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the romance of the
newfoundland
::aribou
A. RADCLYFFE DUGMORE
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IX LIBRI5
ERNEST ALAN VAN VLECK
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FORTHE PEOPLE
FOR EDVCATION
FORSCIENCE
LIBRARY
OF
THE AMERICAN MUSEUM
OF
NATURAL HISTORY
THE ROMANCE OF THE
NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
CAMERA ADVENTURES IN THE AFRICAN WILDS
Being an account of a four months' expedition in British East
Africa, for the purpose of securing photographs from life of the
Game, with Map and reproductions of numerous photographs from
life by the Author. Popular Edition. Demy 4to. I2s. 6d. net.
WILD LIFE AND THE CAMERA
Illustrated from photographs. Demy 8vo. Price 6s. net.
London : WILLIAM HEINEMANN, 21, Bedford St., W.C.
CARIBOU STAG BUGLING.
In the highlands ot Newfoundland.
THE ROMANCE OF THE
NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
AN INTIMATE ACCOUNT OF THE LIFE
OF THE REINDEER OF
NORTH AMERICA
BY
!^;
rA:. A. RADCLYFFE DUGMORE,
F.R.G.S., F.R.P.S.
AUTHOR OF
"camera adventures in the AFRICAN WILDS," ETC.
Illustrated with Paintings, Drawings and Photographs
from Life by the Author
LONDON
WILLIAM HEINEMANN
MCMXni
Copyright.
CONTENTS
Page
By Way of Explanation ..... i
CHAPTER I.
On the Life and General Habits of the Caribou
of Newfoundland ..... 7
CHAPTER II.
The Mating of the Caribou .... 43
CHAPTER III.
The Autumn and Spring Migrations . . . 73
CHAPTER IV.
Newfoundland Caribou from the Sportsman's
Point of View . . . . . .102
CHAPTER V.
The Newfoundland Caribou as a Species . . 119
CHAPTER VI.
Newfoundland : The Country and Its History . 148
CHAPTER VII.
Camping in Newfoundland and How to Do It . 163
The Game Laws of Newfoundland . . ,180
Index . . . . . . . . 187
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
FULL
Caribou bugling (coloured)
PAGE PLATES
Frontispiece
This doe and fawn came down the river bank within about
fifteen yards of where I was hiding ....
Another pair came down to the river an hour or two later
This is the way in which Caribou cross a river .
Doe and fawn surprised at close quarters
Evidently frightened by the sight of my camera, this herd has
turned and is going off at full gallop ....
Normal footprint of a Caribou stag ....
Footprint of the same stag when frightened
A one-horned doe .......
The most ugly type of Caribou stag .....
Caribou rising from his noon rest .....
A fine sturdy doe ........
Showing the jaunty air of the stag during the mating season
During the mating season. Stag wandering in search of does
A young stag with a very pretty, but rather small head of
about thirty points ......
Over the barrens the herds of Caribou, during the southerly
migration, travel in long lines .....
A Caribou fawn ........
A small herd travelling by water in preference to land
Caribou swimming across Sandy River ....
Caribou travelling in a snowstorm. From a painting by the
author .........
Migrating Caribou crossing the barrens on a frosty morning
From a painting by the author ....
During the mating season. A fine stag with his herd of does
Caribou on the hills .......
A stag that is more interested in the does than in me
When on the march the doe is usually careful to look out for
any scent of danger ........
To face
page
4
8
10
12
H
i6
i8
20
22
24
26
28
30
32
34
36
38
40
44
46
48
50
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
vu
The big white doe that did so much to prevent my getting
pictures of the large herd and the fighting stags .
Stag following his herd of does that have taken fright
Alarmed by the scent of man, this herd is making off at good
speed .........
The very old light-coloured stag with long spindly horns
A young stag keeping a sharp look-out for does .
A tragedy of the wilds .......
" The pair of fighting stags seemed to be well matched " .
Stag watching his does which appear to be thinking of running
away .........
The herd of about 150 Caribou which took alarm
Swimming .........
About to land .........
Landed .........
Caribou path down the river bank .....
Caribou lead through dry bog-land ....
Where the Caribou leads from many marshes converge at the
river bank ........
Caribou paths, or leads, through the grassy barrens
" The whole country looked almost like a perfect fairyland "
My sole friend and companion, the Canada Jay, having break-
fast with me .......
The blind from which many photographs were made .
The blind, the camera, the Caribou, and the author
" As the stag came within range I shot him with the harmless
camera ".........
" He was scarcely nine yards away " . . . .
" A large herd, numbering perhaps seventy animals " .
" A sunlit picture of a perfectly typical line of thirteen Caribou
under the most favourable conditions " .
" Within sixteen or seventeen yards was a real stag, with horns
carrying full forty-five points " .
" My next visitors appeared — a doe and a fawn "
One of the few cases in which I have seen the stag taking the lead
A solitary doe crossing shallow river ....
The day being fine this herd is taking it easy
This fawn was lying down on the open barren
The same fawn as the one shown on previous page photo
graphed as it got up and started off ....
To face
page
54
56
5B
60
62
68
70
70
74
76
78
80
80
82
82
84
86
88
88
90
92
94
94
98
100
104
106
108
1 10
1 12
Vlll
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
A suspicious herd ........
Meat hunters bringing down their winter's meat
One of the many types of does — hghtly built body and very
dark face .........
One of the many types of does ; the noticeable features being
the heavy build, ugly horns, and very light colour,
especially of the face ........
One of the types of does. This represents about the average
build .........
This shows the graceful pose of a Caribou doe .
Evening on Sandy River ......
Herd of Caribou landing in a hurry, having been frightened
by the canoe ........
Caribou on the river bank ......
Caribou moss, the animals' principal food ....
Usnea moss, which grows on trees ....
With the heavy load of cameras and plates, walking over the
soft spongy bogs is exhausting work ....
The easiest way to travel in Newfoundland
Mv camp on the north bank of Sandy River
This herd crossed the river directly opposite my camp
Mending our canoe with Caribou skins ....
The canoe in the water with its sheathing of Caribou skins
To face
page
114
116
122
124
130
144
156
158
160
160
164
164
166
J 74
176
176
TEXT ILLUSTRATIONS
Page
7
Prehistoric drawing on Reindeer horn .....
Attitude of dejection assumed by Caribou stag during the
mating season ......... 43
On migration ......... 73
A Newfoundland Stag . . . . . . . . 102
Reindeer and Caribou . . . . . . . .119
Types of horns of the Newfoundland Caribou (Figs, i — 32) 120 — 146
A glimpse of Newfoundland . . . . . . . 148
A camp in Newfoundland , . . . . . .163
MAPS.
Map of Canada showing approximate distribution of the Caribou 138
Map of Newfoundland . ..... At end of volutnc
THE ROMANCE OF
THE NEWFOUNDLAND
CARIBOU.
BY WAY OF EXPLANATION.
An introduction to a book is usually a sort of apology
for the sins which one is apparently about to commit,
though it is more often written after the work is complete ;
of course, we all know it is very seldom read. Neverthe-
less, it is one's duty — to whom it is difficult to say — to
write one ; so I make the attempt, not calling it an Introduc-
tion, but explaining why I am going to write so much about
the life of this comparatively little-known creature, and to
apologise for all shortcomings and mistakes I may commit.
In England it is quite the exception to find anyone
who knows what the Caribou is, unless he happens to have
been to Newfoundland or certain parts of Canada; while
even in the United States the animal is very slightly known,
except to sportsmen, and people will scarcely believe
that in the island of Newfoundland herds numbering many
hundred head may be seen, at the present time, even by
those travelling on trains. Yet Caribou are actually
very numerous, notwithstanding the considerable slaughter
which takes place during the rather long season when
2 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
shooting is allowed. Few animals are more easily seen
when conditions are normal, and it is safe to predict that
these creatures will continue to be abundant for very
many years to come, unless some unforeseen condition
arises.
In the following pages I shall endeavour to give as
clear and complete an account of the life of the Caribou as
I possibly can. Most of the information has been obtained
from personal observation during the nine consecutive
seasons I have spent in Newfoundland, much is unfor-
tunately lacking, owing to the nature of the country, which
permits the wandering animals to frequent regions practically
inaccessible to man during certain seasons. The many
months spent in the country, nearly always alone, have
enabled me to see a good deal of the Caribou and gather
some material which will, I trust, prove of interest to
the reader appreciative of the habits of wild creatures,
be he sportsman, naturalist or traveller, and I sincerely
trust that the reading of these pages will give at least a
fair conception of the animal's habits, while the photographic
illustrations, which have been made frequently under very
difficult conditions, will give an accurate idea of the animal's
appearance. The hardships endured, the almost endless
disappointments and the expense entailed in obtaining this
collection of photographs may seem out of all proportion
to the results. Yet there has been a certain fascination
in the work and I can truthfully say that the pleasure I
have derived in overcoming the difficulties has amply repaid
me for all the trouble and exposure. Fortunately one
forgets discomforts and weariness, while the pleasures that
have been experienced grow more and more real as the
years go by, and I shall always look back with the keenest
delight to the months in Newfoundland when, in the
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BY WAY OF EXPLANATION 3
company of the Canada jays, the Caribou, the beaver and
the wild barrens and forests, I have been as nearly happy
as man can ever be.
Usually entirely alone I have wandered through the
country, going quietly that I might see the animals
undisturbed and free from the fear of man, and, as I have
not used or carried fire-arms while on these trips, excep-
tionally good opportunities have been offered for obser-
vation. For hours at a time have I crawled among the
unsuspicious Caribou, watching their behaviour while they
slept, fed and in other ways led their natural life without the
sound of the rifle to fill them with fear. This work has
supplied me with much material, not only in the way of
photographs and facts for this book, but also for my paintings.
In some ways the photographs form perhaps the most
valuable part of the material, for in them we have indis-
putable evidence of the animal's form and action ; so that,
should the day come, as it possibly may, when the New-
foundland Caribou ceases to exist in its wild and natural
condition, there will at least be the pictures to show to those
who will then be living.
Unfortunately, the value of wild-animal photographs is
not thoroughly realised. Were there even a fair appre-
ciation of what they represent, museums or private individuals
who have the means would take steps to ensure proper
collections of pictures of some of the vanishing animals,
and of those which, though now so abundant, may not
endure very long under the rapid strides of civilization. As
it is, the work falls on the very few whose keen interest in
the animals is so great that they devote their lives to collect-
ing such photographic records without, as a rule, the hope
that they can ever pay the expenses of the actual work.
Such work does not entail large outlays when the results are
B 2
4 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
considered, but small as the necessary amount may be, it is
such a serious handicap, that many of us are absolutely
prevented from doing that which we feel should be done,
and done soon. Not only is no help forthcoming from
institutions or individuals, but, with perhaps one exception
(the American Museum of Natural History), they are not
even interested enough in the subject to take advantage
of what is being done by securing durable prints for the
purpose of filing away for the use of future generations. As
a recorder of facts, the camera takes first place, but the records
it makes are only of value, beyond interesting people for the
passing moment, if put ifito pertnanejitfortn. Perhaps I appear
to write with too much feeling on the subject, but it is
only because of real experience. When I made the collec-
tion of photographs of the larger animals of British East
Africa, in 1909, I worked to the limit of human endurance
and under the great disadvantage of serious lack of funds
(most of which were borrowed from very kind friends).
Every moment was of value, on account of the great expense
entailed. Almost absurd risks were taken in the effort to
get satisfactory pictures at very close range of the most
dangerous animals in the world. The results appeared in
my book on the trip.^ To the above-mentioned Museum
I gave the use of my negatives, in return for their many
kindnesses to me, but beyond that, the pictures have never
secured any permanent home, even though they represent
animals, many of which will become scarce within a few
years and extinct sooner than any of us realise. Photo-
graphs, too, are easier to keep than more or less perishable
skins and skeletons, which require constant care and much
loom for storage.
^ " Camera Adventures in the African Wilds."
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BY WAY OF EXPLANATION 5
All of this seems apart from the subject of the present
book, but I take the opportunity of trying, with but small
hope of success, to arouse a little interest in what may at first
appear to be only a hobby, but which in reality is of some im-
portance. In these days of speed and still more speed things
happen quickly. More changes take place in ten years now
than in ten or twenty times ten years a few centuries ago.
Animals which changed but little during great periods
covering thousands of years are suddenly wiped out before
our very eyes. There is no time to waste. The camera
in competent hands should be taken on the field, and every
species known to exist should be photographed both with
the regular camera and cinematograph, and the results
stored in places where they shall be safe against all
conceivable forms of destruction.
