were in the camp a couple of
traders arrived, and treated with him for the purchase of
the whole, offering two dollars a-piece for the red foxes,
and five or six for the silver or cross-fox, of whicli there
were three very good specimens in the camp. The skin
of the fox is used for sleigh robes, ca\)H, and trimmings.
The valual)le black fox is occasionally shot or trapped by
the Indians, and the skin sold, according to condition
and season, from ten, even as higli as twenty pounds.
The coat of a good specimen of the black fox in winter
is of a beautiful jet black colour, the hair very long, soft,
and glossy ; and, as the animal runs past you in the sun-
shine on the pure snow, and a puff of wind ruffles the
long hair, it gleams like burnished sib er. Ita])pears that
the whole of the black fox-skins are exported to liussia,
and are there worn by the nobility round the neck, or as

CARIBOO HUNTING. 143

collars for their cloaks ; the nose is fastened hy a clasp
to the top of the tail, the rest of which hangs down in
front.

The old man told us of the curious method he used in
obtainino; his fox-skins. He would ffo off alone into the
moonlit forest, to the edge of some little barren, which
the foxes often cross, or hunt round its edo;es at niijht.
Here he would lie down and wait patiently until the
dark form of a fox appeared in the open. A little shrill
squeak, produced by the lips applied to the thumbs of
the closed hands, and the f(}x would at once gallop up
with the utmost boldness, and meet his fate through the
Indian's gun.

He regretted that he was too old to accompany us
himself, but advised us to take a young Indian who was
at that time encamped on the ground to which we were
proceeding ; and we left the old man's camp, and re-
sumed our trudge on the main road, after seeing him
make a successful bargain for his fox-skins.

That afternoon we had reached our destination ; the
last few miles of the road had been more and more wild
and uneven, and at last we di'ew up before a tenement
and its outbuildings which stood on the brow of a hill
and overlooked a wide extent of country. It was the
house of the last settler, and tliose great undulating
forests before us were to be the arena of our sport.
Buckling on the loads, we dismissed the sleigh, and
turned at once into their depths.

We had not far to cany our loads, for the Indian
camp was erected on a hard-wood hill, within reach of
the sounds of the last settler's clearing. This we found
afterwards to be a great comfort, as we often called on

144

FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

I-

■;l

. i

him for the loan of liis sleigh and trusty yoke of oxon,
and drew large sup})lie.s of fiiie mealy potatoes from his
cellar ; gr<?at luxuries they are, too, and valuable addi-
tions to the camp fare, though they often liave to l)e
omitted, when the distance of tlie hunting country from
the settler's house precludes any extra weight in the
apportioned loads.

Noel Bonus, the owner of the camp, was at home, just
returned from his hunting, for an early dinner, and to
him we applied direct to act as our landlord and hunter.
I never saw a dirtier or more starved-looking Indian ;
selfishness and cunning were plainly stamped on his
tawny face, which was topped by the shaggiest mass of
long black hair conceivable ; he seemed irresolute for
some moments as to whether he should admit us, and
take the dollar per diem and his share of the meat, or
whether he should continue to hunt on his own account,
and leave us to shift for ourselves.

We did not urge the point, for we had a first-rate
hunter, John Williams, with us, and though he did not
know tlie country, he woidd soon master that difficulty ;
and, as to a camp, we had all the recpiisite appliances for
quickly setting up on our own ;t 'ount. This became
ji'raduallv evident to JNlaster Noel, who at last motioned
us to take off our loads and come in — a i)roceeding
wliich we politely declined doing until a thorough reno-
vation and cleansing had taken place, and the dirty
bedding of dried shrivelled fir-boughs, strewed with
bones and bits of hide and hoof, had been swept out
and ri^placed l)y fresh. It was a capital camp, strongly
built, and (piite rain-proof, standing on a well-tind)i'red
hard-wood hill, the stems of the smaller trees afi'ording

CARIBOO HUNTING.

146

an unlimited supply of fuel ; a small spring trickled
down the hill-side close by.

As we unpacked our bundles to get at the ammunition
(for we were determined to have a cruise around before
dark), Noel told us that he had, early that same morning,
missed a cariboo not more than a mile from camp. Wc
started in different directions, I with Noel, and my
comrade with the older hunter. It was a bright, frosty
afternoon, very calm, and the beautiful woods still re-
tained their oppressive loads of heavy snow, rendering it
very difficult to see game between the thickly-growing
evergreens. Noel first followed a line of marten traps of
his own setting — little dead-falls occurring eveiy fifty
yards or so in a line through the woods for nearly a mile.
There was nothing in them, though I saw several tracks
of marten on the snow. Fox-tracks, and those of the
little American hare, commonly called the rabbit, on
which the fox preys, were exceedingly numerous, and
there was a fair sprinkling of the other tracks which are
usually found on the snow in the forest, such as lucifee
or wild cat, porcupine, partridge, and squirrel. Pre-
sently Noel gave a satisfactory grunt, and pointed to the
surface of the snow ahead, which was evidently broken
by the track of some large animal.

"Fresh track, caliboo,* thees mornin','' whispered he,
as we came up to the trail of two cariboo, which had
gone down wind, and in the direction of some large
barrens which Noel said lay about a mile away. We
might yet have a chance by daylight, so on we went
pretty briskly, though cautiously. Noel pointed out
several times small pieces which had been bitten off" the

* The Indians pronounce the letter r as 1.

14G

FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

liclioiis orowino; on tlic stems of the liavd-wood trees, of
Avliieh they liad taken a passing moutlifnl. Who but an
Indian eould have deteeted such minute evidences of their
actions ? There was no douht but that they were making
for the barrens, or they wouhl have stopped at these
tempting morsels hmger, and here and there perhaps
deviated from the line of march. Probably they knew
of companions, and were going to a rendezvous, or
preferred the reindeer moss amongst the rocks on the
barren.

The tall forest of maples and birches was presently
succeeded by a dense growth of evergreens, which be-
came more and more stunted as we approached the
barren, and here and there opened out into moist swampy
bogs, into which we sank ankle-deep at every step :
finally, we brushed through the thick shrubbery, drenched
witli the snow dislodgxMl plentifully over us eti i^d^^^cint,
and stood on the edge of a most extensive barren.

Such a scene of desolation is seldom witnessed, except
in these great burnt and di'uuded wastes of the North
Ameiican forest. As far as the eye could reach was a
wild undulating wilderness of rocks and stumps ; a deep
indigo-coloured lull showcxl the limits of the barren, and
where the heavy fir forest again resumed its sway. It
appeared to be some ten niiles or so in length, and to
sloixi from us in a gentle declivity towards the west-
ward. The average breadth might be four or five miles.
Little thickets and groves of wood dotted it in all direc-
tions ; sometimes a clump of spruce, against which the
white stem of the birch stood out in bold relief ; or, at
others, a patch of ghost-like rampikes ; whilst the brooks
in the valleys were marked by fringing thickets of alder.

CARIBOO HUNTING.

147

Boulders of rock and fallen trees were strewed over the
whole surface of the country in the wildest confusion ;
and the dark, snow-laden sky cast a shade over the
scene, investing it with the most forbidding and gloomy
appearance imaginable.

Carefully scanning the surrounding country, and not
perceiving any signs of the game, we proceeded on their
tracks, which were soon increased in number by those of
three otL " cariboo, joining in from the southward. They
led us through some dense thickets, where we had to
proceed with the greatest caution, there being no wind,
and on account of the uncertainty of the moment or
place where we might come upon them. I was getting
tired of the whole proceeding, when, as we were crossinj?;
an open spot amongst rocks and sparsely-growing spruce
clumps of about our own height, I saw Noel, who was
ahead, suddenly stop, with his hand held back, and
slowly subside in the snow, which proceedings of course
1 followed, without question as to the cause or necessity.

" What is it, Noel ? " said I, gaining his side by slowly
worming along in the snow, with difficulty keephig the
jnuzzle of my rifle above the surface.

" Cali1x)0 lying down," he replied. " You no see them
now ? Better fire, I think."

I could not for my life see the cariboo, although I
looked along the barrel of his gun, which he pointed for
me in the right direction. They are most difficult ani-
mals to recognise unless moving, being so "xceedingly
similar in colour to the rocks and general features of the
liarren, that oidy the eye of the Indian can readily detect
them when lying down. Noel had at once seen the herd ;
and here was 1, unable to perceive them amongst the

L 2

148 FOREST LIFE IN ACA .E.

rocks and ])ushes, though pointed to tlio exact spot, and
knowing that they were little more than one hundred
yards distant. At last I saw the flapping of one of their
ears, and gradually the whole contour of the recumbent
animal nearest to me became evident.

I now did a very foolish thing, and was determined to
have my shot at the nearest cariboo, lying down. The
animal Avas in a hollow, deeply bedded in the snow, so
that very little of the back could be seen, and I a'med at
the lowest part visible above the snow. I pulled — a spirt
of snow showed that the dazzling surface had deceived
me, and the bullet ricochetted harmlessly over the back
of the cariboo.

Up they jumped, five of them, apparently rising from
all directions around us, and, after a brief stare, made ofi"
in long graceful bounds. I at once seized the old musket
which the Indian carried, but the hammer descended on
harmless copper — the cap was useless. " This is bad,"
thought I ; for I hate missing the first shot on a hunt-
ing excursion, particularly with game to which one is
not accustomed, as there is still more fear of becoming
unsteady, and missing, on the next chance presenting
itself ; and I watched the cariboo with longing eyes, and
a feeling of great disappointment, as they settled down
into a long, swinging trot, and wound in file over the
barren, towards the line of forest on the north side. As
for the hungry-looking Indian, I did not know whether
to have at him on the score of his excessive ugliness, or
for not carrying better caps for his gun.

" Get back to camp, Noel, as quick as you can," said
I ; "it will be dark in half an hour. Why didn't you
put up the cariboo on their legs for me before I fired ?"

CARIBOO HUNTING. 14!)

" Gentleman just please himself," replied the Indian.
" You did very foolish ; nice lot of caliboo, them. Maybe
other gentleman get shot, though."

" Oh, it's the fresh steak for supper you are tl' inking
of," thought I to myself, feeling as discontented and
generally uncharitable as possible. *' I hope sincerely
they have not, though ; " and I trudged after tln^ Indian
homewards in an unenviable mood. Fortunately there
was an old road leadinjj across the barren towards the
settlements, and, presently striking it, we obtained easy
walking. A couple of hours, the latter part by moon-
light, brought us to our camp. No smoke issued from
the top, and everything was as we left it. The others
had not returned, and we made up a fire and cooked the
meal we so much needed.

" I was almost afraid you were lost, John," said I, as
the blanket which covered the entrance was withdrawn
by the returning hunter and my (companion, very late in
the evening ; " any sport ?"

" Never fear," replied Williams, laughing, as he lugged
in a great sack of potatoes, and produced a bottle of new
milk, and some loaves of home-made bread ; " here's our
game. We just had first-rate dinner at settler's ; good
old man, that old Harrison."

They, too, had fired at cariboo, and wounded a young
one slightly. It had led them a race of some miles, and
finally, having joined a fresli herd, had escaped through
the confusion of tracks. However, we retired to our
repose on the soft bed of fir-boughs that night, quite
satisfied and hopeful. We were in a fine country, evi-
dently full of game, and we looked forward to our future
shots with confidence, satisfied, from what we had seen,

FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

that the cariboo was one of the finest deer, for sport, in
the wide world.

What a hearty meal is breakfast in the winter camp of
a party of hunters in the American backwoods ! The
pure air which enters freely and circulut<\s round the
camp, heated by the great log fire in the centre, round
which we range ourselves for sleep, regardless of the cold
without (except, perhaps, on some especially severe
passage of cold, when actual roasting on one side will
scarcely keep the opposite from freezing), conduce to
sound and healthy repose, and a feeling of wonderful
freshness and activity on awakening and throwing off the
blanket or buffalo rolje early in the morning.

The Indians are already up, one cleaning the guns, or
" fixing " a moccasin, whilst the other is holding the long-
handled fiying-pan, filled with spluttering slices of bacon,
over the glowing embers. Their toilet amounts to nil ;
when well they always look clean, though they seldom
wash ; though they never use a comb their long, shining,
raven-black hair is always smooth and unruffled. We,
with our combs, brushes and towels, step out into the
cold morning air and betake ourselves to the little brook
for ten minutes or so, and then return with appetites
whetted either for venison or the flesh of pig, washed
down by potations of strong black tea, which has
simmered by the embers, perhaps, for the last half-
hour.

"John," said I, as we reclined on our blankets at
breakfast the morning after our unsuceessful cari])oo
hunt, " did you hear the wild geese passing over to the
southward last night? I heard their loud 'honk ! honk !'
several times, and the whistling of their wings as they

CARIBOO HUNTING. l.")!

flew over the camp. It froze pretty sharp, too ; the trees
cracked loudly in the forest."

" I hear 'um, sure enough," replied the Indian. " Guess
winter set in pretty hard up to nor'rerd. I got notion
some of us have luck to-day, capten. I dreamin' very
hard last night. When I dream so always sure sign wc
have luck next day. I think it will be you ; me and the
other gentleman must go back and try to get the
wounded calil)oo calf."

" Very well, then : Noiil hunts with me again to-day,"
said I, looking at the younger Indian, who nodded assent
and drew on his moccasins. " Come on, Noel ; put a
biscuit in your pocket, and let us be oft' for the barrens."

It was a lovely morning when w^e left the camp ; not
a breath of wind, and the sun shone through the trees,
lighting with extraordinary brilliancy the sparkling snow
which had been s})rinkled during the night with rime
frost. All nature seemed to rejoice at the warming
influence of the sun's rays. The s(|uirrel raced up the
stems with more than usual activity, and the little chick-
adee birds darted about amongst the spruce boughs in
merry troo})s, dislodging showers of snow, and con-
tinuously uttering the cheerful cry which has given them
their local sohrujuet. The tapping of the woodpecker
resounded throuy-h the calm forest, and the harsh warning
note of the blue jay gave notice of our approach to his
comrades and the forest denizens in general. Her(3 and
there a ruffed grouse started with Ijoisterous flight from
our path, as we disturbed his meditations on some sunlit
stump ; and, soon after entering the barren, a red fox
jumped from the warm side of a clump of bushes where
he had been basking, and made oft" at racing speed — a

168 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

far handsomer animal than our English Keynard, whose
fur is quite dingy compared with the bright orange-red
coat of the American.

" Ah ! I don't like to see this," said Noel, pointing out
some large tracks in the snow ; " these brutes been
huntin' about here some time. You see that track ? —
that wolf-track — two of them ; them tracks we seen
yesterday, when we thought dogs were chasing moose,
them was wolf-tracks."

The day before we had noticed the tracks of what we
chen thought had been dogs chasing a young calf-moose.
At one place — a very deep, swampy bog — they had
nearly run into him, for, on the snow, we saw hair which
they had pulled from his flanks. It seems that about ten
years ago wolves made their appearance in this province
in considerable numbers from New Brunswick, and their
nightly bowlings caused the farmers to look closely after
the safety of their stock and folds for some time in certain
settlements. They are, however, now rarely heard of.

We had not been long on the barren ere we came on
last night's tracks of five cariboo, and we at once com-
menced creeping in earnest. Presently we found their
beds, deeply sunk in the snow, the surface quite soft, and
evidently just quitted. Their tracks showed that they
had, on rising, commenced feeding along very leisurely
on the mosses of the l)arren ; to get at which they had
scraped away the snow with their broad hoofs. It was
now a capital morning for creeping, as the surfiice of the
snow on the barren was quite soft, loosened by the power
of the sun. Now we enter a little bog, with scattering
clumps of spruce growing from its wet, mossy surface ;
at every step we sink ankle deep into the yielding moss,

L'AlllliOO HUNTINU. iJa

and the chilling snow- water soaks into our feet. We
look anxiously ahead for the game, but they have crossed
the bog ; nor are they on the next, which we can scan
from our present position. They muit be in that dark
patch of woods just beyond, which skirts the barren,
for we have followed them up to its northern edge.
What a pity ! for the snow under the shade of the
forest is still hard and crusted, and its crunching
sound, under the pressure of our moccasins, step we
ever so lightly, cannot escape the ear of the cariboo.
Yes, they have entered the wood, and just as we
prepare to follow them, anil gently open our way
through the outlying thickets, I hear a light snap
of a bough within, which sends my heart nearly to
my mouth. Another step, and Noel at once points to
game, and I see some shadowy forms moving among the
trees, at about fifty yards' distance. Now is the time ; an
instant more and we should be discovered, and the
cariboo bound off scatheless, with electric speed. The
quick crack of my rifle is followed by the roar of the
Indian's gun (which I afterwards ascertained contained
two balls, and about four drachms of powder), and the
brauches loudly crash in front as the herd starts in
headlong flight.

There was blood on the snow, as we came up to the
spot whence they had fled : a broad trail of it led from
the spot where the animal I had fired at had been stand-
ing. Presently I saw the cariboo ahead, going very
slowly, and making round for the barren again, having
left the herd. The poor creature's doom was sealed ; for,
as we emerged from the woods, we saw it lying down,
and a fawn, which had accompanied it, made quickly off

184 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

on seeing us approach. I would have spared the latter,
but the Indian l)rought it down at once by a good
shot at eiglity yards. Mine proved to be a very
fine doe, with a dark glossy skin, and in excellent
condition.

"Plenty fresh meat in camp now," says Noel, who
really looked as if lie could liave ejiten the whole cariboo
then and tlun'e. H(; did roast a good junk of it as soon
as he could get a fire alight, and the fellow had brought
out some salt in a pii'ce of paper in case of an emergency
like the present. Whilst Noel was making up the meat
with the assistance of the little axe and hunting-knife
Avhich are invariably suspended from the hunter's belt, I
lighted my pipe and heaped on the dead logs, which lay
everywhere under the surface of the snow, until we had
a roaring fire that would have roasted a cariboo whole
with great ease and dispatch. J never saw fiitter meat
than that of the largest cariboo when the hide was re-
moved ; the whole saddle was snow-white with fat,
which covered the meat to the depth of an inch and a
half. Having stacked the quarters in a compact pile, and
deeply covered them with a coating of snow, we started
for home, leaving the offal for the Canada jays and crows;
the former were exceedingly impudent, hopping about
within a few yards of us, and screaming most impatiently
for our departure. Noel of course carried a goodly load
of the meat, including many delicate morsels for our
camp frying-pan.

Numerous droves of cariboo had crossed the barren
since the morning, and, as we were on our way, we saw
a small drove of four passing across at a distance of about
500 yards from us. They appeared scared, walking very

(UllIDOO JlUNTlNd.

ir)5

briskly, and oc(;asionally bi'cakin<^ into a trot. Most
probably tlioy had boon startod by I'M'cst of the party
in the woods to the southward. (.» !- f them was of a
very light eolour — the lightest, 1 think, I ever saw —
being of a })ale, tawny hue all over ; the others were, as
usunl, dull grey, variegated witli dingy white. S})()i't
must have fallen to tlie lot of anyone who had remained
concealed in some central thicket on the barren tliis
afternoon, from tlie nund)er that must have passed at
dillerent times, as appeared by tlmir (racks. Though it
was still early in Decendu'r we had onl}'^ as yet seen one
buck who retained his horns ; the does still wore theirs.
The one I had just killed had an exceedingly neat little
pair, which, but for her untimely end, would have graced
h(U' until the ensuing March.

Oil riiturn to camp, I found that my fiicnd had not
been so fortunate ; they had not bticn able to discover
the wounded cariboo, and had started two herds without
jxettinff a shot. This was owing to the frozen state of

DO O

die snow in the woods. We had determined to exchange
Indians next morning ; but, in conse(juence of his not
yet having had success, 1 agrei'd to start again with the
second hunter, Noel, and leave to my fri(!nd the undis-
turbe<l possession of the barrens, my direction being the
liuctegun plains, which were distant sonu' eight miles or
so to the westward. Noel, of course, ate until he (rould
eat no more t night — in fact, I never saw such
gluttony as was displayed by this Indian whenever he
got a (thauite. The settler's wife had told me, a few days
since, that he; made a common practice of going into one
house after :» Mother along the lOad, and at each represent-
ing himself as stalling, llis appearance not generally

I.-jO

FOUEST LIFE IN AOADIE.

belying his assertion, he has succeeded in getting a dinner
at each of four different places on the same day. " But,"
she said, " they found hiui out ; and he finds it rather hai-d
to get asked out, or rather in, to dinner now-a-days." On
one occasion, on returning with me to camp, after an
unsuccessful morning, a good deal before the usual time
for dining, he complained of a severe attack of indiges-
tion, and adopted, as an unfailing remedy, a hearty meal
of fried pork — the fattest he could pick out of the bag.
He expressed himself to the eff'ect that lubrication was
the best remedy for such complaints.

The owls hooted most dismally in the forest that night
— a sure sign, as Williams said, of an approaching storm ;
and, as the sky looked threatening all the latter part of
the day, we retired to sleep, trusting to see a fall of fresh
snow in the morning, which was much wanted, to
obliterate the old tra(.'ks, and soften the surface of the
crust.

Fresh falls of snow are necessary to continue and
ensure sport in the winter hunting-camp, especially in
the earlier part of the season. A few bright days thaw
the surface so that the night-frost produces a disao-reeable
crust, which crunches and roars under the moccasin most
unmusically ; and then, unless the forest trees are shaken
by little short of a gale, you may give up all idea of
getting within shot of game. Day after day is often
thus spent listlessly in camp; the same calm, frosty
weather continuing to prevent sport, and the evil of the
crust on the snow gradually becoming worse ; the
Indians shaking their heads at the projiosition to hunt
and uselessly disturb the country, and betaking them-
selves to cutting axe-handles, mending their moccasins,

CARIBOO HUNTING.

157

01- constructing a liand-slod perhaps, whilst you Inzily fall
back amongst the blankets, and snooze away far into the
bright morning, till the noon-day sun strikes down on your
fac(! through the aperture in the top of the camp. Then
you are told by the dusky cook and steward of the camjj
that the " pork's giving out," or the " sweetening is
getting short," and all things remind you that " it's hard
times," and no fresh meat, and all for want of a nice little
fall of snow. However, there lies a great ball of a thing,
all covered with quills, like a hedgehog, in the cook's
corner, and the cook recommends that a " bilin " of soup
should be instituted ; so ]\Iaster Porcu})ine is scraped,
and skinned, and chopped, and, with an odd bone or two
which turns up from the larder, a little rice, and lots of
sliced onions, he is converted into a broth, and another
day in the woods is cleared by the pork thereby saved.
At last, when the bitter reflection of having to return
from the woods empty-handed presents itself to you some
morning on awakening, the joyous flakes are seen gently
falling through the top of the camp, and hissing as they
meet the embers of the fire. " Now's your time," says
the party all round, and the camp is all bustle and
animation — such tying on of moccasins, and buckling on
of ammunition-belts, and knives, and axes ; not forgetting
to provide for the mid-day refreshment, by filling of
flasks, and stowing away of biscuits and lumps of cheese.
Presently the wind rises, and the storm thickens ; the
new covering of snow seems to draw out the frost from
the old crusted surface, and the moccasin now steps
noiselessly in the tracks of the game. That day, or on
the next, there is no need of porcupine soup, for huge
steaks hang from the camp-poles, and a rich and savoury

168

FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

odour pervades the camp, whilst the hissing fryinrr-pan
tops the logs.

The want of a fresh fall of snow had thus internipted
our sports in the Parsboro' country for some days, when
the welcome flakes at last came down one wild stormy
night, and covered the forest and barren with a clean
mantle of three or four inches, obliterating the old tracks
and softenmg the crust so that it again became practicable'
to stalk the wary cariboo. Many times had we started
small herds on the barren, and in the greenwoods, with-
out sighting them ; the first token of their proximity
nnd of their having taken alarm, being the crashing of
the branches which they breasted in flight.

It was a beautiful hunting morning on which, after
the new fall of the previous night, we trudged along the
forest-path leading from our camp to the barrens and
made sure of shots during the day, for the change of
wind, and the storm, would cause a movement amon^'o- the
deer. A mile or so from camp the snow was ploiHied-
up by a multitude of fresh tracks ; a herd of cariboo\ad
lust crossed it ; there could not have been less than
thirty of them, all going south from the barrens. We at
once struck into the woods after them, and followed for
about an hour, when the herd divided into two streams
One of these we followed, the tracks every moment be-
coming fresher, until, on passing through a dense alder
thicket which grew over water, treacherously covered
with raised ice, the ice gave way with a crash, and we at
the same moment heard the game start. We rushed on
as fiist as possible, for they had not seen or winded us
and might possibly think the noise proceeded merely
from the ice falling in, as it often does when suspended

CARIBOO HUNTING,

159

over water and laden with snow. Presently the tracks
showed they were walking, and on entering a thick
covert of young spruces, whose lower branches, thickly
covered with snow, prevented our seeing far ahead, the
Indian said, " There — fire 1 " and a bounding form or two
flashed through an opening in the bush with such
rapidity that we could scarcely say that we had seen
them. Our barrels were levelled and discharged, but, as
might be expected, without effect. The deer had been
lying down, and had seen our legs under the lower
branches before the Indian was aware of their pre-
sence.

Williams said, " I 'most afraid we couldn't get shot.
Calil)oo very hard to creep when shiftin' their ground :
don't stop and feed much, and when they lie down they
watchin' all the time, and then up agen 'most directly.
I know them caliboo makin' for some big barrens, five or
six mile away."

We then turned back to the northward, and, recrossing
the road, made for the barrens where my dead cariboo
were lying. The place was marked by the great pile of
snow whi(;h we had shovelled over them, and by the
skins suspended on a rampike hard by ; no wild animals
had disturbed the meat, though great numbers of moose-
birds and jays were screaming around, apparently dis-
tressed that the fresh snow had covered up their little
pickings in the shape of offld, which had been left around.
Here we sat down on a log, after clearing off th' snow,
to cat our biscuit and broach the flasks (^ rt'c had
tindged many miles since breakfast, and the sun was
past the south) — the Indian, always restless, and perhaps
anxious to take a survey of the country unimpeded by

ICO FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

followers, going off towards the greenwoods, distant a few
hundred yards, munching as he went.

" A capital fellow is old John," said I to my comrade.
" I'll bet you what you like he comes back with some
news. I've often seen him go oft' in this manner whilst
I- you are eating, or resting, or smoking, and uncertain

I what to do, and come back in half an hour or so, appa-

I ^rently having learnt more of the whereabouts of the game

[ than he had when in your company during the whole

i, morning's hunt."

jt We were not detained very long, however — indeed,

j * had hardly finished the biscuit — when, on looking to-

f wards the edge of the forest, which he had entered a few

minutes previously, we saw John emerge, and make his
way back to us with unusual celerity ; and, seeing there
was game afoot, we picked up the guns and advanced to
meet him.

" Come on," says John, "just see three or four of 'em
walking quietly along inside the woods — didn't start 'em,
I gxiess. Be easy, now ; lots of time." And oft' we go
after John, as quietly as he Avould have us, and soon find
the track of the cariboo. John leads rapidly forward,
l)ending almost douljle to get a glimpse of them through
the branches ahead ; but no, they have left the woods,
and taken to the open again, and we follow into a swamp
thickly sprinkled with little fir trees of about our own
height. The bog is very wet, having never frozen, and
we sink up to our knees in the swamp, through the
wet surface-snow, withdrawing our feet and legs at each
step, with a noise like drawing a cork. It is hard work
getting along, and already we are rather out of breath ;
but we must keep on, for cariboo are smart walkers, and

„,.-u»J'w> *-*•-■•••'»• **■ -

CARIBOO HUNTING. IGl

until they come to a place where they have an inclination
to loiter and browse, are apt to lead one a dance for many
hom's, particularly when they have taken a notion to
sliift their country. Ha ! there goes one of them ; his
black muzzle and dusky back just showing above the
bushes at the further end of the swamp — and anijthor,
and another. " Bang " goes a barrel a-piece from each
of us (we are in dchelon), and the nearest one falters,
either wounded or confused, as they sometimes become
by the firing. He is again making off, and passing an
opening ; the other guns floundering forward in hopes of
getting nearer, when, steadying myself, and taking good
aim, he falls instantaneously to my second barrel. John,
with a yell, rushes up, and getting astride of the
struggling beast, quickly terminates his existence with
his long hunting-knife. It was a fine doe cariboo, with
a very dark hide, and in fair condition. The others
having never beer fairly within shot, we were satisfied,
and after the usual process returned to camp, our path
being enlivened by the bright rays of a lovely moon.
Wo all agreed that no finer sport could be obtained
anion»2;st the larger game than cariboo-shootino;. Tliis
deer is so wary, such a constant and fast traveller, and
so quick in getting up and l)oundiug out of range when
started in the woods, that an aim as rapid and true as in
cock-shooting is required ; and, when he is down, every
pound of the meat repays for backing it out of the woods,
being, in my opinion, far finer wild meat than any other
venison I have tasted.

The next day I walked with the other Indian (Noel)
to the Buctoukteegun i)lains, some ten miles distant from
our camp — great plains of milea and miles in extent,

1G2 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

covered with Httle islaiuls of dwiirf spnicos of a few feet
in height. This is a great [)]ace of resort for earihoo ;
they come out from the forest on to the phiius on fine
sunny mornings, and scrape up the snow to get at the
moss. Having passed a night in a hnnl)erer's camp, we
proceeded next morning to the phiins, which the Indian
wouhl scan from a tall spruce, to see if there were game
on them ; and having bagg(>d my cariboo, and given
part of it to the lumberers, who seemed very thaid<ful,
we made up the hind quarters and hide into two loads,
and arrived in camp the same evening. JNfy companion,
whose shots I had heard the day previous, had had
excellent sport on the barrens, having killed four caril)oo ;
and the following day I killed a magnificent buck, which
weighed nearly four hundred-weight, after a long chase
of six miles through the green woods from the spot
where I had first wounded him, the Indian (it was
Williams) keeping on his track, though it had passed
through multitudes of others, with unerring perse verjince.

Then comes the hauling out the meat. Old H , the

last settler, whose house is not far frcjm our camp, is sent
for, and contracts for tli^ job, and one fine morning his
voice, as he urges on his patient bullocks towards the
camp, and the grating of the sled upon the snow, are
heard as we sit at breakfast. Leaving his team munch-
ing an armful of hay in the path, he comes to the camp
door, and, pushing aside the blanket which covers the
entrance, accosts us, —

" Morning, gents. Ah ! Ingines, how d'ye make out —
most ready to start ? AVe've got a tidy spell to go for
the cariboo by all accounts, and my team aint noways
what you may call strong. However, I suppose we must

CARIBOO HUNTINO. Ifl3

manngo it somoliow, and aoeommorlato a gontleman like
you appear to be."

" All right, my good man, we are ready ; and John
and Noel will go ahead and haul out the eariboo from
the barren to the road ;" and off we go, a meriy party,
following the ox sled, whilst the old settler shouts un-
ceasingly to his cattle, " Haw ! Bright — Gee ! Diamond ;
what are ye 'bout there, ye lazy beasts ?" and the great
strong animals go steadily forward, occasionally bringing
their broad foreheads in violent contact with a tree ; but
proceeding, on being set right, with perfect unconcern,
till we come to the edge of the barren. Here the Indians
had already hauled out two of the cariboo by straps
fastened to the horns, drawing the carcases easily over
the surface of the snow, and in a couple of hours we were
again eu route for home, with everything packed up,
guns in case, and nine cariboo as trophies.

The frozen carcases were pitched down into the hold of
the little schooner, the same one which had brought us
across before ; and in a few hours, with a fresh breeze
following us, we grated safely through the floating field
of ice which ncfirly blocked up the basin of Minas, and
landed at Windsor, Nova Scotia, and so to Halifax.

M 2

CIIArTER VII.

LAKE DWELLERS.

— •♦

THE BEAVER.

The number and extent of its lakes, scattered through-
out the extent of this picturesque province, invaiiably
surprise the visitor to Nova Scotia. Of every variety of
size and form, and generally containing groups of little
wooded islands, they occupy almost e very hollow, and,
often connected, stretch away in long chains through the
interior, presenting the most charming scenery to those
who seek sport or the picturesque through the back
country. Lake Rossignol, in the western portion of the
province, is the largest ; the waters which j)ass through
it rise near Annapolis on the Bay of Fundy, and,
accumulating in a long series of lakes, issue from Rossig-
nol as a large river which falls into the Atlantic at the
town of Liverpool. By this line of water comnmnication,
almost crossing the province, the most secluded recesses
of the wild country can be reached by means of the
Lidiau canoe, an easy and delightful mode "f progression
on the smooth lake, though it involves some danger
among the rocks and rapids of the river, which, if insur-
mountable, entail the "portage," and a weary tramp,

LAKE DWELLERS.

1C5

perhaps, through a long strctcli of forest with canoe,
commissariat, and luggage.

To the eye of the naturalist one of the most interesting
points in connection with the chain of lakes referred to
is, that on their banks are the houses of the few families
of beaver loft in the provini'C ; for though their works
and the fruit of their labours attest their presence
formerly in eveiy direction, not a beaver exists from the
Port Medway Kiver — a few miles eastward of the
Kossignol waters — and the eastern end of Cape Breton.
This animal was formerly abundant throughout the
British Provinces, and a large portion of the United
States, from the Atlantic to the Pacific coast, and would
ere this have totally disappeared from the maritime
provinces, but for the caprice of fashion in hats which,
substituting silk for the beaver-nap, arrested its destruc-
tion, and thereby, as Mr. Marsh suggests, in " ]\Ian and
Nature," involved possible alterations in the physical
features of a continent. Nova Scotia abounds in all the
conditions necessary to its e5iistence — rivers, brooks and
swampy lakes — and its former abundance is attested by
the prevalence of such names as " Beavcrbank," " Beaver
Harbour," and the numerous " Beaver Lakes " and
" Beaver Kivers " scattered round the Province. The
market beinu so near, and its haunts so accessible and
easy of observation, it is surprising that its extermination
in this part of America has not been long since effected.
Indeed, the animal now appears to be on the increase.

In past times, undoubtedly, the beaver has had much
to do with the formation of the "wild meadows," aa
they are locally termed, which are of frequent occurrence
in the backwoods, and from which the settler draws

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166 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

plentiful supplies for feeding his stock in winter, and the
following was evidently the process. Wherever a brook
trickled through a valley, the beaver would bar its course
by its strong compact dam, thus securing sufficient back-
water to form a pond, on the edge of which to build its
dome-shaped house. Large spaces in the woods thus
became inundated, the drowned trees fell and decayed,
and freshets brought accessions of soil from the hills.
At length the pond filled up, and the colony migrated,
or were exterminated. The water drained through the
unrepaired dam; and on the fine alluvial soil exposed,
sprang up those rich waving fields of wild grass, monu-
ments of the former industry of the beaver, and now a
source of profit to its thankless destroyers.

To return, however, to Lake Rossignol and its beavers.
Attracted thither by the charms of a canoe voyage on the
lakes at the commencement of the glorious fall, and
anxious to inspect the houses and dams of these curious
animals, we hired our two frail barks and the services of
three Indians at the town of Liverpool, Nova Scotia, and,
avoiding the ascent of the rapid river as too arduous a
mode of access, sent canoes and luggage by a cross road
to a line of waters which flowed evenly into the great
lake, and where we embarked for our explorations. The
following notes from my Camp Journal will give a nar-
ration of our observations and progress : —

"August 28.

" Encamped comfortably in a cove of the second lake
of the Rossignol Chain, which was reached late in the
evening, vid the Sixteen-Mile Lakes, where the canoes
were embarked. The unwonted exercise of the first long
day's paddling has somewhat unstcadied the hand for

LAKE DWELLERS. 167

writing up the notes. The scenery on the al)ove-named
hikes very pretty, and the water in good order for canoe-
ing, a light breeze following us and cooling the air.
Lunched on an island, and, leaving the lakes, entered a
small rapid stream. Here the shade of the maples, which
completely overhung the brook, was most grateful, and
the light green of the sunlit foliage reflected in the water,
with masses of king-fern, and a variety of herbaceous
plants growing luxuriously on the banks, grey rock
boulders with waving crowns of polypodium rising frorx
the stream, and reflected on its smooth though swiftly-
gliding surface, and the moss-covered stems of fallen
trees which continually bridged it over, formed an ever-
changing panorama, which evoked many expressions of
delight as we quietly glided down the brook — a beau-
tiful realisation of Tennyson's idyll. The water was
clear as crystal, and covered golden gravel, and there
were frequent ' silvery water-breaks,' caused by trout
jumping at the multitudes of small blue and green
ephemerae which danced above. Here we first saw the
works of beaver. Pointing towards the bank, on sud-
denly rounding a turn in the brook, our head Indian
Glode whispered, ' There beaver-house ; ' and we held
by a projecting rock to examine the structure for a few
moments. I confess I was disappointed. Instead of the
regular mud-plastered dome I had expected and seen
depicted in all works of natural history, the house
appeared merely as an irregular pile of barked sticks,
very broad at the base compared with its height, and
looking much like a gigantic crow's nest inverted, and
formed without any apparent design. It was in present
occupation, for the tall surrounding fern was beaten

163 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

down all around. 'All pretty much same/ said Glodc
in answer to our question, as we again dropped down
the stream. Presently the rippling of water ahead
showed a slight fall, and on arriving at the spot the bow
of the canoe grated on submerged bushes. It was the
dam — always placed below — belonging to the house, and
was evidently in course of construction, a process which
we were unavoidably compelled to defer, by standing on
a flat rock, and, hauling out bushes by the armful, to
open a passage for the canoes. Several other houses
were passed, at intervals, of about a quarter of a mile, all
similar in appearance, and some of great size. Our
anxiety to get to the big lake prevented us, however,
from examining the structure closely. On this brook I
first saw the blossoms and tendrils of a beautiful climb-
ing plant which grew up luxuriantly amongst the bushes,
and encircled small stems to a considerable height — the
Indian potato-plant (Apios tuberosa) — one of the sources
of food used by the old Indians before they left the w^oods
and their forest fare for the neighbourhood of civilization,
and adopted its food, clothing, and depraving associa-
tions. The flowers are like those of the sw^eet pea, and
arranged in a whorl, possessing a pleasant though rather
faint smell. The cluster of bulbs at its root, called
potatoes, are of about the average size of small new
potatoes, and have a flavour like a chestnut."