The accompanying photographs will serve to keep a fairly
good record of the Newfoundland Caribou, not as good or
as complete as I should like it to be, for I am not in a
position to carry on the work with the thoroughness that it
deserves; but, nevertheless, anyone looking at them will be
able to form a fairly correct idea of what these Caribou look
like. It would be advisable if photographs of other species
were taken, especially those that are in danger of extermina-
tion, as for example. Stone's Caribou (i?. Sto?iei)^ which is one
of the more or less well-defined species found on the south
coast of Alaska ; it is scarce even now and will probably
be wiped out entirely before very long ; so that if any steps
are to be taken to preserve it photographically there is no
time to lose.
Among those who have been good enough to help me in
this book, my sincere thanks are due to Sir E. P. Morris,
the present Prime Minister of Newfoundland ; to The Reid
Company of Newfoundland, for giving me the facilities
6 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
afforded by their steamers and railroad; to Mr. |. W. N.
Johnstone, the General Passenger Agent for this Company,
who has in many ways given me valuable assistance; to the
Game and Fisheries Board ; to Messrs. Whitaker Cox, and
Huntress, of the Bungalow at Grand Lake, for the kindest of
help; to Messrs. Squires, Pennell,and many others who gave
me much valuable information and frequently did me many
favours ; to Mr. Madison Grant and to Dr. Hornaday, of
the New York Zoological Society, who kindly granted
me permission to use the material printed by the Society ;
to Messrs. J. G. Millais, Hesketh Prichard and F. C.
Selous, who have lent me photographs of horns from
which some of my drawings were made ; to Mr. Ernest
Thompson Seton, whose works on the Caribou have been
of great help ; also to Messrs. Jas. P. Howley and
P. T. McGrath, from whose writings I have obtained
much interesting information.
Before this book goes to print I hope to be back once
more in the island which has so strongly taken my fancy
— back to learn something more of the Caribou of
Newfoundland.
>x.
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Prehistoric drawing on reindeer horn done by the stoneman probably thousands of
years before the ancient monuments of Egypt. Taken from "Life History of
Northern Animals" by E. Thompson Seton.
CHAPTER I.
ON THE LIFE AND GENERAL HABITS OF THE CARIBOU OF
NEWFOUNDLAND.
Long before the development of man on this earth, there
Hved for many years in the more northerly part of the globe
an animal which, so far as we know, differed but little from
the Reindeer or Caribou of the present day. Indeed, we may
say with some certainty that few animals have changed less
during the tens of thousands of years that have gone by
since the fossil remains which are now found were deposited
as permanent records in the oldest Pleistocene deposits.
European man in the earliest days knew the reindeer and
probably used it in many ways, and he left most remarkable
8 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
records in the way of drawings to show us how thoroughly
famiHar he was with the animal. From the drawings on bone
we learn much that the valuable fossil fails to show, for the
ancient cave man gives us a picture, wonderfully well
done, of what might well be a Newfoundland Caribou of
to-day. These drawings, together with the many fossil
remains, are indisputable evidence of the reindeer's existence
in the earlier ages when the world was not as the world we
know to-day, when climate as well as land areas were entirely
different, when stranger beasts than we now see roamed the
land and fought against conditions which were slowly changing
and slowly developing. When the great continents were
formed and gradually separated from one another by water or
perpetual ice, the original reindeer were split up into
different herds which took possession of the slowly-forming
continents, and by this geographical change they have developed
along slightly different lines, so that now instead of one
species, we have, or think we have, a great many. But we
will leave this subject till later on, for the Newfoundland
Caribou is what we are after and with those alone shall we
deal in this chapter. We will not for the present even discuss
whether or not it is a separate species, because to do so
would bring in the other races of the family which we pro-
pose to leave alone.
At the great risk of being called to account by some of
my friends, I shall begin by saying that the Newfoundland
stag, at its best, is perhaps the handsomest of all the Caribou,
even though he is not the largest and does not carry the
longest horns. Not only is he a thoroughly handsome
creature, but his life is unusually full of interest, to be fully
appreciated only by those who have had the good fortune to
spend many months in the wilds of his island home, seeing
him and his soft-eyed does under many and varied conditions.
u
LIFE AND HABITS 9
To judge of any animal by one or more that have been
frightened by the hunter is not fair ; they must be seen under
happier conditions, when they are natural and free from the
terror with which man inspires them. This dread of man is
by no means a recent development, but goes back thousands
of years, before the most advanced brain dreamed of the deadly
firearms. In the dimly distant days of the stone age when
the Beothic Indian, probably the first inhabitant of New-
foundland after it became an island, hunted the Caribou as
an article of food and used its skin, presumably for clothing,
the animal learned the fear of man. But then man was
clumsy in his methods and could kill only at close range ;
there is a strange story, which is told by Mr. Howley, of an
Esquimaux tradition regarding their difficulties in getting
near enough to the Caribou to kill them. They believe that
originally these reindeer had very large eyes so that no man
could approach them unseen. Great distress resulted from
their inability to secure the necessary meat, and they besought
the Great Spirit to have pity on them in their need, and
reduce the power of the eyes of the animals. The Great
Spirit listened to their prayers and made the eyes very much
smaller, so that the Esquimaux could hunt with far less
difficulty. They point to the very marked tear-duct as a
proof of the truth of the story and claim that originally the
eye extended to the length now occupied by this duct.
We know that the ancient man destroyed the Caribou in great
numbers, for they were probably his principal source of food;
what his earlier methods of killing them were we can only
surmise. Spears and tomahawks were among the first of his
weapons, and we can still find traces of the immense fences
which were constructed for the purpose of bringing the
migrating animals within reach of these early hunters.
The making of these fences must have involved a vast amount
lo NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
of labour when we consider the rudeness of the implements
employed for cutting down the trees, and anyone who knows
Newfoundland can fairly appreciate the difficulties of the task,
as the trees of this country are remarkably tough. Some of
these fences are said to have been forty miles or more in
length ; they were begun at the bank of a narrow river which
was deep enough to force the animals to swim, and the two
arms diverged widely so that a large stretch of country was
controlled. The Caribou, coming along in the course of their
semi-annual migrations, would meet this obstacle and follow
it to the river's edge. As soon as they entered the water,
primitive man attacked them with his simple weapons, and
we can understand how easily the wretched animals were
killed as they floundered through the water in densely packed
herds, so frightened that they were incapable of resistance or
intelligent action. It is no wonder then that they are imbued
with the fear of man. We may even imagine that the
modern man, with his far-shooting weapon, who frequently
kills without being seen, is less an object of dread than he of
the past who engaged in what were literally hand-to-hand
conflicts in which the slaughter must have been terrific.
Fortunately the island was very sparsely inhabited, otherwise
these methods would have greatly reduced the number of
Caribou and we would not have the great herds which exist
to-day.
How the Caribou first came to the island is somewhat a
matter of conjecture, but it seems reasonable to suppose that
previous to the severance of this land from the mainland by
the Straits of Belle Isle, the animals lived there just as they
did on the whole northern continent. There is, at least, no
reason to suppose that they did not as the conditions are,
and probably were, similar. Most of this northern country
was more or less covered with that important though
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LIFE AND HABITS ii
primitive form of vegetation — the lichen — which was
then, and is still, engaged in forming a soil capable of
sustaining the higher forms of plant life. These lichens,
being the chief food of all the reindeer, rendered the greater
part of the northern continent suitable for the wandering
deer. The theory advanced by some writers that the
Caribou crossed the Straits of Belle Isle during the winter,
when ice bridged the ten mile strip of water, does not sound
plausible as an explanation of how the island was first
inhabited by the animals, though it is of course quite
possible that at times they have crossed under exceptional
conditions. Captain C, Hardy, in his book, " Forest Life
in Acadie," which was published in 1869, says that: "Some
years ago, during an unusually cold winter, the deer crossed
in large bands from Labrador into Newfoundland over the
frozen straits." He does not give any authority for the
statement, so the information was probably obtained from
local fishermen. So far as I can learn, nothing of the kind
has occurred during the last few years, and as the New-
foundland Caribou is fairly persistent in its distinctness from
the Labrador race we must be content to believe that their
separation from the original herds took place very many
years ago. Yet, on the other hand, there being always
two sides to an argument, the Labrador species may have
come over during comparatively recent times, and this
would account for the claim that there is a secondary species
or variety of the Newfoundland race, a claim which I confess
requires some stretch of the imagination to believe in.
To-day we know the Caribou of the large island as a
more or less migratory animal which exists in considerable
numbers. How many there are it would be difficult to say,
perhaps one hundred and fifty thousand altogether would be
a fairly safe estimate. J. G. Millais thinks there are more
12 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
than this number. In his deHghtful book, "Newfoundland
and its Untrodden Ways" (published in 1907), he writes:
" It is very difficult to figure out the number of Caribou
in Newfoundland, and all estimates must be mere guesses.
Mr. Moulton, of Burgeo, judging by the numbers wintering
in the barrens north of that place and White Bear Bay, puts
it at two hundred and fifty thousand, and thinks they are
increasing at the rate of ten thousand annually. Mr.
Howley, on the other hand, places the figures at a hundred
thousand, and I think that double this number is a very fair
estimate. In spite of the enormous slaughter which takes
place annually, and which is every year greatly on the
increase, Newfoundland will keep the deer for many
centuries to come if all shooters are licensed, and the
number of deer shot by each person does not exceed three.
Thus, putting the death rate at the highest estimate of three
animals each to four thousand shooters, twelve thousand
would be killed out of two hundred thousand, that is a
depreciation of six per cent. Now this is a much smaller
rate of killing than takes place among the stags of Scotland,
and they are undoubtedly on the increase."
This is a hopeful view of the subject, and though his
estimate of the existing numbers seems slightly high, there
is every reason to hope that the animals will not decrease
unless some entirely unforeseen condition arises. To those
who, when out hunting, are accustomed to seeing two or
three wild animals in a day, and believe themselves fortunate
indeed if they see half-a-dozen, the extraordinary number
of Caribou to be found in a single day's walking or
canoeing in Newfoundland must be a great and very
delightful surprise. During the autumn migration it is
not unusual to see four or five hundred in a day, and
earlier in the season when the animals are following
*
LIFE AND HABITS 13
their resular habit of slow wandering; from barren to
barren, or from hill to hill, one may easily see several
dozen singly or in small herds ; while if we visit the island
when the snow lies deep, and venture into the animals'
winter quarters, I am told that irregular herds numbering
thousands of head may be found. It must be a wonderful
sight — one to remember and one which I hope some day to
have a chance of seeing.
Before going into the life of the Newfoundland Caribou
let us glance at the animal itself, for he is a stranger to
most people. He is known scientifically as Ra?igifer
tarandus^ or perhaps more specifically as Rangifer terrce
novce. By the general public who know the animal at all,
he is called a Woodland Caribou, the name being derived
from the Indian " maccarib," or " maccaribo," or " caribo,"
and not as Sir John Richardson would have us believe from
the French " Quarre boeuf." The spelling that is now
used — " caribou " — dates at least as far back as 1609, when
it was used by Les Cabot. So much for the name which,
after all, is less important than the owner of it.
As to the measurements of the Caribou (of Newfoundland)
I must confess myself in serious difficulty, for never having
actually measured one I must rely on what others say, and
unfortunately what they say varies considerably. This may be
owing to the method of making the measurements, for when
the animal is laid down on its side the forelegs are not in
a natural position as there is no weight on them; the leg,
therefore, should be forced upward as far as it will go, in
order to give the approximately correct height of the animal
when standing. This I believe is seldom done, hence the
somewhat exaggerated heights given by many writers and
hunters. Allowing for errors of this sort, the height of a
good stag may be between forty-six and forty-nine inches at the
14 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
shoulder (j. G. Millais measured one fifty-two inches), while
the doe is fully five or six inches shorter. In length the
stag varies greatly, but perhaps six feet five inches to nearly
seven feet would be correct, the doe being less by six inches
or more. The weight also is extremely variable— age, season
and conditions being the responsible factors. Three to five
hundred pounds is I should say within the range, while one
writer gives it as between five and seven hundred ; the does
are very much lighter, seldom exceeding a weight of three
hundred pounds. In colour the animals also vary, chiefly
with the season, but there is so much individuality that any
descriptions must at best be only approximate. Generally
speaking, the summer pelage is a rather dark mouse grey,
shading almost to white on the flanks and belly. Round
the eyes there is a more or less defined and fairly constant
white ring and the ears are, I think, always white, or
at any rate very light grey or bulT grey. In the
autumn, with the growth of the winter coat, the variation
in colour is extraordinary as will be seen by an
examination of the accompanying photographs. The white
neck is then a conspicuous feature of the stags, but in the
earlier part of the autumn it is not quite so noticeable in the
does. The flanks are usually white or very light bulT grey,
the under parts are the same colour, which, as a rule, shades
gradually upwards, the darkest colour, warm grey or brown,
being on the shoulders, along the back and on the upper part
of the hips. The tail shows conspicuously white and is
about six or eight inches long. The face colouring is
usually darkest from the back of the mouth almost to the
cheek-bone, the nose being either light grizzly grey or
white. The throat and the part below the ears is nearly
always white, so also is the throat mane, which varies in
length from a couple of inches to about a foot. The legs
*=.«as
. -i*^
^^'
; ^%,
Normal footprint of a Caribou stag. The points of the lioof come well together, and the
dew-claws, or cloots, do not make a \"ery deep impression.