Two or three miles further, through an open country
covered with the bleached stems of a burnt forest,
brought us to the middle lake of the Eossignol Chain,
which we quickly crossed to camp.

On the following afternoon we entered Eossignol after
some rather stiff" paddling. Two large lakes, affording

LAKE DWELLERS. 1C9

no shelter of rocks or islands, were crossed in the teeth [7^];!

of a strong breeze, and the bows of our canoes were fre-
quently overtopped by the waves. For security the
paddlers crouched in the bottom instead of sitting, as is
usual, on the thin strips of ash w^hicli constitute the
thwarts in the bow and stern. Perfect in symmetry,
and capable of conveying four persons, the canoes were
of the smallest construction compatible with safety on ,.

the rapid river or its broad lakes. They were eighteen feet |f|

in length, and weighed but sixty pounds each. From an ^*

end-on point of view, the paddlers seemed supported by
almost nothing — the bark sides projecting but a few
inches beyond the breadth of their bodies, and the gun- |J:

wale nearly flush with the water. But we were "old
hands," and were determined to camp that night on the
big lake ; and the light barks, impelled by strokes which
made the handles of the paddles bend like reeds, forged
ahead through chopping seas till wc reached the shelter
of the rocky islands at the foot of Lake Rossignol. Here
the lakes were connected by a rapid run, where, beaching
the canoes, we enjoyed capital trouting for a couple of
hours — killing over five dozen fish averaging one pound
— and dined on shore, picking a profuse dessert of blue
and liuckle berries. A glorious view was unfolded as we
left the run and entered the still water of the lake. The
breeze fell rapidly with the sun, and enabled us to steer
towards the centre, from which alone the size of the lake
could be appreciated, owing to the number of its islands.
These were of every imaginable shape and size — from the
grizzly rock bearing a solitary stunted pine, shaggy with
Usnea, to those of a mile in length, thickly wooded with
maple, beech, and birches, now wearing the first pure

»yf

170 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

tints of autumnal colour. From near its centre was un-
folded a view of the greatest expanse of water. The
distant shores were enveloped in haze, but appeared
frino;ed with a dark fir forest to the water's edge. Here
and there a bright spot of white sand formed a beach
tempting for a disembarkation; and frequent sylvan
scenes of an almost fairy-land character opened up as
we coasted along the shores — little harbours almost
closed-in from the lake, overgrown with water-lilies,
arrow-heads, and other aquatic plants, with mossy banks
backed by bosky groves of hemlocks ; cool retreats which
the soft moss covering the soil, and the perfect shade of
the dense foliage overhead, indicated as most desirable
spots for camping. The wild cry of the loon resounded
aU over the lake, and mergansers and black ducks
wheeled overhead as they left their feeding-grounds for
their accustomed resting-places. Only one sight re-
minded us of civilization. On the crest of a distant
hill, the rays of the setting sun lighted on a little patch of
cleared ground and glanced on the window of a solitary
dwelling. Our Indians said it was a settler's house in New
Caledonia, on the forest road from Liverpool to Annapolis.
Warned at length by the mellowing light which
seemed to blend lake and sky into one, we steered the
canoes into a sheltered cove, and lighted our first camp
fire on the shores of Lake Rossignol. This was our head-
quarters ; and here for a week we gave ourselves up to
the dreamy pleasures of a life in the woods. Our easy
mode of travel enabling us to take every desirable luxury,
wc ate our trout with Worcester sauce, and baked our
bread in an Indian oven ; we fished in the runs, bathed
in the sandy coves, visited and were visited by the lum-

LAKE DWELLERS. 171

berers, who were rafting tlieir logs down to the sea, and
made frequent excursions up the affluent waters of the
lake in search of beavers and their works. With regard
to the latter, I will here again introduce a few pages of
my journal : —

" August 30th.

" A bright morning, very hot. After breakfast as-
cended the Tobiaduc stream at the north-west end of
the lake. Here the scenery becomes very beautiful. The
river is broad and still ; the woods on either side much
inundated ; and the maple brightly coloured with orange
and scarlet — probably more from unhealthiness produced
by the high water than by early frosts. Pass some
exquisite island scenery ; the reflections perfect. A
snake smms across under the bows of my canoe, its
head carried an inch above the surface. Passirg a steep
bank, a beaver rushes out of a dense patch of king-fern,
and takes to the water with a plunge ; and we follow his
track, faintly indicated on the surface, towards an old
beaver-house a few rods up stream. * I heard him dove/
observed Glode, on arriving : the animal had mistrusted
the strength of his fortress ; and pursuit was hopeless.

" Five or six miles from the lake, we come to the car-
rying place or portage, whence a woodland path leads by
a short cut to Tobiaduc lake, and saves many a mile of
heavy poleing against the rapids of the river. The road
lay through a dark mossy forest of hemlocks, soft and
pleasant walking when unencumbered by loads, but very
fatiguing U2idei the weight of canoes and all the para-
phernalia of a camp. ' Indian mile, long and narrer,'
drily observed old Glode, on our casual inquiry as to
hoAV much further we had to trudge. The forest gloom

172 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

at lengtli lightens, and the gleam of water ahead brings
us to the Tohiaduc lakes, where a couple of ruffed grouse,
shot en route, were cooked d la spatch-cock, and we
dined on a service of birch-bark dishes.

" Late in the afternoon, our canoes, leaving the lakes,
entered the Tobiaduc brook, a picturesque stream similar
to the sixteen-mile brook before mentioned. The lovely
scenery of these forest streams must be seen to be fully
appreciated. The foliage in spots is almost tropical ;
wild vines and creepers crowd the water's edge, with
towering clumps of royal fern (Osmunda regalis) ; airy
groves of birches with stems of purest white are suc-
ceeded by fir-woods, under which the graceful moose-
wood and swamp maple brighten the gloom as their
broad leaves catch the sunlight ; the pigeon berry
(Cornus canadensis) bedizens the moss with its well-
contrasting clumps of scarlet berries ; and great boulders
of grey rock, circled over with concentric lichens, moss
covered, and their crannies filled with pollypods and
oak-fern, overhang the water in stern and solitary gran-
deur. Every rock projecting from the stream is seized
upon by moss, whence grow a few ferns or seedling
maples ; and the play of the sunlight as it breaks
through the arched foliage above and lights up these
little groups produces most exquisite efiects. This is the
home of the beaver and the kingfisher. The ferns and
grasses on the banks are trodden down by the former
in its paths, and the latter flits from bush to bush with
loud rattling screams as the canoe invades its piscatorial
domains.

" At length there was an obstruction in the stream over
which the waters fell evenly. It was a beaver-dam — a

BEAVER-DAM ON THE TOBIADUC.

LAKE DWELLERS. 173

solid construction of interwoven bushes and poles, dam-
ming up tlic water behind to a height of between three
and four feet, and completely altering the features of the
brook, which from this point was all still water. \Vo
landed on the top to open out a portion, and thereby
facilitate the canoes being lifted over. Some of the
work was quite fresh, and green leaves tipped the ends
of projecting branches ; whilst on the shore lay a pile of
water-rotted material that had been removed, and evi-
dently considered unserviceable. Stones and mud were
plentifully intermixed with the bushes, which were
mostly cut into lengths of twelve to eighteen feet, and
woven together across the stream. The top, which
would support us all without yielding, was about two
feet broad, and the dam thickened below the surface.
Some stout bushes leaned against the construction in
front. They were planted in the bed of the stream ;
and, as Glode said, were used as supi^orts in making the
dam. Above was a long meadow of wild grass to which
the white gaunt stems of dead pines, drowned ages since
by the heightened level of the stream, imparted a deso-
late appearance, and near the head of which the beavers
had their habitations." ;.

This dam, and one or two others which I had an i^

opportunity of observing, was built straight across the i.

stream, but it is a well authenticated fact that in laroer ''

works, where the channel is broader, and liable to heavy ;

waters, the dam is made convex to the current. Some-
times a small island in the centre is taken advantaae of,
and the dam built out to it from either bank, as in-
stanced by a very large one noticed on the Sable river, a
few miles west of Rossignol, where the sticks used in its

174 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

construction were often three inches in diamotcr, and the
country above, on either side, flooded to the extent of
nearly two feet, covering about one thousand acres of
meadow land. These dams possess great strength and
dural)ility. In old and deserted works trees spring from
the soil, which is plentifully mixed with the brushwood
and grass covers the embankment.* Many such monu-
ments of the former labours of the beaver are to be seen
in Nova Scotia, in districts long since untenanted.

As the beaver residing on the lakes does not build a
I dam in the vicinity of his dwelling, the reason of the

strong instinct implanted in this animal to j)roduce these
marvellous constructions under other circumstances be-
comes apparent.f Whenever, from the situation or nature
of the water, there is a iirobability of the supply becom-
ing shortened by drought, and to ensure sufficient water
* to enter his dwelling from beneath the ice in winter, the
beaver constructs a dam below to maintain the supply of
water necessary to meet either of these contingencies.
In former years, when beaver abounded in all j)<irts of

* Mr. Tliomps.)!!, whose writings are preserved in Canada as most valualde
and authentic, speaking of a beaver-dam which he saw, states : " On a tine
afternoon in October, 1794, the leaves beginning to fall with every breeze,
my guide informed me tliat we should have to pass over a long beaver-dam.
I naturally expected that we should have to lead our horses carefully over it.
Wh(;n we came to it, we found it a stripe of a2)parently old solid ground,
covered wdth short grass, and wide enough for two horses to walk abreast.
\ The lower side showed a descent of seven feet, and steep, with a rill of

j water from beneath it ; the side of tlie dam next the water was a gentle

slope. To the southward was a slieet of water of about one mile and a half
s(j^uare, surrounded by low grassy banks. The forests were mostly of poplar
and aspen, with numerous stumps of the trees cut down, and partly carried
away by the beavers. In two places of tliis pond were a cluster of beaver-
houres like miniature villages."

t I have, however, seen the outlet of very small lakes dammed up,
evidently to raise the level of the surface to some eligible site near the
margin, which has offered some advantage or other.

LAKE DWELLERS. 176

tlio Province, it is evident from the numerous l)(\iver
meadows now left dry, that tlicy took advantage not
only of valleys traversed by small brooks, hut even of
swampy lands occasionally inundated hy heavy rains.

The beaver-house is constructed of the same materials
as the dam. Branches of trees and bushes, partially
trimmed and closely interwoven, are mixinl with stones,
gravel or mud, according to the nature of the soil ; and
on the outside are strewed the barked sticks of willow,
poplar, or birch, on which the animal feeds. As before
stated, it looks like a huge bird's nest, turned upside
down, and is generally located in the grassy coves of
lakes, by the edge of still-water runs or of artificial
ponds, and, less frequently, by a river side, where a bend
or jutting rocks afford a deep eddying pool near the
bank. The house rests on the bank, but always overlaps
the water, into which the front part is immersed ; and,
as a general rule, the bottom of the stream or lake is
deepened in the channel approaching the entrance by
dredging, thereby ensuring a free passage below the ice.
In these channels or canals, easily found by probing
with the paddle, the hunter sets his iron spring-traps.
The following passages from my camp notes describe the
construction of the beaver-house, as diown in all the
habitations w^hich we examined in these waters : — •

" Foot of Rossignol, September 4.
" Camped on a be.'iutiful spot, the eftiuence of the
river from the lake, in Indian parlance, the ' segedwick,'
always a favourite camping ground. It was a decided
oak opening, an open grove of white oaks, with a soft
sward underneath ; the trees were grouped as in a park.

176 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

A few low islands covered with ferns partially broke the
breadth of the river, which here left the smooth expanses
of the lake on its race to the Atlantic, about twenty
miles below ; and here our rods bent incessantly over
the struggles of trout, frequently two at a time. vVe
intend staying here several days to rest after the long
weary journey up and down the Tobiaduc stream ; and
as it is now September, a brace or two of ruffed grouse, or
even a moose steak, may add to our hitherto scanty forest
fare of porcupine and trout. Beneath these white oaks
repose the sii-es of the Micmacs of this district ; it was
once a populous village, of which the only remaining
tokens are the L^'velling mounds covered with fern, and
the plentiful bones, the produce of the chase, scattered
over the ground. Our canoe-men seemed quite subdued,
perhaps a little overcome by superstitious awe on pitch-
ing our camp her(3 on the site of their ancestors' most
favoured residence. With a road through to the town
of Liverpool, this lovely spot will one day, ere long,
become a thriving settlement. I wouhl desire no more
romantic retreat were I to become a settler ; but always
bear in mind the lesson inculcated for all intending mili-
tary settlers who may be carried away by their enthu-
siasm for the picturesque scenery of the summer and fall
in Nova Scotia, to try their luck away back from civili-
zation, in the well-told and pathetic story of ' Cucumber
Lake,' by Judge Haliburton. To-day Glode and I walked
back from the lake about three miles, through thick
woods, to sec a beaver-house on a brook of which he
knew. We found it without difficulty, as the grass and
fern for some distance below was much trodden down,
and proceeded to make a careful investigation of its

LAKE DWELLERS. 177

structure;. Its site was a dismal one. The surroundinfif
forest had been burnt ages since, for there was no char-
coal left on the stems, which were bleached and hard as
adamant. A few alders, swamp maples, and biicrs
fringed the brook, the banks of which were overgrown
with tall grass, flags, and royal fern. Moose had re-
cently passed through, browsing on the juicy stems of
the red maples. It was a large house ; its diameter at
the water line nearly eighteen feet, and it was nearly
five feet in height. On the outside the sticks were
thrown somewhat loosely, but, as we unpiled them and
examined the structure more closely, the work appeared
better, the boughs laid more horizontally, and firmly
bound in with mud and grass. About two feet from the
top we unroofed the chamber, and presently disclosed the
interi or arrangements.

" The cliaml)er — there w^as l)ut one — was very low,
scarcely two feet in height, though about nine feet in
diameter. It had a gentle slope upwards from the water,
the margin of which could be just seen at the edge.
There were two levels inside, one, which we will term
the hall, a sloping mudbank on which the animal emerges
from the subaqueous tunnel and shakes himself, and the
other an elevated bed of boughs ranged round the back
of the chamber, and much in the style of a guard-bed —
i.e., the sloping wooden trestle usually found in a military
guard-room. The couch was comfortably covered with
lengths of dried grass and rasped fibres of wood, similar
to the shavings of a toy-broom. The ends of the timbers
and brushwood, which projected inwards, were smoothly
gnawed off all round. There were two entrances — tlic
one led into the water at the edge of the cliamber and

176 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

let in the light, the other went down at a dec per angle
into black water. The former was evidently the summer
entrance, the latter being used in winter to avoid the
ice. The interior was perfectly clean, no barked sticks
(the refuse of the food) being left about. These were all
distributed on the exterior, a fact which accounts for the
bleached appearance of many houses we have seen. In
turning over the materials of the house, I picked up
several pieces of wood of but two or three inches in
length, which from their shortness puzzled me as to the
wherefore of so much trouble being taken by tlie beaver
for so (apparently) small a purpose. My Indian, how-
ever, enliglitened me. The side on which a young tree
is intended to fall is cut through, say two- thirds, the
other side one-third, and a little above. The tree slips
off the stem, but will not fall prostrate, owing to the
intervention of branches of adjacent trees. So the beaver
has to gnaw a little above to start it again, exactly on
the plan adopted by the lumberer in case of a catch
amongst the upper branches, when the impetus of another
slip disengages the whole tree. The occupants of the
house were out for the day, as they generally are
throughout the summer, being engaged in travelling up
and down the brooks, and cutting provisions for the
winter's consumption. Returning to camp by another
route through the woods, we had to cross a large wild
meadow now inundated — a most disagreeable walk
through long grass, the water reaching above the knees.
At the foot, where Glode said a little sluggish brook ran
out, we found a beaver-dam in process of construction —
the work quite fresh, and ac(!ounting for the inundation
of the meadow above."

=:.

:•

LAKE DWELLERS. 179

" September 5.
" Glode and I tried creeping moose, back in the woods,
this morning, but without success. No wind and an
execrable country ; all windfalls and tliiftk woods, or else
burnt barrens. Follow fresh tracks of an enormous bull,
but are obliged to leave them for want of a breeze to
cloak our somewhat noisy advance amongst the tall
huckleberry bushes. Indians are particularly averse to
starting game when there is no chance of killing. It
scares the country unnecessarily. Disturb a bear revel-
ling amongst the berries, and hear him rush off in a
thick swamp. Lots of bear signs everywhere in these
woods. In the evening proceed up the lake with one of
the canoes. The water calm, and a most lovely sunset.
Passing a dark grove of hemlocks, we hear two young
bears calling to one another with a sort of plaintive moan.
The old ones seldom cry out, being too knowing and
ever on the watch. At the head of a grassy cove stood
a large beaver-house ; and, as it was now the time of day
for the animals to swim round and feed amongst the
yellow water-lilies, we concealed ourselves and canoe
amongst the tall grass for the purpose of watching.
But for the mosquitoes, which attacked us fiercely,
it was a most enjoyable evening. The gorgeous sunset
reflected in the lake vied with the shadows of the crim-
son maples ; and every bank of woods opposed to the
sun was suffused with a rich orange hue. The still air
bore to our ears the sound of a fall into the lake, some
three miles away, as if it were close by, and tlu* cry of
the loon resounded in every direction. Wood-ducks and
black ducks flew past in abundance, and within easy
range of our hidden guns ; and long diverging trails in the

N li

180 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

iniiTor-like surface showed the passage of otter or musk-
rats over the lake. Presently the water broke seme sixty
yards from us, and the head and back of a beaver
showed above the surface, whilst another appeared nlmost
simultaneously farther off. After a cautious glance
around, the animal dived again with a roll like that
of a porpoise, reappearing in a few minutes. He was
feeding on the roots of the yellow lilies (Nupliar ad vena).
Probably three minutes elapsed during each visit to the
bottom. Taking advantage of one of these intervals,
the Indians pushed the canoe from the concealment
of the grass, and with a few noiseless yet vigorous
strokes of the paddle made towards the spot where we
supposed the animal would rise. As the head reappeared,
we let fly witli the rifle, but missed the gpme, the report
echoino; from island to island, and evokino; most discordant
yells from the loons far and near. Of course we had
seen all that was to be seen of the animals for the
night ; ' and so,' as Mr. Pepys would say, ' disconsolate
back to camp.' "

During the excursion we had opportunities of examining
many beaver-houses, placed in every variety of situation
• — by the lake shore, by the edge of sluggish " still
waters," on the little forest brook, or on the brink of
the rapid river. They all presented a similar appear-
ance — equally rough externally, and all similarly con-
structed inside. Neither could we observe anything
like a colony of beavers, their houses grouped in close
proximity, as so frequently noticed by travellers. The
beaver of Eastern America appears, indeed, quite un-
sociable in comparison with his brethren of the West.
We siiw none but isolated dwellings either on lake or

LAKE DWELLERS. 181

river-shore, and these placed at several hundred yards
apart from each oth(»r.

With respect to the number of animals living together
in the same house, our Indians, who had lived in this
neighbourhood and Jmnted beaver from their youth,
corroborated the fact, often stated by naturalists, of
three generations living together— the old pair, the last
progeny, and the next elcl st (they generally have two
at a birth) ; the latter leaving every summer to set up
for themselves.

At the time of our visit the beavers were retu ruins:
from the summer excursions up and down the rivers, and
setting to work to repair damages both to houses and
dams. This work is invariably carried on during the night ;
and the following is the modus operandi: — Repairing
to the thickets and groves skirting the lake, the beaver,
squatting on his hams, rapidly gnaws through the stems
of trees of six or even twelve inches diameter, with its
powerful incisors. These are again divided, and dragged
away to the house or dam. The beaver now plunges into
the water, and Imngs up the mud and small stones from
the bottom to the work in progress, carrying them closely
under the chin in its fore paws. The vulgar opinion that
the broad tail of the beaver was used to plaster down the
mud in its work, has long since been pronounced as erro-
neous. Its real use is evidently to counterpoise, by an
action against the water in an upward direction, the
tendency to sink head foremost (which the animal would
otherwise have) when propelling itself through the water
by its powerful and webbed hind feet, and at the same
time supporting the load of mud or stones in its fore
paws under the chin. Our Indians laughed at the idea

182 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

of the trowel story. That, and the assertion that the
tail is likewise used as a vehicle for materials, may be
considered as exploded notions.

The food of the beaver co^isists of the bark of several
varieties of willow, of poplar, and birch ; tlicy also feed
constantly during summer on the roots and tendrils of
the yellow pond lily (Nuphar advena). They feed in the
evening and throughout the night. For winter supplies
the saplings of the above-mentioned trees are cut into
lengtlis of two or three feet, and planted in the mud
outside the house. Lengths are brought in and the bark
devoured in the hall, never on the couch, and when
peeled, the sticks are towed outside and used in the spring
to repair the house.

The house is approached from the water by long
trenches, hollowed out to a considerable depth in the
bottom of the lalce or brook. In these are piled their
winter stock of food, short lengths of willow and poplar,
which, if left sticking in the mud at the ordinary level of
the bottom below the suiface, would become im'pacted in
the ice. The beaver travels a lonir distance from his
house in search of materials, both for building and food.
I saw the stumps of small trees, which had been felled at
least three-quarters of a milo, from the house. Their
towing power in the water, and that of traction on dry
land, is astonishing. The following is rather a good
story of their coolness and enterprise, told me by a friend,
who was a witness to the fact. It occurred at a little
lake near the head waters of Roseway river. Having
constructed a raft for the purpose of poling round the
edge of the lake, to get at the houses of the beaver, which
were built in a swampy savannah otherwise inaccessible,

LAKE DWELLERS. 183

it had been left in the evenin«T; moored at tlie edge of the
lake nearest the camps, and about a quarter of a mile
from the nearest beaver house, the poles lying on it.
Next morning, on going down to the raft the poles were
missing, so, cutting fresh ones, he started with the Indians
towards the houses. There, to his astonishment, was one
of the poles, coolly deposited on the top of a house.

Besides the house, the beaver has another place of
residence in the summer, and of rcstreat in the winter,
should his house be ])roken into. In the neighbourhood
of the house long burrows, ► oad enough for the beaver
to turn in with ease, extend from ten to twenty feet in
the bank, and have their entrance at a considerable depth
below the surface of the water. To these they invariably
fly when surprised in their houses.

One of the principal causes which have so nearly led
to the extermination of the beaver, was the former demand
for the castoreum, and the discovery that it could be used
as an unfailing bait for the animal itself. This substance
is contained in two small sacs near the root of the
tail, and is of an orange colour. Now seldom em-
ployed in pharmacology for its medicinal properties
(stimulant and anti-spasmodic), being superseded by
more modern discoveries, it is still used in trapping the
animal, as the most certain bait in existence.""' It is said

• Ei'inan thus notices it in his Siherian travels : — "There is hardly .any
drug which reconinieuds itself to man so powerfully by its impression on
the external senses as this. The Ostyaks were acquainted with its virtues
from the earliest times ; and it was related here (Obdorsk) that they keep a
supply of it in every yurt, that the women may recover their strength more
quickly after child-birth. Li like manner the Kosaks and Russian traders
have exalteil the beaver-stone into a panacea.

" To the sentence ' God arose, and our enemies were scattered,' the Sibe-
rians add, very characteristically, the apocryphal interpolation, ' and we are
free from head-ache.' To ensure this most desirable condition, every one

1B4 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

to be likewise efficacious in trapping the wild cat, which
is excessively fond of the odour. jNIr. Thompson, a
Canadian writer, thus speaks of it : — " A few years ago
the Indians of Canada and New Brunswick, on seeing
the steel trap so successful in catching foxes and other
animals, thought of applying it to the beaver, instead of
the awkward wooden traps they made, wliicli often failed.
At first they were set in the landing paths of the beaver,
with about four inches of water over them, and a piece
of green aspen for a bait, that would allure it to
the trap. Various things and mixtures of ingredients
were tried without success ; but chance made some try if
the male could not be caught by adding the castoreum,
beat up with the green buds of the aspen. A piece of
willow about eight inches in lenu;th, beat and bruised
fine, was dipped in tliis mixture. Tt was i)laced at the
water edge about a foot from the steel trap, so that the
beaver should pass direct over it and be caught. This
trap proved successful ; but, to the surprise of the Indians,
the females were caught as well as the males. The secret
of this bait was soon spread ; every Indian procured from
the trader four to six steel traps ; all labour was now at an
end, and the hunter moved about with pleasure, with his
traps and infallible bait of castoreum. Of the infatuation
of this animal for castoreum I saw several instances. A
trap was negligently listened by its small chain to the
stake, to prevent the beaver taking away the trap when
caught ; it slipped, and the beaver swam away with the
trap, and it was looked upon as lost. Two nights after

has recourse, at home or on his travels, and Avith the finnest faith, to two
medicines, and only two, viz., beaver-stone, or heaver eliinx as it is here
called, and sal-ainnioniac."

LAKE DWELLERS. 1*^5

he was taken in a trap, with the other trap fast on his
thigh. Another time a beaver, passing over a trap to get
the castoreum, had his hind leg broken ; with his teeth
he cut the l)roken leg off, and went awa} . We concluded
that he would not come a^jain : but two nights afterwards
he was found fast in a trap, in every case tempted by the
castoreum. The stick was always licked or sucked clean,
and it seemed to act as a soporific, as they always re-
mained more than a day without coming out of their
houses."

And yet the beaver is an exceedingly wary animal,
possessing the keenest sense of smell. In setting the
large iron traps, without teeth, which are generally used
in Nova Scotia, and placed in the paths leading from the
house to the grove where he feeds, so careful must be the
hunter not to leave his scent on the spot, that he gene-
rally cuts down a tree and walks on its branches towards
the edge of the path, afterwards withdrawing it, and
plentifully sprinkling water around.

The presence of the beaver in his snow-covered house
is readily detected by the hunter in winter by the appear-
ance (if the dwelling is tenanted) of what is called the
" smoke hole," a funnel-shaped passage formed by the
warm vapour ascending from the animals beneath.

With regard to specific distinction of the beavers of
America, Europe, and Asia, the remarks of Professor
Baird, of the Smithsonian Institute, in his report of the
mammals of the Pacific railroad routes, summing up the
evidence of naturalists on the comparative anatomy of
the Castors of the Old and New Worlds, appear worthy of
note as establishing a satisfactory result.

The question has been elaborately discussed, and the

■!'

186 FOREST LIFE IN ACAD IE.

results of many comparisons show considerable difference
of arrangement of bones of the skull, a slight difference
as regards size and colour, and an important one as
regards both the form of the castoreum glands, and the
composition of the castoreum itself. Professor Owen,
Bach, and others agreeing on a separation of species.'*
Hence, instead of being termed Castor Fil)er (Var. Ami'ri-
canus), the American Beaver now, (and but recently),
is designated as Castor Canadensis, so termed rather than
C. Americanus, from the prior nomenclature of Kuhl.

THE MUSK EAT (Fiber Zibethicus of Cuvier) is so
like a miniature beaver, both in conformation and habit,
that Linna3us was induced to class it amongst the Castors.
Like that of the latter animal its tail is flattened, though
vertically and to a much less extent, and is proportionally
longer. It is oar-shaped, whilst the form of the beaver's
tail has been aptly compared to the tongue of a manmial.
J')oth animals have the same long and lustrous brown-red
hair, with a thick undercoat of soft, downy fur, which, in
the musk rat, is of a blueish gray or ashes colour, in the
beaver ferruginous. The little sedge-built water hut of
the rat is similarly constructed to the beaver's dome
of barked sticks and brushwood, and both have burrows
in the banks of the river side as summer resorts.

The range of the musk rat throughout North America
is co-extensive with the distribution of the beaver, and it

* Dr. Brandt, who has written a most elaborate exposition on the differ-
ences of the beavers of the Old and New Worlds, states the eastoreuni-bag
of the American to l)e more elonjfated and thinner skinned than that of the
European ; and that in the secretion of the latter species there is a much
larger proportion of etherial oil, castorine, and castoreum-resinoid. — Vide
liaird's Alammals of Pacific Route.

LAKE DWELLERS. 187

still continues plentiful in Eastern America in spite of
the immense numbers of skins exported every year. The
Indians are ever on the look-out for them on the banks
of the alluvial rivers entering the Bay of Fundy, in which
they especially abound, and in every settler's barn may be
seen their jackets expanded to dry.

Their little flattened oval nests, composed of bents
and sedges, are of frequent occurrence by lake margins ;
and very shallow grassy ponds are sometimes se(;n dotted
with them quite thickly. On the muddy banks of rivers
their holes are as numerous as those of the European
water-rat, the entrance just under the surfa(.'e of the
water, and generally marked by a profusion of the shells
of the fresh-water mussel. Tliey are vegetable feeders,
with, I believe, this solitary exception, though I am sorry
to have to record, from my own experience, that can-
nibalism is a not unfrequent trait when in confinement.

To the canoe-voyageur, or the fisherman on the forest-
lakes, the appearance of the miisk rat, sailing round in
the calm water on tie approach of sunset, when in fine
summer weather the l)almy west wind almost invariably
dies away and leaves the surface with faithful reflections
of the beautiful maroinal folia2:e of the woods, is one of
the most fixmiliar and pleasing sights of nature. Coming
forth from their home in some shady, lily-bearing cove,
they gambol round in the open lake in widening circles,
apparently fearless of the passing canoe, now and then
divino; below the surface for a few seconds, and re-
appearing with that grace and freedom from splash, on
leavini*; and reffiuning the surface, wdiich characterise the
movements both of this animal and of the beaver.

Travelling down the Shubenacadie and other gently-

18W FOREST LTFR IN AOADIE.

running forest-stroains in duy-time, I have often seen
tlicni crossing and re-crossing tlie surface in the quiet
reaches through chirk (overhanging woods, carrying in
their mouths pieces of bracken, prol>iil)ly to feed on the
stem, though it seemed as if to sha(h' themselves from
tlie sunbeams ghuicin*' throujTjh the foliaijc.

The Miemac calls this little animal " Kewesoo," and is
not impartial to its flesh, which is delicate, and not unlike
that of rabbit.

I have heard of a worthy Catholic priest who most
conveniently adopted the belief that both beaver and
musk rat were more of a fishy than a fleshy nature, and
thus mitigated the rigours of a fast-day in the backwoods
by a roasted beaver-tail or savoury stew. By the Indians
of Nova Scotia or New Brunswick the flesh of the former
animal is rarely tasted, but to the wilder hunters of New-
foundland it is the primest of forest meats. The musk
rat will readily swim up to the call of the hunter— a sort
of plaintive squeak made by chirping with the lips applied
to the hollow of closed hands.

The acclimatisation of both these rodents in England
has been frequently advocated of late. In the case of
the beaver, which in historic times was an inhabitant of
Wales and Scotland, according to Giraldus, its introduc-
tion must be at the expense of modern cultivation, from
its tendency to destroy surrounding growths of young
forest trees, and to make ponds and swamps of lands
already drained. The musk rat, I am inclined to think,
in concurrence with Mr. Crichton's opinion, would prove
a valuable addition to the bank fauna of sluggish Enixlish
streams.

I have thus classed together as true lake dwellers these

LAKE DWKLLEItS. 180

two first-coiisiiis, as tlicy appojir to bo, the beaver and
the musk rat,'^ yet, as the lieading is somewhat fjinciful,
and my oljcct is to notice the water-freqiu'nting mam-
malia of tlie W(jodH, I will proceed to mention otlier
animals which i)rowl round the mari^ins of hikes or
brooks, more or less taking to the water, undiir the sub-
divisional title of " dwellers by lake shores."

THE OTPER of Eastern Americui (Lutra Canadensis),
(there is a distinct species found on the Pacific slope,)
differs from the European animal in colour, size, and con-
formation. The former is much the darkest colouri'd, a
peculiarity attaclnul to many North American mammals
when compared with their Old-Woi-ld congeners. It is
also the largest. Taken ^^ct se, but slight importance
would attach to such variations ; and it is on the grounds
of well-ascertained osteological differences only that the
separation of species in the case of both the beaver and
the otter of America has been agreed on.

The Canadian otter measures from nose to tip of tail,
in a large specimen, between four and a-half and five feet ;
its colour is a dark chestnut brown or liver, and its fur is
very close and lustrous. Under the throat and belly it is
lighter, approaching to tawny. The breeding season is in
February and early March (of wild cat and fox, ibid), and
the she otter brings forth in May a litter of three or four
pups. The clear whistle of the otter is a very common
sound to the ear of the occupant of a fishing camj), and
the Indians frequently call them up by successful imita-
tion of their note. The skin is valuable and much sought

* The musk-rat is often found as an occu})ant of an old beaver-house
deserted bv the latter animal.

''tl

li)0 FOREbT LIFE IN ACADIE.

after in the mnnufactiire of nuifFs, trinimiiigs, and espe-
cially of the tall ornamental fur caps generally worn as
part of the winter ct)stiime in Canada. The price of the
skin varies according to season, good ones bringing fi-om
four to six dollars each.

They are most frequently taken in winter by traps —
dead-falls placed over little forest brooks trickling be-
tween lakes, and steel-traps submerged at a hand's
depth close to the bank, where they come out from
under the ice to their paths and "rubs." These re-
sorts are readily detected by the tracks and stains on
the snow, and the smooth, shining appearance of the
frozen bank where they indulge in their curious amuse-
ment of sliding down, after the manner of the pas-
time termed in Canachi " trebogining." Even in con-
finement the animal is full of sport, and gambols
like a kitten. The term " otter-rub " is applied to the
place where they enter and leave the water, from
their habit of rubbing themselves, like a dog, against a
stump or root on emerging from the water. The
otter is a very wary animal, and I have rarely come
upon and shot them unawares, though in cruising up and
down runs in a canoe in spring I liave often seen their
victims, generally a goodly trout, deserted on hearing the
dip of our paddles, and still floundering on the ice. Fresh-
water fish, including trout, perch, eels and suckers, form
their usual food ; they will also eat frogs. They have
paths through the woods from lake to lake, often ex-
tending over a very considerable distance, and the
shortest cuts that could be adopted — a regular bee-line.
Their track on the snow is most singular. After a yard
or two of foot impressions there comes a long, broad trail.

LAKE DWELLERS. 1!)1

as if made by a cart-wlicel, where the animal must have
thrown itself on its belly and slid along the surface for
several yards.

THE FISHER, Black Cat, or Pecan (INTustela Pen-
nautii), the largest of the tree martens, a somewhat
fox-like weasel, which lives almost constantly in trees,
is another dweller by lake shores, though not in the
least aquatic in its habits, and, not being piscivorous,
quite unentitled to the name first given. Its general
colour is dark brown with uncertain shades, a dorsal
line of black, sliining hair nniching from the neck to the
extremity of the tail. The hair underneath is lighter,
with several patches of white. The eye is very larg(>,
full and expressive.

The skin possesses about the sume value as that of tlie
otter. Squirrels, birds and their eggs, rabbits and grouse,
contribute to its support. The Indians all agTce as to its
alleged habit of attacking and killing the porcupine.
" The Old Hunter " informs me that " it is a well-known
fact that the fisher has been often — veiy often — trapped
with its skin and flesh so filled with quills of this animal
that it has been next to an impossibility to remove the
felt from the carcass. In my wanderings in the woods in
winter time, I have three times seen, where they have
killed porcupine, nothing but blood, nK^ss, and cpiills,
denoting that Mr, F. had partaken of his victim's flesh. 1
searched, but could not find any place where portions of
the an'-^al might have been hidden; this would have
been a circumstance of course easy to ascertain on the
snow. Now what could have become of that for-
midable fighting tail and the bones ? I know that a

u„«.

192 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE,

snicall dog can neither cmek the latter, nor those of
the beaver."

Mr. Andrew Downs, the well-known Nova Scotian
practical naturalist, says he has often found porcu-
pine-quills in the fisher's stomach on skinning the
animal.

The fisher is becoming rare in the forests of Acadie.
According to Dr. Gilpin, a hundred and fifty to two hun-
dred is the usual annual yield of skins in Nova Scotia,
and these chiefly come from the Cobequid range of hills
in Cumberland.

The length of the animal, tail included, is from forty
to fifty inches, of which the tail would be about
eighteen.

THE MINK (Putorius vison, Aud. and Bach.) is much
more a water-side frequenter than the last described
animal, and indeed is quite aquatic in its habits, being
constantly seen swimming in lakes like the otter, which
it somewhat resembles in its taste for fish and frogs.
The mink has, moreover, a strong propensity to maraud
poultry yards, and is trapped by the settler, not only in
self-defence, but also on account of the two, three, or
even five dollars obtainable for a good skin. The general
colour is dark, reddish-brown, and the fur is much used
for caps, boas and muffs. It is a rich and beautiful fur,
finer though shorter than that of the marten.

The droppings of the mink may be seen on almost
every flat rock in the forest brook, and where their runs
approach the water's edge, perhaps leading through a gap
between thickly-growing fir stems, are placed the nume-
rous traps devised to secure the prize by settlers and

III'

LAKE DWELLP:RS.

i!);3

Inclums. Fish, flesh, or fowl alike may form the bait-
a pieee of gaspereau, or the liver of a rabbit or porcupine'
1. very enticing. With its half-webbe.l feet an,l aqivtic'
habits, the American mink appears to have a well-marked
Jiuropean representative in the hitreola of Finhuid.

I r

CHAPTER VIII.

CAVE LODGERS.

THE BLACK BEAR.

(Ursus Aviericanus, Pallas.)