'^:7^^i
Footprint of the same stag when frightened. The points of the root are widely separated,
and the cloots arc driven far into the ground.
LIFE AND HABITS 15
may be light or dark, as can be seen from the photographs.
The winter colouring is white or very light grizzly grey (so I
am told). The fawns are rather a warm greyish brown at first,
frequently becoming white or nearly white early in the
autumn. A peculiar feature of the Caribou is the loose
flap, or heavy fold of skin, which is most strongly developed
immediately behind the foreleg and continues to the fore
part of the hind leg. The feet are very large, with greatly-
developed cloots, or dew-claws, which are so long that they
leave deep impressions in the ground as the animal walks.
The footprints vary according to conditions. When the
creature is not excited the hoofs are close together, so that
the impression is almost circular, the cloots or secondary
hoof making scarcely any mark. But when they are excited
the hoofs spread widely and the cloots go deep into the
earth. This can be clearly seen in the photographs facing
page 14.
One of the strangest things about the Caribou's foot is the
curious cracking sound which it makes when the animal is
walking. The popular explanation of this is that the hoofs
strike each other in passing ; such, however, is not the case.
I have most carefully watched dozens — even hundreds
— as they have passed me within little more than arm's
length of where I lay concealed. The sound does not occur
while the feet are off the ground, of that I am certain.
So far as I could judge it happens the moment the full
weight is put on the foot or just before it is relieved of the
weight, and as it is equally noticeable whether the animal is
walking on hard ground or on soft bog, it cannot be caused
by the hoofs striking the ground, but more likely by some
internal mechanism of the foot. It is so loud that on a
quiet day it can easily be heard a hundred and fifty
feet or more away ; when a large number of Caribou are
i6 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
walking together the effect is most peculiar, sounding
almost like a lot of small castanets. I have never yet been
able to determine whether or not this clicking is made when
the animals are trotting or galloping, nor do I know if it
occurs at all seasons ; I have only actually heard it in
summer and autumn. From what I can learn, it is charac
teristic of all the reindeer, both of the Old World and
the New. Its object is not known ; that it is a signal I
cannot believe, as the animal's sense of smell is so keen that
it can without difficulty follow the trail of its own kind, and
does not need any clicking sound to guide it either by day
or night. That it serves some purpose seems more than
probable and perhaps the day will come when we shall
know more about animals and their peculiarities and this
will be among the mysteries which will be solved.
Practically all the male Caribou carry horns, though
"smooth-heads "are occasionally seen. The size and form of
the antlers will be treated more fully in Chapters IV. and V.
A thoroughly good " head " from Newfoundland is probably
as fine as, if not finer, than can be obtained from the Caribou
of any other region. Horns are carried by most of the does in
this country, but it would be difficult to say with any degree
of accuracy what proportion are without them. Roughly
speaking, one out of every nine or ten lacks any visible horn.
Mr. J. G. Millais cites the following two instances which
should be of interest :
" Number of female Caribou seen, three hundred and six ;
made up of one with twelve points, one with eight points,
six with four points, forty with three points, (about) a hundred
and twenty with two points, a himdred and thirty with no
horns or only small knobby excrescences."
Toward the end of the same book, he says :
" Quite eight per cent, of the female Newfoundland Caribou
A oiic-hornciJ Joe. Sulked and photographed at very close range on a dark gloomy morning
LIFE AND HABITS 17
carry no external horns." And continues in a footnote :
" My calculations are based on some notes I took of female
Caribou seen in open country where I could easily examine
them with the glass, in 1906. Out of three hundred females,
one had eleven points ; one, ten ; three, eight ; twenty-five,
six or seven ; two hundred and forty-six, four or more points ;
and twenty-four had no horns."
By these notes it can be seen how much uncertainty there
exists in the proportion of hornless to horned does.
Having now given the reader a somewhat vague idea of the
appearance of Caribou, let us look into the habits of this
interesting animal.
The Caribou's life may be divided into Four Periods,
which correspond very closely with the seasons. Like the
spokes of a wheel, there is no beginning and therefore no
end, so we may take them in any order we wish. Let us
therefore start with the Summer Period and with each season
we shall touch lightly on the most important events in order
to give a consecutive idea of the animal's life habits. In the
chapters which follow, the two most important seasons — the
mating and the migration — will be dealt with more in detail.
The kind indulgence of the reader must be asked as this will
necessitate the repetition of certain facts further on. The
present chapter is intended to be a sketch of the animal and
his life, touching on what appear to me to be the points of
greatest importance. If this chapter proves of sufficient
interest, then perhaps the patient, long-suffering reader may
be induced to wade through the chapters which follow.
Summer in Newfoundland begins late in June, during
which month the Caribou bring forth their young. Those
that migrated southward have returned and reached their
summer homes in time for the great event, while those which
have not migrated seek only a suitable nursery in the vicinity
1 8 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
of their winter quarters. In the thick forests ot spruce and
fir, the prospective mother goes entirely alone, avoiding her
own kind even as she avoids man. There, safe from prying
eyes, her fawn first sees the light of day. He is usually an
only child, but if he be one ot two it will cause no surprise,
for twins are by no means rare. Neither does the mother
object, and kill the second arrival as the domesticated reindeer
is said frequently to do. The fawn is like most of the deer,
well-developed and strong at the time of its birth, so that
when but an hour or two old it can, with rather awkward
strides, follow its mother. Unlike many of the deer, it is
practically fi-ee from spots and is of a soft, warm mouse
colour with more or less defined light grey or whitish regions,
marked most strongly on the flank.
How soon the mother leads her little one out of the
shelter of the forest I do not know, probably not for several
days, for outside the woods the flies are worse even than among
the trees ; she guards her ofi^spring with the tenderest care,
seldom leaving it for any length of time, always afl'ectionate
and solicitous for its welfare. Fortunately, she has few
enemies to fear. Wolves are practically extinct on the island,
the lynx is rare, but its extreme cunning makes it a danger
to be dreaded ; black bears are fairly abundant, though it is
very doubtful whether they ever harm the Caribou, young or
old, even though they will occasionally kill sheep and other
domesticated animals. The chief enemies are to be found
in the insect world : mosquitoes and several species of flies,
some of which cause intense annoyance and suffering.
Among these the black fly is the most numerous, and though
its persistent attacks in vast swarms must be almost as
aggravating to the deer as it is to man, its presence does not
result in the torture caused by some of the gad-flies. These
pests place their maggots in the animal's skin and nostrils,
The most ugly type of Caribou stag ; a marked contrast to most ot his kind. To judge trom
the horns, it is probably a young stag of perhaps three years ot age ; but apart trom the horns
it has the appearance ot a very old one.
LIFE AND HABITS 19
and leave unmistakable proof of the distress they cause.
The insects, therefore, are the enemies which so greatly
influence the life and habits of the Caribou and the doe
does what is in her power to keep her young safe from their
attacks. Durinp; these summer months their lives would be
lives of peace and comfort, for food is plentiful and varied
and the weather mild, but for the flies who harass them from
sunrise to sunset, and the mosquitoes who pester the
wretched animals throughout the cool northern nights.
Nature has strangely arranged things and no man can find
a reason for many of her plans ; why she should allow the
dumb animals to be pestered is a question that none can
answer.
During the warmer months the Caribou are more or
less solitary in habit, going about singly or in pairs and
only rarely in small herds of halt-a-dozen or more. In
the day-time they keep very largely to the woods, coming
out to feed at the approach of evening. I do not wish
it to be understood that they never feed during the day,
for they do so occasionally, more especially when the
weather is dark and cold, and as the summer draws to a
close they feed more and more by day, so that by
September their habits have completely changed and they
become almost entirely diurnal.
Throughout the season of warmth and sunshine, the doe
and her fawn live together, indifi'erent to all but each other.
The young Caribou for about two months or so is almost
entirely dependent on its mother for food; gradually it learns
to nibble on the mosses and lichens, so that by the end of
summer it is self-dependent. It continues to suckle however
just as long as the mother has milk, and I have seen them
taking it as late as the beginning of November. To a great
extent, the Caribou spend the summer in the more elevated
C 2
20 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
regions, for what reason I cannot say, for, as stated else-
where, the fly pests are nearly, if not quite, as numerous on
the mountains as in the valleys except, of course, when the
wind blows so hard that none can face it. In the sheltered
valleys and along the river banks vegetation is very luxuriant,
grasses, flowers and ferns growing to amazing size ; but
this does not tempt the deer from the higher and bleaker
country, where they live on the various mosses and lichens
with which practically the whole country is covered. Up
in the high country, often hidden away amongst the forests,
marshy barrens abound and nearly all are sprinkled with
small ponds and lakes of every size, while ice-cold streams
and rivers carry the surplus water down to the flatter lands.
On these barrens and among the lichen-covered rocks of the
rougher regions the Caribou feed, always wandering and
restless, content only if they can escape the flies and find
the food they like best.
Both does and stags are hornless at the beginning of
summer. The does, not having lost their small horns till the
end of spring, do not show much growth until July, but the
stags by that time have a fairly good head of velvet-covered
antlers, the growth not being complete before the last of
August or beginning of September. The coats of these
animals during the warm months are entirely different from
their winter dress ; they are of a soft mouse-grey, varying
through the warm and cold shades, some being fairly dark
while others are quite light. They are always lightest on
the under parts and flanks, where the colour runs into pearly
white. The hair at this season is quite fine and smooth — a
strange contrast to their winter pelage. The effect of the
lighter coats is to make the animals appear very much
smaller than when they are dressed for cold weather. Not
only do they look smaller, but lighter and more delicate of
u
LIFE AND HABITS 21
limb. The long neck hair which gives so much character
to them, especially to the older stags, is lacking, and the
neck of the stag is much thinner, as the large glands below
the ears are not visible. Altogether, the Caribou of the
summer months is a different animal from the one we shall
see later in the year, both in appearance and habit, and so
seldom are they seen during the day-time that we can quite
understand how it was that the early explorers, such as
Cabot (in the latter part of the fifteenth century) and others
considerably later who visited the island during the
summer, failed to see the Caribou, or at least they failed to
mention them. Ernest Thompson Seton, in his finest
work, " Life Histories of Northern Animals," writes :
" Although the habitat of the Caribou lay nearer Europe
than that of any other of the American big game, and the
animal was a common characteristic inhabitant of those
northern parts of the continent visited by Cabot (1497),
Roberval (1534), and Cartier (1535), this species was
not discovered by white men until after the Wapiti, the
White-tailed Deer, and the Moose. So far I have found
no earlier mention than that by Les Carbot (or de Monts)
in 1609."
Evidently the early visitors to the island did not penetrate
far into the interior, they were content to stay on the coast
where the extraordinary abundance of fine fish proved such
an attraction. The inland country, which at best presents
somewhat unusual difficulties to the explorer, had apparently
nothing to offer them so valuable as the limitless harvest
of the ocean, so they stayed on the coast and knew
nothing of the great herds of Caribou which populated the
interior, offering them a supply of the best of meat, which
would without doubt have proved a welcome change from
their monotonous diet of fish. How it was that these men
22 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
did not learn of the existence of Caribou from the natives,
the Beothic Indians, must remain a mystery. There is no
doubt that they had more or less frequent dealings with
these Indians during the sixteenth century, for even as early
as the year 1502, three of these Indians were taken across
the Atlantic and exhibited before the English king. This
leads us to wonder whether the Indians used Caribou skins
for wearing apparel, and if they did how it was that the
curiosity of the white men did not prompt them to discover
the animals which supplied those skins.
Let us return to the Caribou of to-day. We have seen
them during the summer period of their existence. As the
days shorten and the nights grow colder, the Second Period
or season is reached and the animals attain their highest
development. The does have grown fat, for after the main
pest of flies has passed they can feed more comfortably, free
from the constant irritation caused by their tormentors.
The young are well grown and strong, and able to take care
of themselves under ordinary conditions, though they still stay
by their mothers. They have learned the laws of the wilds,
not by being taught by their mothers, as some fanciful writers
would have us believe, but by the instinct and sense with
which Nature endowed them. Some of the stories written
during recent years are so childishly foolish that one is lost
in astonishment, not only at the absurdity of the writers,
but at the deluded public which reads and sometimes
believes even the most far-fetched accounts of the schooling
of the wild creatures. When a supposedly sane man says
that he watched a Caribou doe teaching its fawn to jump a
fallen log, we almost expect to hear that they have a written
language, and have to struggle with the " three R's." The
young Caribou learns to jump with the same ease and lack
of consciousness as it learns to walk and run, it will jump
^
<
iifii&
^^ii^^U
MiamBiii iiiiiiii
LIFE AND HABITS 23
a log before it is a week old with as much ease and grace
as the older ones.