This species has a most extensive range in North
America, is common in all wooded districts from the
mouths of the ]\Iississippi to the shores of Hudson's
Bay, from the Labrador, Newfoundland, and the islands
of the Gulf, to Vancouver, and is found wherever
northern fir-thickets or the tangled cane-brakes of more
southern regions oiler him a retreat.

In the Eastern woodlands the black bear (here the
sole representative of his genus) is the only large wild
animal that becomes offensive when numerous, as he is
still in all the Lower Provinces. He is a continual source
of anxious dread to the settler, whose cattle, obliged to
wander into the woods to seek provender, often meet
their fate at the hands of this lawless freebooter, who
will also burglariously break into the settler's barn, and,
abstracting sheep and small cattle, drag them off into
the neighbouring woods. And he is such an exceed-
ingly cunning, wide-awake beast that it is very seldom
he can be pursued and destroyed by the bullet, or
deluded into the trap or snare ; and hence he is not

CAVE LODGERS. 195

SO often killed as his numbers and bad character mijrht
warrant.

Compared with the U. Arctos — the common brown
btar of Europe — the black bear shows many well-marked
dii^^inctions, the grizzly (U. horrilnlis) claiming a much
clcse.'" relationship with the former. Professor Baird
points, however, to important dental differences between
them ; and considers the invariably broader skulls of the
brown bear conclusive as to identity. Perhaps the
greater size of the grizzly might be merely regarded as
owing to geographical variation ; but, taken in conjunc-
tion with the above and other osteological differences,
and the longer claws and shorter ears of the American,
we can only regar^l them as representative species.

The black bear grows to some six feet in length from
the muzzle to the tail (about two inches long), and
stands from three to three and a half feet in height at
the shoulder. The general colour is a glossy black, the
sides of the muzzle pale brown; there is no wool at the
base of the hair. In many specimens observed in Nova
Scotia I have seen groat differences both as regards
colour of the skin and length of leg — even in breadth of
the skulls. Some animals are brown all over, others glossy
black, and wanting the cinnamon patch at the muzzle.
There are long and low bears, whereas others have short
bodies and great length of limb. The settlers, of course,
as they do in the case of other animals, insist upon two
species : my own conclusion is that the species is very
susceptible of variation. They have a mythical bear
called " the ranger," which does not hybernate, and is
known by length of limb, and a white spot on the breast.
This latter peculiarity I have seen in several skins, but

o 2

196 FOREST LIFE LN ACADIE.

f" have only noticed traclcB of bears on the snow in winter,

when a sudden and violent rainstorm, or a prolonged

f^f* thaw has flooded their den, and sent them forth to look

for fresh shelter, as they cannot endure a wet bed during
hybernation.

The bear is very particular in choosing a comfortable
dormitory for his long winter s nap. In walking through
the woods, you will find plenty of caves— likely looking
places for a bear's den — but " Bruin," or rather " Mooin,"
as the Indians call him (a name singularly like his Euro-
pean sobriquet in sound) would not condescend to use
one in a hundred, perhaps. He must have a nice dry
place, so arranged that the snow will not drift in on his
back, or water trickle through ; for he grumbles terribly,
when aroused from his lair in mid-winter, either by the
hunter's summons or unseasonable weather. And then
he is so cautious — the Indians say " he think all the same
as a man " — that he will not go into it if there are any
sticks cut in the vicinity by the hands of man, or
any recent axe-blazings on the neighbouring trees.
Another thing he cannot endure, is the presence of the
porcupine. The porcupine (Erethizon dorsatus) lives in
rocky places, full of caves, and often takes possession of
large roomy dens, which poor Mooin, coming up rather
in a hurry, having stopped out blueberry picking rather
later than usual, and till all was blue, might envy, but
would not share on any account. The porcupine is not
over-cleanly in his habits, besides not being a very
pleasant bedfellow cq^rojws of his quills; but to which
of these traits the bear takes objection I cannot say —
perhaps both. The quills are very disagreeable weapons,
and armed with a little barbed head ; when they pierce

■'.\^

I •

CAVE LODGEUS. 107

the skin they are very difficult of extraction, and a
portion, breaking off in the wound, will traverse under
the surface, reappearing at some very distant point.

Having determined on his winter's residence, and
cleaned it out before the commencement of winter (the
extra leaves and rubbish scraped out around the entrance
being a sure sign to the hunter that the don will afford
him one skin at least, when the winter's snow shall have
well covered the ground), Mooin, finding it very difficult
to procure a further supply of food, and being, moreover,
in a very sleepy frame of mind and body — fiit as a prize
pig from recent excessive gorging on the numerous berries
of the barren, or mast under the beechwoods— turns in
for the winter ; if he has a partner, so much the better
and the warmer. He lies with his fore-arms curled
around his head and nose, which is poked in under-
neath the chest. Here he will sleep unintermptedly
till the warm suns late in March influence his som-
niferous feelings, uidess hifi sweet mid-winter rej)ose
be cut short by a sharp poke in the ribs with a pole,
when he has nothing for it but to collect his almost
lost power of reflection, and crawl out of his den —
saluted, as he appears, by a heavy crushing blow over
the temples with the back of nn axe, and a volley of
musket balls into his body as he reels forward, which
translates him into a longer and far different state of
sleep.

There has been great uncertainty as to what time the
female brings forth her young ; some say that it is not
until she leaves her winter quarters in the early spring,
and that though the she -bear has been started from her
den in winter, and two little shapeless things found left

193 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

r:i.

behind, these are so absurdly small as to appear pre-
mature. And then comes the old story of the little ones

^ being produced without form, and afterwards licked into

shape in the den. Even the Indians possess many dif-
ferent ideas on this subject, often affirming that the old
bear has never been shot and discovered to be with
young. Now all this is great nonsense, and as I know of
an instance in which a bear was shot, a few years since,
on the 14th of February, suckling two very little ones in
an open primitive den, formed merely by a sheltering
windfall, and also have consulted the testimony of tra-
vellers on the habits of hybernating bears of other

[.• descriptions, capping all by the reliable evidence of my

> old Indian hunter, John Williams, I am convinced that

the following is the true state of the case : — The she-
bear gives l»irth to two cubs, of very small dimensions

" — not much larger than good- sized rats — about the

middle of Feln'uary, in the den ; and here she subsists
them, without herself ol)taining any nourishment, until
the thaws in March. A few years ago a cub was brought
; to me in May by a settler, who had shot the mother and

kidnapped one of her offspring; it was a curious little
animal, not much larger than a retriever pup of a few

.' weeks old, and a strange mixture of fun and ferocity.

: The settler, as I handed him the purchase money — one

dollar — informed me that it was as playful as a kitten ;
and, having placed it on the floor, and given it a basin of
bread and milk, which it immediately upset — biting the
saucer with its teeth as though it suspected it of trying
to withhold or participate in the enjoyment of its con-
tents — it commenced to evince its playful disj)osition by
gambolling about the room, climbing the legs of tables,

,• 'I

':"s "■

CAVE LOOdEKS. 10:t

hauling off the covers with superincumbent ornaments,
and tearing sofa covers, until I was fain to end the
scene by securing tlie young urchin. But I got such
a bite through my trowsers that I never again admitted
him indoors. I never saw such a little demon ; when
fed with a bowl of Indian meal porridge, he would bite
the rim of the bowl in his rage, growling frantically, and
then plunge his head into the mixture, the groans and
growls still coming up in bubbles to the surface, whilst
he swallowed it like a starved j^ig. I afterwards gave
him to a brother otticcr going to England, and whether
(as is the usual fate of bears in captivity) he after-
wards killed a child, and met a felon's death, I never
heard.

The growth of bears is very slow ; they do not reach
their full size for four years from their birth.

On entering his <len for hybernjrtion the bear is in
prime order ; the fat pervades his carcase in exactly the
same manner as in the case of the pig, the great bulk of
it lying, as in the flitch, along tho, back and on either
side ; this generally attains a thickness of four inches,
though in domesticated specimens, fed purposely by North
American hairdressers, it has reached a thickness of eis2,ht
inches. It is by the absorption of this fat throughout
the Ions fast of four months that the bear is enabled to
exist. Of course evaporation is almost at a stand-still,
and a plug, called by the Norwegians the " tappen," is
formed in the rectum, and retained until the spring.
Should this be lost prematurely, it is said that the animal
immediately becomes emaciated.

A large bear at the end of the fall will weigh five and
even six hundred pounds ; this has been increased in

'}^i

\ 'Vi'

2W FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

domesticated npecimens by oatmeal feeding to over seven
Inindrcd.

Having awoke at last, the genial warmth of a spring
day tempts him forth to tiy and find something to
appease the growing cravings of appetite. What is the
hill of fare ? meagre enough generally, for the snow still
covers the dead timber (where he might find colonies of
ants), the roots, and young shoots and buds ; but he
bethinks himself of the cranberries in the open bogs from
which, unshaded by the branches of the dark fir-forest,
the snow has disappeared, disclosing the bright crimson
berries still clinging to their tendrils on the moss-clumjjs
cO-nd rendered tender and luscious by the winter's frost.
Even the rank marsh-grass forms part of his diet ; and, as
the snow disappears, he turns over the fallen timber to
look for such insects as ants or wood-lice, which might
be sheltered beneath. Although so large an animal, he
will seek his food patiently; and the prehensile nature of
his lips enables him to pick up the smallest insect or
forest berry with great dexterity. The runs between the
forest lakes also afford him early and profitable spring
fishing ; and he may be seen lying on the edge of the ice,
fishing for smelts (Osmerus), which delicate little fish
abound in the lakes, near their junction with harbours,
throughout the winter, tipj)ing them out of the water on
'.'•i •'. to the ice behind him in a most dexterous manner with

his paws. Later in the spring he continues his fishing pro-
pensities, and makes capital hauls when the gaspereaux,
or ale wives (Alosa vernalis), — a description of herring —
rush up the forest brooks in countless multitudes, carry-
ing an ample source of food to the doors of settlers living
by the banks in the remotest wilds. Works on natural

ii-.

'f,

;^!i

CAVE L0DOER.S. i>()l

liistoiy supply al)un<laiit evidence of Ids general confor-
mation as a menil)er of the plantigrade family, of the
adaptation of the broad, callous soles of his feet for walk-
ing, sitting on his haunches, or standing erect, and of
the long but not retractile (;laws fitted for digging, l)y
which he can easily ascend a tree, or split the fallen
rampike— like a Samson as he is — striking them into
its surface, and rending it in twain, in search of ants ;
and what a, fearful weapon the; fore-hand becomes, armed
with these terrible claws, when they are sent home into
tlu^ flesh of an enemy (jr intended victim, when(;ver the
rascal takes a notion of laying aside his frugivorous
propensities to satisfy a thirst for stronger meat !

Having noticed his tastes as a herbivorous and ])isci-
vorous animal, we have yet to mention this, in wliicli,
though it has been but sliglitly implanted in him by
nature, he sometimes indulges, and which, once indulged
in, becomes a strong habit, and stamps him as being also
carnivorous. Poor Mooin ! still unsatisfied, and half-
starved— perhaps unsuccessful in his spring-fishing, or
in berrying — hears the distant tinkling of cattle-bells
as the animals wander through the woods from some
neighbouring settlement. Nearer and nearer they come ;
and he advances cautiously to meet them, keeping a
sharp look-out in case they might be attended by a
human being, of whom he has a most wholesome dread.
By a little careful mananivring he drives them into a
deep, boggy swamp where he can at leisure single out
his victim, and, jumping on its back, deals it a few such
terrific blows across the back and shoulders, that the
poor animal soon succumbs, and falls an easy prey.
Stunned, torn, and bcmired, it is then dragged bai.k to

*,i

•20-2 FUUKST IJFK IN ACADIK.

the dry Hlopos of tlic woods and dovoiircd. The settlers
say that the bear, whik; killing his vi(ttiin (which moans
and lu'Uows piteousl) all the while he is beating it to
death in thii swamp), will every now and then retire
to the woods behind and listen for any aj»])roaehing

!'B^ signs of reseue, prior to returning and finishing his

1st' work. This wicked ajjpetite of his often leads to his

^ destruction ; for a search being entailed for the missing

beast, and the remains found, the avenger, on the follow-
ing evening, armed with a gun, goes out to waylay the
bear, who is sure to revisit the carcase. It would never
do to remain in andjush near the sj)ot, for the villain
,j, always comes back on the watch, planting his feet

;>• as cautiously as an Indian creeping on moose, with all

"''■'■ his senses on the (jui vive. So the man, finding l)y his

track in which direction he had retreated from the car-
■^' ' case, goes back into the woods some quarter of a mile or

so, and then secretes himself; and Mooin, not suspecting
V any ambuscade at this distance from the scene of his

1'5 recent feasting, comes along towards sundown, hand over

hand, and probably meets his just fate. Young moose,
too, often fall victims to the bear, though he would
never succeed in an attempt on the life of a full-grown
')'' animal.

The bear is conscious of being a villain, and will never
look a man in the face. This I have observed in the
case of tame animals, and marked the change of expres-
sion in their little treacherous black eye) about the size
of a small marble) just before they were about to do
something mischievous. In their quickness of temper, and
^, in the suddenness with which the usually perfectly dull

f'V'i and unmeaning eye is lighted up with the most wicked

I".;

'■»' V'
I , ■ '

lit.

i^'ii

CAVE LODGERS. 203

expression iiiiiiyinaMe, iiumediutely followed by action,
they put me much in mind of some of the monkey
tribe.

The strength of the bear is really prodigious, fully
equal to that of ten men, as was oiu-e proved by n tanu;
bear in this province hauling a barrel which had been
smeared with molasses, and contained a little oatmeal,
away from the united etibrts of the number of men
mentioned, who held on to a ro}»e passed round the
barrel. The bear walked away with it as easily as p(js-
sible. The same bear, having nearly killed a horse, and
S(;alped a boy, was afterwards destroyed by his owner.
The way he tried to do for the animal was curious
enough; he ai)proached the horse, which was loose in
the road, from behind ; on its attem})ting to kick, the
bear caught hold of its hind legs, just above the fetlocks,
with the quicloiess of lightning ; the horse tried to kick
again, and the bear, with the greatest ;ipparent eas(%
shoved its hind legs under till the horse was fairly
brought on its haunches, when the rascal at once jumped
on its back, and, with one tremendous blow, buried its
powerful claws into the muscle of the shoulder, and the
horse, trembling and in a profuse perspiration, rolled
over and would have been killed if the affair had not
been witnessed and the bear at this juncture driven
away.

I have been told by an Indian of a scene he once wit-
nessed in the woods when resting on the shore of a lake
before proceeding across a portcuje with his canoe. A
crashing of l)ranchcs proclaimed the rapid advance of a
large animal in flight. In a few moments a fine young
moose, about half grovrn, dashed from the forest into the

tlH^

204 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

lake, ciiriying a bear on its shoulders, and at once striiek
jj;; out into deep water. The two were soon separated, and

p^, the Indian at the same time launching his canoe, succeeded

in wounding the bear, which, seeing the man, had turned
back for the shore. The moose escaped on the opposite
side.

In the spring the old she bear, a(3companied by her
brace of little whining cubs, is almost sure to turn on a
human being if suddenly disturbed, though, if made aware
[''.r of coming danger in time, she will always conduct them

out of the way. I have known many instances of settlers,
out trouting by the lakes near home, l)eing chased out of
the woods and nearly run into, by the she bear in spring-
time.

In June, likewise, in tlie running season, it is not safe
to be back in the woods unarmed or alone. A whole
gang will go together, makmg the forest resound with
their hideous snarlino; and loud moaning cries. Hearing

o in o

the approach of such a procession, the sojournei' in camj)
piles fuel on the lire, and keeps watch witli loaded
gan. In old times, before they accpiired the dread of
fire-arms, the India- • -iay these animals were much
Ixjlder.

The bear is readily taken in a dead-fall trap with a bai t
composed of almost anything : a bundle of birch-bark
tied up, and smeared over with a little honey, molasses,
or tallow, answers very well.

They travel through the woods and along the water-
side in well defined paths, which afibrd excellent walking
to the hunter. Bear-traps are placed at intervals in the
vicinity of tlieir roads, and many a rascal loses his jacket
to the settlers in summer time in return for his audacious

CAVE LODGERS. -lo:^

raids on the cattk', to obtain which he will sometimes
break in the side of a barn.

The skin realises from four to twelve dollars, according
to size and condition.

The fall is the best time for bear hunting — " the berry-
ing time," as it is designated by the settlers, when he is
engaged in laying in a stock of corpulency, the material
whereof shall stick to his ribs durin<; the long fast of the
coming winter. So intent is he now on his luscious feast
on blue and whortle berries, that he does not keep as good
a look-out for foes as at other times, and may be easily
detected in tlie early morning by the oliservant hunter,
who knows his habits and meal times, and huits roun<l
the leeward edges of barrens.

Later still, in a good season for beeehmast, he may be
hunted in hard-w^ood hills. A bttle light snow will not
send him home to bed, wdiilst it materially aids the
hunter in tracking the animal. Sometimes the bear will
go aloft for the mast, and even construct a rough platform
amongst the upper branches, where he can rest without
holding on. 1 have seen many such apparent structures,
and could in no other way account for their appearance,
and to this I may add the testimony of the Indian.

The l)ear takes a deal of killing, and will run an in-
credible distance with several mortal wounds. A singular
trait, approaching almost to reflective power, is his habit
of stopping in his flight to pick up wet moss in a swamp
wlierewith to plug up the wound.

I but once surprised a bear in the wood in the act of
feeding, imconscious of my approach. IMy Indian saw
a portion of his black hair moving just above the side of
a large fallen tree, and in a moment we both lay prostrate.

'^N=v

203 FOKEST LIFE IN ACADIE.

II.

Ifri The animal presently rose from his hitherto recumbent

position and sat up, munching his mouthful of beech-nuts

!'*» with great apparent satisfaction — a magnificent specimen,

'• and black as a coal.

We should now have fired, Init at this juncture, as luck

%■ would have it, a red fox, which our tracks below had

probably disturbed, raced up behind and induced us to
look round. The bear at once sank quietly down behind
the log, and, worming along, bounded over a precipice into
a thick spruce swamp before we were aware that we were
discovered. This fox must have been his good genius.

Notwithstanding the value of the skin and the standing
grievance between the settler of the back-woods and the
black bear, the latter is apparent!} increasing in numbers
in many parts of the Lower Provinces. In Nova Scotia
there is no bounty on their noses, though the wolf (a rare
visitor) is thus pla(ied under a ban. In Anticosti bears
are exceedingly immerous, and a well-organised bear
hunt on this island would doubtless show a wonderful
return of sport ; but then — the flies !

THE CANADA PORCUPINE.

{Erethizon dorsatm, Cuvier.)

This species is common in the woodland districts of
Eastern North America, from Pennsylvania to the Arctic
Cii'cle. West of the Missouri, according to Baird, it is
replaced by the yellow-haired porcupine (E. epixanthus).

A cave-dwelling animal, choosing its residence amongst
the dark recesses of collocated boulders, or the holes at
the roots of large trees, it spends much of its time abroad.

CAVE LODGERS. 207

It is sometimes seen sluggishly reposing in tree tops, where
it gnaws the bark of the young branches ; and is often
(especially in the season of ripe berries) found in the open
barren, though never far away from its retreat. A porcu-
pine's den is easily discovered, both by the broad trail or
path which leads to it, and by the quantity of ordure l)y
which the entrance is marked. From the den the paths
diverge to some favourite feeding ground — perha2)s a
grove of beech, on the mast of which the animal revels in
the fall ; or, if it be winter time, to the shelter of a tall
hemlock spruce. The marks of the claws on the bark are
a ready indication of its whereabouts ; and as the Indian
hunter passes in search of larger game, he knows he is
sure of roast porcupine if venison is not procurable, and
probably tumbles him down on return to camp by a
bullet through the head.

The spines of the Canadian porcupine are about three
inches long, proceeding from a thick coat of dark brownish
hair, mixed with sooty-coloured bristles. They are largest
and most abundant over the loins, where the animal, when
In'ought to a stand, sets them up in a fan-like arc, and
presents a most formidable array of points always turncnl
towards its 02:)ponent. It endeavours at the same time to
strike with its thick muscular tail, leaving, where the
blow falls, a great number of the easily-detached quills
firmly sticking in, rooted by their barbed p(jints.

A porcupine can gallop or shaffle along at a good pace,
and often, when surprised in the open, makes good its
retreat to its rocky den, or gains a tree, up which it
scrambles rapidly out of reach.

The spines are of a dull white colour, with dusky tips.

To the forest Indians of Acadie the porcupine is an

208 FORKST LIFE IX ACADIE.

animal of con.sideral)le importance. It is a very common
arti(;le of food, and its quills are extensively employed by
the squaws in ornamentation. Stained most brilliantly
by dyes either obtained from the woods or purchased in
the settlements, they are worked in fanciful patterns into
1;^ the birch-bark ware (baskets, screens, or trays), which

form their staple of trade with the whites.

All the holes, hollow trees, and rocky precipices in the
neighbourhood of an encampment are continually explored
by Indian boys in search of a porcupine's den.
. ,;, The Indians commonly possess little cur dogs, which

f greatly assist them in discovering the animal's retreat ;

V they will even draw them forth from their holes without

^,. injury to themselves — a feat only to be accomplished by

'- , ixettinir hold of them underneath.

1 It is a curious fact that the settler's dogs in general

evince a strong desire to hunt porcupine, notwithstanding

the Avoeful plight, about the head and forelegs, in which

they come out of the encounter, and the long period of

; inflammation to which they are thereby subjected. The

Indian's porcupine -dog, however, goes to work in a far

: more business-like manner — seldom giving his master

, I occasion to extract a single quill. "The Old Hunter"

■ i tells me as follows : — " I once knew an instance of an

I Indian's dog, quite blind, that was particularly <77'ea< on

'v|. 2wrcupines, so much so, that if they treed, the little

' ,' animal would sit down beneath, occasionally barking, to

f inform its master where lodged the ' fretful ' one. Another

'i i dog belonging to an Indian I knew, was not to be beaten

when once on porcupine. If the animal was in den, in

"'. he went and, if possible, would haul it out by the tail.

, If not strong enough, the Indian would fasten his hand-

'i./i

,- II

CAVE LODGERS. 209

kerchief round his middle, and attach to it a long twisted
withe. The dog would go in, and presently, between
the two, out would come the porcupine."

The porcupine becomes loaded with fat in the fall by
feasting on the numerous berries found on the barrens.
The latter half of September is their running season.
The old ones are then very rank, and not fit to eat.
Their call is a plaintive whining sound, not very dis-
similar to the cry of a calf moose. At this season, when
hunting in the woods, I have frecpiently found old males
with bad wounds on the back — the skin extensively
abraded by, apparently, a high fall from a tree on the
edge of a rock. My Indian says with regard to this, " he
make himself sore back, purpose so as to travel light, and
get clear of his fat."

The female brings forth two at a birth in the den very
early in the spring.

It is a remarkable fact that, though abundant in Nova
Scotia, the porcupine is not found in the island of Cape
Breton, separated oidy by the Gut of Canso in places
but a few hundred yards across. Frequent attempts have
indeed been made by Indians to introduce the animal in
Cape Breton by importation from the south side, but have
always ended in failure. Though the vegetable features
of the island are identical with those of Nova Scotia
proper, the porcupine will not live in the woods of the
former locality. This is a well-ascertained fact, and no
attempt at explanation can be offered.

Again, though it is found on the Labrador, and at the
Straits of Belle Isle, the great island of Newfoundland,
which is thus separated from the mainland, contains no
porcupine.

■ s:

;| 210 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

'% The mannot of the eastern woodlands (Arctomys

: ';"' monax), and the striped ground-squirrel, or " chipmunk "

-i (Tamias striatus, Baird), are more properly burrowing

!| *t animals than cave-dwellers, under which heading we can

J •,' !■;

IC?' class only the bear and the porcupine.

CHAPTER IX.

ACADIAN FISH AND FISHING.

THE BROOK TROUT.

Salmo Fontinalis (Miteliell.)

The following description of this fish — and I believe
the latest — appears in the "Transactions of the Nova
Scotian Institute of Natural Science for 18G6," and is
due to Dr. J. Bernard Gilpin, M.D. : —

" The trout, as usually seen in the lakes about Halifax,
are in lenQ-th from ten to eio-hteen inches, and weiojht
from half a pound to two pounds, though these measure-
ments are often exceeded or lessened. The outline of
back, starting from a rather round and blunt nose, rises
gradually to the insertion of the dorsal fin, about two-
thirds of the length of the head from the nose ; it then
gradually declines to the adipose fin, and about a length
and a half from that runs straight to form a strono- base
for the tail. The breadth of the tail is about equal to
that of the head. Below, the outline runs nearly straight
from the tail to the anal fin; from thence it falls rapidly
to form a line more or less convex (as the fish is in or
out of season), and returns to the head. The inter-inax-
illary very short, the maxillary long with the free end
sharp-pointed, the posterior end of the opercle is more

p 2

H^ '■

■•.■V;-,l

'te

' t,-

,1* '.I

i^U 212 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

angular than in the S. Sahir, the lower ja^v shorter than
upper when closed, api)eanng longer when open. The
eye large, about two diameters from tip of nose ; nostrils
double, nearer the snout than the eye. Of the fins, the
dorsal has ten or eleven rays, not counting the rudimen-
Ml tary ones, in shape irregularly rhomboid, but the free

|':| edge rounded or curved outward : the adipose fin varies,

some sickle-shaped with free end very long, others
having it very straight and short. The caudal fin gently
curved rather than cleft, but differing in individuals. Of
the lower fins they all have the first ray very thick and
flat, and always faced white with a black edge, the other
rays more or less red. The head is blunt, and back
rounded when looked down upon. The teeth are upon
• f the inter- maxillary bone, maxillary bones, the palatine,

and about nine on the tongue. There are none so-called
vomerine teeth, though now and then we find one tooth
behind the arch of the palate, where they are sometimes
irregularly bunched together. The colour Viiries ; but
through all the variations there are forms of colour that,
being always persistent, must be regarded as typical.
There are always vermilion s})ots on the sides ; there
are always other spots, sometimes decided in outline,
in others diffused into dapples, but always present. The
caudal and dorsal fins are always spotted, and of the
prevailing hue of the body. The lower fins have always
broad white edges, lined with black and coloured with
some modification of red. The chin and upper part of
the belly are always white. With these permanent mark-
ings, the body colour varies from horn colour to greenish-
grey, blue-grey, running into azure, black, and black
with warm red on the lower parts, dark green with lower

^■'^:

ACADIAN FISH AND FISHING. 21^

parts bright yellow; and, lastly, in the case of young
fish, with vertical bands of dusky black. The spots
arc very bright and distinct when in high condition or
spawning ; faint, diffused, and running into dapples
when in poor condition. In the f<irmer case all the
hues are most vivid, and heightened l)y profuse nacre.
In the other the spots are very pale yellowish-white,
running on the back into vermicular lines. The iris in
all is dark brown. I have seen the rose or red-coloured
ones at all times of the year. The young of the first
year are greenish horn colour, with br<jwn vertical stripes
and bright scarlet fins and tail, already showing the
typical marks and spots, and also the vermilion specs.
Fin rays D. l.S, P. 113, V. 8, A. 10 ; gill rays 12. Scales
very small; the doi*sal has two rudimentary rays, ten or
eleven long ones, varying in different fish. Typical
marks — axillary plate nearly obsolete, free end of maxil-
lary sharp, bars in young, vermilion specs, both young
and adult lower fins red with white and black edge."

To the above description I would add that the imme-
rous yellow spots which prevail in every specimen of
S. Fontinalis vary from bright golden to pale prinu'ose,
that the colour of the specs inclines more to carmine
than vermilion, and that in bright, well-conditioned fish,
the latter are surrouuded by circlets of pale and purest
azure.

It will thus be seen that the American brook trout is
one of the most beautiful of fresh-water fishes. Just taken
from his element and laid on the moist moss by the edge
of the forest stream, a more captivating form can scarcely
be imagined. His sides appear as if studded with gems.
The brilliant brown eye and bronzy gill-covers reflect

214 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

"l golden lig] it; and the grudations of the dark green back,

'; with its fantastic, lahyriiitliine markings, to tlic soft

! yellow beneath, are marked l)y a (x'litral roseate tinge

;; inclining to lavender or pah^ mauve.

t'^'t Tliis species al)ounds throughout the Northern States

and British provinces, showing a great varii'ty as to

■i form and colour (l)otli external and of the flesh) accord-

:' ing to locality. In the swampy bog-hole the trout is

■ black ; his flesh of a pale yellowish-white, flabby and
insipid. In low-lying forest lakes margined by swamp,
where from a rank soft bottom the water-lilies crop
up and almost conceal the surface near the shores, he
is the same coarse and spiritless fish. Worthless for
the camp frying-pan, we leave him to the tender mercies
of the mink, the eel, and the leech. The bright, bold
trout of the large lakes, is a far different fish. His com-
paratively small and well-shaped head, followed by an
arched, thick shoulder, depth of body, and brilliant

jl'.. colouring ; the spirited dash with which he seizes his prey,

and, finally, the bright salmon-pink hue of his delicate
flesh, make him an object of attraction to both sportsman
and epicure. Such fish we find in the clearest water,
where the shores of the lake are fringed with granite
boulders, with be[iclies of white sand, or disintegrated
granite, where the rush and the water-weeds are only

■ seen in little sheltered coves, where the face of the lake
is dotted with rocky, bush-covered islands, and where
there are great cool depths to which he can retreat
when sickened by the heat of the surface-water at mid-

l sumir "^\

„;(1' Thouo;h more a lacustrine than a river fish, seldom

attaining any size if confined to running, water between

I'l

■^v. .f

t%.

•I

ACADIAN FISH AND FISIIINO. 215

the sea and impassable falls, the American trout is found
to most perfection and in greatest number in hikes wliich
communicate with the sea, and allow him to iiidul«;e
in his well ascertained jiredilcction for salt, or rather
l)ra(^kish tidal-water. A favourite spot is the ddbouchuro
of a lake, where the narrowing water gradually a((|uires
velocity of current, and where the trout lie in skulls and
give the greatest sport to the fly-fisher.

In a recent notice of S. Fontinalis from the pen of an
observant sportsman and naturalist appearing in " Land
and Water," this fish is surmised to be a char. Its claim
to be a member of the Salveline gi-oup is favoured by
reference to its similar habits in visiting the tidal por-
tions of rivers on the part of the char of Norway and
Sweden, its similar deep red colouring on the belly,
and general resemblance. I am quite of "Ubique's"
opinion touching this point, and think the common
name of the American fish should be char. Indeed,
I find the New York char is one of the names it
already bears in an American s^Dorting work, though no
comparison is made. Besides its sea-going propensities,
its preferring dark, still waters, to gravelly shallow
streams, and its resplendent colours when in season, a
most important point of resemblance to the char would
seem to be the minuteness of its scales.

The American trout spawns in October and November
in shallow water, and on gravel, sand, or mud, ac-
cordincr to the nature of the soil at the bottom of his
domains.

In fishino; for trout tlirou2;li the ice in winter to add
to our camp fare, I have taken them at the " run in " to
a large lake, the females full of spawn apparently ready

2lfi FORES'^ LIFE IN AOADIE.

to drop at the end of January, and all in firm condition.

f Tliis would seem a curious delay of tlic spawning season :

.; my Indian stated that trout spawn in early spring as

I 'j. well as in the fall. They congregate at the head of a

%f'» lake in large numbers in winter, and readily take bait, a

piece of pork, or a part of their own white thi'oats, let

down on a hook through the ice. In such localities they

get a good livelihood by feeding on the caddis-worms

which crawl plentifully over the rocks under water.

TROUT FISHING.

Before the ice is fairly ofl' the lakes — and then a
few days must be allowed for the ice-water to run otF —
there is no use in attempting to use the fly for trout
fishing in rivers or runs, though eager disciples of Walton
may succeed in hauling out a few ill-fed, sickly looking
fish from spots of open water by diligently tempting with
the worm at an earlier date. Indeed trout may be taken
with bait through the ice throughout the winter, but they
prove worthless in the eating. But after the warm rain
storms of April have j)eiformcd their mission, and the
>■ f. soft west wind has coursed over the surface of the water,

••]i then may the fisher proceed to the head of the forest

lake and cast his flies over the eddying pool where the
brook enters, and where the hungry trout, aroused to
appetite, are congregated to seek for food.

" Now, when the first foiil torrent of the brooks,
:' Swell'cl with the vernal rains, is eljbed awiiy,

And, whitenin_^ down their niossy-tinctur'd stream
^ - ; Descends the billowy foam : now is the tinie,

ii.-'-'-;V While yet the dark-brown water aids the yuile,

'""'■■ To tempt the trout."

ACADIAN FISH AND FISIIINU. 217

About the 10th of May in Nova Scotia, whon warm
liazy weather occurs with westerly wind, the trout in all
the lakes and streams (an enumeration of which would
be impossible from their extraordinary friMpiency of
occurrence in this province) are in the best mood for
taking the fly ; and, moreover, full of the energy of new
found life, whicli appears in these climates to influence
such animals as have been dormant durinix the long
winter, equally with the suddenly outbursting vegetation.
A few days later, and the great annual feast of the trout
commences — the feast of the May-fly. Emerging from
tlieir cases all round the shores, rocky shallows, and
islands, the May-flies now cover the surface of the lakes in
multitudes, and are constantly sucked in by the greedy
trout, which leave their haunts, and dis})erse themselves
over the lake in search of the alighting insects. Although
the fish thus gorge themselves, and, for some days after
the flies have disappeared, are quite apathetic, they derive
much bf^nefit in flesh and flavour therefrom. The abun-
dance of fish would scarcely be credited till one sees the
countless rises over the surface of the water constantly
recurring during the prevalence of the May-fly. "It's
a steady boil of them," says the ragged urchin with a
long " troutin'-pole," as he calls his weapon, in one hand,
and a hujrc cork at the end of a string with a bunch of
worms attached, in the other.

There is now no one more likely place than another
for a cast. Still sport may be had with the artificial
May-fly, especially in sheltered coves, where the fish
resort when a strong wind blows the insects oflf the open
water. Some anglers of the more patient type will take
fish at this time on the lake by .sitting on rocks, and

218 FOEEST LIFE IN ACADIE.

1^1

gently flipping out a very fine line with minute liooks,
to which the living May-fly is attached by means of a
I^J' little adhesive iir brtlsam, as far as they can on the

I f f, surface of the Avater, where they float till some passing

|r,'^|; fish rises and sucks in the bait. However the best sport

Illfii is to be obtained on the lakes a few days after the

" May -fly glut," as it is termed, is over.

The May and stone flies of America, which make their

I'.'' appearance about the same time, much resemble the

\^(: ephemeral representatives of their order found in the old

country. The Mayfly of the New World is, however,

difterent to the gi .. ._ drake, being of a glossy black

colour.

With the exception of these two insects, we have no
representatives of natural flies in our American fly-books.
The scale is large and the style gaudy ; and, if the bunch
of bright feathers, which sometimes falls over the head
of Salmo fontinalis, were so presented to the view of a
shy English trout, I question whether he would ever rise
to the surface again. Artificial flies are sold in most pro-
vincial towns in the Lower Provinces, and are much sought
for by the rising generation, who, however, often scorn
the store-rod, contenting themselves with a good pliable
wattle cut in situ. It is surprising to see the bunches of
trout the settlers' "sonnies" will bring home from some
little lake, perhaps only known to themselves, which
they may have discovered back in the woods when
hunting up the cows ; and the satisfaction with which
the little ragged urchin will show you barefoot the way
to your fishing grounds, skipping over the sharp granite
rocks strewed in the path, and brushing through fir
thickets with the greatest resolution, all to become pos-

ACADIAN FISH AND FISHING. lM9 |j

sessed of a bunch of your flies and a smidl length of ;

old gut. :

The cast of flies best adapted for general use for trout-
fishing in Nova Scotia consists of the red hackle or palmer,
a bright bushy scarlet fly, with perhaps a bit of gold twist
or tinsel further to enhance its charms, a brown j)alm(>r,
and a yellow-bodied fly of wool with mallard wings. The fl

latter wing on a body of claret wool with gold tinsel is '

also excellent. Many other and gaudier flies are made ||

and sold to tempt the fish later on in the year : they \l

are quite fanciful, and resemble nothing in nature. I j|

cannot recommend the artificial minnow for use in this t|

part of the world, though trout will take them. They J?!

are always catching on submerged rocks, and are very "'|

troublesome in many ways. The most successful minnow i|

1 ever used was one made on the spot by an Indian who -I

was with me after moose — a common large trout-hook
thickly bound round with white worsted, a j)iece of
tinfoil covering the under part, and a good bunch of
peacock's herl inserted at the head, bound down along
the back, and secured at the end of the shank, leavinc:
a little projection to represent the tail. It was light as
a feather, and could be thrown very accurately any-
where — a great advantage when you find yourself back
in the woods and wish to pull a few trout for the camp
frying-pan from out a little pond overhung with bushes.
The fish took it most greedily.

The common trout is to be met with in eveiy lake,
or even pond, throughout the British Provinces. One
cannot walk far through the depths of a forest district
before hearing the gurgling of a rill of water amongst
stones beneath the moss. Following the stream, one

220 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

5 „„1J.„ 1 r,n

soon comes on a sparkling forest brook overhung by

waving fern fronds, and little pools with a bottom of

golden gravel. The trout is sure to be here, and on

I your approach darts under the shelter of the projecting

I roots of the mossy bank. A litth^ further, and a winding

; lane of still water skirted by graceful maples and birches,

> leads to the open expanses of the lake, where the gloom

'. of the heavy woods is exchanged for the clear daylight.

' This is the "run in," in local phraseology, and here the

lake trout resort as a favourite station at all times of the

year. A basket of two or three dozen of these speckled

beauties is your re\vcird for having found your way to

these wild but enchanting spots.