The stag, even more than the doe, shows great change
with the coming of autumn. His horns are fully grown and
hardened by about the ist of September ; he then begins
the somewhat tedious task of scraping off the now useless
velvet against the rough bark of the spruce, the fir, the
" juniper " (tamarack) and the alder. He rubs his horns
till the greater part of the velvet is removed, while the more
inaccessible places are cleansed with his hind hoofs, which
are sharp and very sensitive. With them he gently removes
each particle of the dried coating so that none remains to
mar the beauty of the horns. He seems to be proud of his
new possessions and struts about with a thoroughly satisfied
air and is even accused of gazing at himself in the mirror-
like pools as though pleased with the reflection of his
adornments. When the velvet is removed the horns are rather
dull in colour, but they soon assume a wonderful orange
tone which adds greatly to their beauty. How this colour
is obtained we do not know for certain. The native says
that it is from the sap in the bark of the alder which oxidizes
and turns to a deep orange when exposed to the light.
This is a fanciful idea which does not appear to be based on
fact. The colour is more likely to be derived from the
horns themselves, the blood and the tissue with which they
are covered having some efi^ect on it. I suggest this because
the colour varies with the individual animals, those in the
prime of life usually showing the most brilliant deep orange,
while the very old stags, who have long passed their prime,
have as a rule very light-coloured horns. If the colour were
produced by rubbing against any sort of tree or bush this
would not happen. The horns of the does, which are very
much smaller and less vigorous, are also light in colour. The
24 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
theory that the Caribou colour their horns with a fluid
exuded from between the hoofs of the hind foot is also, I
believe, wrong, and has probably arisen from observing the
habit above mentioned of scratching the velvet from the
horns with their feet. The does do not lose the velvet until
much later than the stags ; indeed it is not an uncommon
thing to see untidy strips of dry velvet still adhering as
late as October loth or 15th.
This Second Period is the most important in the animals'
lives, for it covers the mating season and the southerly
migration. Both of these subjects are dealt with in greater
detail in the two following chapters, but as this part is a
summary of the whole life of the Caribou, we will glance
over the chief events with apologies if, later on, the reader
finds certain repetitions. I do this to make the history of
the animals' life consecutive.
Instead of a listless creature wandering about in a rather
aimless way, we now find the stag conspicuous in his
newly-burnished antlers, his crowning beauty, a thoroughly
restless animal whose passions usually reach their height
by October ist, or a little later. No longer does he seek
seclusion in the dark forests, no longer does he shun the
daylight. He seems possessed of the spirit of adventure
and at times will even welcome the excitement of conflict.
The smooth, mouse-coloured summer coat has been super-
seded by a heavy, rich mantle which, besides adding to
his beauty and acting as a shield to save his body from the
sharp horns of a possible antagonist, will protect him from
the penetrating blasts of the winter winds. His neck is
creamy white, with a long mane hanging from the throat ;
the flank and belly also are white, his back and sides are
more or less warm grey, varying greatly both in colour and
tone. So thick is the coat that the long hair forms regular
LIFE AND HABITS 25
vertical ridges on the sides and neck and irregular ridges
across the flank, giving it the appearance of a very deep
plush or imitation fur. On the neck just below the ears
and also under the throat are large glands, which are
swollen only at this time of the year. In some instances,
these glands are so large as to distort the neck and detract
greatly from the appearance of the stag.' (This will be
noticed in several of the illustrations.) All of these signs
proclaim the mating season. Another sign is the curious
habit the animal has of standing for long periods in an
attitude of absolute dejection, the object of which is
difficult to understand. At such times his head is held
low, so that from the bent neck the long fringe of hair
practically touches the ground. As a rule, the ears droop
and the hind quarters are drawn slightly forward, almost
like an animal standing tail to a snowstorm. Occasionally,
' Whether these visible swellings are in any way connected with the glands
which are described by Mr. J. G. Millais in his " Newfoundland and Its
Untrodden Ways," 1 do not know ; his own words should, perhaps, be given
so that the reader will understand the subject more clearly : —
"In 1906 I (Mr. Millais) made the interesting discovery, which is, I think,
new to zoologists, namely, that the Caribou stag sometimes possesses a sac
containing hair in the throat skin. On October 20th, I killed a very large old
stag near Shoe Hill, and whilst removing the neck skin, my knife slipped and
disclosed a very curious sac about five inches long and two broad ; this
contained growing hair on the inner skin, and the cavity was full ot a mass of
compressed hair soaking in a watery mucus. This skin bag was situated in a
thin vellum of the inner skin in the region of the upper throat. The Indians
call the little bag ' Piduateh,' and the few white men who know of its existence,
the ' Toler ' (i.e., crier or bell), so that it may have some affinity to the long
throat appendage found on the Moose and known as the 'bell.' In the case of
the Caribou, the hair sac is internal with hair growing inwards, whilst in the
Moose the ornament is a long piece of hardened skin covered with hair, which
hangs from the centre of the throat. The Indians told me that this sac is only
found in one in fifty Caribou, generally in the males, and that it is sometimes
found in the inside skin of the cheek. The existence of this curious attachment
has not been previously noticed. It seems to be useless, and can possess none
of the functions of a gland."
26 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
the head shakes sideways in an impatient manner, but often
the animal stands immovable for as much as an hour
seemingly oblivious to all that is going on. A doe may
suddenly attract his attention, when a great transformation
takes place with startling rapidity. With head held high,
nostrils dilated, and eyes flashing, he regards the fair one
intently. At such a time the Caribou stag should be seen
to be thoroughly appreciated, for then he is truly an object
of beauty, altogether different from the drawings we so
often see or the miserable, sick-looking specimens which
from time to time appear in Zoological Gardens, where
they linger a few months growing more and more ugly,
until they succumb to conditions which they find intoler-
able and which always lead to illness.
As the subject of the mating is gone into with such
detail in the following chapter, I shall not dwell too long
on it here. The season of the rut usually lasts about two
or three weeks, beginning under ordinary conditions during
the first week in October. Unless a heavy fall of snow
takes place unduly early or some other cause beyond
our knowledge intervenes, the Caribou remain some-
where near their summer quarters up in the higher lands
until this season has passed. It is on this account that
so few men ever see the animals at their best, as most of
the hunting is done during the migration or soon after.
In the mating season the stags become masters of small
bands of does, numbering from two or three up to a
limit of about twenty ; the common number for a mature
stag being from eight to twelve. Several stags often keep
possession of a herd together, so that the common belief
in the inevitable antagonism of the stags is without
foundation. Fights do take place, very often perhaps,
but they are by no means so frequent as some people
LIFE AND HABITS 27
believe. Throughout this season of love and battle the
fawns nearly always stay with their mothers and continue
with them for some months afterward.
With the first severe snowfall that occurs after the middle
of October the great southerly migration begins. This
snow may not come before the middle or end of November,
but it is usually expected about October 22nd. In
former days, I am told by the older guides and others, they
always had heavy snow by October 15th, but during the last
eight seasons which I have spent on the island there has
been nothing like regularity, so that migration has begun
anywhere from early October (191 2) to the first week in
December (1908). These two dates are of course extremes
and similar conditions might not occur again for many
years. In a general way the first of the migrating animals
should be seen crossing the railroad between Grand Lake
and Howley or Gaff-topsail between October 23 rd and
November ist and from then on for several weeks
according to the season. During this time they come in
herds of from two or three to over a hundred, single
individuals seldom appearing except when the herd has
been disturbed by hunters. In nearly every case the herds
are led by a doe, frequently one that has no fawn, or what
is called in Newfoundland a " dry " or " barren " doe. She
seems more alert than the stags and therefore better able to
guide the herd past the many dangers which threaten it
during its long southerly march. The stags, now forlorn-
looking creatures of dejected mien, keep to the middle of
the column. Occasionally one brings up at the rear or
follows some distance behind, but only on rare occasions
does he assume the lead. It is noticeable that he is not
much of a success at that rtf^, for he will often walk blindly
into the most apparent danger. This peculiarity is shown
2 8 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
in the picture facing this page, where the does are seen clearly
suspicious, while the stag walks on blindly to within close
range of the camera, not even paying heed to the warning
snort of the more timid does that are so much more
careful. But however unsuspicious the stag may appear to
be, he never fails, so far as I have been able to observe, to
take alarm at the scent of man, and with the wind in the
right direction they notice that scent at incredible distances.
It is interesting to see how they are affected by the slightest
taint of man-scent. The Caribou stag may be walking
along quietly, apparently not taking heed of anything,
suddenly his sensitive nostrils are assailed by the alarming
scent, he immediately jumps sideways as though a bomb
had exploded directly beneath his body so high does he
bound from the earth ; then he usually stands still for
some seconds, staring in the direction from which he believes
the danger may appear in more tangible form. If the scent
reaches him again, he will make several more bounds and
then go off with a long deliberate swinging trot, throwing his
legs high as he makes his way through the bog, but when
very badly frightened, he will gallop at full speed. If no
further suspicion of scent comes to him, he will circle round,
keeping a safe distance until he gets down wind of the place
where he was first alarmed, then he will remain for a long
time standing still and throwing his head up frequently in
his efforts to catch the wind-borne scent of danger. The
stags jump more often than the does at the first moment
of fear, but the does are more painstaking in working their
way down wind in their efforts to determine the origin of
the danger.
It is difficult to say what will frighten the Caribou and
what will not. I remember once trying to " spoil " a lead
so that the animals, instead of following it, would come
LIFE AND HABITS 29
along the one near which I was watching. To do this, I
hung a white handkerchief in such a way that it would
blow freely directly over the path. Instead of causing alarm,
this simply aroused their curiosity and several herds, after
watching intently for some time, deliberately walked towards
it and actually passed it within a few feet on their southward
journey. Profiting by this experience, I have frequently
tried to attract them to where I was hiding by a similar
device, but it has never proved successful. As the hand-
kerchief failed to turn them from the lead, I took a tin and
hung it on a stick, with a large nail dangling, so that with
each gust of wind it would make a noise, but even this
did not deter the persistent creatures and they passed
it by just as they had passed the blowing handkerchief,
whereas if I had shown the top of my head at a distance of
two or three hundred yards, they would have rushed away
at full speed ; at least, that is what I have nearly always seen
them do. However keen of sight they may be, and it is a
much-disputed point whether their sight is keen, it is
rather to their sense of smell that they so frequently owe
their safety. Not only do they detect the presence of a man
a long distance away, but the trail he has left appears fresh
to them for many hours, if not washed away by rain or
destroyed by snow. They have also a deep-rooted objection
to passing over the place where one of their kind has been
killed. At one time I was on a lead near which a stag
had been shot ; the body, from which the horns had been
removed, was buried, so that the lead — an extremely good
one — should not be spoiled. But though I watched for
several days and many herds came along the path, they
always took alarm at the scent and turned back badly
frightened. The natives say that the ground is " poisoned "
by a carcase and that no Caribou will go near it. This
30 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
may not always be the case, but it certainly was, the only
time that I have tried it.
The food of the Caribou during the autumn, just as in
the summer, consists largely of lichens and mosses, but they
also seem very partial to the leaves of many of the shrubs,
such as the alder, willow and certain viburnums which grow
' CD
along the banks of streams and rivers. I do not think they
eat the twigs, except possibly the extreme tips of the willow,
but the leaves are pulled off and eaten with evident relish.
One of the most delightful sights in the country is to be
seen on the rivers when, if one goes noiselessly along in a
canoe, the Caribou, young and old, does and stags, may be
seen enjoying their meal of browse. They make their way
through the thickest brush which overhangs the water in
a tangled mass through which no man could go, scarcely
making any noise, stopping here and there to nibble off
the smaller leaves. At such times they often allow the
canoe to approach within a few feet before taking fright.
When they first catch sight of the canoe, they usually stare
at it a moment and then vanish quickly in a very noisy
fashion ; but before they are disturbed they present a
wonderfully beautiful picture, for the rivers of Newfound-
land are at their best in September and October and even
without the animals they are worth seeing. The glowing
scarlet of the maples, the birches with their gleaming white
trunks and foliage of pure golden yellow sprinkled with
green and brown, the restless poplars, whose trembling
leaves become a most intense yellow, less varied perhaps
than the many shades of the birches, but none the less
bewildering, form a shimmering mass which flickers in the
sunlight. Behind all stand the deep, quiet greens of the firs
and the spruces, relieved here and there by the spun gold of
the tamarack or juniper. In the foreground along the edge of
LIFE AND HABITS 31
the water, there is the profusion of crimson and orange hues
of the viburnums and myrtle, coloured as though by rich
wines. In the water all these myriad colours are reflected,
a vibrant mass which so well sets off the simple greys and
whites of the feeding Caribou. Yes, it is well worth
seeing, for even if it does not last long, it leaves an
impression which comes to life each time the memory is
stirred by the mention of Newfoundland and its fascinating
waterways. Those who have lived all their lives in England
know nothing ot autumn colours save the sombre yellows
and browns, and they find it hard to believe the stories of
the gorgeousness of the north. Even if one suggests a touch
of the scarlet maple in a painting, the sombre-hued person
calls us to task, not believing that such barbaric beauty can
exist in wild nature.