Though, as has been observed, the trout of America is
more a lake than a river fish, yet the gently running water
at the foot of a lake just before the toss and tumble of a
rapid is reached is a favourite station for trout. Such
spots are excellent for fly-fishing ; I have frequently taken
five dozen fine fish in an hour, in the Liverpool, Tangier,
and other noble rivers in Nova Scotia, from rapid water,
weighing from one to three pounds.

Towards midsummer the fish begin to refuse fly or

bait, retiring to deep pools under the shade of high rocks,

sickened apparently by the warmth of the lake water.

. . As, however, the woods, especially in the neighbourhood

''-*'; of water, are at this season infested with mosquitoes

and black flies, a day's " outing " by the lake or river

side becomes anything but recreative, if not unbearable.

The twinge of the almost invisible sand-fly adds, too,

to our torments. In Nova Scotia the savage black-

Sh^^ fly (Simulium molcstum) disappears at the end of June,

though in New Brunswick the piscator will find these

ACADIAN FISH AND FISHING. 221

wretches lively the whole summer. They attack every-
thing of life moving in the woods, being dislodged from
every branch shaken by a passing object. No wonder
the poor moose rush into the lakes, and so bury them-
selves in the water that their ears and head are alone
seen above the surface. In Labrador the flies are yet
worse, and travelling in the interior becomes all but
impracticable during the summer.

In August the trout recover themselves under the
cooling influence of the frosty atmosphere which now
prevails at night, and will again take the fly readily, con-
tinuing to do so until quite late in the fall, and even in
the spawning season.

THE SEA TEOUT.

Salmo Canadensis (Hamilton Smith).

Closely approximating to the brook trout in shape
and colouring — especially after having been some time
in fresh water — the above named species has been pro-
nounced distinct. They have so near a resemblance that
until separated by the careful comparison of Dr. Gilpin,
I always believed them to be the same fish, especially
as the brook trout as aforesaid is known to frequent
tidal waters at the head of estuaries. The following
description of the sea trout is taken from Dr. Gilpin's
article on the Salmonidse before alluded to, and is the
result of examination of several fish taken from fresh
water, and in the harbour : —

" Of those from the tide-way, length from twelve to
fourteen inches ; deepest breadth, something more than

228 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

one quarter from tip of nose to insertion of tail. The

outline rounds up rather suddenly from a small and

fH^E arched head to insertion of dorsal ; slopes quickly but

gently to adipose fin ; then runs straight to insertion

|ijti| of caudal ; tail gently curved rather than cleft ; lower

kp] line straight to anal, then falling rather rapidly to make

llji a very convex line for belly, and ending at the gills.

I^'f The body deeper and more compressed than in the

gf'^^/: brook trout. The dorsal is quadrangular ; the free edge

iiilr|; convex ; the lower fins having the first rays in each

p)J!- thicker and flatter than the brook trout. The adipose

' ' fin varies, some with very long and arched free end, in

■,, others small and straight. The specimen frcj.ii '.:e fresh

;,*f^." water was vciy much longer and thinn ir, with head

proportionally larger. The c .lour of those from the

tide-way Avas more or less dark greenish blue on back

shading to ash blue and white below, lips edged with

dusky. They all had faint cream-coloured spots, both

f|. V above and below the lateral line. With one exception,

they all had vermilion specs, but some only on one side,

others two or three. In all, the head was greenish horn

colour. The colour of the fins in pectoral, ventral, and

anal, varied from pale white, bluish-white, to pale

orange, with a dusky streak on different individuals.

Dorsal dusky with faint spots, and caudal with dusky

',!',!. tips — on some a little orange w\ash. The lower fins had

the first ray flat, and white edged with dusky. In the

specimen taken on September the 10th from the fresh

water, the blue and silver had disappeared, and dingy

ash colour had spread down below the lateral line ; the

greenish horn colour had spread itself over the whole

gills except the chin, which was white. The silvery

1 -'N:'-';

1 r.. '•

''i

^^'f&'y-

:T'

ACADIAN FISH AND FISHING. 223

reflections were all gone, tlie cream-coloured dapples
were much more decided in colour and shape, and the
vermilion specs very numerous. The caudal and all the
lower fins had an orange wash, the dorsal dusky yellow
with black spots, the lower fins retaining the white flat
ray with a dusky edging, and the caudal a few spots.
The teeth of all were upon the inter-maxillary, maxil-
laries, palatine, and the tongue ; none on the vomer
except now and then one tooth behind the arch of palate.
Fin rays, D. 13, P. 13, V. 8, A. 10 ; gill rays 12. Axil-
lary scale very small. Dorsal, with two rudimentary |
rays, ten or eleven long ones, free edge convex ; first ray I
of lower fins flat, scales very small, but rather larger |
than those of brook trout." |

Dr. Gilpin sums up as follows on the question of its |

identity with brook trout : —

"We must acknowledge it exceedingly closely allied
to Fontinalis — that it has the teeth, shape of fins, axillary ♦
plate, tail, dapples, vermilion specs, spotted dorsal, alike;
that when it runs to fresh water it changes its colour,
and, in doing this, approximates to its red fin and dingy i

green with more numerous vermilion specs, still more i

closely. Whilst, on the other hand, we find it living i;

apart from Fontinalis, pursuing its own laws, attaining a t

greater size, and returning year after year to the sea. t

The Fontinalis is often found unchanged imder the same !;

cir(!umstance8. The fbrnier fisli always preserves its more |^

arched head, deeper and more compressed body, and T

perhaps shorter fins. In giving it a specific name, there- 1

fore, and using the appropriate one given by Colonel
Hamilton Smith — so far as I can discover the first de-
scriber — I think I will be burne out by all naturalists."

iiJi.'

224 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

The size attained by this fish along the Athmtic coasts
rarely exceeds five pounds : from one to three pounds
is the weight of the generality of specimens. The
fiivourite localities for sea trout are the numerous har-
bours with which the coasts of the maritime provinces
(of Nova Scotia in particular) are frequently indented.
First seen in the early spring, they affect these harbours
throughout the summer, luxuriating on the rich food
afforded on the sand flats, or amongst the kelp shoals.
On the former localities the sand-hopper (Talitrus) seems
to be their principal food ; and they pursue the shoals of
small fry which haunt the weeds, preying on the smelt
(Osmerus) on its way to the brooks, and on the caplin
'^ ';■ (Mallotus) in the harbours of Newfoundland and Cape

Breton. They will take an artificial fly either in the
harbour or in fresh water.

When hooked by the fly-fisherman on their first
V entrance to the fresh water, they afford sport second

•j-' only to that of salmon-fishing. No more beautiful fish

ever reposed in an angler's basket. The gamencss with
which they prolong the contest — often flinging them-
^li- selves salmon-like from the water — the flashing lights

reflected from their sides as they struggle for life on
|.| removal of the fly from their lips, their graceful form,

|!;( and colouring so exquisitely delicate — sides molten-silver

^;.; j'. with carmine spangles, and back of light mackerel-green

■ ' '' — and, lastly, the delicious flavour of their flesh when

, brought to table, entitle the sea trout to a high conside-

ration and place amongst the game-fish of the provinces.
In some harbours the trout remains all the summer
'. V months feeding on its favourite grounds, but in general

! it returns to its native fresh water at distinctly marked

ACADIAN FISH AND FISHING. 825 j i

periods, and in large detacliments. In the early spring,
before the snow water has left the rivers, a few may-
be taken at the head of the tide — fresh fish from the
salt water mixed with logies, or spent fish that have
passed the winter, after spawning in the lakes, under
the ice. The best run of fish occurs in June — the
midsummer or strawberry run, as it is locally called — the
season being indicated by the ripening of the wild straw-
berry. As with the salmon, there is a final ascent,
probably of male fish, late in the fall. The spawning
fish remain under the ice all winter in company with the
salmon, returning to sea as spc^nt fish with the kelts
when the rivers are swelled by freshets from the melting
snow.

SEA TROUT FISHING.

A more delightful season to the sportsman than
"strawberry time" on the banks of some fine river
entering an Atlantic harbour and well known for its
sea trout fishing, can hardly be imagined. With rivers
and woods refreshed by recent rains, the former at a
perfect state of water for fishing, and the river-side
paths through the forest redolent with the aroma of the
simimer flora, and the delicious perfume of heated fir
boughs, the angler's camp is, or should be, a sylvan
abode of perfect bliss. Or even better — for then
we are free from the persistent attack of mosquito
or black fly — is the cabin of a comfortable yacht,
in which we shift from harbour to harbour, anchoring
near the mouth of the entcrifig river. The flies and
sea fog are the only drawbacks to the pleasant holiday

226 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

of a troutiiiff cruise aloim shore. The former seldom
venture from land (even on the forest lake they leave
the canoe or raft at a few yards' distance from the shore)
and, if the west wind be propitious, the cold damp
"I fog is driven away to the north-east, following the

;| coast line, several miles out to sea.

f: Nothing can exceed the beauty of scenery in some of

;:: the Atlantic harbours of Nova Scotia ; their innumer-

' able islands and heavily- wooded shores fringed with the

golden kelp, the wild undulating hills of maple rising

, in the background, the patches of meadow, and the

'■ neat little white shanties of the fishermen's clearings, are

": the prettiest and most common details of such j)ictures,

.•' w^hich never fade from the memory of the lover of

,;> nature. How easily are recalled to remembrance the

fresh clear summer mornings enjoyed on the water;

the fir woods of the western shores bathed in the

morning sunbeams, the perfect reflections of the islands

and of the little fishing schooners, the wreaths of blue

smoke rising from their cabin stoves, and rendered

distinct by the dark fir woods behind, and the

roar of the distant rapids, where the river joins the

; harbour, borne in cadence on the ear, mingled with the

■ cheerful sounds of awakening life from the clearings.

1 o o

j; The bald-healed eagles (H. leucocephalus) sail majes-

_c tically through the air, conspicuous when seen against

"I the line of woods by their snow-white necks and tails.

The graceful little tern (Sterna hirundo) is incessantly
occupied, circling over the harbour, shrilly screaming,
;. and ever and anon dashing down upon the water to

'2 clutch the small fry ; whilst the common kingfisher, as

J abundant by the sea-shore as in the interior, thinking

;•"'■

?!
w

■'v-wTi •','-• iwy^^»|r T"

i»

; I
.-'.I

o
a

Q
O

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ACADIAN FISH AND FISHING. 227 !{

I
all fish, salt or fresh water, that come to his net, equally |

good, shoots over tlic harl)()ur with jerking flight, and fi

uttering his wild rattling cry ; now and then he makes i|

an impetuous downward dash, completely burj-ing himself I

beneath the surface in seizing his prey. ^i

If there is a run of trout, and we wish to fish the '?•

river, we go to the sea-i)Ools, which the fish enter with the
rising tide, and where we may sec their silvery sides ■

flashing as they gjimbol in the eddies under the appa-
rently delightful influence of the highly-aerated water ;
of a large and rapid stream, or as they rush at the '"
dancing deceit which we agitate over the surface of the
pool. Here, in their first resting-place on their way up
the river, they will always take the fly most readily; and
with good tackle, a propitious day, and the by no means ,;.:
despicable aid of a smart hand with the landing-net, the .;
mossy bank soon glitters with a dozen or two of these '<
delicious fish. \

Should they not be running, or shy of rising in the '

fresh water from some of the many unaccountable
humours in which all game fish are apt to indulge,
harbour fishing is our resource, and we betake ourselves
to the edge of the sand flats where the fish, dispersed
in all directions during high water, now congregate
and lie under the weeds which fringe the edge of the
tide channels. Half-tide is the best time, and the trout
rush out from under the kelp at any gaudy fly, tempt- !

ingly thrown towards the edge, with a wonderful dash,
and may be commonly taken two at a time. The trout-
beaches in Musquodoboit Harbour, lying ofl" Big Island, '
of which an engraving is given, may be a pleasant
remembrance to many who may read these lines. ;■

q 2 •'

22tt FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

A desorted clearing, with soft grji.say liaiiks poHitivoly
reddened with wild strawberries, is a most tempting spot
for a picnic, and we go ashore with pots and pans to
bivouac on the sward. "Boiled or fried, shall l)e the
trout ? " is the question ; we tr}^ both. Perhaps the
former is the best way of cooking the delicate and
salmon-flavoured sea trout (especially the larger fish), but
in camp we generally patronise a fry, and this is our
mode of proceeding. The fire must be l)right and low,
the logs burning without smoke or steam ; the frying-
pan is laid on with several thick slices of the best
flavoured fat pork, and, when this is sufficiently melted
and the pan crackling hot, we put in the trout, split
and cleaned, and lay the slices of pork, now sufficiently
bereft of their gravy, over them. A little artistic
manoeuvring, so as to lubricate the rapidly browning
sides of the fish, and they are turned so soon as the
under surface shows of a light chestnut hue. Just
before taking off", add the seasoning and a tablespoonful
of Worcester. The tin plates are now held forth to
receive the spluttering morsels canted from the pan, and
we fall back on the couch of maple boughs to eat in
the approved style of the ancients, whilst the fresh mid-
day breeze from the Atlantic modifies the heat, and
drives away to the shelter of the surrounding bushes
the fisherman's most uncompromising foes — the mos-
quitoes and black flies.

In Nova Scotia the best localities for pursuing this
attractive sport are the harbours to the eastward of
Halifax— Musquodoboit, Tangier, Ship, Beaver, Liscomb,
and Country harbours. In Cape Breton the beautiful
Mnrgarie is one of the most noted streams for sea trout.

ACADIAN FISH A\U KltiHINU. 2i'9

and its clear water and picturesque scenery, winding
through intervale meadows dotted with groups of witch
elm, and backed by wooded hills over a thousand feet
in height, entitle it to pre-eminence amongst the rivers of
the Gulf.

Prince Edward's Island affords some sood sea- trout
fishing, and, further north, the streams of the Bay of
Chaleurs and of both shores of the St. Lawrence are so
thronged with this fish, in its season, near the; head of
the tide, as seriously to impede the salmon tisher in his
nobler ^Jnrsuit, taking the salmon fly with a pertina-
(dty against which it is useless to conti'ud ; nor is he
free from their attacks until a ca.s(tade of sufficient
dimensions has intervened between the haunts of the
two fish.

THE SALMON.

{Salmn Salnr.)

The Salmon of tlie Atlantic coasts of America not
having been as yet specifically separated from the Euro-
pean fish, a scientific description is unnecessary, and w^e
pass on to note the habits of this noble game fish of our
provincial rivers.

From the once productive rivers of the United States
— with the exception of an occasional fish, taken in the
Penobscot, or the Kennebec in Maine — t.i lalmon has
long since been driven, the last recorded capture in the
Hudson being in the year 1840. Mr. Roosevelt, a well-
known American sportsman and author, states that
" the rivers fiowing into Lake Ontario abounded with
them, even until a recent period, but the persistent

230 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

efforts at their extinction have at last prevailed ; and,
except a few stragglers, they have ceased from out our
waters."

Cape Sahle being, then, the south-easternmost point
in the salmon's range, we first find nim entering the
rivers of the south coast of Nova Scotia very early in
March, long before the snow has left the woods ; thus
disproving an assertion that he will not ascend a river
till clear of snow water. At this time he meets the
spent fish, or kelts, returning from their dreary residence
under the ice in the lakes, and those gaunt, hungry fish
may be taken with most annoying frequency by the
angler for the new comers.

As a bread rule, with, however, some singular excep-
tions, the run of salmon now proceeds with tolerably
progressive regularit}^ along the coast to the eastward
and northward, the bulk of the fish having ascended the
Nova Scotian rivers by the middle of June. The excep-
tions referred to occur in the case of a large river on the
eastern coast of Nova Scotia — the Saint Mary — and some
of the tributaries of the Bay of Fundy, in which there is
a run of fish in JVIarch, as on the south-eastern coast.
This fact militates somewhat against the theory of the
salmon migrating in winter to warmer waters to return
in a body in early spring and ascend their native rivers,
entering them progressively.

In the Bay of Clialcurs the season is somewhat more
delayed ; the fish are not fiiirly in the fresh water before
the middle of June, which is also the time for their

ascending the rivers of Labrador.

o ■

At midsummer in Nova Scotia, and in the middle of
July higher up in the gulf, the grilse make their appear-

ACADIAN FISH AND PISHING. 231

ancc in fresh water in company with the sea trout.
They are locally termed jumpers, and well deserve the
title from their liveliness when hooked. With a light
rod and fine tackle they afford excellent sport, and take
a small bright, yellowish fly with great boldness.

The American salmon spawns very late in the fall, not
before November, and for this jjurpose affects the same
localities as his European congener — shallow water's run-
ning over beds of sand and gravel. The spawning grounds
occur not only in the rivers, but around the large parent
lakes, at the entrance of the little brooks that feed them
from the forest, and where there are generally deltas
formed of sand, gravel, and disintegrated granite washed |

down from the hills. The s[)ent fish, as a general rule,
though some return with the last freshets of the year,
remain all winter under the ice (particularly if they have
spawned in lakes far removed from the sea), returning
in the following spring, when numbers of them are taken
by the settlers fishi?ig for trout with worm in pools where
the runs enter the Likes. They are then as worthless and
slink as if they had but just spawned. In Ma} the young
salmon, termed smolts, affect the brackish water at the
mouth of rivers, and fall a prey to juvenile anglers in
immense numbers — a practice most destructive to the
fisheries, as these litth? fish would return the same season as
grilse of three or four pounds weight. The salmon of the
Nova Scotian rivers vary in weight from seven to tliirty
pounds, the latter weight behig seldom attained, though
a fair proportion of fish l)rought to market are over
twenty pounds. Those taken in the St. Mary are a
larger description of fish than the salmon of the southern
coast. In the Bay of Chaleurs, in the Kestigouche,

232 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

salmon of forty and fifty pounds are still taken ; in
former years, sixty pounds and over was not an uncom-
mon wei,L;lit. The salmon of the Labrador rivers are
not remarkable for size : the average vveij^ht of two hun-
dred fish taken with the fly in the river St. John in
July, 18G3, was ten pounds, the largest being twenty-
three ; and the largest salmon ever taken by the rod on
this coast weighed forty pounds.

The average weight of the grilse taken in Nova Scotia
and the Gulf a})pears to be four pounds. Fish of seven
or eight pounds which I have taken in American rivers
are, to my thinking, salmon of another year's growth,
and present an appreciable difference of form to the slim
and graceful grilt. In the latter part of November, the
time when the salmon in the fresh water are in the act
of spawning, a run of fish occurs along the coast of Nova
Scotia. They are taken at sea by nets off the headlands,
and are, as affirmed by the fishermen, proceeding to the
southward. Brought to market, they are f.nind to be
nearly all females, in prime condition, with the ova
very small and in an undeveloped state, similar to that
contained in a fish on its first entrance into fresh water.
Where can these salmon l)e going at the time when the
rest of their sjiecies are busily engaged in reprt)duction ?
Another of the man}^ mysteries attached to the natural
history of this noble fish ! In fresh running water the
salmon takes the artificial fly or miiniow, whether from
hunger or offence it does not clearly ap])ear ; in salt
water he is not unfrequently taken on the coast of Nova
Scotia by bait-fishing at some distance from shore, and
in sixty or seventy fathoms water. The caplin, smelt,
and sand-eel, contribute to his food.

ACADIAN FISH AND FISHING. 233

Dr. Gilpin, of Nova Scotia, speaking of many instances
of mnrvollons captures of stilmon, telb the following
authentic story ; the occurrence happened in his own
time and neighbourhood — Annapolis : — •

" Mr. Baillie, grandson of the * Old Frontier j\Iis-
sionary,' was fishing the Generals Bridge river up stream 3

for trout, standing above liis knees in water, with an old i

negro named Peter Prince at his elbow. In the very act |

of casting a trout fly he saw, as is very usual for them, a
large salmon lingering in a deep hole a few yards from f

him. The sun favoured him, throwing his shadow behind.

•

To remain motionless, to pull out a spare hook and pen- I

knife, and wdth a bit of his old hat and some of the grey 1
old negro's w^ool to make a salmon fly then and there, he

and the negro standing in the running stream like statue s, ■.

and presently to land a fine salmon, was the work of but i

a few moments. This fly must have been the original of ;

Norris's killing ' silver grey.' " ^

THE RIVERS OF NOVA SCOTIA AND THE

GULF.

Rivers and streams of varying dimensions, but nearly
all accessible to salmon, succeed each other with wonder-
ful frecjuency throughout the \\\\y)\v Atlantic Sea-board of
Nova Scotia. In former years, when they were all open
to the ascent of migratory fish, the amount of jdscine
wealth represented by them was incalculable. The
salmon literally swarmed along the coast. Their only
enemy was the spear of the native Indian ; and the
earlier annals of the province show the prevalence of a

234 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

custom with regard to the hiring of hihourers simikir to
that once existing in some parts of EngLand — a stipulation
that not more than a certain proportion of salmon should
enter into their diet. Now, the salmon having passed the
ordeal of bag-nets, with which the shores of the long
harbours are studded, and arrived in tlie fresh water,
vainly loiters in the pool below the monstrous wooden
structure called a mill-dam, which effectively debars his
progress to his ancestors' domains in the parent lakes,
and before long falls a prey to the spear or scoop-net of
the miller. From wretchedly inefficient legislation the
salmon of Nova Scotia is on the verge of extinction,
with the gaspercaux and other migratory fish, which
once rendered the immense extent of fresh water of
this country a source of wealth to the province and of
int;alculable benefit to the poor settler of the backwoods,
whose barrels of pickled fish were his great stand-by for
winter consumption.

One of the noblest streams of the Nova Scotian
coast is the Liverpool river, in Queen's County, which
connects with the largest sheet of fresh water in the
province. Lake Rossignol, whence streams and brooks
innumerable extend in all directions through the wild
interior, nearly crossing to the Bay of Fundy. All
these once fruitful waters are now a barren waste. The
salmon and gaspereaux are debarred from ascent at the
head of the tide, where a series of utterly impracti-
cable mill-dams oppose their progress to their spawning-
grounds. A pitiful half dozen barrels of salmon taken
at the mouth is now shown against a former yearly
tc.ke of two thousand.

A few miles to the eastward we come to the Port

ACADIAN FISH AND FISHING. 235

Medvvay river, nearly as large as the preceding, which,
not being so completely closed against the salmon, still
affords good sport in the beginning of the season, in
April and May. This is the furthest river westwardly
from the capital of the province — Halifax — to which the
attention of the fly-fisher is directed. There are some
excellent pools near the sea, and at its outlet from the
lakes, twenty miles above. The fish are large, and have
been taken with the fly in the ^.atter part of March.
The logs going down the stream are, however, a great
hindrance to fishiufj.

Proceeding to the eastward, the next noticeable
salmon river is the La Have, the scenery on which is
of the most picturesque description. There are some
excellent pools below the flrst falls. The run of fish is
rather later than at Port Metlway, or at Gold liiver,
which is further east. On the 4th of ^biy, when excel-
lent sport was being obtained in these waters, I have
found no salmon running in the La Have. About the
1 0th of May appears to be the beginning of its
season.

We next come to Mahone Bay, an expansive indenta-
tion of the coast, studded with islands, noted for its
charms of scenery, and likewise commendable to the
visitor in search of salmon-fishing. About six miles
west of the little town of Chester, which stands at its
head, is the mouth of Gold River. Until very re-
cently this was the favourite resort of sportsmen on
the western shore. Its well-defined pools and easy stands
for casting added to its inducements; and a throng of fish
ascended it from the middle of April to the same time
in May. The increase of sporting propensities amongst

238 FOREST l.IFK IN ACADIE.

the rising generation of the neighbouring villages proves
of late years a great clrawl)ack to the chances of the
visitor. The pools are continually occupied by (dumsy
and undiscerning loafers, who infest the river to the
detriment of sport, and do not scruple to come alongside
and literally throw across your line. Though dear old
Isaac might not possibly object to rival floats a yard
apart, another salmon-fly careering in the same pool is
not to 1)0 endured, and of course spoils sport. Still,
however, without such interruptions, fair fishing may be
ol)tained here, and a dozen fish of ten to twenty pounds
taken by a rod on a good day. Excessive netting in
the salt water is, however, fast destroying all prospects of
sport here as elsewhere.

There are two fair sized salmon rivers entering the
next harbour, Margaret s Bay, which, being the nearest
to the capital of the province, are over-fished. With the
exception of a pretty little stream, called the Nine-mile
River, which is recovering itself under the protection of
the Game and Fish Preservation Society, these conclude
the list of the western-shore rivers of Nova Scotia.

The fishing along this shore is quite easy of access by
the mail-coach from Halifax, which jolts somewhat
roughly three times a week over the rocks and fir-
pole bridges of the shore-road through pretty scenery,
frequently emerging from the woods, and skirting the
bright dancing waters of Margaret's Bay and Chester
Basin. The woodland part of a journey in Nova Scotia
is dreary enough ; the dense thickets of firs on either side
being only enlivened by an occasional clearing with its
melancholy tenement and crazy wooden out-buildings, and
by the tall unbarked spruce-poles stuck in a swamp or

ACADIAN FISH AND FISHING. 237

held up by piles of rocks at their base, supporting the
single wire along which messages are conveyed through
the province touching the latest prices afloat of mackerel,
cod-fish, or salt, on the magnetic system of Morse.

Indian guid(>s to the pools, who are adepts at camp-
keeping, canoeing, and gatiing the fish for you, as well as
at doing a little stroke of business for themselves, when
opportunities occur, with the forbidden and murderous
spear, reside at the mouths of most of these rivers. Their
usual charge, as for hunting in the woods, is a dollar per
diem.

The flies for the western rivers of Nova Scotia are of
a larger make than those used in New Brunswick and
Canada, owing to the turbidity of the water at the season
when the best fishing is to be obtained. They mo v be pro-
cured in several stores in Halifax, where one Connell ties
them in a superior style, and will forward them to order
anywhere in the provinces or in Canada. A claret-bodied
(pig's wool or mohair) with a dark mixed wing is good
for the La Have. Green and grey are good colours for
Gold River. With the grey body silver tinsel should
be used, and wood-duck introduced into the wing. An
olive body is also good. There is no feather that sets off
a wing better than wood-duck. It is in my estimation
more tempting to fish than the gokUni pheasant tippet
feather. Its broad bars of rich velvety black and })urest
white give a peculiarly attractive and soft moth-like
appearance to the wing.

The harbour of Halifax, nearly twelve miles in
length, has but one stream, and that of inconsiderable
dimensions, emptying into it. The little Sackville river
was, however, once a stream affbrding capital sport at

238 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

JNIidsummcr, its season l)eing announced, as the old
fisherman who lived on it and by it, generally known
as " Old Hopewell," told mc, by the arrival of the fire-
flies. He has taken nineteen salmon, of from eight to
eighteen poimds weight, in one morning with the fly.
It offers no sport to speak of now ; the saw mills and
their obstructive dams have quite cut off" the fish from
their spawning grounds.

To the eastward, between Halifax and Cape Canseau,
occurs a succession of fine rivers, running through the
most extensive forest district in the province. The
salmon rivers of note are the Musquodoboit, Tangier
river, the Sheet Harbour rivers, and the St. Mary's.
There are no important settlements on the sea-coast,
which is very wdld and rugged to the east of Halifax,
and consequently they are less looked after and more
poached. Formerly they teemed with salmon. Besides
the mill-dams, they are netted right across, and the pools
are swept and torched without mercy by settlers and
Indians. The St. Mary's is the noblest and most beau-
tiful river in Nova Scotia, and its salmon are the largest.
The nets overlap one another from either shore through-
out the long reaches of interv^alc and wild meadow,
dotted with groups of elm, which constitute its noted
scenic charms, and the lumbermen vie with the Indians
in skill in their nightly spearing expeditions by the light
of blazing birch-bark torches.

There are many other fine rivers besides those men-
tioned discharging into the Atlantic, which the salmon
has long ceased to frequent, being completely shut out,
and which would swell the dreary record of the ruin of the
inland fisheries of Nova Scotia. In these waters, at a

ACADIAN FISH AND FISHING. 235)

(liatant'o from the capital, " Halifax law," as the settlers
will tell you, is "no acc'ount." The spirit of wanton
extermination is rife ; and, as it has been well remarked,
it really seems as though the man would he loudly
applauded who was discovered to have killed the last
salmon.

Salmon are abundant in the Bay of Fundy, which
washes a large portion of Nova Scotia, but its rivers
are generally ill adapted for sport. Running through
fiat alluvial lands, and turbid with the red mud, or
rather, fine sand, of the Bay shores, they are generally
characterised by an absence of good stands and salmon
pools. The Annapolis river was once famous for
salmon fishing. On its tributary, the Nictaux, twenty
or thirty might be taken with the fly in an after-
noon ; and the Gaspereau, a very pictures(]^ue stream
entering the Basin of Minas at Grand Pre, the once
happy valley of the French Acadians, still affords fair
sport.

We will now turn to the rivers of the Gulf which
enter it from the mainland on the shores of New Bruns-
wick, Lower Canada, and Labrador, commencing with
those of the fonner province.

Proceeding along the eastern shore of New Brunswick
from its junction with Nova Scotia, we pass several fine
streams with picturesque scenery and strange Indian
names, which, once teeming with fish, now scarcely afford
the resident settler an annual taste of the flesh of salmon.
The Miramichi, however, arrests our attention as being
a noble river ; its yield and exportation of salmon is
still very large. Winding sluggishly through a beautiful
and highly cultivated valley for nearly one hundred

240 FOUEST LIFE IN ACADIE.

miles from tlic Atlantic, the first rjipids and pools where
fly-fishing may be jtractised occur in the vicinity of
Boicstown ; here the sport aflbrded, in a good season, is
little inferior to that which may be ol>tained on the
Nepisiguit. One of its branches, also, the north-west
IMiramichi, is worth a visit ; and I have known some
excellent sport obtained on it in passing through to the
Nepisiguit, from which river the water communication
for a canoe is interrupted but by a short portage through
the forest.

It is, however, on entering the southern expanses of
the beautiful Bay of Chaleurs that we first find the
paradise of the salmon-fisher ; and here still, despite
of many foes — innumerable stake-nets which debar his
entrance, the sweeping seine in the fresh water, the torch
and spear of the Indian tribes, and lastly, and perhaps
the least destructive agent, the tackle of the fly-fisher-
man — the bright foamy waters of the Nepisiguit, the
Restigouche, the Metapediac, and many others, repay the
visitor and sportsman, whence or how far soever he may
have come, by the sport which they afford, and by the
wild scenery which surrounds their long course through
the forests of New Brunswick.

And, first, of the Nepisiguit. This now famous river,
which of late years has attracted from their homes
many visitors, both English and American, to spend a
few weeks in fishing and pleasantly camping-out on its
banks, discharges its waters into the Bale des Chaleurs
at Bathurst, a small neat town, easily accessible from
either Halifax, St. John, or Quebec, and by various
modes of conveyance — coach, rail, and steamboat. Kising
in the centre of northern New Brunswick, in an elevated

I-

I Ml

ACADIAN FISH AND FISHING. 241

lake, region which gives Ijirtli to thi; Tohiqiuj iiiid Upsal-
quitch, rivers of about ^.ml size, the Nepisiguit has an
eastward course of nearly one hundred miles through
a wilderness country, where not even a solitary Indian
camp may be met with. It is one of the wildest of
American rivers ; sometimes contracted between clifts
to the breadth of a few yards, coursing sullenly and
darkly below overhanging forests, and sometimes, though
rarely, expanding into broad reaches of smoothlj^-gliding
water — its most common feature is the evcr-recurrinjj
cascade and rapid.

The adventurous fisherman will do well to supplement
his sport on the river by embarking on a long journey
through the solitudes of the intericjr to its parent lakes.
A short portage of a couple of miles, and the canoe
floats on the Tobique lakes, and thence descends the
Tobi(jue through another hundred miles of the wildest
and most beautiful scenery imaginable. At the junction
of this latter river with the broad expanse of the uiip)er
St. John, civilisation reappears ; the traveller changes his
conveyance for the steamer or coach, and the frail canoe
returns, with her hardy and skilful sons of the river, to
battle with the rocks and rapids of the toilsome route.

The whole of this tour is, however, fraught with
interest to the sportsman and lover of wild scenery.
Moose, caribo(j, and bear are invariably met Avith ; the
two former being generally seen bathing in the water
in the evenings, whilst a visit from a bear at night is
by no means an uncommon occurrence at some camp or
another on the way ; or, perchance, Bruin may be sur-
prised when gorging in the early morning, breakfasting
amongst the great thickets of wild raspberries which

212 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

ubouutl on the banks. A little Hcavcli up tlu! triltutnry
hrook.s ^vill discover the woiKlcrful works of bciiver now
in progress ; and other frecpienters of the river, mink,
otters, and musquash, are plentiful, and frcnpicntly to
be seen. In July and August the young flappers of
many species of duck form an agreeable change in the
daily bill of fare ; and though salmon do not ascend the
Nepisiguit beyond the Grand Falls, twenty-one miles
from Bathurst, they may be taken at the head waters
of the Tobique ; whilst river trout of large size, and
atibrding excellent sport, will greedily rise at an almost
bare hook throughout the whole extent of water.

lleelining in the bottom of the canoe, the position of
the traveller is most comfortable, and he may make
notes or sketches, as fancy leads him, with ease ; indeed,
from the facility with which all necessaries and even
luxuries may be conveyed, but little hardship need be
anticipated in a canoe voyage through the rivers of
northern New Brunswick.

The length of the journey just described much
depends on the state of the Avater and the number of
the party. With good water a canoe will get through
"with two sportsmen, two canoe men, and all their goods
— camps, blankets, and provisions — in ten or twelve
days ; but should the rivers be low, two canoes must
be employed l)y the same numljcr. A few years since I
took a still more northern route to the upper St. John,
vid the Kestigouche and Grand River ; the head-waters
were so shallow that we literally had to drag our canoe,
fixed on long protecting slabs of cedar, for some days
over the rocky bed ; we were, moreover, nearly starved,
and occupied nearly three weeks in reaching Fredericton

ACADIAN FISH AND FISIIINQ. 243

on the St. John, down wlioso Itroud, (loop stroam, how-
ever, wo. paddlod ut tlio rate of fifty milon a day.

The scenery on this lino of watcr-ooninmnioation with
the St. Jolni is grander, l)ut not so wild as on the former
route, whicli I roconuuond as possessing many advan-
tages, partieuhirly in the way of spoi-t.

Mais revenona d no8 saumons — to describe the oapa-
bihties of the Nepisiguit to afford sport to the sahnon-
fishor, and direct the visitor, "he ascent of sahnon
in this river is restricted to twenty-one miles of water
by an insuperable bairior — the Grand Falls ; but fi'oni
the head of the tide, two miles above the town, to this
point, are a succession of beautiful pools with every
variety of water, so stocked Avith fish, and with such
picturesque surrounding scenery, that the eye of the
spt)rtsninn who may hap}»ily combine the love of nature
with the lust of sport drinks in constant and ever-
varying delight as he is introduced to these bewitching
spots. And now of the pools scriatuti.

Two miles above Iktliurst we come to the " Rough
AVators," whore there is good fishing. No camp is
needed here ; for it is so near the accommodation of a
comfortable hotel, that I question whether any one would
care to experiment, except for novelty. It is a pretty
spot, and the dark water hero and there breaks into pure
white foam as it passes over a lodge which crosses the
channel from the steep red sandstone cliffs opposite. A
short distance above are the " Round Rocks," with little
falls and intervening pools, whore the river begins to
show its true character ; and here, as at the last-men-
tioned spot, a good day's fishing may be obtained from
the town. But one is now-a-days liable to interference,

R 2

244 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

howevc]', for of hito years tlic little ragged vircliins from
the Aeadian settlement on the south shore have iml)il)e(l
u strong love of sport in addition to their hereditary
poaching propensities, and with a rongh j)ole, a few
yards of coarse line, and a hait in appearance anything
hut a salmon fly, they will hook some dozen or more
salmon in a day when tliey are running freely, of
course losing nearly every fish.

Distant ahAit miles from Bathurst, and accessil)le 1)^'"
a fiiir waggon road, are the Pabineau Falls, one of the
choicest fishing stations on the river. The scenery here
is most beautiful ; the forest has now claimed the banks,
and, as the stranger emerges from its shade, and stands
on the l)road, smo.^th expanses of light grey and pink
rocks which slo}»e from him towards the brink of the
stream, viewing its clear grass-green waters rolling in
such fierce undulations over long descents, and thun-
dering, enveloped in mist, through various contracted
passes into boilnig jjooLs, witli congregated masses of
foam ever cii'clijig over their black (lei)ths, he becomes
impressed with the idea, of irresistible power, and is
constrained to acknowledge that he stands in the pre-
sence of no ordinary stream, but ■ ^ a mighty river.

I have here stocjd by tlie maig..i of the water, where
hundreds of tons momentarily rushed past my feet in
a compact mass, and watched the bright gleam of the
salmon as they would dart up frcjui Itclow like arrows to
encounter the fall ; a sUght pause; as they near the head ;
another convulsive effort, and they are safely over ; but
many fall back, at present une(|ual for the contest, into
the dark pool.

There are several wel' built bark shanties on the rocks

ACADIAN FISH AND FISHING. 245

above the Mis, for the fine scenery, and the ease with
which the numerous pools in the neighbourhood of the
Pabineau can be fished, have made this a favourite haunt
for anglers.

Two miles above are the Rceterbox Pools, where there
is some swift, deep water at a curve in the river, and at
the foot of a long reach of rapids. It is a very good
station to fish, en passant, but not of sufiicient extent to
induce more than an occasional visit.

" Mid-landing " is the next spot where good sport may
be obtained, particularly at the end of July, when the
river becomes low. The great depths of water here,
shaded by high rocks, induce large fish to remain long in
these cool retreats. Very small, dark flies, and the most
transparent gut must be used ; and with these pre-
cautions, when other pools have been failing in a dry
season, I have taken half a dozen salmon a day from the
deep waters of Mid-landing, and from the long, rough
rapid which runs into the pool.