During this period of wonderful colours, the Caribou are
partial to a form of food which, so far as I know, has never
been recorded as part of their somewhat limited diet. I
had noticed, when canoeing up and down the rivers, that
the leaves of the spatter-dock and its close cousin the water
lily were seldom to be seen, but that the stems were
extremely abundant. Not believing it to be the work of
beavers, for they eat the roots and lower shoots, I decided to
watch the river closely. On the second day, a herd of
several Caribou swam across the river near where I was
hidden, and coming to the lily pads, immediately began
eating the large leaves. The water was over four feet in
depth so the animals could not touch bottom. They bit
off the leaves as they swam about, frequently putting their
heads entirely under water in their efforts to get possession
of a submerged leaf. For over half-an-hour they continued
their feast, unconscious of the man who was watching them so
intently. They reminded me strongly of a herd of moose,
32 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
except that they did not ever go completely under water,
and, of course, they swam much higher and with even less
effort. This then was the solution of the many leafless
stems. I have told this to several guides, none of whom
knew that the Caribou fed on these leaves. On three
other occasions I found them engaged in similar feasts, so I
am fairly sure that it is not an exceptional food. Unfor-
tunately I never succeeded in obtaining a photograph of the
animals thus engaged owing to the darkness of the weather.
The intelligent animals seem to know better than to go
into the small bog ponds which are so numerous all over
the barrens, not even the most succulent leaves having
sufficient attraction to coax them into the treacherous pools.
The bottom of these pools is somewhat indeji?iite^ just as in
the bog-holes in Ireland ; the banks also are crumbly, so
that it would be difficult for an animal to get out if he
should once venture in.
During the migration, the Caribou are almost entirely
diurnal in their habits. They feed by day, chiefly during
the noon hours, when they may be seen wandering slowly
over the savannas or barrens, grazing on their favourite food,
the reindeer moss [C/ac/onia ra?igiferi7td) which tinges the
bogs with its curious lemon-grey colours, in such beautiful
contrast to the deep purple browns and orange greens of
the mosses, and the crimsons of the dwarfed shrubs. The
warmer the weather, the more time do the deer devote to
feeding during their journey. In fact, on really warm days
they do not travel, but spend their time enjoying the sun-
shine, feeding and sleeping the hours away in a delightfully
lazy manner. Let the cold north-east wind blow, bringing
with it stinging flakes of frozen snow and feeding becomes
a secondary consideration. The call to the south is strong.
There is no time to sleep during the day and no time to
c
y.
o
LIFE AND HABITS 33
eat. Onward they go, increasing their speed, under the
able leadership of the older does, while the advance guard
of winter whitens the country as though anxious to conceal
the trails of those that travel.
This brings us to the Third Period in the lives ot our
animals — the period of desolation and suffering, when
Nature in her stern way thins out the weakling, prunes the
Caribou tree of all branches that are not strong and healthy.
The gates close behind the travelling herds, lakes and rivers
are frozen, the treacherous bog pools become more
treacherous as the ice forms and is covered with snow, so
that no animal can see where the safe road winds its way
across the open country from forest to forest. As the
winter continues the snow lies deeper and deeper covering
all things, levelling the irregularities, and making the life of
the wild a hard and terrible light from which only the
strongest and cleverest emerge. On the flat land conditions
are entirely unfavourable for the Caribou ; the snow has
covered their ground food, so that nothing can be found
except the tree mosses. In the higher lands, therefore,
they must live until the approach of spring. A dreary
prospect, but one to which they are accustomed by the
inherited experience of countless generations. In the high
lands the wind helps the animals by sweeping the snow
from the ground and thus exposing their food. The cold
accompanying these fierce northerly gales must be intense,
and any animal less well suited to the conditions would
soon succumb, but the Caribou has been well provided by
Nature to withstand even the keenest cold. Their coats are
extremely thick, and though they have but little oily wool
next to the skin, the hair is so constructed that it offers the
greatest possible protection. Not only is the hair long and
very close, but it is hollow, like miniature quills, so that a
34 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
more perfect form of insulation could scarcely be devised.
It is therefore probable that these animals do not suffer to
any extent from the actual cold. Their suffering is caused
by the difficulty of obtaining sufficient food, and even here
Nature has developed the Caribou with special reference to
the conditions under which it must live, by providing it
with hoofs which are capable of digging away the snow even
though it be many inches deep. The hoofs are not only
very large, but keen-edged and thoroughly well adapted to
the purpose. During the winter, the frog is almost entirely
absorbed to still further fit the foot for its purpose, while
the hairs which grow between the hoofs protect the
inner edges.
In examining the feet of various northern animals, one is
struck by the extraordinary manner in which they are
designed to meet the special requirements of their owners.
Where snow is continually deep for long periods the
animal must be able to walk without sinking too deep,
therefore size is of great importance. The lynx and the
northern hares offer, perhaps, the finest example of the
soft-padded foot. The former has all four feet thoroughly
developed for snow walking. The latter has only the hind
feet so arranged, because the animal carries most of his
weight on them ; the front feet are fairly small and compara-
tively lightly clad, to allow for digging or burrowing into the
snow. The Caribou's feet, though in complete contrast to
these, are equally well fitted for their purpose. Instead of
the foot being enlarged by an extra growth of wool and hair
to gain a supporting surface, they have extra-large and wide-
spreading hoofs which act as snow-shoes. According to
Mr. E. Thompson Seton, the reindeer (whose feet are
nearly identical with those of the Newfoundland Caribou)
" has about one square inch of foot support for each two
LIFE AND HABITS 35
pounds of his weight, while the moose, in standing, is
under a pressure of eight pounds to the square inch." It is
therefore no wonder that the Caribou can travel with such
ease over snow. In the winter the hoofs grow larger than
in the summer, the ground being soft there is not so much
wear for them. Thus cause and effect are worked out to
the animal's advantage ; the larger hoof is needed
more in the winter, therefore by this simple action is it
produced. The hairs of the feet, which are long and stiff,
grow downward, and evidently assist in preventing the
animal slipping when travelling over ice or frozen snow.
While on the subject of their feet, perhaps the most
interesting part of their anatomy, let us see how thoroughly
they are designed for walking over the bogs or marshes
which form so large a part of the animal's home. These
marshes are in many places so soft that they will not
support a man. When I say they will not support him, I
mean that a man would be drowned if he attempted to
cross the more treacherous places. Then there are many
parts where a man can get through only with the greatest
difficulty and danger, sinking over his knees at every step.
The Caribou usually avoids the very soft and seemingly
bottomless bogs, but walks over the fairly soft places with
no apparent trouble, not sinking more than an inch or two
where a man would go over his knees. The idea that they
never get bogged is not entirely correct, for I have seen a
large stag go down so deep that for Rilly five minutes he
floundered in vain ; finally, after making frantic efforts as
he saw me approach, he managed to extricate himself. A
thoroughly frightened animal he was, judging from the
way he made off. I examined the bog, and found it to be
so soft, that even on the tussocks of grass I could find no
support. I do not believe that any other large creature
D 2
36 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
would have escaped, not even a moose, which, next to the
Caribou, can get through a soft swamp as well as any animal
I know. Besides being, as we have seen, a snow-shoe and
bog-walking device, the foot of the Caribou facilitates walking
on ice, and is so well adapted to swimming that it propels
the animal through the water at a speed which must be
seen to be appreciated. Certainly no large animal can com-
pete with it. Single-handed in a light canoe, with no wind
to be considered, I find that I can with difficulty overtake a
Caribou ; it means straining to my utmost and going probably
about six miles an hour. How long the Caribou could keep
up such speed, I cannot say, but I believe we both would
get exhausted about the same time. Allowing them to go
at their regular speed, which is rather over two miles an
hour, they do not seem to tire any more than when walking.
They have no objection to taking the water and will often
swim in preference to going on land. It must be a large
lake indeed that will cause them to change their route.
Five miles is about as far as I have ever heard of them going
by water, though personally I have never seen them do any-
thing like that distance. The fawns at the age of three
or four months enter the water, no matter how cold it
may be, just as readily as the old ones. The picture facing
page 32 shows one that swam up river by the side of the
canoe for over half-a-mile, for no apparent reason and
without fear, so long as he did not get wind of me. No
animal swims so high out of the water as the Caribou, as
may be seen by some of the accompanying photographs,
their coats act as a life jacket, owing to the air-filled, quill-
like hair which supports them. When in the water, the
tail is always held erect, like the white flag of the Virginia or
white-tail deer, when the animal is alarmed. Indian file is
the rule of formation for swimming if there is any distance
-5'
l;
LIFE AND HABITS 37
to be travelled. Even in crossing a small river where there
is much current the Caribou go in single file, each close to
the one in fi-ont, so that they present an unbroken line
with heads and raised tails to mark off the individuals ;
they go without sound unless frightened, when the calves
frequently give a curious grunt at regular intervals.
All of this is taking us away from the Third Period, the
reader must pardon the digression, which seemed to come so
naturally ; but we must now return to the cold snow-swept
hills where we shall find that Nature has been busy
preparing the animals for the season of short days.
To reduce the hardships of the Caribou during the
severe weather, she kindly relieves the stags of their heavy
horns before the snow becomes deep — the larger the horn,
the earlier it is discarded. We wonder, therefore, why
anyone should ever have spoken of the brow antler as a
snow shovel, for under no condition would it be used for
that purpose. For some reason which we cannot explain,
the does carry their little horns throughout the winter, but
as they are not large enough to cause any annoyance, there
is no particular object in removing what might prove to be
a useful weapon ot defence for herself or her fawn.
To make the animals conform to the colour of the
whitened country Nature has caused the Caribou to become
almost entirely white. There are exceptions to this rule,
but the majority are either quite white or very nearly so by
the beginning of winter. What the object of this change
may be it is difficult, in fact I might truthfully say
impossible, to discover; it can scarcely be for protection.
The fact that the animals mass themselves together in such
large and therefore conspicuous herds would take away
any advantage that would be given by the white coats.
Besides which, their only natural enemy, the wolves, which
38 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
are almost if not quite extinct in Newfoundland, do not
hunt by sight any more than other wild creatures do. We
can readily understand the advantage which the white
colour is to the hare of the north, for as they sit quietly
for hours at a time, the scent of their tracks becomes cold,
and they are as inconspicuous as one mound of snow is
among others. Also the weasel, by turning white, has
much advantage in stalking his quarry. It seems to be
always the same, one object pitted against another, the
balance being maintained as closely as possible, so that
neither the hunter nor the hunted shall gain any great
advantage. When we build guns to penetrate the strongest
armour and then build armour to resist the most powerful
guns, we are but copying Nature in our individual fight for
supremacy and greater perfection of power. The more
one studies the question of white as a winter garb for
animals, the more hopeless are we of discovering any
solution. One thing contradicts another with discouraging
persistence. In the far north we find that the somewhat
defenceless musk ox retains his greyish-brown coat, while
the powerful polar bear remains white at all times. But the
Caribou of that Northern region as well as some of the
smaller animals change to white each winter, whether they
hunt or are hunted. Perhaps some day we shall discover
that white is a protective pigment against cold or that in
some way the animal at this season is incapable of supplying
the necessary colouring pigment. Either of these would
be a happy solution of the puzzle and would be welcomed
by many who have worried over the subject.
The life of the Caribou during the winter is regulated
almost entirely by the food supply. So long as the
weather is fairly " open " they continue to eat the
various ground mosses and lichens (the principal kinds
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LIFE AND HABITS 39
being Clado7iia ra7igiferi7ia^ several species of Cor?iicularia
and Cetraria^ Stereocaulon pascale and Bryopogon jubatum).
These, when not too heavily covered with snow, are
obtained by digging with the hoofs and not by using
the nose for a snow shovel, as some people claim. During
the very heavy falls of snow all ground food is hidden from
them, they must then turn to the tree-growing mosses, such
as Sticla ptilmo?iaria and the common Usnea, or Old Man's
Beard, which hangs from the trees in graceful wind-blown
festoons as though arranged especially for the hunger-
driven creatures — a manna in the time of greatest need.