Three miles above are the " Chains of Rocks," the
great and the little. A camp below the last fall of the
lower chain will command all the pools. This range of
pools contains an abundance of fish. Below the foil is a
long expanse of smooth water, at the head of which
salmon congregate in great numbers preparatory to
ascending the rough water above ; they lie in several
deep, eddying pools, where projecting ledges narrow the
channel, and may Ije seen flinging themselves out of
water throughout the day. Above this long series of
cascades which fidl over terraces of dark rocks, for
nearly half a mile, there is some eveidy-gliding water,
in which fisli may be .aken from stands on the left

246 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

bank. Here, and at the little chain just aljovc, is
my favourite resort at this part of the river ; there is
excellent camping-gi'ound in the tall fir-woods on the
north shore, and bold jutting rocks command the pools
admirably.

Between this spot and the Basin, two miles al)Ove,
there are but few spots where the fly may be cast pro-
fitably ; and, taking the bush-path which skirts the river,
we may now shoulder our rods, and trudge up to the
Grand Falls, our canoes following, spurting through the
rapid water in long strides as they are impelled by the
vigorous thrusts of the long iron-shod fir-poles. The
Basin is a broad and deep expansion of the river, and a
reservoir where the salmon conixreo-ate in multitudes,
ultimately spawning at the entrance of numerous gravell}'"
brooks which flow into it from the surrounding forest,
and daily making sorties to tlie Falls, a mile above, to
enjoy the cool water which flows thence to the lake
between tall, overhanging cliffs, sometimes completely
shaded from the sunlii>;ht save durinc: a very limited

O '77' */

portion of the day.

In this mile of deep swift water, which winds in a
dark thread from the Basin to the foot of the falls
between lofty walls of slate rock, salmon lie during the
day in thousands ; there are certain spots which they
prefer, found l)y experience to be the best pools, where
the splash of the fish and the voice of the angler awaken
echoes from the cliffs throughout the season. Fine
fishing, and fine tackle for these — aye, and a good
temper, too — for it is the most favoured resort for rods,
and we may often be compelled to cease awhile from our
sport, whilst a canoe (liere the only mode of conveyance

ACADIAN FISH AND FISHING. 247

from pool to pool) with its scarlct-sliirted paddlers,
creeps through the water by the opposite shore.

There are but one or two places in the cliffs here
where a camp may be pitched, and, if these are occupied,
we must drop down-stream again to some less-frequented
locality. The best of these is a green sloping bank, over
which a cool brook courses between copses of hazel and
alder into the river below. It is a charming situation,
and from a grassy plateau overhanging the river, where
the camps are usually placed, we may look down into a
clear pool, some seventy feet below, and watch the
salmon which occupy it, dressed in distinct ranks.

The Grand Falls are rather more than 100 feet in
height. The river, here greatly contracted, descends
into a deep boiling pool, first by a succession of headlong
tumbles, and then in a compact and perpendicular fall of
forty feet. The first fishing pool is just below the
eddying basin at the foot of the fall, which is seldom
entered bv the cnnoe men, as currents both of air
and water sweep round it towards the pitch ; besides,
the fish here are so euijaixed in battlinii; with the heavino;
water, in their vain attempts to surmount the falls, that
they will not regard the Hy.

All this portion of the Nepisiguit must be fished from
a canoe, excepting a few rocky stands, where almost
every cast is made at the risk of the hook snapping
against the cliffs behind ; and this leads us to say a few
words on the canoe men of the river. They are a hardy
and generally intelligent race of Acadian-French, appa-
rently a good deal crossed with Indian blood, exceedingly
skilful in managing their bark canoes, and in getting
fish for the sportsman; they have great experience in

248 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

the requirements of a camp in tlie woods, and arc,
witlial, very merry, companionable fellows. For a
fishing camp anywhere above the Pabineau, a canoe and
three men (one to act as cook and camp-kccpcr), arc
indispensable ; and on arriving at Btithurst, the services
of any of the following men of good character should be
secured : The Chamberlains, the Vineaus, David ]juchct»
Joe Young, and others; Baldwin, the landlord of the
little hotel, knows them all well. Their wages are a
dollar a day for the canoe men ; the cook may be hired
for half a dollar, but he will grumble, and most likely
succeed in getting three shillings. If a voyage through
to the St. John, vid the Nictaux and Tobiquc lakes, be
contemplated, selection should be made of those men
who have taken parties through before. All provisions
necessary for a sojourn on the river — everything, from
an excellent ham to a tin of the best chocolate — are to
be had at the store of INIessrs. Ferguson, Rankin, and Co.,
ill Bathurst, obliging people, very moderate and liljcral ;
they will deduct for all the cooking utensils, supplied
by them, which may be returned on coming down the
river.

Notwithstanding the immense destruction of fish in
the Ne2)isiguit in every possiWe way— netting and
torching in fresh water, whenever the nature of the
stream allows of such proceedings, wholesale sweejiing
and spearing on their spawning beds by tribes of Indians,
even into the month of November, when they are quite
black and slimy, extensive netting at its moutli, and
the number taken by fly-fishers — even yet the river
swarms with salmon ; a favourable condition of the
water and the command of a few pools will insure good

ACADIAN FISH AND FISHING, 249

spor*:. The fish arc not very large, us in the mcirc
nortlicrn rivers of the bay ; the average of the weights,
of seventy salmon killed by one rod at the Grand Falls
a few seasons since, was 11 lb. 8oz. ; and of thirty
grilse, 411). The fish commence running up in June, Imt,
from the height of the water, there is rarely good fishing
before July ; the 1 Otli is about the best time, and 1 )y
that time they have gone up as high as the Grand Falls.
The flies for the Nepisiguit should be small and neat,
and of three sizes to each pattern, for different states of
water. As mistakes are often made from the different
mode of numbering l)y different makers, it will be suffi-
cient to say that the length of the medium fly should be
If in. from the point of the shank to the extreme bend,
measuring diagonally across. The patterns should be
generally dark, and all mixed wings should be as modest
as possible ; no gaudy contrasts of colour, as used in
Norway or Scotland, will do here. A lark fly, tied as
follows, is a great favourite : body of black mohair,
ribbed with fine gold thread, black hackle, very dai'k
mallard wing, a narrow tip of orange silk, and a very
small feather from the crest of golden pheasant for a
tail. Then I like a rich claret body with dark mixed
wing and tail, claret hackle, and a few fibres of English
jay in the shoulder. Small grey-bodied flies ribbed with
silver, grey legs, and wing mixed with wood-duck and
golden pheasant, will do well. INIany other and brighter
flies may be used in the rough A\ater, and a primrose
body, with black head and tij), and l)utterfly wing of
golden pheasant, will prove very tempting to grilse,
whicli, late in July, may be taken in any number in
many p; rts of the river, particularly at the Pabiueau

880 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIK

and Chain of Rocks. These flios will do anywhere in
New Brunswick.

At the head of the Bay of Chalcurs, and about fifty
miles from Bathurst, we come to the Rcstigouche, one of
the larorcst rivers of British North America, 220 miles in
length, and formei-ly teeming with salmon from the sea
to its upper waters. So abundant were the fish some
twenty-^' - years ago, that Mr. Perley, Her Majesty's
Commissiojier for the Fisheries, states that 3000 barrels
were shipped annually from this river, and in those days
salmon of 6011). weight were not uncommon. Of late
years there has been a sad falling-off, and instead of
eleven salmon going to a barrel of 2001b., more than
twice the number must now be used. Unfortunately for
the preservation of the fish, and the prospects of the fly-
fisher, the character of this beautiful river is very different
to that of the Nepisiguit. For 100 miles the Rcstigouche
runs in a narrow valley between wooded mountains with
an almost unvarying rapid current, with but few deep
pools and no falls. Hence the chances of rod-fisliino- are
greatly diminished, whilst settlers and Indians torch and
spear everywhere. The channel is much used by the
lumberers for the Avatcr-conveyancc of provisions to tli'
gangs employed in the woods at its head-waters — scows
{Lc, large flat-bottomed barges) being employed, drawn
by teams of horses which find a natural tow-path in its
shingly beaches by the edge of the forest. High up the
river there are many rifts and sand-beaches, partly
exposed in a dry season, through wliicli the channel
winds ; and the scow is often dragged through shallow
places, thus ploughing up the spawning grounds of the
salmon.

ACADIAN FISH AND FISHING. 251

A few years since, after a fortnight's fisliing on the
Ncpisiguit, during which my companion and myself
took eighty salmon, notwithstanding an unprecedented
drought, we visited the Restigouche, more for the sake
of enjoying its fine scenery than expecting sport. Stay-
ing for a day, however, at the house of a hospitable
farmer who dwelt by the river-side, at the junction of
the JVIatapediac with the main stream, I had the plea-
sure of hooking the first salmon ever taken with a fly
in the Restigouche water, a fine clean fish of twelve
pounds. In an hour's fishing I had taken three salmon,
each differently shaped, and at once pronounced by my
host to ]je fre(|uenters of three separate rivers whi(di
here unite — the two already mentioned and the Upsal-
quitch.

The Matapediac has a course of sixty miles fi-om
a large lake in Rimouski, Lower Canada, and the Upsal-
quitch runs in on the New Brunswick side. They arc^
both fine rivers, and ascended by salmon in large
numbers ; the latter is stated to be very like the Nc-
pisiguit in character — full of falls and rapids, and I
believe it would afford equal sport. It looked most
tempting as we passed its mouth on our hjng canoe
voyage up the main river, but we had not time to stay
and test its capal)ilities. About sixty miles from the sea
we discovered a salmon pool in the Restigouche, and
took eight small fish from it in an afternoon ; but such
pools are few and far l)etween, and I would not recom-
mend any one to ascend this river for sport above the
Upsalquitch. The flies we used here were dark clarets
and reds ; I believe any fly will take, recommending,
however, larger sizes than the Nepisiguit flies, as the

2r)2

FOREST LIFE IN AOADIE.

RostigouL-lic siilinoii run much Ijirovr, and even i.i these
day.s eonniionly weigh thirty pouiulB.

Ciiniplx'lltown, a neat litth) village at the lu^ad of the
tide, twenty miles from the sea, is to Ix; reached from
J*)Mthurst by eoach ; and here the traveller or sportsman
intending to ascend the Kestigoudu^ or its before-men-
tioned tributaries, will find a large settlement of Indians
uf tlu! iMiemac tribe. They all have canoes, and many
of them are good guides, and trustworthy. There is a
good store at which to purchase provisions, and a very
comfortable little hotel kept by a Mr. M'Leod.

We now leave the rivers of New Brunswick : the
Restio-ouche beinu' the dividing line between the two
provinces, the rivei'S of the north shore of Chaleurs Ray
arc Canadian. About thirty miles from the head of the
bay we come to the Cascapediae, a large river running in
a deep chjiam through the mountains of Ronaventure.
It is frequented by salmon of large size, and 1 have been
told by Mr. R. H. Montgomery, who resides near its
mouth, that the average weight is betwc^en thirty and
forty pounds. He offered to procure me good Indians
and canoes for ascending to the first rapids, which are
some distance up the river. The whole district of Gasp^
is intersected by numerous and splendid rivers, abound-
ing in salmon and sea trout, the latter of four i)ounds
to seven pounds in weight. The mountain sceneiy through
which they fiow is magnificent, and many of them have
never been thrown over with a fly rod. Amongst the
hiro-est may be noticed the Ronaventure, the Malbaie, and
the Magdeleine.

On the south shore of the St. T.awrence, from Gaspd
to Quebec, there are several streams which formerly

ACADIAN FISII AND FISIIINO. 263

ubouiulcd ill HaliiKJii, but of lute years have been so iiu-
]>i'oductive that attention need not be direeted to them.
From the Jac(|iies Cartier, a few mih'.s above Quebec, to
the Labrador, the north shore of the 8t. Lawrence is
intersected by innumerable rivers ; in many of these the
salmon fishery has been nearly destroyed, but the energy
of the Canadian Government is fast remedying the evil.
The process of reproduction by artiiieial propagation
under an able superintendent, and the preservation of
the rivers, arc bringing l)ack tlie salmon to comparative
plenty in many a worn-out stream ; and the visitor to
Quebec will soon be enabled to obtain sport on the l)eau-
tiful Jac(|ues Cartier and other rivers in the neiglil)our-
liood, without having to seek the distant fishing stations
of the Laljrador. The Saguenay, too, with its thirty
tributaries, is improving ; for many years past this
iKjble river has scarcely proved worth a visit, except
for its wonderful scenery. In fact, the legislature, aided
by an excellently constituted clulj for the protection
offish and game, have taken the matter up in earnest;
fish-ways are placed on those rivers which have dams or
slides upon them ; netting and spearing in the fresh
water is prevented ; an able superintendent of fisheries,
and several overseers, have been appointed ; and, finally,
an excellent measure has been adopted — the annual
leasing of salmon rivers to gentlemen for fly-fishing, for
small rents — on condition of their aiding and carrying
out the proper preservation of the fisheries.

Amongst the largest and most notable salmon rivers
which are passed in proceeding from the Saguenay along
the northern shore are the Escoumins, Portneuf, Bersia-
mits, Outardes, Manacouagan, Godbout, Trinity, St. Mar-

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

I.I

1,25

'J 2.8

^ IIIM
^ IIIM

2.2
2.0

1.8

1.4 ill 1.6

^;^

Photoerdphic

4^^

01 UUPCT MAIN STREET

264 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

garet, Moisie, St. John, Mingan, Natasliquan, and Esqui-
maux. Salmon ascend all these rivers, and take the fly
readily. Whether they will rise in the rivers of the
north-eastern coast, past the straits of Belle-Isle, remains
to be proved. It has been .affirmed that they will not
do so in the Labrador rivers of high northern latitude,
thus evincing the same peculiarity which has been
obsei"ved on the part of the true sea salmon of Siberian
rivers flowing into the Arctic Ocean. I have heard,
however, that they will rise at a piece of red cloth
trailed on a hook over the water from the stem of
a boat.

In conclusion, the salmon rivers of the Gulf of St.
Lawrence, though they ofiier no extraordinary sport,
possess the charms of wild and often noble scenery ; life
in the woods, in a summer camp, will agreeably sur-
prise those who hold back for fear of hard work, and the
discomforts of " roughing it." Any point, excepting the
extremes of Labrador, may be reached with ease from
either Quebec or Halifax ; whilst the economy which
may be practised by a party of two or three, will be found
to be within the means of most sportsmen. At the ter-
mination of the fishing season a few weeks may be spent
in tourising through the Canadas or the States ; and in
the month of September the glowing forests of Nova
Scotia or New Brunswick may be traversed in search of
moose, cariboo, or bear. Between the Ottawa and the
great lakes there is excellent duck-shooting, and the woods
abound in deer (Cervus Virginianus), whilst the vast ex-
panses of wilderness in Newfoundland teem with cariboo,
ptarmigan, and wild fowl ; the former so aljundant as
sometimes to tempt the sportsman (?) to kill more than

THE GIIAND FALLS, NKPISIGUIT.

■

S:)

ACADIAN FISH AND FISHING. 255

he can carry away or dispose of, leaving the meat rotting
in the woods. To all such, Avaunt ! say we ; wholesale
and thoughtless slaughter, except on the fiercer species
■ — the natural enemies of man — is always to be depre-
cated ; but the true sportsman we confidently invite to
the forests and rivers of British North America, believ-
ing that his example in carrying out the fair English
principles of sport, will tend much to the preservation
of game.

GLOVER'S SALMON.

;Si. Gloverii (Girard.)

My first acquaintance with this handsome salmonoid
began many years since, when I would take basketsfuU
in the month of April in the runs connecting the upper
lakes of the Shuber.'.cadie river in Nova Scotia. At first
I took them to be young salmon, both from their jump-
ing propensities when hooked and the resemblance they
bore to the parr on scraping away the scales from the
sides. Yet their rich olive black backs and beautiful
bronze spots on the head and gill covers made them
appear dissimilar, and I could no longer doubt them
distinct from salmon, M^hen I had succeeded in taking
them of one, two, and three pounds weight, and still
spotted, in the early summer, quite dissimilar in colour
from grilse, and far exceeding the size of smolts, which
the smaller individuals somewhat resembled. Finding out
their haunts, and seasons for changing thek abode, we
were content to take them iji the spring and late in the
autumn, in the runs and streams lying between their
spawning grounds and the deep waters of large lake

256 FOREST LIFE IN ACA.DIE.

basJDS (where they spent the hot season and could only
be tempted by bait), under the common local misnomer
of Grayling. And glorious sport we fount' it ; the
dash with which this game fish seizes the fly, its
surprising jumps to the level of one's shoulder, and its
beautiful metallic hues, particularly in the spring, in-
vested it with an interest far exceeding that of fishing
for S. Fontinalis.

At length, however, on referring several specimens
to Dr. Gilpin, they were identified by him in the
" Proceedings of the Nova Scotian Institute " as S.
Gloverii, or Glover's Salmon of Girard, better known
in New Brunswick as the Silvery Salmon Trout of the
Scoodic Lakes, where its abundance in the rapid waters
connecting the upper lakes of the St. Croix river, render
this locality one of the most famed fishing stations of the
Lower Provinces. The following is Dr. Gilpin's descrip-
tion taken from specimens forwarded by myself and
others : —

" Length, about seventeen inches ; breadth of widest
part from first dorsal, two and a half inches ; length of
head nearly two and a half inches , the shape of the
head fine and small, the back rising rather suddenly,
from posterior to head, sloping very gradually upward
to insertion of dorsal, thence downward to insertion of
tail, lower line corresponding with line of back ; a long
elegant shaped fish with a strong base to a powerful tail ;
eye large, nearly half an inch in diameter and two
diameters from end of nose ; operclcf. rounded, and with
the pre-opercles marked with numerous concentric
streaks ; the lower line of inter-opercle parallel with
line of the body, labials, both upper and lower, arched,

' \\

ACADIAN FI-H AND FISHING.

257

line of pre-opercle not so rounded as opcrclc ; the
pectoral fins com'ng cat very far forward, almost
touching the gill rays, dorsal commencing about two
lengths of head from tip of nose, sub-quadrangular,
free edge concave ; ventral about opposite sixth ray of
dorsal ; adipose fm opposite posterior edge of anal ;
caudal deeply cleft, and very nearly the length of head
in depth. In one instance th(5 tail was square. Inter-
maxillaries, maxillaries, palatines, vomer and tongue
armed with sharp and recurved teeth, the teeth on the
vomer extending half an inch down the roof of mouth, a
fleshy line extending from them to the gullet, the upper
jaw notched to receive the lower. In two specimens a
prolonged hook in lower jaw advancing beyond the
teeth. Girard says the male fish has adipose fins oppo-
site anterior edge of anal, the female opposite posterior
edge. Whilst in the following description, taken from a
female fish, I ha\e verified his remarks, I have added, that
in the male the adipose fin is very much larger, which is
almost the same thing. Colour black above, shading
down to sepia brown at the lateral line, the brown being
the back ground to numerous black spots, some round,
some lunated extending from opercles to tail. The opercles
partake of the same general colour with yellow reflections
and blue tints, but also marked with spots extending to
the pre-opercles, beautifully round and distinct ; sides
yellowish, and belly white with pearly tints, the whole
covered with bright scales larger about the sides than
beneath. The colours vary much by the reflected lights
made in turning the fish. The colour of the fins when fresh
out of water, — caudal brown, dorsal brow^nish black, and
spotted, lower fins dark brown, edges and tips dark,

]

258 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

a very fleeting lavender wash on dorsal. Sides yellowish.
In one adult specimen I noticed a few red spots on sides,
but in the young fish they are very marked and beauti-
ful. Some seen by myself in July had vertical bars,
red spots, very silvery on sides, and all, even the
smallest, had the typical opercular spots very distinct.
They were exceedingly beautiful and might have readily
been taken for a different species. On opening the fish
from gills to tail, the heart with its single auricle and
ventricle first presented, the liver overlapping the
stomach and pale yellow ; the stomach descended about
one-half the length of the fish, was then reflected sud-
denly upon itself where it was covered by numerous
cwca (about thirty) ; these are the pyloric cceca of
authors. It then turned down again, and soon was lost
in small intestine ending at the vent. The spawn were
each of the size of currants and bright scarlet, about a
thousand in number, and encased in a very thin bilo-
bular ovary, the left lobe occupying the left side, being
a little over three inches, and only one half the length
of right lobe occupying right side ; a second fish gave the
same placing of ovary. Both these fish were taken on
the 2nd and 4th November at Grand Lake, Halifax, and
evidently near spawning. Fins, D. 12 or 13, P. 14, V. 9,
A. 9, C. 20. AxiUary scale small. The first dorsal ray
in some instances contains two, in other tliree small rays.
Typical marks, spots on opercles."

In its general a^^pearance, markings, and delicate
primrose tint on the belly, the fish is not unlike the
trout of gravelly streams in England.

In former years, before the construction of the Shube-
nacadie Canal, it was found in that river during the

ACADIAN FISH AND FISHING. 2r)9

summer months far below the lakes. A place called
the " Black Rock," just above the head of the tide,
was a famous stand for grayling fishing; and five
and six pound fish were not unfrequent. Now cut
off" from salt water by the locks, their migrations
are restricted between the deep basin of the Grand
Lake and the numerous chains of lakes which give
rise to its affluents ; and the fish, whilst they seldom
attain a greater weight than three pounds, are not so
silvery in the spring as formerly. The same fish taken
at Loch Lomond, near Saint John's, New Brunswick, are
much smaller, browner, and paler in flesh than the St.
Croix trout, and apparently from the same cause.

In Nova Scotia this trout will take the fly as readily
late in the fall (even to first week in November) as in
the spring, and long after the common brook-trout ceases
to rise. As it is then, however, immediately proceeding to
the spawning grounds, and with fully developed ova, this
sport should be rendered illegal after October.

Two groat lake trout inhabit the deep lakes of the
Provinces — Salmo confinis and S. Amethystus — the former
being abundant, and sometimes attaining a weight of
twenty pounds. They may be taken in deep holes with
bait or spoon-hook trolled and well sunk. Their flavour
i3 insipid, and they are unentitled to more than a passing-
notice in a description of the game fish of Acadie.

The yellow perch (Perca flavcscens) is exceedingly nu-
merous in lakes and rivers. Though seldom exceeding
half a pound in weight, heavy baskets may be taken in a
day's fishing on some lakes (where they seem to affect
particular localities) by those who care for such sport.
It is a handsome fish, of a bright golden yellow colour,

s 2

2G0 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

striped with dusky perpendicular bands. Its fins are vermi-
lion ; and altogether it is a decided analogue to the English
river perch. It may be taken on either a fly or bait.
When properly cooked it is very palatable. The so-called
white perch, also vciy abundant in fresh waters, is in
reality a bass (Labrax pallidus), and a worthless fish.
The common sucker (Catostomus) will sometimes rise at
the fly, as also will the cat-fish, whose enormous mouth,
surrounded by long fleshy feelers, gives it a hideous
appearance. It will seize a trout of half its own size.

CHAPTER X.

NOTES ON NEWFOUNDLAND.

I KNOW of no country so near England wliicli offora
the same amount of inducement to the explorer, natu-
ralist, or S2)ortsman as Newfoundhmd. To one who
combines the advantages of a good practical knowledge
of geology with the love of sport the interior of this
great island, much of which is quite unknown, may
indeed prove a field of valuable and remunerative
discovery, for its mineral resources, now under the
examination of a Government geological survey, are
unquestionably of vast importance, and quite unde-
veloped. Numerous discoveries of copper have been
made at various points, particularly on the western side,
and coal and petroleum have been found in the interior.
So completely, however, is the population devoted to
the prosecution of the fisheries, that even agriculture is
unheeded, though there is plenty of good land close to
the harbours. Between these, with the exception of a
few roads in the province of Avalon (the peninsula
which contains the capital of the colony, St. John's),
there is no communication except by water.

As a field for sport, likewise, Newfoundland is but
little known. Some half-dozen or so of regular visitors
from the continent, one or two resident sportsmen, and

2G2 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

the same number from England, comprise the list of
those who have encamped in its vast solitudes in quest
of its princi})al large game — the cariboo — which is scat-
tered more or less abundantly over an area of some twenty-
five thousand square miles of unbroken wilderness.

Like Nova Scotia, the face of the country is dotted
with lakes innumerable, son^e of which, as the Grand
Lake (fifty miles in length) and the Red Indian Pond,
are of much larger dimensions than any found in the
former province. These waters all abound with trout ;
and beaver,"'' otter, and musk-rats, being subject to less
persecution, are much more numerous than on the con-
tinent. The willow grouse (Lagopus albus) is the com-
mon resident game bird of the country, and is exceedingly
abundant ; and the migratory fowl pursued for sport
include the Canada goose, that excellent bird the black
duck (Anas obscura), curlew, and snipe. The black bear
and the wolf are of frequent occurrence in the interior,
and add a flavour of excitement to the varied catalogue
of sport.

The following observations and scraps of information
collected on several occasions of visits of inspection to
the garrison town of St. John's are here presented with
a view to their proving of use to the intending visitor in
search of sport, or as interesting to the nntiiralist.

The route from Halifax to St. John's is traversed fort-
nightly in summer, and monthly in the winter months,
by small screw steamers subsidied for the mail service,
and is as uncomfortable a voyage as may well be imagined
at times, the direction being that of the northern line of the
fog, which sometimes envelopes the steamer throughout,

* The beaver is not now found on the peninsula of Avalon.

NOTES ON NEWFOUNDLAND. 263

or, at all events, until the vessel rounds Cape Race —
nearly at the end of the journey. Near the Cape icebergs
are frequent during the summer months, and it is not an
uncommon circumstance to hear the dull roar of the surf
upon their precipitous sides as one passes in uncomfortable
proximity in a dense fog. Field ice, too, is another
drawback in tlic spiing ; enormous areas come down
from the Gulf, and more than once the little steamer has
spent a fortnight or so enclosed, drifting into one of the
v/ild, inhospitable harbours of the southern coast. The
duration of the voyage from Haliftix to St. John's is
from three to five days — a little longer when, as is
generally the case, Sydney, Cape Breton, is touched at.
In fine summer weather coasting along the shores of
Nova Scotia and Cape Breton is pleasant enough, par-
ticularly in the evenings, when the heated atmosphere,
blown off from the fir woods, is charged with delicious
fragrance. The scenery, viewed froi-i the deck of a
vessel passing at some two or three leagues distance, has
nothing of especial interest, as might be inferred ; the
numerous indentations of the harbours are hardly per-
ceptible, and the wooded countiy behind rises but a few
hundred feet or so in a continuous undulating line of hills.
A noticeable rock, which may be seen at a considerable
distance out to sea, termed " The Ship," terminates a
headland on the western side of the harljour of that
name. It looks just like a schooner, or rather brigantine,
under full sail.

This part of the North American coast is marked by
the presence of multitudes of sea birds, which, at the
periods of their annual migrations, afford abundant and
exciting sport. Formerly they resorted to the numerous

2(!4 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

islands of Nova Scotia and Cape Breton to breed. Now,
driven away by persecution, the bulk of them go .lUcli
further to the north-, ast.

Every fisherman along shore has a fowling-piece, and
shoots " sea-ducks," as he indiscrimiuately alls a variety
of species — eiders, pintails, mergansers, loons, and coots —
and when we consider the wholesale destruction caused
by the eggers at their breeding-grounds in the Gulf, it is
surprising that the birds have not more quickly followed
the great auk in progress towards extinction. As has
been stated before, there is no record of the latter bird
affecting these shores \v^ithin the memory of those living,
though the Penguin Islands (the bird had much re-
semblance to the true penguin of the Southern Ocean)
certainly derived their name from its former abundance.

The Canadian Government have lately terminated the
wholesale destruction of sea-birds' eggs in the Gulf by
stringent enactments, and the egging trade is virtually
abolished. The wanton destruction which accompanied
the arrival of an egging vessel at the breeding-grounds
was most disgraceful. Armed with sticks, the crew first
broke every egg on the island (tens of thousands.) A
partial re-commencement of laying ensued, and the
harvest was immediately gleaned with the assurance
that the cargo on reaching port would consist of none
but fresh eggs. The bulk of the spoil consisted of the
eggs of the guillemots, and were sold at about three
cents apiece. I have frequently eaten them and found
them exceedingly palatable ; the white somewhat re-
sembles that of a plover's egg in appearance and
flavour.

The local names of the sea-l)irds are singular. The

NOTES ON NP:WF0UNDLAND. 865

beautiful and quite common harlequin duck (Anas hia-
trionica) is called " a lord : " the long-tailed duck (A.
glacialis) rejoices in the name of " cockawee," from its
note, and sometimes the " old squaw," " from the lu-
dicrous similarity between the gabbling of a flock of
these birds and an animated discussion of a piece of
scandal in the Micmac lanfjuanje between a numl)er of
antiquated ladies of that interesting tribe."* The puffin
is termed a parrot, and the little auk, the bull-bird.
The name of shell-ducks or shell-drakes, applied to th(i
mergansers (more especially to the goosander), is a
misnomer prevalent along the whole coast and in
Labrador : no true tadorna is found in North America.

In several of the harbours on the Nova Scotian coast
excellent sport may be obtained in winter, shooting wild-
fowl on the ice, for many of these birds remain all
winter. Canada geese and brant are shot only during
migration. Scatterie, a desolate island lying off the
eastern end of Cape Breton, is a great resort of sea-birds

* The Rev. J. Amlirose, on " Birds frequenting St. Margaret's Bay, N. S.,"
from " Proceedings of N. S. Inst. Nat. Science." Tlie writer further
observes : — " Tlie shooting of sea-hirds is not only a source of jjrotit to our
fishermen, and a means of providing them with an agreeable variety at
their frugal board, but it also relieves a great deal of the tedium of their
winter season of inactivity. It is sur])i-ising, however, that accidents do
not more freciuently happen from their mode of charging their guns. Three
fingers of powder and two of shot is the smallest load for tludr old militia
muskets — the approved gun here — and in the hurry of loading in a boat
much more powder is frequently poured in. Black eyes and bloody noses
are the not uncommon penalties of a morning's sport, and I know one
fisherman whose nose has been knocked permanently out of shape by the
frequent kicking of his gun. In several instances the gun ha.s gone clean
overboard out of the fowler's hands, by the recoil. But nothing can daunt
these men, or induce them to load with a lighter hand. There is one living
at Nor'-West Cove, who has had his right eye destroyed by his gun, but
who is now as great a duck-shooter aa ever, firing, however, from the left
shoulder."

266 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

of all descriptions, as is also Sydney harbour. Prince
Edward Island and the Gulf shore of New Brunswick
afford wonderful sport during the passage of the geese.

To return, however, to the subject before us — New-
foundland, its characteristic features and wild sports.

A marked difference of outline to those of the shores
of Acadie is readily perceived on approaching its
southern coast. The cliffs rise from the sea to the height
of some five hundred feet, with a precipitous face and
comparatively level summits, forming long stretches of
table land. Then the tall arrow-headed pines are missed,
and on passing quite close, the vegetation with which
the country is clothed appears singularly colourless as
well as stunted. A chilling melancholy aspect pervades
the face of nature ; except for the number of little
fishino; smacks with which the coast is dotted, we might
seem to be passing the shores of Greenland. A few
hours before, perhaps, we were in the warm atmosphere,
blown with us l)y a balmy west wind from the fir-covered
hills of Cape Breton ; now we are faced by a biting
north-east breeze which at once reminds us of the chills
of early spring on the Atlantic coast. Rounding Cape
Race, and we are fairly in the great Arctic current,
and most probably within view of icebergs — at least up
to the end of August. The water in the early summer
is strewn through large areas with floating pieces of
field ice, detachments from the great fields which float
down the coast in spring, sometimes, indeed, entering
and blocking up the harbours for miles out to sea. St.
John's harbour has thus been blockaded even in the
month of June, whilst the sea to the distance of twenty
miles from the shore has been frozen so that a traveller

NOTES ON NEWFOUNDLAND. 267

miglit visit on foot any post along shore within seventy
miles to the north-east.

The chilling effect of this proximity to the southern
passage of ice through so large a portion of the year
is readily perceptible on the vegetation in this part of
the island. The stunted character of the deciduous
trees (of few species compared with their representatives
on the eastern shores of the mainland) and of the spruces,
the absence of the broad-leaved maple, with which the
continental forests are enriched, and the nakedness of
the dull grey rocks, give an air of dreariness to the
country, which it seems at first to the stranger im-
possible to shake off.

From comparative observations I should assign a
fortnight as the difference in the progress of vegetation
between Nova Scotia and the country round St. John's.
On July 14 th, the common lilac, long since faded in the
gardens at Halifax, was here found in full bloom. On
the 18th I observed various Vaccinese, the purple iris, the
pigeon-berry, and Smilacina bifolia in flower, and the
kalmia just coming out, indicating fully the difference of
season already stated.

Although in the interior, and especially on the western
side of the island, Newfoundland can boast of forests,
but little wood deserving that name appears in the vicinity
of St. John's. The wilderness is generally covered with
low alder bushes and thickets of white sprace (Abies alba),
with a scanty mixture of balsam fii\ A few small white
birch, willows of several species, and one description of
maple (Acer montanum), with the Amelanchier, or Indian
pear, and wild cherry, constitute the bulk of the deci-
duous vegetation. The swamps (of great extent and

268 . FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

constant occurrence) are covered .with cotton grass, and
Indian cups (Sarracenia), and the sphagnum with creep-
ing tendrils of the cranberry. Dry elevated bogs have
thick growths of huckle and blueberries (Gaylussacia
resinosa and Vaccinium Canadense), with the common
partridge berry, Labrador tea (Ledum), and sweet-scented
myrica, and open spots are carpeted with reindeer lichen.
Empetrum nigrum (locally misnamed heather), on the
numerous black berries of which the curlew and wild
goose feed, is a very abundant shrub, growing in the
open, with patches of ground juniper.

It was probably to the profusion of berries (Vaccineoe)
that the original name of Newfoundland, given by its
early Norwegian visitors — Winland — was due, a country
frequently alluded to in Norwegian and Icelandic his-
torical records. The huckle-berries, especially, are so
large and juicy that they might naturally have passed
for the wild grapes for which the island was said to be
famous, and which, it is almost needless to state, do not
therein exist.*

The birches appear to be the only deciduous timber trees
in Newfoundland, for, with the exception of the species
already mentioned and moose wood (Abies striatum)
— both mere shrubs — neither maple nor beech arc to be
found. On the western side of the island, where the soil
and climate approximate to those of the adjacent coasts
of the mainland, the hard-wood forests attain a fine
development, affording a plentiful supply of fuel, and
wood for manufacture. The yellow birch (Betula excelsa)

* A tolerably palatable reel wiue is commonly made in Nova Scotia, by
the settlers, from blueberries.

NOTES ON NEWFOUNDLAND. 269

grows here with a diameter of nearly three feet, aud
pine, spruce, and larch are abundant. The scenery of
the western coast differs greatly from that of the southern
and eastern. St. George's Bay and the Bay pf Islands
are surrounded by rolling forest-covered hills, and fine
woods skirt the Humber river which enters the latter
basin, and the great lakes in the interior whence it flows.
With a soil quite capable of yielding abundantly to the
agriculturist, the presence of coal-fields, vast mineral
wealth, and extensive forests verging on the harbours
and rivers, it is surprising that this part of the island is
not more thickly settled. The fog, constantly shrouding
the southern shores, and often extending for some dis-
tance up the eastern, is here of quite unfrequent occur-
rence, and the easterly winds which chill the soil and
retard vegetation round St. John's, are divested of their
bitterness on crossing the island.

Much light is thrown upon the interior features of the
main island to the southward of the great lakes by the
curious narrative of his journey across from Trinity Bay
on the east coast to St. George's on the west, published
as a pamphlet many years since by Mr. W. E. Cormack.
His account is still regarded as the best description of
the interior, of which but little more is known at the
present day than at the time of his visit. The journey
across the island was undertaken on foot, of course; a
single Indian accompanied him, and aU the necessaries
of life were carried in knapsacks. After difficult progress
of some days' duration through scanty spruce forests, he
thus describes his first view of the interior : —

" We soon found that we were on a great granitic
ridge, covered, not as the lower grounds are, with

270 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

crowded pines and green moss, but with scattered trees ;
and a variety of beautiful lichens, or reindeer moss,
partridge-berries, and whortle-berries, loaded the ground.
The Xylosteum villosum, a pretty, erect shrub, was in
full fruit by the sides of the rocks ; grouse, Tetrao albus,
the indigenous game-bird of the country, rose in coveys
in every direction, and snipes from every marsh. The
birds of passage, ducks and geese, were living over us to
and fro from their breeding places in the interior and the
sea coast ; tracks of deer, of wolves fearfully large, of
bears, foxes, and martens were seen everywhere.

" On looking back towards the sea coast, the scene was
magnificent. We discovered that under cover of the
forest we had be^n uniformly ascending ever since we
left the salt water at Eandom Bar, and then soon arrived
at the summit of what we saw to be a great mountain
ridge that seems to serve as a barrier between the sea
and the interior. The dense black forest, through which
we had pilgrimaged, presented a novel feature, appear-
ing spotted with bright yellow marshes and a few glossy
lakes in its bosom, some of which we had passed close by
without seeing tlieisu

" In the westward, to our inexpressible delight, the in-
terior broke in sublimi!} before us. What a contrast did
this present to the conjectures entertained of Newfound-
land ! The hitherto mysterious interior lay unfolded
before us — a boundless scene, emerald surface, a vast
basin. The eye strides again and ag^in over a succes-
sion of northerly and southerly ranges of green plains,
marbled with woods and lakes of every form and extent.
The imagination hovers in the distance, and clings invo-
luntarily to the undulating horizon of vapours frr into

NOTES ON NEWFOUNDLAND. 271

the west, until it is lost. A new world seemed to invite
us onward, or rather we claimed the dominion, and were
impatient to take possession. Our view extended for
more than forty miles in all directions, and the great
exterior features of the eastern portion of the main body
of the island are seen perfectly from these commanding
heights.

"September 11. — We descended into the bosom of the
interior.

" The plains which shone so brilHantly pxe steppes, or
savannas, composed of fine black compact peat mould,
formed by the growth and decay of mosses (principally
the Sphagnum capillifolium), and covered uniformly with
wiry grass, the Euphrasia officinalis being in some places
intermixed. They are in the form of extensive gently
undulating beds, stretching northwards ar"' southwards,
with running waters and lakes, skirted with woods, lying
between them. Their yellow-green surfaces are some-
times uninterrupted by either tree, shrub, rock, or any
inequality for more than ten miles. They are chequered
everywhere upon the surface by deep-beaten deer paths,
and are in reality magnificent deer-parks, adorned by
woods and water. The trees here sometimes grow to a
considerable size, particularly the larch ; birch is also
common. * The deer herd upon them to graze. It is
impossible to describe the grandeur and richness of the
scenery, which will probably remain long undefined by
the hand of man, in search of whose associations the
eye vainly wandered.

" Our progress over the savanna country was attended
with great labour, and consequently slow, being only at
a rate of five to seven miles a day to the westward,

272 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

whilst tho distance walked was equivalent to three or
four times as much. Always inclining in our course to
the westward, we traversed in every direction, partly
from choice, in order to view and examine the country,
and partly from the necessity to get round the extre-
mities of lakes and woods, and to look for game for
subsistence.

" It was impossible to ascertain the depths of these
savannas, but judging from the great expanse of the
undulations, and the total absence of inequalities on the
surfaces, it must often be many fathoms. Portions of
some of the marshes, from some cause under the surface,
are broken up and sunk below the level, forming gullies
and pools. The peat is there exposed sometimes to a
depth of ten feet and more without any rock or soil
underneath ; and the process of its formation is distinctly
exhibited from the dying and dead roots of the green
surface moss descending linearly into gradual decay,
until perfected into a fine black compact peat, in which
the original organic structure of the parent is lost. The
savanna peat immediately under the roots of the grass
on the surface is very similar to the perfected peat of the
marshes. The savannas are continually moist or wet on
the surface, even in the middle of summer, but hard
underneath. Eoots of trees, apparently where Ihey grew,
are to be found by digging the surfaces of some of them,
and probably of all. From what was seen of their edges
at the water-courses, they lie on the solid rock, without
the intervention of any soil. The rocks exhibited were
transition clay slate, mica slate, and granitic.

" One of the most striking features of the interior is
the innumerable deer paths on the savannas. They are

NOTES ON NEWFOUNDLAND. 273

narrow, and take directions as various as the winds,
giving the whole country a chequered appearance. Of
the millions of acres here, there is no one spot exceeding
a few superficial yards that is not bounded on all sides
by deer paths. We, however, met some small herds
only of these animals, the savannas and plains being in
the summer season deserted by them for the mountains
in the west part of the island. The Newfoundland deer,
and there is only one species in the island, is a variety of
the reindeer (Cervus tarandus, or cariboo) ; and, like that
animal in every other country, it is migratory, always
changing place with the seasons, for sake of its favourite
kinds of food. Although they migrate in herds, they
travel in files, with their heads in some degree to wind-
ward, in order that they may, by the scent, discover
their enemies the wolves ; their senses of smelling and
hearing are very acute, but they do not trust much to
their sight. This is the reason of their paths taking so
many directions in straight lines ; they become in con-
sequence an easy prey to the hunter by stratagem. The
paths tend from park to park through the intervening
woods, in lines as established and deep beaten as cattle-
paths on an old grazing farm."

Occupying nearly a month in toiling through the
savanna country, the latter portion of his journey being
impeded by deep snow, and living in an uncertain
manner on deer's meat, beaver, geese, and duckh, Mr.
Cormack further writes on approaching the western coast
at the end of October : —

" We met many thousand of the deer, all hastening to
the eastward, on their periodical migration. They had
been dispersed since the spring, on the mountains and

874 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

barren tracks, in the west and north-west division of the
interior, to bring forth and rear their young amidst the
profusion of lichens and mountain herbage, and where
they were, comparatively with the mountain lowlands,
free from the persecution of flies. When the first frosts,
as now in October, nip vegetation, the deer immediately
turn towards the south and east, and the first fall of
snow quickens their pace in those directions, as we now
met them, towards the low grounds where browse is to
be got, and the snow not so deep over the lichens. In
travelling, herd follow herd in rapid succession over the
whole surface of the country, all bending their course
the same way in parallel lines. The herds consist of
from twenty to two hundred each, connected by stragglers
or piquets, the animals following each other in single
files, a few yards or feet apart, as their paths show; were
they to be in close bodies, they could not graze freely.
They continue to travel south-eastward until February
or March, by which time the returning sun has power to
soften the snow, and permit of their scraping it off to
obtain the lichens underneath. They then turn round
towards the west, and in April are again on the rocky
barrens and mountains where their favourite mossy food
abounds the most, and where in June they bring forth
their young. In October the frosty warning to travel
returns. They generally follow the same routes year after
year, but these sometimes vary, owing to irregularities
in the seasons, and interruptions by the Indians. Such
are, in a general view, the courses and causes of the
migrations of the deer, and these seem to be the chief
design of animated nature in this portion of the earth.
Lakes and mountains intervening^, cause the lines of the

NOTES ON NEWFOUNDLAND. 876

migration paths to deviate from tlie parallel ; and at 'the
necks of land that separate large lakes, at the extremity
of lakes, and at the straits and i-unning waters which
unite lakes, the deer unavoidably concentrate in travel-
ling. At those passes the Indians encamp in parties,
and stay for considerable interval of time, because they
can there procure the deer with comparatively little
trouble."

The Indians here alluded to, whom Mr. Cormack
believed to be still inhabiting the shores of the large
lakes to the northward of his course through the island,
and the remains of whose fences or j)ounds for snaring
deer may be seen at the present day by the banks of the
Exploits river, were the Red Indians, or Bceothics — a
tribe long since extinct. The last of her race, a Ked
Indian woman, named Shanaandithith, called Mary
March by her captors, who brought her in to St. John's,
died there of consumption in 1829. As far as was
known of them, this tribe lived entirely in the wilder
portions of the interior, probably from distrust of the
whites, who had ruthlessly attacked and slain them
whenever met with, as also on account of the harassing
invasions of the Micmacs, who frequently crossed from
Acadia in fleets of canoes for that purpose. Smallpox
has been assigned as the cause of their extinction, and it
has been likewise supposed that the remnant of the tribe
migrated into the interior of Labrador, where strange
Indians are reported to have been seen from time to time,
not agreeing in type with any of the known resident
tribes.

The Bceothics have been described as a fine athletic
race, and, until the latter obtained possession of firearms,

T 2

27(5 FOREST LIFE IN ACAUIE.

Huporior in war to the Indians of tliu mainland. Tlu'ir
language was quite distinct from that of any of the sur-
rounding tribes.

in a pamphlet puhlished in London in IG'22, by one
Richard Whitburne, who had had much experience in the
great bank fisheries, and was sent out to institute a com-
mission to inquire into some abuses which were con-
nected with the latter, are to be found some very
interesting accounts of Newfoundland at that very early
date of its history. Of the Red Indians, he says : — " It
is well known that the natives of those parts have great
stores of red ochre wherewith they use to colour their
bodies, bowes, arrows, and cainiows in a painting manner,
which cannows are their boats that they used to go to sea
in, which are built in shape like the wherries on the
River of Thames, with small timbers no thicker nor
broader than hoopes, and instead of boards they use the
barkes ofbirche trees, which they sew very artificially and
close together, and then overlay the seams with turpen-
tine, as pitch is used on the seames of ships and boats ;
and in like manner they use to sew the barkes of spruce
and firre trees round and deep in proportion like a brasse
kettle to boil their meet in, as it hath been well ap-
proved by divers men, but most es})ecially to my certain
knowledge by three mariners of a ship of Tapson, in the
County of Devon, which ship riding there at anchor
neere by me at the Harbor called Hearts Ease on the
North side of Trinity Bay, and being robbed in the
night by the savages of their apparell and divers other
provisions did the next day seeke after them, and hap-
pened to come suddenly where they had set up three
tents and were feasting, having three such cannows by

NOTES ON NEWFOUNDLAND. 277

them, ami threes pots madt! of hucIi rinds of trccH, stand-
ing each of them on three stoiioH, l)oyliiig, with twelve
fowk'H in each of them, every fowde as big as a widgeon
and some so big as a ducke ; they had also many siKih
j)ots so served and fashioned, Hke leatlier buekets that
are used for (jueiiehing of fire, and those were full of
the yolks of eggs that they had taken and boyled hard
and 80 dried small as it had been powder sugar, which
the savages used in their broth as sugar is often used in
some meates ; they had great store of the skins of deere,
beavers, bearea, seals, otters and divers other fine skins
which were excellent well dresscnl, as also gre.'it store of
severall sorts of flesh dryed, and by shooting off a musket
towards them they all ran awny, naked, without any
a])parall but only some of them hiid their hats on their
heads, which were made of scale skins, in fashion like
our lints sewed handsomely with narrow bands about
them set round with finv wliiti; shels. All their three
cannows, their flesh, skins, yolks of eggs, targets, bows
and arrows, and much fine okar, and divers others things
they tookc and brought away and shared it among those
that tooko it, and they brought to me the best cannow,
bows, and arrows and divers of their skins and many
other artificial things worth the noting which may seeme
much to invite ns to endeavour to fiiide out some other
good trades with them."

The zoology of Newfoundland is of a more Arctic type
than that of the neighbouring Acadian Provinces, being
characterised by the presence of the ptarmigan, and Arctic
hare, and showing a remarkable falling oif in the number
of species of the continental fauna. Thus there is not a
squirrel on the island, and neither porcupine, racoon, or

278 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

mink. The presence of the wild cat is uncertain. Fewer
species of the ordinary mi<2;i-atory birds, visitors of the
Lower Provinces, are found here. At midsummer, in the
neighbourhood of St. John's, I have noticed tlie absence
of tlie nioht-liawk, so common a bird on the Continent.
Neither were fire-flies, wliich were scintillating in myriads
over the swamps in Nova Scotia at the time, to be seen.
]\Iany birds, however, passing over, or merely resting for
a week or two on their way, on the eastern shores of
Acadie, visit Newfoundland to breed, such as the
Canada goose, fox-coloured sparrow (F. iliaca), snipe, and
others, whilst migration of American species has a still
further range to the north-east, and American birds form
a large proportion of the avi-fauna of Greenland, accord-
ing to Dr. Roinhardt. The woodcock is not indigenous
to Newfoundland ; and, strange to say, the only specimen
shot quite recently near St. John's was a Euro})ean
bird.

Considering the immense portion of this island which
is claimed by water, bogs, and swamps, the well- ascer-
tained absence of reptilia is singular. In the peninsula
of Aval(3n I have plodded frequently along the edges of
ponds and swani})s, hoping to see some little croaker take
a header from the bank, or in search of snakes by sunny
Avoodland slopes — situations where they might be found
at every few paces on the mainland — but all in vain.
Indeed, more than once has the experiment been tried of
turning out some of the large green-headed frogs (R.
clamitans), to end in failure: in a few days they would
all be found stift* on their backs. Cormack met with
neither frog, snake, nor toad, on his journey across the
main island, and observes that his Indians had never

NOTES ON NEWFOUNDLAND. 279

seen or heard of one. * The ishiiid of Anticost' is said to
])e similarly deficient in representatives of this class. As
has been written of Ireland in an ancient poem, composed
by a St. Douatus, and dating as far back as the ninth
century : —

" Nulla veiiotia nocent, nuc serpens serpit in lierba,
Nee conquesta canit garrula rana lucu,"

From foregoing remarks, it will be readily seen that
the interior of Newfoundland is a vast field of discovery,
especially interesting to the enterprising sportsman. In
August and September, when the berries are ripe,
animal life is wonderfully abundant (for America) on the
open barrens. The deer begin their descent from the
hills ; willow grouse, now well grown, associate in large
coveys ; wild geese and curlew are found feeding on the
upland barrens, and snipe are plentiful in the marshes.
Bears are reported very numerous in the interior, where
their well-beaten paths, traversed for ages, afford good
walking to the traveller. When discovered at a distance,
revelling amongst thickets of berry-bearing bushes, they
may be easily approached under cover of ridges or rock
boulders. Furs of many sorts would repay the trapper ;

* Wliitburne appears to have been aware of tlii« circumstance, foi- he writes :
" Neither are there any Snakes, Toads, Seri)i"iis, or any other venomous
Wormesthat ever were kuowue to hurt any uian in that countiy, but only a
very little nimble l\\ (the least of all other Hies) \vhich is called a Miskieto,
those flies seem to have a j,'reat jiower and authority upon all loyterinji; and
idle people that come to the Newfoundland : for they have this jiroperty
t)iat when they finde any such lyinj; lazily, or slccpinj,' in the woods, they
will presently bee more niml)le to seize on them than any Sarj,'ent will be
to arrest a man for debt. Neither will they leave stiii},'inj,' or suckin;,' out
the blood of such slu<(gards, until like a Beadel they brinj,' him to liis
master, where he should hibour, in which time of loytering, those flii's will
80 brand such idle persons in their faces, that they may be kuowiic from
others as the Turks do their slaves."

280 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

foxes, marten, otter, ])eaver, or musk-rat. That of the
Arctic hare (Lepus Arcticus) is a handsome, though not
a very valuable skin ; the ears are tipped with black, the
rest of its winter dress being pure white. This animal
will attain a weight of fourteen pounds in Newfound-
land : it appears to present no appreciable ditiV'rence to
L, variabilis of Europe. It is said that there are two
species of ptarmigan on the island. If so, the other and
less common description is probably the somewhat
smaller and more slenderly-billed bird — Lagopus rupestris,
or rock ptarmigan. In its summer plumage, the former
species is one of the handsomest game birds the world
can produce. At this season, the wings only are white,
all the rest being a rich mottled chesnut ; an arch of
scarlet fringe over the eye. Grouse shooting (these birds
are called grouse on the island, or sometimes by the
fishermen and settlers — '^ imttermeyans") begins in the
neighbourhood of St. John's, where they are protected,
and the law receives the assistance of a game society, on
the 25th August The game laws arc strictly observed in
the vicinity of the capital ; snipe are included in the Act.
Although the caril)oo is generally dispersed through
the interior, it will have been seen that the great bulk
of these animals shift from the low-lying lake and
savanna country to the hills, jind vice versa, in the spring
and fall. To reach the interior from their great strong-
hold in the high lands which form the extension of the
island towards the Straits of Belle-Isle, they must cross
the two chains of lakes and rivers which, overlapping
each other near the centre of the island, discharge their
waters respectively into the Bay of Islands and Notre
Dame.

NOTES ON NEWFOUNDLAND. 281

Into the latter great bnsiii, and a little to the north of
Exploits River, empties a stream called the Hall's Bay
River. It flows from a chain of small lakes running
nearly east and west at the south-eastern termination of
the mountain range Lefore mentioned ; and here the
great body of the cariboo pass, commencing their
southerly migration about the end of August. Hall's
Bay is to be reached only by sailing-vessel from St.
John's, but the hunting grounds may also be attained by
ascending the magnificent river Humber from the Bay of
Islands on the western side of the island — a course on
w.bicli much grand scenery is to be viewed.

The north-eastern extremity of the Grand Pond, some
fifty miles in length, with which it communicates, ap-
proaches the Hall's Bay chain with easy access. Cariboo
hunting may, however, be obtained by entering the
interior from the heads of any of the great bays which
so deeply indent the coast line of Newfoundland,

Although the Indian race, which once wholly subsisted
on their flesh, is long since extinct, and there are but few
resident Micmac hunters, the cariboo are much kept
down by their bitter persecutors in every part of the
globe where the reindeer is found — the wolves. "The
Old Hunter," whose camp has been frequently pitched
in the proximity of the famous deer passes just men-
tioned, tells me of the great destruction caused amongst
the deer by this fleet and wily brute, which he has often
seen and shot in the act of pursuit. The splendid
head of a Newfoundland cariboo, figured No. 2 in the
engraving of horns, was obtained from an animal shot at
Deer Harbour, Trinity Bay, by Mr. F. N. Gisborne (who
has kindly allowed me to copy it), when nearly run into

282 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

by a wolf. It would appear singular that these magnifi-
cent Newfoundland bucks, which will attain the weiirht
of five or even six hundred j^ounds, witli ponderous
antlers, should fly from the wolf, considering the tremen-
dous power of a blow from their hoofs. The specimen
last mentioned weighed 428 pounds after being cleaned.

With regard to the sport which may be expected by
the angler on this island, it may be briefly stated that
every lake abounds with the ordinary trout of Eastern
America — S. fontinalis : sea-trout ascend all the rivers
in July in astonishing abundance, taking anything in the
shape of l)ait or fly readily and indiscriminately, Salmon
fishing, however, appears to be uncertain ; and a general
belief obtains that, on the larger rivers of the north-east
coast, they are shy of taking the fly. I am, however,
informed by my friend Mr. Gisborue,* to whom I am
indebted for much information on the sports of New-
foundland, and who has hunted and explored the country
in every direction, that Gander Bay Eiver, an important
stream affbrdinor excellent canoeinoj on its course to its
large parent lake in the interior, and flowing into the
southern end of Notre Dame Bay, is believed by him to
be as fine a river for salmon-fishing as any in North
America.

* Frederic Newton Gisborne, to whose skill as an electrician, and thr
energy which he displayed in exploring and completing a line of telegraph
across the wild southern interior of Newfoundland, from the east coast to
the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and further uniting that island with the continent
by a submarine cable, testimony has Ijeen borne not only by the conmiunity
of Newfoundland, but by the inhabitants of all the British North American
provinces bordering on the Atlantic. Whatever praise may be accorded to
another great name in completing and successfully carrying out the gigantic
scheme which followed — the connexion of the two hemispheres by the
Atlantic cable — Mr. Gisborne is rightly accredited in British North America
with being its original projector. Palmam qui meruit ferat.

CHAPTER XI.

CAMPING OUT.

The nccessitiers and shifts of a life in the woods are
described in so many works on North American travel,
with exhaustive t.'eatises on materiel and outfits, that it
becomes unnecessary to dilate on this topic. Indeed
there is not much to be said with regard to camping in
these >.■ astern woodlands. Our expeditions never extend
very far from the ]jase of supply, nor have we to contend
with such dangers as those incident on prairie travel.

Everything necessary for the woods is to be got in the
stores of all the large provincial towns, and almost every
storekeeper will be able to inform J.lie traveller of what he
wants in the way of tin ware and provisions, and how the
outfit should be packed.

Bringing with him his particular fancies in the way of
breechloaders or the old style, he can get fair rods, quite
good enough for the rough work on American forest
streams, and good tackle and flies in either Halifax or St.
John's, where also a first-rate American click reel may be
got of German silver or bronzed aluminum.

An elaborate canteen, with all its nicely-fitting arrange-
ments, got up for a Crimean or Abyssinian cam})aign, is
all v"ry well, perhaps, for such purposes ; but where tin-
smiths' shops are frequent at the starting point, no good

284 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

is to be got by bringing such traps across the Atlantic.
To save trouble and room I have frequently purchased
my bunch of tins at the very last settlement where a
store existed, before turning into the woods. It is well
to remember, however, to get the handle of the frying-
pan "fixed" so as to double back, and so pack with the
plates, mugs, &c., into the big outside tin can, which holds
the entire camp service ; otherwise the Indian who
carries it through the woods will probably grumble all tlie
way, az "[.he stem is constantly catching in the bushes.

Except in winter, when opportunities occur of getting
one's traps hauled in on a sled over some logging road,

\ everything has to be " backed " through the woods, to

! the hunting camp, and, consequently, anything pro-

(' trading from the loads is liable to impede one's progress.

I Hence the bundles should be as near as possible the

breadth of the back, all loads being thus carried, with a

'i strap (the broader the better) encircling the chest and

I shoulders.

The Indian, used to the work from infancy, will often

■; carry a hundred weight by a withy of birch or withered

bush, which seems as though it would cut to the bone ;
but to the white man, unaccustomed to carrying a load
thus, a well-l)alanccd bundle and broad carrying- strap are
of the first importance, particularly as long journeys are
often thus made, and every true sportsman likes to do a
fair share of the work.

A hint may be inserted here that one of the greatest
drawbacks to progress under such unavoidable circum-
stances is to lose one's temper, and a firm determination
should be made at starting to avoid doing so. I grant it
is often hard of prevention when two or three consecutive

CAMPING OUT. 285

stumbles over windfalls or painful collision of tlir shins
with sharp stumps are followed by suddenly sinking on
one leg up to the knee in a black mud hole, and the load,
slewing round, brings you over altogether into wet moss,
or still worse, when the unpractised hand nervously
attempts the often necessary passage of a deep brook or
still-water streiun (the latter is a frequent feature in the
forest), and the uncertain foot glides from the slippery
bridge — a fallen tree — followed by a tremendous s^jlash,
and one or two expletives as a matter of course ; but
depend upon it, the less you fret under such circum-
stances the better you will come in to camp by a deal.
The Indians generally carry 50 lb. to 70 lb. weight,
including gun (71b. or 811).) ; yours would be 20 lb. to
30 lb., and this you ought to carry if you are fit to enter
the woods at all. To let you know, however, what is
often before you, here is a description of a very common
feature in the woods — an alder swamp : —

Take a substratum of black mud, into which you will
sink at least up to your knees, perhaps up to your hips ;
cover this over with a treacherous crust of peat, turf, and
moss ; over this strew windfalls, i.e., dead, fallen trees,
with the branches broken oft' close to the trunks, leaving
sharp spikes ; form an interlaced network of these,
sprinkling in a few granite rocks ; and cover all this over
with a thick growth of alder bushes about five feet high,
so that you cannot possibly see where you are putting
your feet ; vary the ground with a few boggy streams
and " honey pots " or mud holes. Then walk across this
with a good load on your back, and your gun under your
arm, without losing your temper !

For either winter or summer work the common gray

il;

286 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

homespun of the country is the best material for the
woods. It is very strong, almost impossible to tear by
catching against the trees, and porous, which is also a
great advantage, as it dries so quickly. Its colour, too, is
[If in its favour, being so like that of rocks or tree stems.

I i An almost colourless material is as necessary for moose

I hunting as it is for fishing, though I have seen a good

I New York sportsman flinging over a clean pool on the

'i brightest of days with a scarlet flannel shirt and black

i continuations, and get fish withal.

I The Canadian smock, known in England as the Norfolk

I blouse, is a capital style of coat for hunting. Pockets

I according to taste, and a piece of leather on either

l shoulder and another on the inside of the right arm to

I ease the pressure of the gun.

The camp generally taken into the woods is a spread
!J of strong cotton cloth soaked with boiled oil and well

J dried in the sun. Its shape is best understood by de-

scribing the framework of the camp as follows : — Two
i uprights with forks at the end stuck into the ground some

I eight or ten feet apart, the '^rutches about six feet from the

I base ; a cross piece between these well lashed on, on

I which rest the tops of some half-dozen long slanting poles

' — fir or larch saplings. The canvas is spread over and

tied ; two wings (triangular pieces) form the sides, and
are tied to the uprights. This is the usual form of open
camp for summer or the fall. The fire is arranged in
front. You sleep on an elastic bed of silver-fir boughs
(not spruce, mind, or you would be most uncomfortably
pricked), artistically spread by the Indians underneath ;
they rough it in the open, and coil up under their blankets
at the foot of a tree on the opposite side of the fire. If

CAMPING OUT. 287

you are on a fishing excursion, encamped by the water-
side and it rains, they turn the canoes, bottom up, over
themselves.

In winter they make a leaning cover for themselves of
boughs and birch bark nearly joining yours (room being
left above for the ascent of the smoke), and fill in the sides
with the bushes and slabs of split fir, the doorway being
covered by a suspended rug. With plenty of firewood at
hand, no one who had not been in the woods in winter
would credit the comfort and cosiness found in these
hunting camps. In fact, the ease with which the wilder-
ness can be made a home with so little labour, and the
entire independence of the sojourner in the woods who has
set up a good camp well stocked with provision for a foi't-
night's campaign, and a few changes of flannels and
stockings, contribute principally to the charms of forest
life. We are seldom storm staid or lose a day by remain-
ing within.

" The frost might glitter, it would blight no crop,
The falling rain will spoil no holiday.
We were made freemen of the forest laws,
All dressed, like Nature, fit for her own ends,
Essaying nothing she cannot perform."

writes one of America's poets ;* and when the snow-storm
is driving or the rain drops patter on the autumnal
leaves strewn on the ground, it is often seasonable
weather to the hunter ; and the evening closes over
many an exciting tale of what has been seen or done in
the chase on such days.

As a summer residence I have used a very portable
little square camp, opening at one end. The top was

* Ralph Waldo Emerson.

SSe FOREST LIFE IN ACADIK.

suspended on a ridge pole bound to two uprights, and tlio
sloping sides stretched and fastened to pegs ; it had a

l\ valence all round ahout two feet high. The area of the

surface it covered was some eight feet by ten. Not being
oiled, it weighed only a dozen pounds or so, and when

'1 well stretched was quite rain-proof, unless the sides were

touched by a gun or anything leaning against them, when

1 1 it would drip.

( Never encamp in a low site at the foot of a hill ; for

it is not pleasant, however well you may be protected
from the falling Avaters, to find yourself becoming sud-

j denly soaked by the rising flood, in the nice comfortable

hollow which your form has made in your bed of boughs.
We never expect, and rarely find, any unpleasant results
in the way of a severe cold from these little disagreeables
of camping out ; living constantly in the open air steels
the sensibility of the system to catarrhal affections, and

^ the Indians aver that they are more apt to take cold by

going into a house than we are by going into the open
air. And so we take things very philosophically ; so
much so, sometimes, that a friend of mine, on being
roused from his slumbers, on the plea that he was lying
in three inches of water, immediately lay down again in

'^ the old spot, averring that " the water there was warmer

than anywhere else in the camp." In this country,
storms of this description never last very long, twelve to

I twenty-four hours from the commencement being the

general duration, when the wind veering round to the
west (our fine-weather quarter), soon clears off the rolling
cloud masses from the sky, and a glorious sun and cool
zephyr quickly dry the dripping forest.

I like to have the sound of a bubbling brook for a

CAMIMNCi OUT. 289

lullaby when camped in the woods ; one's somniferous
tendencies are greatly assisted l)y the curious ehatterings
and tiiiislings of its little fiills and rapids. As sleep draws
nigh, the multitudinous sounds in turn resemlde, almost
to reality, those produced by far difft^rent causes — now it
is men talking in low tones close at hand ; tlicn a di>stant
shout or despairing shriek ; and now the impression is
that a herd of cattle are crossing the brook, splashing the
water ; the deception being aided by the resemblance to
the sound of cattle-bells often made by the miniature
cascades.

Such streams are sure to occur not far from one's camp
by the lake or river side. They come dancing down
from the lakes back in the woods to join the river, shaded
by dark firs and hemlocks, full of little falls, eddying
round great rocks, which stand out from the stream
capped with, ferns and lichens, and at whose base are
little gravelly pools — the very counterpart in miniature
of some of our grander salmon rivers. Had Tennyson
ever seen an American forest brook when he wrote his
charming little idyll, " The Brook ? " I must insert one
verse : —

" And here aiid there a foamy flake
Upon me, as I travel,
With many a silvery water-break
Above the golden gravel."

To return, however, to the sol)er description of practical
experience. Never trust to finding a camp, of the exist-
ence of which you may have heard, standing, and ready
for habitation ; and always allow plenty of daylight to
make a new one, in case the old is non est, or gone to
pieces. I remember one blazing hot summer's afternoon
going up the banks of Gold River, Nova Scotia, to try

200 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

some salmiin pools at the Grand Falls on the next morn-
ing — a twelve miles' walk. There was a nice camp (so
reported) all ready to receive us. Feverish from the heat
of the woods, and the severe biting we had received from
the huge moose flies and clouds of mosquitoes on the
way, we reached the spot long after sundown, in hopes
of finding slielter and a good night's repose, for we were
fatigued. An old camp of the meaixv.st construction was
found, after consideraljle search with birch-bark torches,
and under its very questionable shelter we extended our-
selves in front of a meagre fire which had been kindled
with difficulty, there being nothing but fir woods around.
Presently we found that the whole of the ancient bedding
of diy fir boughs was overrun by large black ants. Now,
I had rather be coursed over by rats than by ants at
night, as the former veraiin seldom act on the offensive
towards a sleeping human being ; and so, sleep was out
of the question till the enemy was exterminated. To
effect this, we arose and parted with our beds — to wit,
the brown spruce boughs, which we committed to the
flames. We then again tried to rest, lying down in the
ashes round the fire, but no — on they came again in
battalion. With one consent we arose, and rushed up
the hill-side into the dark woods, depositing ourselves in
the soft moss under the hemlocks. Presently down came
a new enemy — pattering drops of rain, precursors of a
heavy summer shower. Back to camp ; but the ants
had not retii'cd for the night ; so, peeling off" the sheets
of bark from the poles, we finally sought a hard bed on
the naked rocks by the water's edge, shielding ourselves
from the rain with our birchen waterproofs. Next morn-
ing it was discovered that our little packet of tea, care-

CAMPING OUT. 291

los-sly pitched into the back part of the camp, liad been
burned witli the fir bou<,di8 ; so our lieveragc that morn-
ing was an infusion of hemlock boughs, a few sprays of
Avhich were boiled in water — one of the many devices
adopted in the woods as substitutes for tea. Morning
disclosed, moreover, a patch of the broad, sickly-looking
green leaves of the poison-ivy (Rhus toxicodendron),
growing hard by where we had reposed, contact with
whi(!h would have driven us wild with dangerous irrita-
tion. On returning to the sea-pools, however, our miseries
were somewhat compensated by killing five dozen newly
run sea trout at a pretty st'ind in a wild meadow, where
a cool brook joined the river.

Apropos of the flics whicdi have been just alluded to,
none of his relations could have identified my companion
(a novice in the woods) next morning. So swollen was
his whole countenance that features were obliterated, and
for nearly the whole day he was helplessly blind. Many
people suffer similarly ; others enjoy comparative immu-
nity from swelling, though copiously bled. On landing
from a canoe, the only plan is to light a fire, and make
as dense a smoke as possible. Lime juice, petroleum,
pork fat, or tar are used, according to fancy, to smear
the face and hands as preventives, but the flies will
scarcely be denied by such appliances. On salmon-
fishing excursions of extended duration on the Nepisiquit
and elsewhere, I have generally taken mosquito curtains
to cover one's body at night. By day I and the insects
fight it out in a continuous tussle. In a recent number
of Ij:t7id and Water, however, I find a receipt given by
my friend " Ubique," an old hand at " campmg out,"
which, though I have not had an opportunity of tiying

u 2

292 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

for myself is worthy of note. "In nearly all timber
lands," he says, speaking of this part of North America,
" large fungi will be found growing on the sides of semi-
decayed trees ; this gather, and dry thoroughly in the
sun, when it will smoulder if lighted, like a joss-stick.
The smoke is not disagreeable to man, and two or three
pieces kept frequently at work will soon drive all the
winged pests to other quarters. A piece about the size
of a walnut will burn for over a quarter of an hour."

Overtaken by nightfall, one is sometimes compelled to
camp in low-lying swampy ground, when it becomes
exceedingly hard to light a fire, owing to the steam
rising from the damp, peaty soil beneath. In this case
we resort to the following expedient — an excellent plan,
worth remembering — namely, to cut down two or three
small firs and chop them into lengths of four or five feet,
placing them side l)y side ; this forms a platform, and
the fire kindles readily upon it, and the platform itself
burns with the rest. Another plan for establishing a
good fire when there are plenty of rocks to be obtained
near the camp, is to make a good broad hearth with flat
slabs ; the stones will themselves emit mi. oh heat when
the fii'e is established, and it will burn better and clearer,
and may always be relighted with very little trouble ;
and, moreover, the great hole which the fire soon burns
in the ground beneath, and into which it sinks, will thus
be avoided.

And now for a few remarks on tiie interior economy
of a camp. A small amount of light literature will while
away idle hours spent within — magazines or reviews are
the best generally. For a fishing camp there are several
excellent American publications on the sport of the British

CAMPIXO OUT. £93

provinces, entertainingly descriptive, and sound in advice,
which woidd prove highly useful. They include " Game
Fish of the North," by Roosevelt ; Norris's " American
Angler," and Frank Forester's "Fish and Fishing." In
the former work some excellent receipts will be found
for the camp cuisine. I confess to being somewhat of a
Spartan as manager of this department, and, ])efore the
invention of the really invaluable meat essences, if moose
meat, porcupine, or salmon were not in the larder, would
fall back upon the staples of a woodman's diet — navy
pork and pilot bread, from day to day, unvaryingly. A
Sunday dinner, however, would always com[)rise a boil-
ing of pea-soup — one of the best descriptions of camp
messes — made of split peas, pork bones, lots of sliced
onions, potatoes, and pounded biscuit, the latter being
added with the seasoninoj at the last. The utmost vigi-
lance is required towards the; close of the performance to
prevent any solid crust or deposit adhering to the bottom
of the pot, as it would then immediately burn, and burnt
pea-soup is altogether uneatable. AVe write and read in
the camp, as we lie on our blankets extended over the
comfortable bedding of fir-boughs, by the light of a little
lamp filled with the American burning-fiuid ; it is one
of the best and most portable means of lighting a camp
that can be taken. A wax candle stuck in a noose of
birch-bark di'awn tightly round, and held in a split
stick sharpened at the end, which is planted in the
ground under the name of the Indian candlestick, is
another and more common means of illumination ; and,
should cjindles or fluid have been foro-otten, the follow injj
will do as a dernier ressort : — A common tin box (as a
percussion-cap box), with a wick passed through a hole

294 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

in the lid, and fed with lumps of fat ; the tin, becoming
warm, will keep the fat in the proper state of liquefaction
for feeding the wick.

The death of a moose or cariboo is of course an event
of great importance in the hunter's camp, and is duly
celebrated. What gorging, however, on the part of the
Indians — they will broil tit bits through half the night.
Moose meat is very digestible ; cariboo (of a closer fibre)
somewhat less so ; bear most easily assimilated of all,
and "grand to travel on" says the Indian, who never
knows when to stop. Failing this, or venison, the por-
cupine is the great resource of the hunting camp through-
out the provinces, with the exception of Cape Breton and
Newfoundland, where it is not found. Scalded, scraped,
and singed, its bare body expanded on a cross to roast,
it looks anything but enticing to a novice. But the
appetite of the woods prevails, and overcomes all scru-
ples. It has, at the same time, a drawback in the fre-
quent occurrence of large quantities of entozoa (Taenia
pectinata) — no drawback to the Indian, however ; some-
times rather the contrary. An Indian told me, " my
grandfather, he like 'em ; taste hard though — 'most
like mustard."

The hare, and the two sorts of tree grouse, locally
known as the birch and spruce partridges (T. umbellus
and T. canadensis) also contribute to the camp larder.
Two or three hanks of brass wire for snaring the former
animal should not be omitted in the outfit. Of the two
partridges, the birch (the ruffed grouse) is by far the
best. It is white-fieshed and delicate eating : the spnice
bird has very dark meat, and tastes like an old pine
board.

CAMPING OUT. 295

The universal charge made by the ludian hunters or
canoe men, is one dollar per diem, though possibly the
camp-keeper who stays at home, cooks, cuts firewood,
and sets rabbit snares, &c., may be hired for two-thirds of
that amount. They also charge so much a day, say half
a dollar, for canoe hire, unless you buy the canoe out-
right for from eight to twenty dollars, according to her
age and size. Bark is getting so iscarce in many parts
that their charge in this respect is not unreasonable, for
in taking a party up a river or through lakes with heavy
loads there is considerable wear and tear. To see their
faces of anxiety on shooting shoal rapids ! not from
physical fear, but for the canoe ; and the agonised look
when a long grating rub proclaims contact with the
rocks, and how eagerly on reaching shore they turn her
over to inspect the bottom bark and ascertain if the cut
is deep or not ! The canoe is their pride ; and to many
the loss of their little craft would brino; the greatest
temporary distress. These beautiful adaptations for
water transport in the wilderness are fjir from being so
frail as would be imagined at first sight. Though they
can be made scarcely exceeding sixty pounds weight,
and at the same time sufficiently capacious to carry four
persons and luggage, they are models of strength in the
framework. The strips of ash which form the gunwale,
and the delicate hooped ribs of fir which almost touch
each other throughout the length, are most carefully
selected. The thwarts are of thin ash, one is placed at
either extremity, on which sit the paddlers (kneeling,
however, in the bottom in case of rapid water, or a heavy
sea on a lake), the other two crossing amidships as sup-
ports. I know of no more dehghtful life than a canoe

296 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

expedition through the forest. So nicany luxuries may
be taken ; and the position in which one reclines, legs
stretched at full length in the bottom, with the back
propped up against the blankets and loads, is just the
one in which to enjoy the ever changing scenery; and
whilst on the water you are blessed by a perfect immu-
nity from the flies.

Though of course each fresh abrasion of the outside
bark takes off from the value of the canoe, injuries to the
bottom or sides are generally mended with great ease
and celerity. The sligiitest puncture is soon detected by
the Indian, on turning her over, by suction, the mouth
being applied to doubtful looking spots. Eents or gashes
of considerable extent are " fixed " by a piece of rag
dipped in melted resin softened somewhat by tallow :
the forest remedy is the hard gum which plentifully
exudes from the black spruce — " chewing gum," as it is
called, being the favourite sweetmeat of the backwoods-
man. The bark, however, must be quite dry before the
application is made.