The long winter passes slowly enough ; the herds, large
and small, have little excitement save when a party of
islanders come to them for their supply of winter meat. A
picturesque sight these men present, usually clad in white
so that they may stalk through the snow without being
seen, armed with every conceivable kind of firearm, from
old-fashioned sealing-guns to modern rifles. Bullets, shot,
or even nails are used, I am told. The method of hunting
is as simple as it is effective. When a large herd of
Caribou is found, the men conceal themselves along a line
some distance apart, while other men drive the herd toward
this line of hunters. The main part of the herd is allowed
to pass before shooting begins, so that each man helps to
drive the creatures on to the next gun. As every native is
allowed three Caribou, the drive has usually to be repeated
several times before each one has his full complement.
The great horror of it is that in the wild shooting which
takes place far more animals are wounded than killed.
The wounds inflicted by the irregular missiles must cause
untold agony, but winter is in some ways merciful and
death comes quickly to those who lose their strength in the
winter night. The wounded Caribou unable to keep up
40 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
with his fleet-footed companions is soon left behind, alone
in the great snow-covered waste, his only companions the
ravens and perhaps a stray fox. They are the gainers,
the bad shooting is a boon to them, and what was a tragedy
to one becomes a joy to the other.
Of course the thing is butchery, but that is what it is
intended to be. Many of these people never taste fresh
meat, except that of the Caribou, so they cannot be blamed
for getting what meat is allowed to them by the easiest and
surest method. I believe each member of a family old
enough to shoot is entitled to his three deer, and as
Newfoundland families are quite respectable in size, it may
be seen that a goodly supply of meat leaves the wind-swept
highlands each winter. These expeditions are regarded
somewhat as " larks " and are looked forward to with
pleasurable anticipation by the families; but though they
may produce great fun, they involve much very hard
work, for all the meat must be taken out on sledges,
frequently over long distances and through the roughest
sort of country.
Whether the Caribou travel far when they have once run this
gauntlet of fire I do not know. They are dull animals
during the winter, so probably on reaching the next suitable
feeding ground that will satisfy them they stop, even though
it be but a few miles away from the battle ground.
Occasionally, they are obliged to make forced marches
owing to a " glitter " or ice storm, which will imprison all
the food, both on the ground and on the trees, in its icy
grip throughout a large area, so that it is a question of
move or starve. There are wonderful stories of these great
treks, when men have declared that " hundreds of thousands "
of deer have passed in a single day — one long, unbroken
column taking a day, or even two days, to pass a given point.
^-^ '
■ft--
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LIFE AND HABITS 41
Never having seen these great treks, I simply tell what others
have told me.
Gradually the winter begins to break ; days become
longer, nights less bitter. The Aurora Borealis which has
lighted up the long dreary nights with its scintillating
shafts of ever-changing lights is no longer seen. The sun
takes on a warmer hue, the snow softens and the ice breaks
away from the banks of the pools.
The Fourth Period has come. It is the season of hope-
fulness and promise. The Caribou become restless, the
large herds break up and in ones and twos the does begin
the long return journey to their summer homes in the north.
The stags, less in a hurry, having no expectant young to think
of, follow along in small herds. This spring travelling is quite
different from the conditions found in the autumn. The
great mass of snow is melting, rivers are clogged with loose
ice which piles up along the banks, tearing away the over-
hanging bushes and scarring the tree-trunks as it works its
way down stream. Rivers that were a couple of feet deep
in October may now be seething torrents, fifteen or twenty
feet in depth, so that the great cakes of ice fight their way
down, creaking, groaning and splashing madly. They pile
up like small mountains against obstructions, then suddenly
breaking loose, fling themselves into the foaming water,
bearing everything before them in their tempestuous haste
to reach an outlet. In this way are the rivers kept open.
This is the pruning by water and ice of the bank vegetation,
merciless but thoroughly effective. It accounts for' the
marked difference between the rivers of the north and those
of the gentler south, where there is nothing to clear away
the fallen trees which choke the waterways large and small.
Occasional freshets may move the debris from one
point to another, but there is no grand spring-cleaning
42 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
of the rivers such as the north indulges in with unerring
regularity.
It is fortunate for the Caribou that they are so nearly
amphibious, as the greater part of the country they traverse
in the spring is water covered. Barrens which were dry in
the autumn are now vast lakes of shallow, ice-cold water
and the hillsides are glittering streams and cascades. The
paths through the forest where the snow lies deepest and
longest are woodland brooks ; everything is wet during the
early spring, when during the months of April and May the
heavy does splash their solitary way north. There is no
great rush of animals, but a slow and scattered moving of
the survivors of the herds which hurried southward six or
seven months before. No longer are they a well-groomed lot,
with long, heavy, smooth coats, for as the weather warms,
the long hair no longer needed falls off, leaving the animal
rough-looking and untidy, as it makes way for the finer
summer covering. The does are hornless by this time, and
the stags are showing signs of the great antlers which will
adorn their heads later on. During May all the migratory
division of Caribou will have reached their summer homes
in the northern hills and in doing so they close the cycle
of the Four Periods which, let us hope, will be repeated
each year for many generations to come.
43
Attitude of dejection assumed by Caribou stag during the mating season.
CHAPTER II.
THE MATING OF THE CARIBOU.
The life of the Newfoundland Caribou, as already stated,
may be divided into four principal periods, of which perhaps
the most important, and certainly the most interesting, is
the mating season. Unfortunately, this is of such short
duration that all efforts to study the animal at that time
must be difficult. In fact the question of luck enters into
it very largely ; that is, the luck of finding the animals at
the time when they are possessed of an extreme restlessness,
which causes them to wander in an apparently aimless way.
It will be noticed by anyone who attempts to read about
Caribou that the writers, whether sportsmen, naturalists or
that happy combination of the two, scarcely make any
allusion to the breeding or, as it is commonly called, the
rutting season ; evidence undoubtedly that the subject is
more or less unfamiliar. Yet when one stops a moment to
44 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
consider, the mating is the all-important step in the lives of
animals. So important that Nature arranges everything in
such a way that months are devoted to preparation. We
can scarcely help wondering why the subject has received
such scant consideration.
If you would see the stag at the only time when he is a
really majestic, high-strung, superb creature, keen-eyed and
in perfect condition, the culmination of the months of
preparation, you must select two, or perhaps three, weeks ot
October — that is, the week before, and two weeks during
the season. Then, and then only, does the splendid beast
do himself justice, a striking contrast to the shy, retiring
creature of the preceding months ; and yet even greater
contrast to the woebegone, miserable beast of the succeed-
ing weeks, when he no longer acts on his own initiative, but
is content to follow the more wideawake does, whether of
his own band or mere strangers. It is indeed difficult to
believe that this is the same animal, so great is the change.
And yet the sportsmen who hunt the Caribou usuallv see
them at no other time. How then can we wonder at the
low opinion that has been formed of this reindeer of the
western world, and how can we wonder at the wretched
drawings so frequently seen supposed to represent the
mighty stag, but which in reality show the animal at its
worst, thin and illshapen, with drooping head and fireless
eyes, a sad imitation of the real stag ?
During October of 191 2 it was my good fortune, after
having spent nine successive seasons in Newfoundland, to
meet the Caribou and be able to stay with them throughout
the mating period. It was due to a combination of good
luck and much hard work — usually the principal factor in
what we call luck. The luck lay in the fact that an
unusually early fall of snow had driven the northern herds
Ai-
^.«m:^
MATING 45
down to the lower country north of Grand Lake. As a rule
it is impossible to count upon a big southerly trek much
before October 23rd, frequently very much later, as described
in the chapter on migration. Whether it was the early
snowfall, or some unknown cause, I cannot of course say for
certain, but the result, which interested me more than
the cause, was that on October 4th several hundred Caribou
coming along the great migration leads appeared suddenly
only a few miles east of Sandy River, where I was devoting
my time to studying the works of beaver. Careful
examination of these herds showed pretty clearly that the
mating season was still a week or two away. The stags
showed scarcely any spirit of restlessness, in fact I was much
surprised to find that they were distributed among the does
without attracting the slightest attention, and there were
several full-grown ones to each herd. As the weather was
rather warm, the animals were somewhat lazy, spending much
of their time lying down and sleeping. Occasionally a young
stag, whose passions were beginning to develop, would be-
come restless and walk slowly among the herd, but the
larger stags paid not the slightest attention to the disturbance.
They slept on in peaceful security. The stags' horns were
practically clear of velvet, only a very few showing trace ot
the dried shreds still adhering to the horn and blowing
scarecrow-fashion in the wind. Many of the does, however,
were still in the full velvet.
It was quite evident that if I wished to see much of the
animals, I must move camp further up Sandy River in order
to be directly in the line of travel, for it was more than
likely that the greater part of the herds which would pass
through the district on their way south had already left the
northern hills, and was collecting on the open marshes
preparatory to the usual southerly migration. Here, then.
46 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
the mating season would be spent, and the chance of perhaps
a Hfetime would be offered for studying the animals, without
having to make long and very difficult marches to the
northern and more or less inaccessible hills — hills which
are away from navigable streams. In Newfoundland the only
easy mode of travelling is by canoe. When heavy photo-
graphic and sketching paraphernalia is added to the outfit
which is necessary for camping in even comparative comfort
during the cold autumn weather, one does not relish having
to haul heavy loads single-handed (I nearly always go entirely
alone) across the spongy bogs and through the marshy and
tangled forests of fir and spruce, and other obstacles,
discouraging even to the most ardent enthusiast. It will
therefore be readily understood how thoroughly I welcomed
the prospect which so fortunately offered itself. Accordingly
I moved to an old camp site up Sandy River, where during
previous years I had spent many weeks watching and
studying the Caribou. On arriving at this part of the
river, which was directly in the main line of travel, I was
glad to see that not many of the herds had crossed the
water. In most of the marshes, rather to the eastward of
the usual migration route, scattered herds might be seen.
Each day the stags became more and more restless
and excited, so that I felt sure the hopes of many years
were to be realised and that perhaps after all I might
have the good fortune to witness a fight between some
master stags.
These fights are not very often witnessed. The few men
I have met, however, who were lucky enough to see them,
have described the event in most glowing colours ; their
enthusiasm carrying them into the easily attained realms of
imagination — that dangerous enemy to accuracy — the
enemy which leads the unwary naturalist so often far
Caribou on the hills
MATING 47
from the paths of fact and renders " hearsay " of so little
value when plain facts are required. Were I to have
swallowed but a small percentage of the stories related to
me by well-meaning guides, sportsmen and others, my
digestion must have suffered seriously, and my opinion of
wild animals become sadly perverted. One fact seen and
recorded is worth volumes of " hearsay."
It was noticeable that whenever a guide told me that
he had seen stags fighting, he would always discourage any
suggestion I made that he should show me any such sight,
and when I declared my intention of going in search of a
really good fight, I would be greeted with a smile which
clearly indicated the utter hopelessness of my quest. I was
always told that the task would prove extremely dangerous,
for the stags would attack anything and anybody. Altogether,
I received enough discouragement to nearly, but not quite,
deter me from my purpose.
On this trip luck was with me and from October 7 th to
the 2 1 St I had ample opportunity of studying the Caribou.
Scarcely a day passed without several being seen. On
some days from five hundred to a thousand would pass
within sight of me. The season was an abnormal one, the
mating and the migration taking place together, a most
unusual occurrence, and one that proved very discouraging
to the many sportsmen who went north and east along
Sandy River and Sandy Lake ; for by the time the shoot-
ing season opened on October 21st, practically all the
Caribou had passed — all but the very late herds. The
sportsmen's ill wind proved a very good wind for me,
because it afforded me opportunities as unusual as they
were interesting.
I was very much surprised by the extraordinary wildness
of the Caribou, for nearly every account I had heard agreed
48 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
in the one point, that at this season I should lind them
extremely tame — perhaps even aggressively so — instead of
which I had the utmost difhculty in getting even within fair
camera range of any, except on one occasion when a small
herd with one three-year-old stag took several steps towards
me after I had stalked to within twenty-five yards of him.
But generally speaking I found all, stags, does and fawns,
remarkably wild, and even though I took every advantage
of the wind and whatever cover there was, the herds would
bolt at the slightest suspicion of what they believed to be
danger. Never have I tried to stalk with greater care, and
seldom have I met with less success. When I hear people
tell me how they have had to throw stones at Caribou to
make them get out of the way I have to content myself with
the thought that on those occasions they never happened to
have a camera handy. Maybe it was the camera that
frightened the animals I saw !
It is not my intention to pretend that I know all about
the breeding habits of Caribou. I don't. And for that
matter no one knows very much about the subject. I can
simply tell what I saw, letting the reader use his own
judgment and form his own conclusions. It always seems
entirely wrong to indulge too freely in the gentle art of
generalising. Because one happens to see an individual
animal do something which seems peculiar, it is not the
part of wisdom to state that this particular something is the
regular habit of the species. There is just as much
individuality in animals and birds as there is in people —
perhaps even more. We, as well as animals and even
plants, act on certain definite lines, but under peculiar
conditions we are all likely at any time to depart from
these lines and allow the individuality to come forward.