In smooth water two vigorous Indians will paddle the
canoe, well loaded, about six miles an hour. In a spurt,
however, when they strain to pass another canoe, or to
avoid some rapid or rock towards which they are drifting,
or to overtake wounded game in the water, they can nearly
double this speed. It is a charming sight to watch the
passing canoe thus powerfully impelled, from the shore.
With its exquisitely symmetrical lines and fragile appear-
ance, as it glides noiselessly yet swiftly through the
water, one is strongly impressed with the poet's fancy
that " the forest's life was in it, all its mystery and its
magic." Kcclining by the river side in the vicinity of

CAMPING OUT. 297

tl e fisliing camp, to see a handsome Indian youth bring
up his canoe to the shallow landing-place in a graceful
sweep, without the slightest concussion, and, lightly
stepping out, draw her head up into the bushes, is to
recall a just image of a Hiawatha.

" Then once more Cheemaiin he patted,
To his birch canoe said ' Onward ! '
And it stirred in all its fibres,
And with one great bound of triunijjh
Leaped across the water-lilies,
Leaped through tangled tiags and rushes,
And upon the beach beyond them
Dry-shod landed Hiawatha."

As it may be inferred that every sportsman who visits
the woodlands or streams of Acadie would wish to be
acquainted with the existing local regulations for the
protection of game and fish, a summary of the laws
framed for this purpose is here introduced.

In Nova Scotia, with regard to fish, it is enacted that, —

" Any person taking salmon in fresh water westward
of Halifax Harbour between the 31st day of July and
the 1st of March, or in fresh water eastward of Halifax
Harbour between the 15th day of August and the 1st of
March, is liable to a penalty of forty dollars."

" Bag nets shall not be used in any river or harbour
nor within a mile from the mouth of any river under a
penalty of forty dollars." •

" No nets shall be set or allowed to remain set be-
tween an hour before sunset on Saturday, and an hour
after sunrise on JMonday, under a penalty of forty
dollars."

" Any person spearing salmon or sweeping with a net
therefor in fresh water is liable to a penalty of forty
dollars."

298 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

" Nets shall only be placed on one side of a river, shall
not extend more than one-third across the same, shall not
be placed nearer than an eighth of a mile to each other,
nor nearer than an eighth of a mile to any dam."

** Every dam shall have a sufficient fish way, which
shall be kept open during the months of March, May,
June, and July. The owner or occupier is liable to a
penalty of forty dollars for every time he shall close
such passage."

" The owner of a mill who, after being duly notified,
shall neglect or refuse to construct a sufficient fish way
is liable to a penalty of one hundred dollars, and if
within ten days after such penalty has been inflicted he
does not construct such fish way he is liable to have his
dam wholly prostrated."

In resj)ect of the large game, the law stands, —

" No person shall kill, or pursue with intent to kill,
any moose, save only during the months of September,
October, November, and December, or shall expose for
sale, or have in his or her possession, any green moose
skin or fresh moose meat, save only in the months afore-
said, and the first five days in the month of January ;
and no person shall kill, or pursue with intent to kill,
any cariboo between the first days of March and Sep-
tember inclusive in any year."

"No person shall kill more than five moose or cari-
boo, during any one year or season, under a penalty
of twenty dollars for each ofience — one-half to the
informer."

" No person whatever sludl set snares or traps, for
moose or cariboo, under a penalty of twenty dollars —
one half to the informer."

CAMPING OUT. 299

" The export from this Province of moose or cariboo
hides is hereby prohibited and unlawful, and the hides
attempted to be exported shall be forfeited, and the
owner or person attempting to export the same shall,
on conviction, be liable to pay a sum not to exceed five
dollars on each hide, to be recovered in the name of any
prosecutor in a summary manner before two justices of
the peace, and, when recovered, to go to the prose-
cutor."

With regard to smaller game, —

" No snares shall be set for hares Ijetween the first
days of March and September in any year, under a
penalty of two dollars for each offence ; and all snares
shall be taken up during the aforesaid close season under
a penalty of two dollars for each snare not removed by
the parties setting the same, on or before the first day of
March, to be recovered in the same manner as in the
preceding section."

" Partridges, snipe, and woodcock, are protected from
1st day of March to 1st of September, — penalty, ten
shillings for every bird killed out of season."

" No person is permitted to have any of the above in
his possession in the close season, under a penalty of ten
shillings for each."

Exceptional cases to all the game laws are made on
behalf of the Indians, who abuse their privilege, however,
most shamefully, and to the detriment of those for whom
the preservation of the animals of the forest is yearly
becoming of more importance. It is very well to argue
that the poor Indian has a right to shoot a moose or
spear a sahnon for his own use at any time of the year ;
but when they shoot moose wholesale in the deep snow

300 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

late in the spring, disturbing the cows when they ought
to be at peace, and often leaving piles of meat to decay
in the fast-melting snow of April, it is time that this
wanton mode of proceeding should l)e put an end to. It
is hardly, however, at their doors that the blame is to
be laid — it is the ready market that tempts them ; and
although a question would be raised if they were to
bring their meat into the larger provincial towns, yet the
residents at the smaller settlements will always purchase
whenever they can procure it, the local mtigistrates them-
selves sometimes setting the example. The month of
April is an idle time with the settlers, and they often
accompany the Indians, who may be located in their
neighbourhood, lor a " spree " in the woods, chasing and
scaring the moose with long-legged noisy curs, on the
crusted surface of the old snow. Throughout North
America there seems to be a general difficulty and
unwillingness, on the part of the local authorities, to
maintain the dignity of the game laws — the more so as
the locality is further from the seat of government wliere
the laws are framed. And until the government can
pay overseers who shall be scrupulously independent of
favour or partiality, in the districts to which they are
appointed, and whose whole care shall be to Ijring to
justice every case in which the law is transgressed, we
can hope for no satisfactory and impartial protection of
game or salmon in those districts in which such protec-
tion is most required.

The author, for many years connected with the Council
of the Nova Scotian Inland Fisheric^s and Game Preser-
vation Society (latterly as Vice-President), under the
continued direction of his esteemed personal friend, fre-

CAMPING OUT. 301

quently mentioned in these pages as "The Old Hunter,"*
who has presided over it since its inception, has had
much to do with the framing of the present laws relating
to large game.

From the almost incredible slaughter of moose in the
concluding winter months, consequent, in some seasons,
on a continuance of deep encrusted snow in the woods, a
restriction of the season in which these animals might
formerly be killed (lasting until the last day of February)
appeared a most necessary step. Though as trae sport
moose hunting is seldom pursued in the latter part of the
winter, yet the instincts of the Indians, and of the set-
tlers generally, appear so ferocious that they seek the
opportunity of the animals' most prostrate and defence-
less condition to inflict a slaughter the excitement of
which apparently temporarily blinds them to reason. Of
the Indians it is the old story, corroborated by every
traveller from Labrador to Vancouver, from the Prairies
to the Pole. With regard to the latter class, it is
enough to say that the time when the crust will bear
their yelping curs, racing the plunging, bleeding moose
through the forest, is looked forward to wdtli the greatest
anticipations of pleasure.

In view of amendment of this lamentable state of
affairs, the regulations concerning the hunting of the elk
in the Scandinavian peninsula were referred to. Once,
the elk, unprotected, and regarded as a noxious animal,
was on the point of extinction in Norway. Government
thereupon enacted a stringent law forbidding these animals
being shot for a long term of years. This was afterwards

* Lieut.-Colonel William Chcamley, commanding Halifax Volunteer
Battalion, late Captain H.M. 8tli Reyt. (King's Own).

302 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

modified, and the shooting season as regards elk is now
from the 1st of August to the hist day of October,

As, however, in Nova Scotia our best hunting season
is comprised in the first two winter months — the snow
being light, and so giving the moose every chance of
escape, whilst it enables the carcass, when shot, to be
taken easily out of the woods — it was deemed expedient
to terminate moose hunting with the last day of the year ;
and so the case now stands.

In a country like Nova Scotia, where a gun is kept in
almost eveiy homestead bordering on the forest, or where
by the river side the barns are constantly occupied by
drying nets, whilst the placid pools are nightly enlivened
by burning birch bark, that its fish and wild unprotected
game of all descriptions should have rapidly declined in
abundance within the memory of comparatively young
people, is not much to be wondered at. The whole con-
tinent of North America, not only within its settled
districts but even in the remotest wilds penetrated by the
mercenary hunter, has undergone a great change in the
relation between the distribution of its animal life and the
other features of its physical geography within the last
quarter of a century. The Anglo-Saxon transplanted has
revelled in his inherent love of sport, which frequently
turns into a lust of slaughter, until the game of North
America has in many cases altogether disappeared before
the cruel tide of wanton destruction which has overtaken
it. T'his decrease is yearly accelerated by increasing
demand for the spoils of the chase or the products of the
waters, the inevitable result being extinction of species.

And now our neighbours of the Northern States, who
have completely lost their salmon long since, and can

CAMPINQ OUT. 303

scarcely boast of any game in their wild lands east of the
prairies, are calling loudly for restocking their rivers arti-
ficially in the one case, and, in the other, have enacted
stringent laws to preserve the scanty remnant of their
deer and grouse.

However inexpedient or impracticable it may have
been in the earlier history of the country to stem the
torrent of wasteful destruction which has swept over this
continent, there is no doubt that here, as in every other
part of the world, increasing civilisation would at length
call for protection of game. Game, both as a luxury and
as a means of recreation, is a necessary adjunct to the
establishment of a country tenanted by Anglo-Saxons.
Witness the anxiety with which our antipodal colonists
are watching their attempts to introduce deer, game
birds, and salmon into Australia, Tasmania, and New
Zealand ; and the eagerness with which the young sports-
men of the great cities of the States disperse themselves
throughout the land in search of recreation from the
prairies to the rivers of Labrador. This demand will
eventually in this country ensure protection. Nature's
great stock-farm, though nearly worn out by the reck-
lessness of the first-comers, will yet repay careful
husbandry ; and where so large a portion, of British
North America especially, is destined for ever to remain
in a state of nature, it is the duty of the people to pre-
vent it from becoming an unprofitable, repulsive wilder-
ness ; and how much better to take vigorous measures to
preserve the remnant of the former stock than at length
be compelled to have recourse to the tedious process of
acclimatisation or of artificial propagation.

It is perhaps within the last fifteen years that the mcjst

304 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

startling dccrcnsc has taken place, both in the salmon
fislieri(>s and game of I^ritish North America, and has
enfjam'd the attention of the various colonial ffovern-
mcnta. Laws to protect the wild animals at certain times
called close seasons, jmd stringent regulations to ensure
fair play to the salmon, have been passed throughout our
Atlantic colonics within this period. As regards legisla-
tion, nothing seems neglected, and still the game and fish
arc decreasing as heretofore. We, at least in these pro-
vinces, never hear of cases of game-law breakers in the
police reports, yet, granted that the law is sufficient to
protect, it must be through its violation that the evil is
not checked. The constant cause of this we all know to
be the defectiveness of administration, and in this part of
the world, where there is no such thing as poaching upon
private property, which in England would lead to pro-
secution through the injured rights of an individual, we
do not wonder at it. In the old country the game is
private property, to protect which the game-laws are
framed ; whilst in the protection of the salmon there are
mixed interests — the great value of the fisheries to the
country, the netting interests at the mouths, and those
of the proprietors of the inland fisheries on the rivers
passing through their estates or rented. Consequently
any violation of either game or fishery law is there
directly injurious to a proprietor, and so meets with quick
justice.

In Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, or Canada, on the
other hand, the wild denizens of the forests, commonly
called game, are public property, or rather the property
of the country. No private rights are infringed by moose
hunting or partridge shooting in any part of the country

CAMPING OUT. :)06

at any Hcason, wliilst, in the ahsoiice of proprietors of
inland fislu^rii's, tlio netting interests become so over-
wlutlminjif that it is not surprising that tlie Law should be
boldly challenged to prevent the salmon being apeansd
and netted on their beds to the very end of the spawning
season. It is to assist in carrying out the protection
aftbrded by law that societies hava^ sprunpj np in various
parts of British Ameri.-a witliin the al)ove-nienti»>ned
period of time — pul)lic associations of all members of the
comtiiunity who are anxious to arrest the dcscline of tish
and game, and willing to pay a small annual subscription
to the funds of the society, binding themselves to [)ring
to its notice for prosecution all cases of infringement of
the law coming under their cognisance. The Canadian
fish and game clubs radiating through the country from
the parent society at Quebec, where the system com-
menced in 1857, have met with marked success, from the
spirit with which they have been conduct(?d ; and now
the tributaries o{ the Saint Lawrence in the vicinity of
Quebec again afford excellent sport, and jiromise fairly to
return to tJieir former importance as sidmon rivers, where
for years before this fish had all but become extinct.

The Nova Scotian Association, before alluded to has
likewise similarly striven, and succeeded in enlisting a
large number of sympathising contributors to its support,
not only from the sporting community but amcjngst some
of the mill-owners themselves. To the willingness of this
class in many instances to open up the rivers, which their
mills and mill-dams at present obstruct, to the passage of
salmon and gaspereaux, I gladly bear witness. The one
uncompromising form of fish-ladder, however, which it
was first attempted by government to force upon them,

306 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

regardless of local peculiarities of their "water privileges,"
proved a nauseating dose, and no wonder. Every mill-
dam lias some peculiar features as regards the bed of the
river. In many cases a few natural steps by the rocky
sides of a fall will answer all the purposes ; in others a
single slanting board opposing the fall over a small dam
will give all the water n^^cessary to the ascent of fish. At
all events, local circumstances are so various that no one
pattern of fish-ladder can be authorised for aay number
of streams. A government officer — a thorough engineer,
and perfectly acquainted with the habits and necessities
of salmon and other migratory fish, is what is wanted in
Nova Scotia (in Canada the want is supplied), and to con-
clude in my own words in framing a report on this
subject two years since, "Your committee beg to state
their conviction that, althougli the society has not been
idle, hut little can he effected in ca> / (/iiig out a proper
supervision of the inland JisJieries, unless an independent
and scdaried officer he ap>pointed by the Provincial
Government.

" The difficulties of prosecution, owing to the local
partialities of both witnesses and magistrates, would then
be removed, whilst the judgment and advice of sucli an
executive, with regard to the placing of eflicient fish-
ladders, under the various peculiarities of river banks and
mill-dams, would be considered decisive in overcoming
all obstructions."

CHAPTER XII.

THE PROGRESS OF THE SEASONS.

The parting of the icy chains of winter, and the return
of spring, is the most acceptable change in the seasons of
the year in North America. The latter part of the winter
is most tedious, and the strong links with which it binds
the face of nature are snapped but slowly — so slowly that
one is apt to become very impatient — heartily sick of the
sight of snow and the tinkling sleigh-bells. The I7tli
March, as a general rule, is about the time of the first
appreciable change. Warm rains and reeking fogs cause
the snow to disappear rapidly ; here and there the roads
exhibit patches of bare ground with deep mud, and the
settler's sled has to seek the strips of snow which still
fringe the edge of the road, or often altogether to turn
into the woods. Now may be seen the wild goose wing-
ing his way in long wedge-shaped flights to his distant
breeding-grounds in Hudson's Bay, alighting on the way
in the various large harbours which, from the extent of the
flats left uncovered by the receding tide, offer a secure
rest and an abundant supply of marine grasses. I know
of no more pleasing sight at this season than the passage
of a phalanx of wild geese : majestically cleaving the air
with slow, measured strokes, they press onwards towards
their distant resorts, hundreds of feet above you, now and

X '2

308 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

again uttering their wild note of apparent encouragement
— " honk ! hawnk ! " — a sure sign of the Avintcr breaking
up for good.

" Hawnk ! honk ! and for'ard to the Nor'ard, is the trumpet-tone,
What goose can lag, or feather flag, or break the goodly cone ?
Hawnk ! onward to the cool blue lakes where lie our safe love-bowers ;
No stop, no drop of ocean brine, near stool or hassock hoary,
Our travelling watchword is " Our mates, our goslings, and our glory ! "
Synisonia and Labrador for us are crowiiM with flowers,
And not a breast on wave shall rest until tliat heaven is ours.

Ha^vnk ! hawnk ! E-e hawnk !

Frank Forester.

Then come a few w?irm, sunny days, and the expres-
sion of Nature's features appears quite altered, and our
welcome guests, the early migratory birds, arrive from
the more genial southern climes, filling the long-silent
woods with animation and melody. And, first, the well-
known robin, or rather red-breasted thrush (Turdus
migratorius), afiects warm, sunny banks in open woods,
whence he springs with a sudden not<3 of alarm as the
murderous boy, bent on developing his sporting pro-
pensities, creeps with levelled gun over the hill's brow,
and seeks to "fill his gaping tuneful bill with blood."
Then is heard the whistle of the rusty grackle (Q. ferru-
gineus), and the cheerful notes of the song sparrow
(F. melodia), and before the end of March the woodcock
(M. Americana) may be seen, in the evening, running
through the swamps and warm springs l)y the road-side,
every now and then stopping to bore for worms, and from
its comparative tameness at this season, becoming an easy
prey to the poacher or our friend (?) the robin-shooter.
But, alas ! all these pleasant appearances of spring are
but transient charms ; back comes the frost, and the
wintry blast, and the snow-storm ; the gentle advances

THE PROGRESS OF THE SEASONS, 309

of spring are rudely repelled, and the rills from the
melting snow again arrested, and —

" What will the robin do then, poor thing ? "

However, April ushers in some fine days, and the increas-
ing power of the sun tells upon the masses of snow in
the fir-woods and the rotting ice in the lakes ; and at
last comes a fierce storm of wind and rain, with a warm,
oppressive atmosphere, as if the genial breath of spring,
tired of attempting to coax away the departing chills of
Avinter, had now determined to exert all its force, and
with hot gales and heavy rains ease the surface of the
country and lakes of their icy garments. Now a change
is indeed evident ; the snow, with the exception of a
patch or two in hollows, has all disappeared from the face
of the earth, and the great monotonous fir-woods them-
selves lose their dark wintry aspect and blackness, assuming
a lively green tint, and emitting, as one wanders through
their sunny glades, faint odours of that delicious aroma
which pervades the atmosphere in the heat of midsummer.
How great a relief this to the resident in these climes,
subject so long to the stern rule of winter ! What heart
does not feel forgotten memories recalled, when, wander-
ing along sunny banks in the fir- woods, the first blossom
of the fnigraut jNIay-fiower is seen and culled ? " We
bloom amid the snow," is the motto of our province ; and
the ]\lay-flower (Epiga3a repens) is to us what the violet,
sou«^lit in hediie-rows, is to our friends at home — entail-
ino; the same close search for its retirinof blossoms, and
evoking the same feelings of gladness and hope. And
we cling to these balmy spring days all the more closely
as we dread the chill easterly wind, and the dark sea-fog

310 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

which may cover us with its gloom on the morrow ; for
we live on the shores of the " mournful and misty Atlan-
tic," and many a spring day must yet be darkened by fog
and chilled by gales from the floating ice-fields drifting
down the coast, before the tardy green leaves of the hard-
woods fully appear.

About the 20th of May the presence of spring is per-
ceptible in the sprouting of little leaves on almost all the
smaller deciduous shrubs, simultaneously with the light
green sprays of the larch. From this time vegetation
progresses with extraordinary rapidity ; a delightful
change in the atmosphere almost invariably occurs ; the
cold easterly winds cease ; balmy airs from the westward
succeed, and assist in developing the tender buds and
blossoms, and in a few days the face of the country,
lately so bare and dreary, glows with warmth and beauty.
All nature rejoices in this pleasant season ; the songs of
the hermit-thrush (T. solitarius), robin, and of a host of
warblers, the cheerful piping of the frogs throup-hout the
warm night, and the soft west wind, which lo rrows an
indescribable fragrance from the blossoms of inaumerable
shrubs and plants now flowering in the woods and on the
barrens, afford charms which more than repay for the
gloom of the long and trying winter.

The red blossoming maple (Acer rubrum) now exhibits
crimson flower-clusters topping each spray, almost vicing
in colour with the glories of its autumnal foliage : the
Indian pear (Amelanchier) and wild cherry (C. Pennsyl-
vanica), growing in great abundance throughout the
countiy, seem overburdened with their masses of delicate
white blossoms, and impart a fragrance to the air, in
which are mingled a thousand other scents ; for in this

THE PROGRESS OF THE SEASONS. 311

land nearly every shrub and plant bears sweet-smelling
flowers. The blueberry, huckleberry, and other Vaccinise
now show their pretty heath-like blossoms in promise of
the abundant harvest of delicious fruit which is so ac-
ceptable to birds, bears, and bipeds throughout the fall ;
the rich carpet of mosses in the fir-woods is adorned
with a great variety of flowers, the most frequent being
the common pigeon-bei-ry (Cornus Canadensis), whose
bright scarlet clusters of berries look so pretty in the fall
in contrast with the green moss ; and large tracts of
country are tinted by the rich lilac flower-masses of the
wild azalea (Rhodora Canadensis), which blossoms even
before its leaves have sprouted from their buds. Many
of thf^ young leaves of the poplars, willows, and others
are coated with a canescent down, and, as they tremble
in the sunlight, with waving masses of white blossoms,
give {I sparkling and silvery appearance to the country,
which is very beautiful and attractive.

This delightful season is, however, of short duration —
imperceptibly losing itself in the increasing heat and
development of summer. A few days change the aspect
of the country marvellously, and the broadly-expanding
leaves of the maples produce a dense canopy of shade
in the forest, hiding the granite boulders and prostrate
rampikes on the barren by covering the buslics with a
drapery of lovely green. Nothing can be l)rigliter than
American spring verdure, nor does it degenerate into
the dull heavy green of English summer foliage — the
leaves maintaininsj their vernal hue on the same branch,
side by side with tlie brilliant orange scarlet of their
dying fellows, at that beautiful season the fall of the
leaf

312 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

The advent of summer is characterized by the waning
of the flower-masses of the Rhodora, and the succession
of the crimson whorls of the Kalmias (K. angustifolia
and K. ghiuca) as prominent species. The Kahnia,
locally termed laurel, enlivens large tracts of forest, as
does the last-named shrub earlier, and forms a pleasing
contrast to the new green shoots of the young coniferse.
The moss in the greenwoods is now covered with the
nodding bells of the twin flower (Linncea borejdis) which,
in imparting frjigrance to the atmosphere, takes the place
of two pretty little sj^ring flowers, the star-shaped Tri-
cntalis, and the (locally so called) lily of the valley
(Smilacini. bifolia). The swamp vegetation, headed by
the Indian cup (Sarracenia purpurea) and blue flag (Iris
versicolor), flowers abundantly in ponds and moist hollows
in the woods, the dark-red drooping petals of the former
prettily contrasting with the blue of the iris. The large,
yellow-throated frog (Rana fontinalis) here rules the
world of reptile life ; his solemn ejaculation — " glum I
glumpk ! " is heard in every direction and at regular
intervals, mingled with the long trilling love-note of
Bufo Americanus — the common toad — and the shai-p and
ceaseless cries of the little Hylodes (H. Pickeringii). The
deciduous foliage attains its full development ; ferns are
strong and their spores beginning to ripen. The whip-
poor-will (Caprinmlgus vociferus), and the night hawk
(C. Virginianus) — reading representatives of summer
birds — arrive ; and the plaintive song of the former —
" Wyp-6-il "■ — repeated in fast succession and at frequent
intervals, is now heard in the maple-bush copses by lake
or river-side throughout the night, with the shriU scream
of the night hawk, and the strange booming sound which

THE niOGRESS OF THE SEASONS. 313

is produced by the latter bird in rushing perpendicularly
downwards on its prey.

The fir forest at this season becomes intensely heated,
and emits a strong aromatic odour. Where a tree has
fallen its withering branches fill the air for some
distance around with a most delightfully fragrant scent
of strawberries. To the sojourner or traveller in
the woods, the shelter and cool air under deciduous
trees, in groves of maple or birches, is an appreciable
relief.

Lastly comes the flora of autumn, with its asters and
golden-rods; and these, choosing open barrens and fields
as their residence, leave the woodlands almost Avithout a
flower.

Towards the end of August some of the features of
the fall are developed. Maple leaves turn colour in
unhealthy situations — as where the trees have been
subjected to inundation during the summer, and have
consequently lost the vigour necessary to resist the frosty
air of the nights.

The plovers arrive, and the wild pigeon is found in
large flocks on the ground feeding on the ripe pigeon-
berries. The barrens now afford astonishing supplies of
berries of many sorts of Ericaceae, and an unpremeditated
meeting not unfrequently occurs between the bear and
the biped, both intent on culling a portion of the luscious
harvest.

In September the full brightness of the fall colour is
brought out on deciduous foliage ; fast fading, however,
towards the close of the month, and altogether disappear-
ing by the end of October — the last lingering phases of
autumnal gloiy being the rich golden-yellow hue assumed

314 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

by the larch, and the dark Indian-red of the leaves of
the oak and whortleberry.

Then comes the Indian summer — a season of dreamy
delight, when a warm, hazy atmosphere mellows the
rich brown foreground and distant blue hills of the
woodlnnd picture, and all nature seems to bask in a calm
serenity. The hermit thrush now warl)les forth his fare-
well from the spmce groves ; the robins congregate on
the barrens, busily picking the remains of the berry-har-
vest ere their departure for the suutli ; and the squirrels
and wood-maiTOots hasten into their granaries their
winter supplies of acorns and beech-mast.

November is not far advanced before cold northerly
winds and black frosts remove all traces of the beautiful
fall. The boar and the marmot hybernate ; the moose
select their winter yards ; the last detachments of
lingering robins depart, and the retreating columns of
wild geese are soon followed by the fierce driving storm,
which buries the hard-frozen ground under the first snows
of the long American winter. Varying in intensity of cold
and general chanfjeableness of climate, according to dis-
tance from the sea and the influence of the gulf stream,
the winter drags on with but little to mark the monotony
of its course. On the sea-board of the maritime pro-
vinces snow and rain constantly succeed each other, and
fields and clearings are often buried and as often bared ;
but back in the woods even the long January thaw,
which is of regular occurrence in these regions, makes
but little impression on the steadily accumulating snow.

The summer birds have all left, and the frogs are deeply
buried beneath the mud at the bottom of ponds. On
the smooth white surface, which is spread over his former

THE PROGRESS OF THE SEASONS, 815

hidiug-pLaccs in the forest, the little Amcriciin bare
(Lepus Araericanus) has assumed his winter coat, assimi-
lated in colour to the face of nature, and affordinsr
somewhat of protection from the numerous enemies
which hunt him on the snow so unrelentingly — the two
lynxes, the foxes, the great fisher-marten, and the tree-
marten, and lastly, and most perseveringly of all, the
little ermine weasel. But he has feathered enemies
besides — the horned and snowy owls, as well as one or
two of the larger hawks. Considering the abundance
in which the former bird occurs in the forest, and
the lengthy list of his foes, it appears marvellous 'that
the little rabbit, as he is locally called, is able, with
his family increasing only in the summer months,
not merely to exist as a species, but to contribute so
largely as he does to the winter food of the human
population.

Undeniably gloomy as is the general character of the
American winter, apart from the vigorous bustle of
civilization, there are days when even the forest affords
sensations of pleasure to the observer of nature. What
can be more beautiful than early morning, after a long-
continued snow-storm, when the sun rises in a sky of
purest blue, speckled, perhaps, with light fleecy cirrlii, and
looking almost as the sky of a summer day ? Every
branch and bough is covered with radiant crystals of the
new snow, and the air holds a delicious freshness.

Rising from his soft bed of silver-fir boughs before
the embers of the great logs which have warmed the
camp throughout the night, the hunter steps forth into
the briglit morning with feelings of the highest exhilara-
tion. Not a branch stii's, save where the busy little

Iri-

31G FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

titmice or gold-crests, sporting amongst the foliage, dis-
lodge u shower of S2)arkling crystals —

" Myriads of f,'eins tliiit in tlie waving gleam
Guy-twiuklt! as they scatter,"

when the disencumbered Loiio-h flies back to its original
position. The faintest sound finds an echo amongst the
stems of the forest trees ; the chopjjing of an axe is
borne through the still rarified air for many a mile.
Bii'd-life is in full activity. The Corvidte, the raven,
crow, blue-jay, and moose-bird are hunting round for
their morning meal of carrion. The grosbeaks and
crossbills, busily engaged on the fir-cones, frequently
rest to deliver their low but melodious song from the
topmost sprays of the pines. The taps of the wood-
peckers resound from the hard surftice of barked trees,
and the sharp, wrathful chirrup of the common red
squirrel (Sciurus Hudsonius) is heard in every direction.
The very flight of birds may be heard at a considerable
distance, as may also the scratching of a squirrel against
the bark as he races up a trunk some two hundred yards
away, or the shuffling of the porcupine in the top
branches of a hemlock, his favourite retreat on a fine
Avinter's day.

Short-lived, however, are such pleasant breaks in the
winter weather. The short day, commencing so bril-
liantly, more frequently closes with a prevailing leaden
gloom portending more snow, or, if near the sea-coast, a
fierce southerly gale and rain.

In a damp atmosphere, or with gentle rain, the stratum
of air nearest the ground being of a temperatm-e below
freezing point, every spray in the forest becomes coated

THE PROGRESS OF THE SEASONS. 317

with ice. Thus originates the hciiutiful phcnomoiion
calk'd a silver thtiw. Seen in sunlight, when the mists
have disjjersed, the forest presents a wonderful and magic
appearance under such circumstances. The network of
the smallest bushes is brought out to prominent notice
by the spai'kling casing of ice, and the surface of the
snow gleams like a mirror. Such a scene as I once
beheld it at night by the light of a full moon was most
impressively beautiful, and, I would almost say, unreal.

Should a wind arise before the ice has melted, much
mischief is caused amongst the heavily-laden branches,
which make the wood resound with their snajipings.

The close of the winter is the most disagreeable season
of the year, and the discoloured snow, assuming a round
granular shape, resists the sun with wonderful tenacity.
Night frosts consolidate the surface, so that small
animals, and man himself, are carried on the snow, and
leave no track. The bulky moose sinks through ; flying
from his pursuers with laborious and painful strides, and
leaving a trail of blood along his tracks from the sharp
edge of the incrustation cutting his legs, he soon
succumbs an easy prey to the wanton poacher. The
settlers' sleds and ox-teams are now in full activity,
di'awing out the logs felled during the winter through
the woods and over the lakes to the river-side ; and the
farmers hasten their remaining stock of produce to the
market and purchase their seeds, striving to return before
the final breaking up of the snow leaves the roadway
an impassable sea of mud.

r<i

31H FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

NOTES ON rERIODIC HIENOMENA.

The following ol).scr\\itioiis of periodic phenomena
were made in Halifax, Nova Scotia, an excellent and
central station for observing the natural features of the
seasons in the lower provinces, being on the line of
migration of water birds as well as of such land birds
as pass over farther to the north or eastward, to New-
foundland or Labrador. Some allowantic must be made
with regard to locality in different parts of the provinces
— as, for instance, in the case of Montreal, where the
advent of winter and of spring phenomena is rather earlier
than at Halifax, or of Quebec, where the latter season is
more backward, and a lower degree of mean winter
temperature prevails — yet, excepting that a larger
number of species is comprised in the fauna and flora
of the Canadas, and, on the other hand, in Newfound-
land, a great reduction occurs in the representation of
both kingdoms with an entire absence of the class
Rc2:)tilia, it may be said that the phenomena of the
seasons in Nova Scotia afford a fair index to such occur-
rences throughout the British j)rovinces of North
America bordering on the Atlantic*

* Mean temperature and otmosplieric pressure for four years, from 1863
to 18G() inclusive : —

Thermometer. Barometer.

Winter 24° 29-(J6°

Spiing 39° 29-62°

Summer 61° 29-68°

Autumn 48° 29-67°

Mean 43° 29-66°

From Proceedings of N.S. Institute of Natural Science,

TIIK PROORESS OF Till': SEASONS. 319

NOTES OF THE YEAR 18() .

January O. Snow falls at night to (l(>ptli of four
inrhcH, quite level, with a cold N.E. wind.

G. First good sleighing of the year in Halifax ; ther-
mometer ranges about 12° Fahr. throughout the day.

7. Clear and cokl ; thermometer, — 5°. A dense pall
of vapour on the harbour, obscuring all but the tops
of vessels, and coating the sides and rigging with
iee. Large numbere of smelts and frost-fish (Morrliua
pruinosa) brought to nuirket ; the former taken with bait
through holes cut in the ice in upper harbours or large
lakes freely communicating with the sea ; the latter by
bag-nets in rivers at the head of the tide, where they are
now engaged in spawning. They are only taken at night,
returning at daybreak to deep water. Trout, taken
through the ice, and brought to market, dark and tlabby,
and quite worthless.

1 0. The north-west arm of the sea in rear of the city
of Halifax frozen from head to the Chain Battery, two
miles, and covered with light snow. Sleighing on roads
excellent.

10 — 21. Mild, close weather, with southerly winds
and occasional lieavy rains ; snow nearly disappears, even
in the woods to the eastward. This is an instance of the
usual January thaw.

22. Ice on the lake twelve inches thick. Many moose
killed during the thaw brought to market ; the bulls still
retain theii' horns. Eels taken in harbours by spearing
through holes in the ice on muddy bottoms, where the_y
lie in a state of torpidity.

320 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

2G. Four inches of snow full during day.

27. Calm, clear weather ; excellent sleighing.

28 — 31. Very variable ; soft and mild, with rain from
southward, changing to hard frost with N.W. wind ; three
inches of snow from N.E. on 31st.

February 1. Thermometer, 0°, in the morning.

2 — 7. Very oppressive, unhealthy weather : dense
fogs and occasional rains ; snow disappearing, except in
the woods. The sap is commencing to flow in deciduous
trees, owing to the mildness of the weather ; buds appear
on maples and currant bushes.

8. Distant thunder heard.

10 — 13, Light frosts recommence. Ground bare of
snow on roads ; good skating on lakes and arms of the
sea, all the snow having been melted off the surface.

1 4. Wind shifts to N., with gale ; mercury falls at
night to 0°.

18. Cold weather continues ; mercury, — 2°, at eight
A.M. Good sleighing, considerable snow having fallen
since the change.

22 — 24. A thaw ; rain, with thick sea fogs ; roads
and streets deep with mud.

26 — 27. A little snow falls, succeeded by mild
weather.

March 2. A heavy snow-storm from N.E. ; five inches
fall ; the sleighing good. Smelts, caught through the
ice, still brought to market, but becoming more scarce.
The song sparrow (F. melodia), a few of which stay all
winter, singing in gardens.

4. Snow disappearing under the sun.

THE PROGRESS OF THE SEASONS. 321

5 — 10. Very variable ; much rain.

11. First salmon brought to market from the sea at
Margaret's Bay. Several flocks of wild geese pass over
to the eastward. A few robins (Turdus migratorius)
seen. It is uncertain whether these are new comers, as
many have remained aU winter around the Halifax
peninsula.

14. The fine, warm weather of past few days dis-
pelled by a northerly snow-storm^, with 14° of frost at
night. Western salmon become more plentiful in the
market. The fur of the hare assuming its summer colour,
showing patches of light brown interspersed with the
white.

• 19. Mild and clear, after rains. Ice on the lakes
becomes very rotten, and unsafe for travelling. The rusty
grakle (Quiscalus ferrugineus), locally termed blackbird,
arrives. Immense quantities of sea-fish, comprising cod,
haddock, and halibut, brought to market. Woodcock
arrives. Robins frequently seen in open spots in the
woods near the sea. Snowbird (Fringilla nivalis) arrives.
A few have remained all winter.

23, 24. Easterly wind, with snow. Sleighs out again
in the streets.

26. Fine and mild.

27. Very fine and pleasant. The song sparrow (F.
melodia) is heard frequently. Grass on sloping banks
becoming green. Robins find worms at the surface.
Maple-trees (Acer saccharinum) tapped by sugar makers.

30 — 31. Cold rains, with N.E. wind. Many moose
killed by settlers in woods near Annapolis, where the
snow still continues deep.

322 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

REMARKS ON THE ABOVE QUARTER.

The weather during the foregoing winter months
was exceedingly unsettled. The mean temperatures of
January, February, and March were 23°, 26° and 28°,
respectively ; the minimum of cold in January, — 5°,
being unusually small. There are few instances of the
two coldest mouths, January and February, passing over
without --10° to —15° being registered. Even in the
beginning of March, in some winters, the climate is still
subject to the occurrence of one of those sudden passages
of extreme cold, with strong N. and N.W. winds, which
sweep uniformly over the continent from high latitudes,
and form the most dreaded feature of the North Ame-
rican winter. On these occasions, and in severe visita-
tions, the mercury will fall to — 1 5°, and sometimes,
though very rarely, to —20°, at Halifax, Nova Scotia ;
the minimum contemporary cold indicated at Sydney,
(Cape Breton), Frederictown (New Brunswick), Bangor
(Maine), and Kingston (Upper Canada), being —30° to
—40° In the beginning of March, 1863, a heavy snow-
storm was followed by severe cold, the thermometer
registering —6° at Halifax, and —30° at Sydney, Cape
Breton. A similar late visitation of cold weather follow-
ing a deep fall of snow occurred in March, 1859, when
the mercury fell to — 3° and — 5° during the nights of
the first three days of the month. The heaviest falls of
snow occur in February and early in March, when
sometimes nearly three feet of fresh snow is deposited,
accumulating by road sides in immense drifts which
almost hide small dwellings. On the 8tli February,
1866, Halifax harbour was entirely frozen over, and bore

THE PROGRESS OF THE SEASONS. 323

large numbers of persons securely. The thermometer
iudicated only —7° when this occurred, but the cold was
of some days' continuance, and favoured by a perfect
calm. This harbour rarely freezes to impede navigation,
as do those further to the eastward.

The roseate hue cast over the snow-covered surface of
the country by the sun's rays on a fine March afternoon
in the fine weather succeeding a storm imparts a beau-
tiful effect to the wintry landscape ; in a steady winter
this is the most busy time for sleds, snow-shoes, and the
youthful sports of " trabogining " and coasting down the
ice-clad hillocks and drifts of snow by the roadside.

As has been before observed, St. Patrick's Day (March
1 7) is looked upon generally as indicating the breaking-
up of the winter at Halifax, Nova Scotia, when the wild
geese pass over in large flights ; southerly weather, with
soft rains and fogs, fast dissolving the snow, and rotting
the ice on the lakes, which lingers a few days longer in
dark, discoloured, and honeycombed patches, and finally
sinks below the surface.

April 1. Cold N.E. wind, with rain ; large fields of
ice drifting past the entrance of the harbour.

2 — 10. Fine, but with cold easterly winds. Common
crow (C. Americanus) mated and building in tall spruces.
Also ravens (C. corax) in tops of lofty pines and rocky
precij'ces. Fox-coloured sparrow (F. iliaca) arrives.
Trout take the fly in open water found in runs between
lakes.

15. Wind veers to the westward after rain, with
fine spring weather. Mayflowers (Epigsea repcns) in
flower abundantly ; occasional blossoms have been picked

T 2

324 FOREST LIFE IN ACAD IE.

during the last fortnight. The small marsh frog
(Hy lodes) is heard. Robins and song-sparrow sing fre-
quently. Camberwell beauty (Vanessa antiopa) about.
Ice disappeared from lakes.

20. Fine weather succeeded by cold N.E. wind and
heavy snowstorm.

21. A few sleighs out in the streets in the morning;
snow disappears at noon, leaving a sea of mud on the
roads.

22 — 30. Fine clear weather ; dust in the streets
towards close of month. White-bellied martin (H.
bicolse) arrives on 23rd ; the gold-winged woodpecker
(Picus auratus) on same date. Wood frog (R. sylvatica)
and common spring frog (R. fontinalis) are heard to
croak ; both are spawning. Trout take the artificial
fly readily in lakes. Smelts ascend brooks to spawn,
and are taken in great numbers by scoop nets. Dan-
delions picked in fields and sold as a vegetable.

May 1 — 3. Chilly, with rain ; all vegetation back-
ward, owing to cold easterly weather till now prevailing.
Wild gooseberry in leaf. Scarlet buds developing on
maple. The Hylodes chirp in the evenings.

4. Bright and warm, with westerly wind. The king-
fisher (Alcedo alcyon) arrives ; also the white-throated
sparrow (F. Pennsylvanica), commonly called in Nova
Scotia the " poor Kennedy bird." The hermit tlirush
(T. solitarius) is heard. The trilling note of the common
toad is heard in the evening swelling the chorus of the
frogs.

7 — 11. Cold easterly weather ; much ice off the
coast. Green snake (Coluber vernalis) observed sunning

THE PROGRESS OF THE SEASONS. 32.-)

on bank. Ferns (Lastrese) sprouting. Blue wood-violet
flowers, also white variety.

12. Clears up from westward for fine weather. Frogs
and toads very noisy in the evening. Robins, white-
throated sparrow, and hermit thrush sing till 8 p.m.
The toad trills all day. May and stone flies (Ephemerge
and Phryganese) issue from the water, and are greedily
devoured by trout. Black flies (Simulium molestum)
make their appearance. The light green blossoms of the
willow contrast prettily with the red bloom on maples (A.
rubrum). Grass four or five inches high. Larches showing
light green leaves and crimson blossoms. Waterlilies
commencing to grow upwards from the bottom of ponds.

13 — 15. Fine weather continues. Gasper -i^ux (Alosa
tyrannus) ascending stream to spawn in lake;?. Ruffed
and Canada grouse (Tetrao umbellus and T. Canadensis)
incubating. Frog spawn hatching.

18. Fine weather continues. Trout gorged with
Ephemerae and refuse bait. Gold thread (Coptis trifolia)
flowering. Ferns unfolding. Fir cones of A. picea of a
delicate sea-green colour.

20. Atmosphere hazy from fires in the forest. Herons
(Ardea Herodias) arriving in flights. Young leaves
tipping the blossoms of the red-flowering maple. Poplar
(P. tremuloides) in leaf.

21. The whip-poor-will (C. vocifenis) is heard in
copses on the banks of the north-west arm of the
harbour ; the night hawk (C. Virginianus) on same
evening. Rain at night.

22. Shad (Alosa sapidissima) ascends rivers to spawn,
and will sometimes take the artificial fly. The moose-
bush (Viburnum lantanoides) in flower ; also Indian

326 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

pear (Amelancliier) ; the young leave i of the latter of
a rich bronze tmt. Light green leaves of birches un-
f(3lding. Pigeon berry (Cornus Canadensis) in flower ;
also wild Azalea (Rhodora Canadensis).

23 — 27. Variable weather, with rains. Blueberry
and whortleberry (Vaccinise) in flower on open barrens.
Smilacina bifolia and S. boreahs in flower in fir Avoods,
with Star of Bethlehem (Trientalis Americana). Profuse
blossoms on Indian pear and wild cherry (Cerasus Penn-
sylvanica).

28 — 31. Occasional showers, with thunder on the
31st. Leaves and seed-keys developed on maples. The
white death flower (Trillium pictum) in bloom. The
flower of the Rhodora now imparts a roseate hue to open
spots in the woods and by the roadside, contrasting most
pleasingly with the light green of birch and larch leaves
and young fern fronds.

June 1. Warm, pleasant weather. Blossoms of service
tree and wild cherry fading. Royal fern (Osmunda rcgalis)
in flower ; also 0. cinnamomea and 0. interrupta. Yellow-
throated frog assumes bright colour, and croaks all day.
Young hares (first brood) about. Labrador tea (Ledum
latifolium) and lady's slipper (Cypripedium) in flower.

2 — 6. Fine weather continues ; high winds from
westward. Leaves of trees nearly developed.

7. A splendid aurora at night. A corona formed a
little south of the zenith, to which streamers ascend
from all points of the compass, though their bases did
not approach the horizon to the southward. Hy lodes,
frogs, and toads very noisy at nights. Young robins
leaving the nest.

THE PROGRESS OF THE SEASONS. 327

11. Fine weather, l)ut cold for time of year. The
Bob o' Lincoln (Emberiza oryzivora) in full song in
pasture fields.

1 5. Weather has become very fine and warm ; this
r y the thermometer indicates 87° in shade. Linnea
borcalis, the twin flower, out, and imparts much fra-
grance to the atmosphere under green woods. Pollack
(Merlangu.s) arrive in bays and harbours, and take
artificial fly on the surface greedily. Kalmia angusti-
folia coming into bloom ; the Rhodora fading off.

IG — 20. Warm sultry weather, with thunder showers
on 20th. Indian cup (Sarracenia purpurea) flowers with
iris, cranberry, and sundew in swamps. Abundance of
salmon exposed for sale in the markets.

22. Fireflies (Lampyris corusca) are seen.

23 — 30. Variable weather : frequent incursions of
fog from the sea, extending many miles inland. Wild
strawberries ripen and are brought to market in gi-eat
abundance. Withrod in flower.

July 5. Heavy rain succeeds fogs. The wood-sorrel
(Oxalis acetosella) in flower. AVild roses (R. parviflora)
out.

6 — 10. Very fine and warm ; atmosphere hazy, with
stronoj smell of burninsj woods. Grilse numerous in the
rivers. Haymaking commences.

12. Fireflies very numerous in evenings. Water-
lilies, white and yellow, flowering ; also arrowhead
(Sagittaria). Robins sitting on eggs of second brood.
Balsam poplars (balsamifera) shedding their cotton.

13 — 21. Very fine and dry. Vegetation suffering
from drought; grass withering. Humming-birds nu-

tiB FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

merous. Summer flowers going off. Orange lily (L.
Canadense) flowering in intervale meadows, and fire-
weed (Epilobium) in burnt woods.

24. Still fine, with high winds. Extensive fires in
the woods fill the air with smoke and obscure the sun.
Grasshoppers very numerous. Wild cui-rants ripen.
Young woodcock, partridge, and flappers of duck
well grown. AVild cherries ripening ; also blueberries
(Vaccinium) on the barrens, with wild raspberries
(Rubus idseus). Cargoer. of sea-birds' eggs brought
to market from the Gulf and sold for food. Garden
cherries rijje and much visited by wax wings (Ampelis
Americma).

25 — 31. Uninterruptedly fine weather. Albicore
(Thynnus vulgaris) strike the N.W. arm, feeding on
herring. House-flies become troublesome. The cicada
sings continually in the woods.

August 1. Fine weather continues. Bemes of Cornus
Canadensis ripe and very plentiful ; do. of blueberries
and Indian pear. Great quantities of wild raspberries
brought to market.

2 — 10. Weather changes to wet, commencing with
thunder. The rivers, hitherto almost diy, swell, and
salmon, delayed by drought, ascend.

11 — 17. Fine weather, with occasional showers. Pas-
Wf senger pigeons (Ectopistes migratorius) neen on barrens

feeding on berries ; these birds are more numerous west-
ward from the coast. Cariboo (Cervus tarandus) com-
mence to rut.

18. Golden plover (Charadrius marmoratus) arrives.
Nights become cooler, and houseflies sluggish.

■^1

THE PROGRESS OF THE SEASONS. 320

' 19 — 31. Fine weather. Tree frog (Hyla sqiiirrella)
pipes. Moose have their horns developed, and rub off
deciduous skin. Trout recover from their summer kissi-
tude, and again take the fly. Fungi very numerous in
damp woods, with common mushroom (Agaricus cam-
pestris) on grass plots. Golden rods (Solidago), Michael-
mas daisies, and spieries flowering in fields and barrens ;
also the ground-nut (Apios tuberosa) in damp localities
by margins of lakes and brooks. Blackberries (Rubus
hispidus) ripen, and are brought to market. Maples and
birches in damp spots arc tinged with fall colours.

REMARKS ON THE FOREGOING MONTHS.

The spring, comprising the months of April and May
and part of June, was generally fine, though the long-
continued easterly winds, coming over the ice-fields off
the coast, greatly retarded vegetation. This feature was
followed by a most unusual drought which prevailed
through the summer over the whole continent. The
prairies presented the appearance of an arid desert, and
the large game suffered severely. On the Atlantic coast
rivers and lakes were nearly dried up, and multitudes of
eels and other fish were left dead on the banks. A larire
proportion of the migratory fish spawning in summer
were prevented from reaching their grounds.

The mean temperature of April was 3G°; of May 48°;
of June 57°; of July 62° ; and of August 64°.

The summer in Canada, the Lower Provinces, and
New England is characterised by the remarkaljle energy
of growth of all vegetation and rapidity of maturing.
Garden operations, begun late in May, will produce in a

330

FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE.

if I

few weeks the same results as if the seed had been sown
in Enghind a montli earUcr ; and the same rule applies
to general agriculture. The suitableness of tlie climate
to the growth of maize, tobacco, and the gourd family
attests its value in an agricultural light. The Jerusalem
artichoke flowers, and tomatoes and peppers produce
abundantly; and in Nova Scotia the vine succeeds so
well, that black Hamburg grapes will ripen in the
open air.

September 1 — 10. Fine autumnal weather. Apples
and fall fruits fast ripening. Berries of mountain ash
(Pyrus Americana) reddening. Rutting season of Cervus
Alces commences. Woodcock and snipe, partridges
(Tetrao), and hares brought to market, the latter being
principally snared. The whip-poor-will and night-hawk
leave. Gold- winged woodjDeckers congregate before de-
parture.

11 — 13. Heavy rain-storm, lasting two days, and
accompanied by thunder-storms.

14. Leaves of maples and other bushes resplendent,
with orange and scarlet appearing in splashes on the
green leaf Brooks full and low lands inundated.
Porcupines' rutting season commences. Moose travelling
and calling. Scarlet berries of Trillium pictum and
blue of Smilacina borealis are very conspicuous in the
green woods. Large stops of fall mackarel made along
the coast. Apples and plums brought to market
abundantly.

20 — 30. Dull weather, but generally fine. Osmunda
cinnamomea assuming a beautiful golden-brown hue.
Willows turning yellow ; also young poplars and birches.

THE PROGRESS OF THE SEASONS. 8S1

Wild cherry leaves partially tinted with crimaon. Sumach
leaves parti- coloured : green and vivid oranjre-scarlet.
Leaves of Vaccincie becoming tinted, especially those of
the whortleberry. Slight frosts at night. The young
of the Gaspcreau descend from the lakes (observed on
22nd). Largo deciduous forest trees assume fall tints.
The hill sides are now resplendent with colour.

October 3. Vegetable decay in the forest proceeding
rapidly. Ferns withering. The leaves of young oaks
turn dark brick red.

10. Fall colours ftiding. Distant woods appear of a
dull brownish red. Fir cones rii)e. Eobins and hermit
thrush sing at sunrise, the former feeding on berries in
flocks, and preparing to depart.

1.9. Leaves of most deciduous trees falling. Poplars
nearly bare. The huckleberry is now brilliant scarlet,
and the larch turning golden.

31. Migratory birds depart.

November 1. A beautiful day, of the same character
as the last of October : a soft west wind and hazy
atmosphere, quite Indian summer weather. The tints
on the landscape arc charming ; the distant hills show
a light plum bloom ; the sky and water light apple
green.

5 — 8. Cold rains. Leaves all fallen from deciduous
trees, excepting the beech, to which many cling all
winter.

11. Quantities of salmon in the market in prime
condition. They continue to be brought in till
the 20th.

332 FOREyT LIFE IN ACADIE.

12 — 31. Variable weather, with rain, sleet, and slight
frosts. Salmon spawn. :

December' 1. Snow birds (Emberiza nivalis) arrive.
A little snow falls from S.W.

2. Cold and wintry ; minimum cold at night being
16° of frost. Large flights of wild geese passing over
to the S.W.

5. Skating on ponds.

G — 17. Damp, close, unseasonable weather.

1 9. Clear. Cold weather recommences.

20. The " Barber " appears on the harbour in the
morning — a dense steam, due to the great difference of
temperatures of air and water. The mercury in after-
noon descends to 5° above zero, and during ensuing
night to -10°.

21 — 31. Variable. Good skating on large lakes, and
ice making on north-west arm of the sea, near the head.

REMARKS ON THE FALL AND FIRST WINTER MONTH.

The mean temperature of September was 56°, of
October 46° of November 39°, and of December 27°.
There were several days at the close of the fall vhen
the attributes of Indian summer weather appeared ; but
no lengthened season of this delightful feature in the
American autumn occun-ed in Nova Scotia. Nor is
this weather ever prolonged here, as further westward,
where (in Canada) a week or ten days is its frequent
duration.

The song of birds in the early morning in the fall of
the year has been generally ascribed to the resemblance

THE PROGRESS OF THE SEASONS.

333

of tlio temperature to that of spring. Perhaps from a
simihir cause is the occurrence of autumnal hh)saom8 on
spring-fiowcring i)lants. In the first wei'k of October I
have seen the wild strawberry in blossom in large
patches in the woods, and also blossoms on the Kalmia
and blueberry.

APPENDIX.

The following papers bearing upon the natural history
of the Lower Provinces are selected from several read by
the Author before the Nova Scotian Institute of Natural
Science. The Institution referred to, of which the
Author has had the honour of being a Member since its
inauguration in 1863 (latterly a Vice-President), has
done much in exposition of the resources and physical
features of the colonies of Nova Scotia, New Bruns-
wick, Newfoundland, and the Bermudas under the able
management of the President, Mr. John M. Jones, F.L.S.
The contributions of this careful observer to the natural
history of tlie latter islands, comprised in " The Naturalist
in Bermuda,"* and in several more recent notices, have
been recognised as most valuable, both as a compendium
of the Bermudan indigenous and permanent Fauna
and Flora, and also for the observations therein con-
tained on the migration of North American birds, and
on meteorological subjects. The Society owes no less
of its success to the indefatigable labours of Dr. J.
Bernard Gilpin, M.R.O.S., Vice-President, whose papers
on the food fishes of Nova Scotia have attracted much
attention amongst American naturalists. To this gentle-
man I am indebted for the scientific descriptions of the
game fish found in this work.

' * " The Naturalist in Bermuda," Reeves k Turner, 2J.«, Strand, 1859.

■ I

336 APrENDIX.

ON THE NOCTURNAL LIFE OF ANIMALS IN THE

FOREST.

In one of the most attractive of tlie works of Humboldt, entitled
" Views of Nature," — a collection of thoughts and personal observa-
tions in connection with some of the grandest objects of nature in
various parts of the world, visited by the great naturalist — appears
an interesting fragment, called " The Nocturnal Life of Animals in
the Primeval Forest," suggesting to me comparative remarks on
animal life in our own sombre woodlands.

The great writer, in the commencement of this chapter, describes
the scene of his observations, coupled with some decisive remarks of
his own on the nature of a primeval forest, which I think it well to
introduce here. The scene is a boundless forest district which, in
the torrid zone of South America, connects the river basins of the
Orinoco and the Amazon. " This region," says Humboldt, " deserves,
in the strictest sense of the term, to be called a primeval forest — a
term that in recent times has been so frequently misapplied.
Primeval (or primitive), as applied to a forest, a nation, or a p,.iod
of time, is a word of rather indefinite signification, and generally but
of relative import. If every wild forest, densely covered with trees
on which man has never laid his destroying hand, is to be regarded
as a primitive fo) .st, then the phenomenon is common to many parts,
both of the temperate and the frigid zones. If, however, tliis
character consists in impenetrability, through which it is impossible
to clear with the axe between trees measuring from 8 to 12 feet in
diameter, a path of any length, primitive forests belong exclusively
to tropical regions. This impenetrability is by no means, as is often
erroneously supposed in Europe, always occasioned by the interlaced
climbing ' lianes,' or creeping plants, for these often constitute but
a very small portion of the underwood. The chief obstacles are the
shrub-like plants which fill up every space between the trees in
a zone where all vegetable forms have a tendency to become
arborescent."

Now, our North American fir forests — especially in districts where
woods predominate, and the growth of timber is large — have so
frequently (generally) been termed " primeval," that we are bound
to inquire into the justice of Hur^boldt's very decisive statement of
his own views of the etymology of the word. He claims the title for
the South American forest from its impenetrability, and not from,
what would seem to me a much more distinguishing feature, the

APPENDIX. 337

enormous diameter and age of its mighty trees. lu regard to the
latter attribute, we should be compelled to cede the appellation as
inapplicable to our own woods, for, from the natural duration of life
of our timber trees— even the giant " Pinus strobus " rarely showing
over 1000 annular rings in section — the oldest members of the family
of North American conifera) cannot look back with those ancient
trees which by some have been placed coeval with the builders of the
])yraraids. Still, as it is evident that in the heart of the great fir
forests of the X(>rth, even in many wooded portions of this Province,
the hand of man has never stirred to remove the existing giants,
whilst the bones of their ancestors lie mouldering and moss-covered
beneath, I cannot see why they do not merit the term primeval —
not in Von Humboldt's acceptation, but according to the ordinary
recognition of its meaning, and as " original, such as was at first,"
savs Johnson.

To return to tlie subject more immediately before us. Humboldt
next introduces a beautiful and eloquent description of the night life
of creatures in the forest by the Oriuoco — the wild cries of a host of
apes and monkeys, terrified at the uproar occasioned by the jaguar
l)ursuing crowds of peccaries and tapirs, which burst through the
dense underwood with tremendous crashing ; the voices of com-
munities of birds, aroused by the long-continued conflict beneath,
and the general commotioo produced amongst the whole animal
world, rendering sle(;p impossible of attainment on stormy nights,
on which, especially, these carnivals appeared to be most fre(iuont.

What a contrast is presented on entering the dreamy solitudes of
the Xorth American pine forest — sombre though it may be, but yet
most attractive to the lover of nature — in the perfect harmony of its
mysterious gloom and silence with the life of its animal tenants,
their retiring and lonely habits, and their often plaintive and
mournful voices ! Our perceptions of the harmonies of nature as
inseparably connect the mournful hooting of the great owl with the
glooms of the black spruce swamp, as we can the tangled wildness
and tropical vegetation of the South American forest with the dis-
cordant notes of its gaudy parrots, and the screams of its monkeys.
Although almost all of our mammalia are nocturnal in their habits,
and many of them beasts of prey, their nightly wanderings and
strife with their victims are conducted in the most orderly manner,
compared with the scenes we have referred to. Quiet, noiseless
stealth is the characteristic feature of all animal life in the forest ;
mutual distrust of the s-ame species, and ever-present tendency to

338 APPENDIX.

alarm predominate even in the -wildest districts, where the sij2:ht of
man is unknown, or at least unremcnibered. At the slightest sound
the ruminants and rodents cease feeding, remaining motionless
either from fear or instinct ; tiie rabbit or hare thus frequently
avoiding detection, whilst the moose can so silently withdraw if
suspecting an enemy, that I have on more than one occasion
remained hours together on the stillest night, believing the animal
to be standing within a few yards in a neighbouring thicket, to
which he had advanced in answer to the call, and found at length
that he had suspiciously retreated. The great creature had retired,
worming his huge bulk and ponderous antlers through the entangled
swamp, without detection of the straining ear to which the nibbling
of a porcupine at the bark of a tree in the same grove was plainly
audible.

The habits and sounds of animals at night are especially familiar
to the hunter when calling the moose in the clear moonlight nights
of September and October, — the season when this animal, forgetting
his usual caution and taciturnity, finds a voice to answer the plain-
tive call of his mate, and often advances to sure destruction, within
a few yards of his concealed foe. As the sun lowers beneath the
horizon, and twilight is giving place to the uncertain light of the
moon, we listen between the intervals of the Indian's calls (about
twenty minutes is generally allowed) to the sounds indicating the
movements of nocturnal animals and birds. The squirrels which
have raced around us and angrily chivrui)ed defiance from the sur-
rounding trees, all through the twilight, have at last scuttled, one
and all, into their holes and fastnesses, and the small birds drop,
one by one — the latest being the common robin, who is loth to leave
his rich pickings cf ripe berries on the upland barren, on which ho
revels ere taking his annual departure — into the bushes. No longe.v
annoyed by the multitudinous hum and bustle of diurnal animal
life, the ear is now^ relieved, and anxiously criticises the nocturnal
sounds which take their place. A little pattering amongst the
leaves, and cracking of small sticks (often mistaken by the ambushed
hunter when listening for sounds of moose, for the cautious move-
ments of the latter animal), attests the presence abroad of the
porcupine, come forth from rocky cavern or hollow tree to revel on
berries, nuts, and the rind of young trees. A perfect "monitor" in
his coat of protecting armour, he fears neither thQ! tajons of the
swooping owl, or the spring of the wild cat. Woe to the peace of
mind and bodily comfort of his adventurous assailant, for the bai'bed

APPENDIX.

330.

quills, once entering the skin, slowly worm their way through the
system, and produce lingering suffering, if not death. Even the
moose is lamed, if not for life, for a tedious time, by accidentally
running over a " mailuls" as the Indian calls him. The iwrcupino
is essentially nocturnal in its habits, retiring at sunrise to its den to
sleep off its midnight revels, till the " knell of parting day " is again
tolled through the arches of the forest by the solemn war-cry of the
horned owl.

All the stri(jiihn are now busily engaged in hunting mice, shrews,
and even hares, through the darkest swamps, and uttering at intervals
their melancholy hootings. The call of the cat-owl, horned, or eagle-
owl of America (B. Virginianus), is one of the most impressivo
sounds of the forest at night. Coming on the ear of the sojourner
in the woods, most frequently just before daylight appears, and
emanating from the dark recesses of a grove of hemlock spruce,
from whose massive stems the sound re-echoes through the forest,
the voice of this bird is eminently suggestive of most melancholy
solitude and ghostliness, and one instinctively awakens the dying
embers of the camp fire. Another sound uttered by this bird on. its
nocturnal hunt is positively startling— a maniacal yell, terminating
in mocking laughter, which it is hard to believe can proceed from
the throat of a bird.

I believe there is nothing of its own size that this fierce, powerful
bird will not venture to attack under cover of the night. The poor
hare constantly falls a prey; the farmer has a long score to settle
with it, frequently losing his poultry — even geese —through its
nocturnal visits. An Indian recently told me that the owl had
carried off a favourite little dog that was of great value in hunting
for i)artridges. "Whilst in confinement, these birds will prey on one
another.

The great horned owl is not so exclusively nocturnal as some
of the other members of the family. I have frequently started
them sitting on a branch exposed to open daylight, and noticed that
they were perfectly sure of flight, and readily found their way to
another hiding place. Passing the dark wooded banks of the
Shubenacadie in a canoe, I have seen great numbers of them sitting
in the overhanging spruces and hemlocks.

Sometimes a curious whining sound, uttered at intervals, is
noticeable at night in the woods. It is the note of the " ucl iwaelrh,''
as the Indian calls it — Tengmalm's owl.

The answer of the bull moose to the Indian's plaintive rmging

z 2

340

Ari'ENDlX.

call on his cone trumpet of birch bark, if the animal is distant, is
freely and quickly returned. Resembling, at first, tlic chopping of
an axe far away in the woods, the sound, wlien nearer, becomes more
distinctly guttural. It is well expressed by the monosyllable " Quoh ! "
uttered by the Indian through the bark cone.

Under the most favouring circumstances of a bright moon, and
the death-like stillness of a clear frosty atmosphere, the too sanguine
hunter is repeatedly doomed to disappointment ; tlie animal's appre-
ciation of his own language frequently proves the best master of the
craft to be but a sorry imitator. The moose on approaciiing the
ambush, the imagined locality of his hoped-for mate, at length comes
to a dead stand, maintaining the same attitude for sometimes a
couple of hours without an audible movement ; when the impatient
hunter once more ventures to allure hinx by another call, he is otf in
silent though hasty retreat.

As an instance, however, of departure from their usual cautious
and quiet comportment at night on tlie part of these animals, I will
introduce here one of my " Sporting Adventures," published some
years since, and what I heard one cold October night in a very wild
and (then) almost unhunted portion of the country.

" Though it was very cold, and my damped limbs were stiffening
under me from crouching so long in the same posture, I could not
but enjoy the calmness and beauty of the night. The moon was
very low, but the columns of a magnificent aurora, shooting up to
the zenith, threw a mellow light on the barren, which, covered by
mist as by a sheet, appeared like a moonlit lake, and the numerous
little clusters of dwarfish spruce as islands. We had not heard a
moose answer to our call for nearly an hour, and were preparing to
move, when the distant sound of a falling tree struck our ears. It
api)eared to come from the dim outline of forest which skirted the
barren on our left, and at a great distance.

" Down we all drop again in our deeply impressed couches to listen.
The sounds indicate that moose are travelling through the woods
and close to the edge of the barren. Presently the foremost moose
is abreast of our position, and gives vent to a wild and discordant
cry. This is the signal for a general uproar amongst the procession
of moose, for a whole troop of them are following at long and
cautious intervals.

*' The timber is crashing loudly opposite to our position, and distant
reports show that more arc still coming on from the same direction.
A chorus of bellowings respond to the plaintive wail of the cow.

APPENDIX. 341

Tlic branches are broken more fiercely, and liorns are rapidly drawn
across stems as if to whet them for the combat. Momentarily I expect
to hear the erashin<]f of rival antlers. One by one the bulls pass our
position, find I long to get up and dash into the dark line of forest,
and with a chance shot scatter the procession ; but to do so would
entail wanton disturbance of the country ; so we patiently wait till
the last moose has passed.

" Never before had I heard the calmness of the night in the Nova
Scotia forest so disturbed ; they had passed as a storm ; and now the
barren and the surrounding country were once more enveloped in
the calm repose of an autumnal night, unbroken, save by the chirrup
of the snake in the swamp."

Of all premonitors of the approach of a storm, the night voices of
the baiTed owl (Symium nebulosum) and the loon are the surest.
" The ' coogoffucslc ' is noisy again ; more rain comin'," says the
Indian, and whether we hear the unwonted chorus of wild hootings
soon after sundo\vn or at daybreak, the storm will surely come within
twelve hours. Such is likewise the case in summer, when ft'om our
fishing camps we hear the plaintive, quavering cry of the great
nortliern diver echoing over the calm surface, and amongst the
groups of islets of the forest lakes, and quickly repeated without
intermission, during the night. In the autumn, in close damp
weather, and especially before rain, the little tree frog (Hyla squir-
rellus), rejoicing in the prospect of a relaxed skin, pipes vigorously
his cheerful note throughout the night, and the BroJc! B-r-reIc! of the
■wood-frog (Rana sylvatica) is hoard ft-om pools of water standing in
hollows in the forest. A sound that has alw.ays been pleasant to my
ears when lying amongst the low bushes on the open barren, is the
Chink! chinlc! chink! of the little chain mouse as he gambols around.
It is a faint silvery tinkling, as might be produced by shaking the
links of a small chain, whence his common name.

The little Acadian owl, commonly called the "saw-whet" (Ulula
Acadica), is not uncommon in our woods, uttering morning and even-
ing its peculiar and (until known) mysterious tinkling sound from
the thickest groves of spruces. In one of these I once captured a
specimen just about sundown, when proceeding to a barren to call
moose. The Indian made a noose on the to]i of a long wattle, and
after a little manoeuvring, during which the bird kept hovering round
us, hissing and setting up its wings and feathers in great anger, he
got it over its neck and secured it without injmy. This little owl,
just turning the scale at two ounces, will actually attack and kill a rat.

."542 APPENDIX.

Wherever there is mystery there lies a cliiarm ; and to this
cflect expresses himself ]\Ir. Gosse, who thus speaks of liis nc-
<|nivintaiice with the cry of the saw-whet iu his "liomancc of
Natural History : "

" In the forests of Lower Canada and the New England States, I
have often heard in spring a mysterious sound, of whicli, to this day,
1 do not know the author. Soon after night sets in, a metallic
sound is heard from the most sombre forest swamps, where the spruce
and the liemlock give a peculiar density to the wood, known as the
black growth. The sound comes up clear and regular, like the mea-
Bured tinkle of a cow bell, or gentle strokes on a piece of metal, or
the action of a file upon a saw. It goes on, with intervals of inter-
ruption, throughout the hours of darkness. People attribute it to a
bird which they call \hc whetsaw, but nobody pretends to have seen
it, so that this can only bo, considered conjecture, though a highly
probable one. Tlie mor j ay and pertinacity of this note had a
strange charm for mc, increased, doubtless, by the uncertainty of its
origin. Night after night it would be heard in the same spot,
invariably the most sombre and gloomy recesses of the black timbered
woods. I occasionally watched for it, resorting to the woods before
sunset, and waiting till darkness ; but, strange to say, it refused to
perform under such conditions. The shy and recluse bird, if bird it
was, was, doubtless, aware of the intrusion, and on its guard. Once
I heard it under peculiarly wild circumstances. T was riding late at
night, and, just at midnight, came to a very lonely p.irt of the road,
■where the black forest rose on either side. Everything was pro-
foundly still, and the measured tramp of my horse's feet on the
frozen road was felt as a relief to the deep and oppressive silence ;
.when suddenly, from the sombre woods, rose the clear metallic tinkle
of the whetsaw. The sound, all unexpected as it was, was very
striking, and though it was bitterly cold, I drew up for some time to
listen to it. In the darkness and silence of the hour, that regularly
measured sound, proceeding, too, from so gloomy a spot, had an
effect on my mind solemn and unearthly, yet rot unmixed with
pleasure."

There is a bird that, long after sundown, and when the moose-
caller begins to feel chilled by long watching on the frosty barren,
will rush past him with such velocity as to leave no time to catch a
certain view of its size or form. It passes close to the ground, and
with the whizzing sound of an arrow. Almost every night, whilst
thus watching, I have noticed this bird ; can it be the night hawk ?

Al'lMCNDlX.

:ji:j

But October is late for so tender a bird ; the Latest dny in which I
huvo observed it in Novii Scotia, was tlic 2.SLh SL'[)tciuber.

Another mysterious sound which many of the Indian hunters con-
nect witli superstition, and attribute to spirits of the Orplieonistic
description, is that curious, rushin<? sound of music — an indescribable
melodious rustling in the calm atmosphere of a still October night,
with which the ear of the moose-hunter becomes so well acquainted.
!Most probably the cause exists in the tension of tlie nerves of that
oi'gan.

The fierce yell of the luclfee, and the short sharp bark of the fox,
are often heard in wild parts of the country : they are both in
])ur8uit of the unfortunate hare, which falls a frc(juent prey to so
many of the caniivoriu and raptores. I once heard the startling cry
of the former close to my head, whilst reposing in the oinm, after a
night's moose-calling away from camp. Its bounds ui)on its prey,
having stealthily crept to within sight, arc prodigious : I have mea-
sured them as over twenty feet in the snow.

I have always noticed that in the small hours of the morning there
sippears to be a general cessation of movement of every living crea-
ture in the woods. Often as I have strolled from camp into the
moonlight at this time, I never could detect the slightest soimd —
even the owls seemed to have retired. The approach of dawn, how-
ever, seems to call forth fresh exertions of the nocturnal animals in
quest of food, and all the cries and calls are renewed — continuing till
the lirst signs of Aurora send the owls flitting back into the thick
t(f[)s of the spruces, and call forth the busy squirrels and small
birds to their daily occu[uition.

Once, and only once, did I hear the little red squirrel utter liis
wrathful chirrup at night — a bad sign, say the Indians ; they firmly
believe that it prognosticates the death of one of their friends.
Neither docs the chip-munk or striped ground squirrel come out at
night ; the only member of the family of nocturnal habits is the
flying s(iuirrel, a rare but most beautiful little creature. Lying in
an o[)en camj), I once saw its form sail in a curved line from tree to
tree in the moonlight.

Of night songsters amongst our small birds we have few examples.
The whi})-i)oor-wiIl is our only systematic nightingale, if we may
call him so. Arriving in June, and choosing the jileasantest retreat,
in copses, by picturesque intervales, and generally preferring the
neighbourhood of man, the plaintive song of this bird is strongly
associated with the charms of a summer's evening in the country.

844 AITEXDIX.

Occasionally, liowcver, the wliitc-throated sparrow, or the common
peabiddy bird (F. Pennsylvanica) strikes up his jtipinf; note at
various times of the ni^'lit, and is often heard when the surrounding
woods are suddenly lijj^hted up by the application of fresh fuel to
the camp fire. The Indians say that lie sings every hour. The
exquisite flute-like warblings of the hermit thrush (T. solitarius) are
often prolonged far into the fine nights of early sunnncr. As a
general impression, however, the pleasing notes of song birds are
foreign to the interior solitudes of the great fir forest, whose gloom
is appropriately enhanced by the wilder and more mournful voices
of predatory birds and animals. With these imperfect remarks, I
close the present sketch on the night life of animals in the woods.

The following is a fragment of a Paper read by the
Author before the Nova Scotian Institute of Natural
Science on Acclimatisation. A large proportion of the
matter contained therein has been omitted as ii-relative
to the objects of this work.

ACADIAN ACCLIMATISATION.

Having thus adverted to the development of "Ai)plied Natural
History " in other parts of the world as a practical science, and the
satisfactory results which have already attended such efforts, we nc/Nv
come to consider the proper subject of this paper — the question of
Acclimatisation as applicable to Nova Scotia. I have so far drawn
attention to the advances made by the antipodal colonists in this
direction, to show how the objections of distance, expense, and un-
certainty of results, have all been put aside for ends thought worthy
of such sacrifices. But Australia was a country craving animal
immigi'ation, her large and wealthy population demanding m.any of
the absent table luxuries of the old world, and her youth eager for
the time when the boundless forests and grassy plains should abound
with the stag or roe, in place of the monotonous marsupials which as
yet had afforded the only material for the chase. In Atlantic
America, on the contrary, instead of having to supplant the in-
digenous animals, we possess, in a state of nature, some of the noblest
forms of animal life, which, no longer required to supply the abori-
ginal Indians with their sole means of subsistence, may be called on,

APrENDIX. 345

with tlmt modomtion wliich should ulwaya chnrnctcrlso n civilised
I)e(>j)lt', to iidbrd both tlie invi<?oratin;j; ploasuroH of sport and luxuries
for the nuvrket. Every Ktreiim and lake abounds with trout, and
there arc but few rivers from Cape Sable to the Labrador which the
salmon does not annually attempt to ascend.

What, then, is to be desired ? Has not America, receiving from
the east all those useful aninuxls which accompany num in his mij^ra-
tions, and whicli, returning to a state of nature in the i)lains of
]\Ie.\ico and South America, have multiplied so greatly as to allbrd a
Btai)le product for exportation, giving all imaginable luxuries to the
new-coming nations in the produce of her forests, prairies, rivers, and
sea coasts ? Yes, but the gift has been abused. It is sad to con-
template the wanton destruction of game and game hsh throughout
the northern continent since its first settlement by Europeans : numy
animals, now on the verge of extinction, driven olf their still large
domains, not primarily by the ai)proach of civilisation, but by ruth-
less, wholesale, and wanton modes of destruction. " One invariable
jjcculiarity of the American pcoi)lc," says the author of "The (lame
Eish of the North," " is that they attack, overturn, and anuihihitc,
and then laboriously reconstruct. Our first I'armers clujpjtcd down
the forests and shade trees, took crop after crop of the same kind
from the land, exhausted the soil, and made bare the country ; they
lunitcd and fished, destroying first the wild animals, then the birds,
and finally the fish, till in many places these ceased utterly from the
face of the earth ; and then, when they had finished their work, that
race of gentlemen moved west to renew the same course of destruc-
tion. After them came the restorers ; they manured the land, left it
fallow, put in practice the rotation of crops, planted shade and fruit
trees, discovered that birds were useful in destroying insects and
■worms, passed laws to protect them where they were not uttei'ly
extinct, as with the pinnated grouse of Pennsylvania and Long
Island, and will, I predict, ere long re-stock the streams, rivers, and
ptmds, with the best of the fish that once inhabited them."

A home question for our subject would be, — In the hands of which
class of men does this colony now find itself? And I fear the un-
hesitating answer of the impartial stranger and visitor would be,
that in all regarding the preservation of our living natural resources,
we were in the hands of the destroyers. The course of destruc-
tion so ably depicted by the author quoted, is being prosecuted
throughout the length and breadth of Nova Scotia, and the settlers
of this province, blind to their own interests, careless of their children's,