In this way do the habits of men and animals gradually change
MATING 49
and development takes place in order that new conditions
may be met. Innumerable instances could be given of
this, but the one that will perhaps best serve the purpose
is that which is so frequently observed by sportsmen : the
way animals learn the efficiency of modern fire-arms. Go
to a place where the natives have been in the habit of
using smooth-bore guns, which will throw a large ball
perhaps seventy-five or even a hundred yards with fair
accuracy. The animals have learnt the range perfectly, and
always bolt if they have the chance, immediately before the
hunter is within that range. Now, let a man appear with the
modern high-power rifle and the animals are killed with
ease at distances which they previously regarded as being
outside the danger zone. Then some of the cleverer ones
realise that a new condition has arisen and that their old
methods are of no avail in saving them from this strange
weapon. They soon impart this knowledge to those less
alert than themselves, and before long the species has
changed its habit, making sure of its safety by never,
if they can help it, allowing any man to approach within
the newly-considered safety range. It is, however,
unfortunate for the animals that their quickness of under-
standing does not quite keep pace with man's inventive
genius, and so they must continue to fall before the superior
intelligence and power of their enemy, man.
To get back to the Caribou and their love-making, let
me first state that the stag believes in a plurality of wives —
a great plurality ; in fact, as many as he can or thinks
he can keep under his control. Some writers contend that
the Caribou stag is true to his own band of does. How
they arrive at such a conclusion I cannot see. It may
possibly apply to some of the species (one writer states that
in the region near Abitibi the stags do not have more than
so NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
two does), but certainly not to the Caribou of Newfoundland.
I have seen several cases of stags leaving all their does
and taking possession of an entirely new herd. By way
of an example, let me tell of one occasion when I was
watching a very fair stag that had eight does, some of which
had their fawns with them. For several hours they were
within a few hundred yards of where I lay concealed,
hoping all the time that they would come within photo-
graphic range. The stag was in a very excited condition,
perpetually grunting and never quiet for a moment, except
when watching a doe that appeared to be thinking of taking
her departure. Immediately she moved away, he would
rush after her and force her back to the herd. Suddenly
the stag looked up and snorted loudly. Across the barren,
over a quarter of a mile away, was another stag of about
his own size with nine does. For some time both stags
continued to stare at one another. The further does did
not stop, however, but continued to come slowly across
the barren. Before long both stags started forward at
a fast trot, the newcomer soon overtaking his herd.
On they came, and I felt sure there was going to be a fight,
as both stags appeared to be very irritable. Sometimes
they would hold their heads high so that the sun glistened
on their antlers. Sometimes their heads would be held
down close to the ground, their heavy necks almost
dragging on the moss. Nearer and nearer they came, both
grunting and both seemingly full of fight, the does in the
meanwhile evincing but the scantiest interest. At last
the stags were within a few feet of one another. They
stopped a moment regarding each other intently and then,
strange as it may sound, they passed on in the direction
they had been going, and each took possession of the other
one's herd of does. How to explain this curious behaviour
MATING
51
I do not know. It was all so deliberate and done in such
a matter-of-fact way, as though it were the ordinary course
of procedure. Apparently all concerned were perfectly
satisfied with the change, and yet it did not seem either
right or in accordance with the general custom of animals.
Had the stags not been evenly matched and the number
of does in the two herds entirely different, one could
readily understand the more powerful stag taking possession
of the larger herd. For in the animal world, just as among
our own kind, might is right.
It must not be imagined for a moment that a single stag
has undisputed and sole right to a herd of does. In most
cases that came before my notice a small herd of from five
or six up to about fifteen would be in the charge of at least
two stags, usually stags of different ages, the older ones
being without doubt the controlling power. In larger herds I
have frequently seen fully half a dozen mature stags, to say
nothing of a number of yearlings and two-year-olds, whose
antics were very amusing to watch. Their indiscretion fre-
quently got them into serious trouble when they attempted to
make love to a youthful doe and lure her away from the herd.
On October i6th I had by far my most exciting and
interesting day with the Caribou. An account of it
will, I trust, give some idea not only of the animals'
habits, but of the keen sport which hunting with a
camera affords, and show in what way it is superior to
the rifle in giving opportunity for animal study. The
day was bitterly cold, the wind blowing hard from the
northern, snow-covered hills numbed one's hands, so that
without gloves manipulating the camera was decidedly
difficult, while the alternative of using clumsy gloves placed
one equally at a disadvantage. The water-soaked ground
was covered with a hard crust of frozen moss, which
E 2
52 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
crackled loudly as one walked over it, and made stalking
extremely difficult. About half-past eight, I entered
a small barren, and while examining the surrounding
growth of scrubby firs, saw with delight a Caribou doe
coming through the trees along one of the northern leads.
Soon she was followed by another and still another until
no less than forty-two were in sight. Among them were
two quite good stags and a number of smaller ones. There
was also one unusually large and very white fawnless doe.
In fact she was the first to come into the open barren and
was evidently the leader of the herd. At the time I was
not particularly interested in her, except for her unusual
whiteness, as it was rather early in the season for this full
winter covering, but soon my interest developed, as I
discovered that she was uncommonly alert and keen-eyed,
for even though I squatted behind a dwarf spruce tree, she
detected my presence while still about three hundred yards
away, and having done so, she positively refused to let me
out of her sight. Try as I might, she would keep her eyes
upon me, blowing occasionally to let her companions know
that danger lurked ahead. Every time any of the herd
ventured to come in my direction she gave the sound of
alarm and drew them back. For nearly an hour this
continued. The stags in the meantime were watching one
another and the does, and each time a doe strayed she
was promptly brought back, often at the point of the horn
if she did not move quickly enough to satisfy her exacting
master. There were splendid opportunities for pictures
if only I could get closer, but apparently that was im-
possible. The big white doe thoroughly objected to my
presence, and under no consideration was she going to
allow me to approach. At last she stopped staring at me,
and I thought I might make a dash for a nearer clump
o
-a
MATING 53
of bushes, but just as I began to move she looked up ;
evidently what she saw made her consider her suspicions
fully justified, for she promptly gave a loud snort and
started off to the eastward, and the entire herd followed at
full swing, not even waiting a moment to enquire the reason
for this sudden departure. From the direction they were
going there was every reason to believe that their destination
was a barren I knew of, about a mile and a half away. As
the wind made it impossible to follow them without great
danger of their getting my scent I returned to the canoe,
which I found to be surrounded by thin ice, which though
apparently so fragile is treacherous to those who do not
understand, for even though it be but a fraction of an inch
in thickness, it will quickly cut through the canvas or wood
sheathing of a boat. Carefully cutting my way through,
I proceeded up the river to a place where I could enter
the barren, in which I expected to find the herd, from
the leeward side. On arriving I found my surmise to
be correct. Not only was there the herd of forty-two
that I had previously seen, but another and still larger herd
was joining them, and to my delight it contained one
really magnificent stag, and several more than ordinarily
good ones.
For some time I stood on the hill overlooking the swampy
barren watching the animals and wondering how I could
possibly get within photographic range of the big stag, for
of course the larger the herd the greater is the difficulty of
stalking it. If shooting had been my object what an oppor-
tunity this was, for they were scarcely two hundred yards
away, an easy shot for the rifle, but an impossible one for
the camera. While trying to arrange some plan which would
offer even a slight chance of success, I was disgusted to see
my old white friend start back in the direction from which
54 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
she had come, and of course, the combined herd followed
without the slightest hesitation. Evidently I must do like-
wise. So slinging the camera over my back I went after them,
not directly on their trail, for that would have taken me
through an almost impassable swamp, but parallel along some
fairly open hills. To my annoyance I discovered that a
river lay directly in my way. As it was too deep, too rough,
and, I may add, too cold to wade I had to search for a better
way across. A fallen tree offered the chance and in fear and
trembling I crossed the slender bridge in safety, camera and
all. This delay, which at the time I considered unfortunate,
gave the animals a chance to get far ahead, perhaps even
they had already crossed the barren, in which case the hunt
would be at an end as the whole country was so thoroughly
cut up with tracks ; there would be no way of telling
which way they had gone. Fortunately the long years which
I have spent alone in the woods, studying animals, have taught
me to go as noiselessly as possible, never stepping on a dry
twig if it could be avoided, and never letting branches strike
my clothing. This habit of years proved a friend to-day ; I
had no idea that the animals were within half a mile or more
of me and was therefore going along at a pretty good speed,
when suddenly I caught sight of the white flank of a Caribou
not more than twenty feet away. It was a lucky escape, for
had I gone a few steps further, she must certainly have got
my wind and given the alarm. I quickly walked back a
little distance to be sure that I had not passed any others, but
the one already seen was evidently the last of the herd, all
the others being scattered through the woods ahead. It is
needless to say that the utmost caution was necessary
if I would avoid any chance of arousing their suspicions.
Each step forward had to be most carefully considered and
every bush scrutinised to see whether or not it concealed a
-a
op
'JO
MATING 55
Caribou. Progress was, under these conditions, painfully-
slow and tedious, and continued so while covering the half a
mile to the barren where I hoped to have the opportunity of
securing a photograph of the big stag. On we went, the
hunter and the unsuspicious hunted, sometimes within a few
feet of each other, for the does were wandering in a rather
aimless way, feeding as they went, and frequently going back
on their tracks. There were young stags, does and fawns in
plenty, but no sign of the big fellows. The woods were so
dense that no animal could be distinguished at a distance of
more than about thirty yards. Later on, much to my
delight, a many-pointed antler caught my eye, and though
it disappeared almost immediately, it left me happy in the
knowledge that without doubt there was one big stag near by.
Several times my white friend came in sight to my great con-
sternation and joy ; for it is always a source of satisfaction
to outwit any animal, especially one that has proved itself
unusually clever. After what seemed an interminable time
the barren could be seen ahead. I would have greatly liked
to go forward and watch the herd as they emerged from the
woods, but the wind prevented any such plan being carried
into effect. To stay down wind of every Caribou in the
herd was imperative if one could hope for any chance of
success. At last the entire herd were in clear view straggling
over the barren, and among them the large stags showed with
delightful clearness. I could see that besides the very large
ones there were five that carried heads of from twenty-five
to thirty-five or more points, one of these having extra-
ordinarily long, spindly horns, and a number of small stags
with about twenty- point heads — over a hundred animals of
all sizes and shades from almost white to dark grey.
Altogether it was a very wonderful sight and one which
filled me with hope. Seeing them and photographing them
56 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
were, unfortunately, very different and I could see no
possible way of attaining my object, unless by good luck the
herd should return toward me ; a very improbable occurrence.
The barren was perhaps four or five hundred yards across
and nearly half a mile long. It was extremely wet and
boggy in some parts, and there was very little cover of any
sort to help in stalking. At the upper or windward side
was a scattered growth of much stunted spruce trees which
at first did not particularly interest me, but in which I was
destined to spend many delightful and exciting hours. The
herd was dispersed over the greater part of the entire barren,
so that stalking the stags, especially the larger ones, was
impossible, as they appeared determined to keep pretty near
the centre surrounded by the does. As there appeared to be
a tendency to work to the windward, I ventured out of the
woods and crawled (and that is the only word which
expresses my action) out of the barren, seeking the shelter
of whatever I could find. Near the largest stag stood my
friend the white doe most keenly and aggravatingly alert.
Evidently she was going to protect him from me and my
camera at all cost, so I made my way very slowly toward
another stag of smaller size that was standing head down in a
most dejected attitude, gazing at a small bush. Not far from
him was another of about the same size that seemed to
resent the attitude of the bush-admiring stag and after
watching him intently for some moments decided to break
in upon his reflections. He charged him from the
rear with a suddenness that was truly surprising, but
scarcely as surprising as the suddenness with which
the object of the attack came to his senses and wheeled
round ready to receive the unprovoked onslaught. With
lowered heads they met, horn striking horn, the crashing
sound echoing through the surrounding woods. Then,
^
cfc
o
00
c
<
'\
MATING 57
together they stood, each striving to force the other back,
but neither moved for they were evenly matched. After a
few moments they drew apart and the bush-staring stag
resumed his apparently foolish attitude. This provoked the
other to a second attack with exactly the same result. Half
a dozen times this was repeated without any advantage being
gained by either one. Throughout these encounters there
was always a small cluster of dwarf trees which effectually
prevented my taking any photographs of the scene, tor I
dared not make even the slightest move because the white
doe was suspiciously watching in my direction. How I
disliked that doe ! Yet I could not help admiring the
persistent manner in which she did her sentry work. Any
herd with a doe like that could feed, sleep and travel in
peace, satisfied in the knowledge that they were being
carefully guarded against the possible approach of enemies.
Before the day had passed, however, I had the pleasure of
outwitting her and I don't know of anything in the way of
animal stalking that ever gave me greater satisfaction.
Eventually the two stags lost all idea of fighting and, contrary
to all that I have ever heard, quietly began feeding. Every
account that has come to my knowledge either by reading
or hearsay agrees, without qualification, that during the
rutting season the stags entirely refrain from eating, the only
form of nourishment they are supposed to take being muddy
water or even soft mud. What gave rise to this idea I
cannot understand, because nearly half of the stags (I speak
only of the mature ones, for the youngsters feed just as the
does do) I watched for any length of time did eat to a
greater or lesser extent ; but in no case did they eat as
persistently as did the does and fawns. During this season,
while the rut is in full swing, the large stags do not appear
to sleep nearly as frequently as the rest of the herd or at
58 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
least they don't lie down so much. As the two stags fed at
frequent intervals, they, together with the rest of the herd,
worked their way gradually toward the scrubby growth on
the windward side of the barren. Slowly I followed, keeping
my eyes on every one, especially the big white doe, to see
that none went down wind, for the does have an exasperating
habit of going away from the herd and suddenly appearing
in some unexpected place where they catch the scent of the
hunter. On and on we went, the nearest ones being some-
times within forty yards or less of me, till the herd distributed
itself among the stunted trees. Carefully creeping over the
last bit of open ground I, too, found myself in cover.
Once there I felt more comfortable, for I could then stand
erect and get the stiffness out of my joints.
By moving very cautiously I soon got into the midst of
the herd. They were everywhere to windward, stags and
does and beautiful soft-eyed fawns. Of course, in the nature
of things, the biggest stag was among those farthest away ;
but there were several good-sized ones quite close, within
ten or twenty yards, and about twelve yards away was the
big light coloured stag with the long horns which has
already been mentioned. I had a splendid chance to
examine him as he stood with lowered head gazing intently
at the base of a small tree. What this particular habit
means nobody knows. For hours at a time a stag will stand in
this curious position almost without moving, sometimes with
the head nearly touching the ground. This is done I believe
only during the rutting season and then as a rule only among
the mature stags, particularly those that are fairly old. This
stag was undoubtedly a veteran, if one might judge by the
extreme length of the horns and the absence of points ; the
illustration facing this page shows their form and is a better
description of them than I can give in words. In colour these
K^"1f*|
The vcrv old light-coloured stag with long spindly horns. For a long time he had remained
almost motionless, in a dejected attitude, staring at the base ot a stunted tree.
MATING 59
horns were rather a light warm tone of yellow, almost a dull
saffron, quite different from the rich reddish-yellow which
is usually seen on the horns of the seven or eight year old
stag. This one had the curious Roman nose so frequently
observed in the Newfoundland stags when very old. It is
the ugliest type and is claimed by some people to be the
characteristic of a different species. But this scarcely seems
plausible as every grade of the Roman nose development
may be found. The extreme light colour of this old
stag was very marked. He was not white, but a light
yellowish grey, the neck, usually so very white, being of
a rather dirty colour. For nearly two hours I watched this
creature, and during that time he scarcely ever moved and
never once raised his head, even in reply to the challenging
snorts of some of the other stags.
A few yards away, perhaps seven paces, the brilliant yellow
horns of a fine young stag showed above the low scrub, the
head and body were hidden from my view by a thick bush,
but the horns could be clearly seen ; it was a thoroughly
aggravating sight as by no possibility could I see any chance
of securing a photograph, even though he was so unusually
close. All around me, except to leeward, were does and fawns
and young stags. One doe slept peacefully within five yards
of where I stood. She was lying down in the richly-coloured
moss and as her eyes closed the handsome head would
gradually drop lower and lower until it struck the ground,
when she usually woke with a start, opened her eyes for a
moment and then resumed her quiet, yet alert, sleep.
It is difficult to give any idea of the pleasure that may be
derived from watching wild animals at such close quarters.
There is a delightful and exciting suspense which cannot be
described. No sport equals it, and as it is the camera which
leads one into such intimate relations with the wild beasts, I
6o NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
claim that it far exceeds the rifle as a sporting instrument,
while as a means of studying the habits of animals and birds
it is absolutely without a rival.
In the thicker woods fifty to a hundred yards away the
big stags were assembled. Their frequent bugling showed
clearly that they were in a somewhat excited and nervous
condition, so I continued to hope that I might see a fight
before the day passed, for surely with so many stags, there
must be some ready and anxious to do battle on slight
provocation. It was decidedly amusing to watch the young
stags. They seemed to feel themselves so important, as they
strutted about going from one doe to another, scarcely
heeding the almost inevitable rebuffs or the absolute disdain
with which the fair ones met their advances. Once in a
while, a foolish doe would look with favour on one of these
youngsters and off they would go side by side, the stag
uttering repeated grunts of satisfaction as he coaxed the doe
further and further away from the herd. Their attempts
were in most cases discovered before they had gone more
than a few yards and then a larger stag would instantly
make for the young buck and, after driving him away at the
point of the horn, would chase the erring doe back to the
herd where she belonged. Sometimes the young pair would
refuse to be separated and then followed a long chase which
usually resulted in victory for the smaller and lighter stag as
he could run faster. In no instance did the stags of very
uneven age fight, for the young fellows evidently believed
discretion to be by far the better part of valour.
The length of horn plays a very important part in fighting,
more so even than the weight of the animal as the encounter is,
or should be, head on. It stands to reason therefore that
the long horn can easily pass the guard of the one with the
shorter horns. Knowing this the youngsters steer clear of
o
-T3
10
p
MATING 6 1
a fight which must necessarily be onesided. Well-
developed bays and brow antlers are of the greatest advan-
tage as they offer very effectual protection to the head and
neck of their possessor. In rare instances the horns become
so firmly entangled that they cannot be disengaged. The
result is of course inevitable death to both animals, unless by
good luck it happens late in the season, when the horns may
fall before the animals succumb. A few pairs of locked
horns have been picked up, but in every case I know of
they were still attached to the heads. In all probability it
frequently happens that horns are knocked off during a fight.
Whether or not this ends the fight I do not know, as I have
never seen it happen and do not know of anyone who has,
but it is a common thing to see even large stags during the
rutting season carrying only a single horn, the burr being
badly inflamed as though the horn had been wrenched off
by force before it was ready to drop.
One might be tempted to ask why the animals fight.
But the question cannot be answered, because no person
knows for certain. Apparently it is the desire to acquire
the does, utterly regardless of the number already possessed.
Perhaps it is simply that the animal is in a passionate
condition and so highly irritable that the sight of a possible
rival in a similar frame of mind and body inspires a desire
to fight. Possibly it is only an exuberance of spirits or
animal strength seeking outlet, but whatever may be the
immediate cause, it is in all probability Nature's method
of selecting the most powerful animals to be the progenitors
of the species ; just as man improves a breed of domestic
animals by careful selection of the sires, so Nature demands
among some species that certain qualifications shall be
necessary in order that the race shall be strong and
vigorous enough to hold its own in the great battle of life
62 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
which offers no place to the weaklings. They die off
usually by natural causes, being unable to withstand the
hardships which are encountered by all wild animals or
in some cases they are killed by the more powerful
members of their own species ; and so the weakling almost
invariably falls an easy and usually an early victim. In
most, if not all species of deer, the stags do not fight for
their mates in every instance, but only when occasion
demands that they shall prove their claim to be worthy of
the right to perpetuate their race.
Nature apparently regarding this to be of such great import-
ance, has provided for the condition more with the deer family
than with any other of the large mammals, I believe. In fact,
it seems as though the greater part of the stag's life were
arranged with this one idea in view. During about five
months, or nearly half of the year, the horns are being
grown ; the Caribou stag usually begins to show indications
of new horn in May or early June and from then until
September the horns are growing ; such immense growth
of bone means that a large proportion of the nourishment
taken by the animal is devoted to this purpose. The
growth is complete in September, then comes the hardening
process during which the velvet or soft protecting coat,
designed to keep the horn at the right degree of moisture,
dries, and has to be peeled off. During all these months
the animal has had absolutely no use for its horns.
They have, on the contrary, been an impediment to his
freedom of action, always tender and demanding care lest
they be injured. The velvet is removed chiefly by rubbing
the horns against the rough bark of a tree ; trees are
often seen which have their bark scraped off for several
feet by the vigorous action of the antlers. As some parts
cannot be reached by this simple method, the animals use
A TRAGEDY OF THE WILDS.
This stag died from a bony growth on the horn which penetrated the brain. The photograph
was made without disturbing anything. Foxes had eaten the meat and carried away some ot'
the smaller bones.
MATING 63
their hind hoofs, which are very sensitive, to remove the
velvet from the more inaccessible places. Seeing the
animals do this has given rise to the belief that this is
a method of oiling the horns, as there are certain glands
in the foot which exude an oil or grease. I do not,
however, think that there is the slightest ground for
believing that this oil is used on the horns. The oil serves
quite a different purpose, which I have dealt with in
another chapter. The wonderful rich colour of the newly-
cleaned antlers is generally attributed to their being rubbed
on certain trees, the juniper (also called tamarack and
larch) and the alder being said to produce the most brilliant
colours. Perhaps it would be wrong to say that this is
untrue and entirely without foundation, yet I am inclined
to utterly disbelieve the theory ; rather do I believe that
the brilliancy of colour correlates more or less with the
age and vigour of the animal, those in the prime of life
and bearing the finest horns being usually the ones to show
the richest and brightest colour. Perhaps it is because there
is a greater horn surface, and consequently the colour appears
more conspicuous, but even that explanation is not altogether
satisfying, for I have watched the horns of many different
stags at very close quarters and almost always have
noticed the lack of colour, or perhaps I should say the
lightness of colour, of the long spindle horns of the very
old stags, while the colour of the younger ones' horns
appears to be rather dull, scarcely ever showing the wonderful
orange so noticeable on the fine, large, well-developed heads.
Why should animals grow these great horns if not
for the purpose of proving their power ? And there
seems to be but the one answer to the question. As
already stated, the horns are worse than useless during the
months of their growth, and almost as soon as the
64 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
mating season has passed they are shed, those on the
old stags going earliest, then the largest horns, and last
those of the young stags. By November loth, few good
heads are to be found, while the young stags carry theirs
until well into December, or even later. The does that
carry horns retain theirs to the end of winter and sometimes
into the spring. Theirs, however, mature later than those
of the stag, the velvet frequently being seen on them until
the middle of October.
To return to the big herd of Caribou which I was
watching, wondering whether there would be a fight, and
if so, whether it would take place before the light became
too weak for photographic work. The restlessness of
the herd, especially among the stags, was becoming more
and more noticeable ; perhaps they considered the two or
three hours' rest had been long enough and the more
energetic ones were trying to arouse those who were
lazy and preferred to doze. Even my old spindle-horned
friend was getting uneasy and had moved his position.
It looked almost as though I might have attempted to
take a photograph of him, but it would have been a
hazardous proceeding, as the slightest movement on my
part would have probably attracted the attention of the
many animals which were so close to me.
The stag whose horns had been tantalizing me for
so long suddenly got up and stretched himself, behind
a tree of course, and moved off still keeping that tree
between us, so that I could make no picture. I could
plainly see that he was a good-sized beast, and carried
a handsome and very symmetrical head of about thirty-five
points. The greater part of the herd appeared to be
working away from me, which was bad luck, but the worst
of it was, at least so I thought at the time, that several
MATING 65
does remained behind and therefore I did not dare
follow the main herd. In fact one of those does with her
fawn started back and it certainly looked as though she
would pass me and so get my scent. With the utmost
care I crept backwards a few yards, then she turned and
passed in front, scarcely four yards away, walking almost
on the very place where I had been standing. How she
missed discovering me I cannot understand. While
watching her and her beautiful fawn, I was suddenly
surprised to see that many of the Caribou were returning.
Now I was in a predicament. If they should pass to
leeward all chance of securing any pictures would be at
an end, for of course they would go faster than I could,
but fortunately they turned slightly and passed on the
windward side. It was an irregular movement, the whole
herd being very much scattered ; my old friend, the white
doe, was as usual the leader. It seemed to me that the
herd had grown a great deal and that there were several
stags which I had not previously observed. One very fine
one, carrying a good head, appeared among the low trees
about fifty yards away. Whether or not he belonged to
the herd I could not tell. He stood facing them,
apparently much interested in each one that passed, but
not attempting to offer any attentions to the numerous
does. Nearly every one stopped a moment to scrutinize
him and then pass on. Suddenly there was a snort, the
new stag became more keenly alert, then like a shot from
out of the trees came the big stag, the master of the herd,
and almost before I could realise what was happening he
had struck the newcomer a frightful blow and knocked
him clean over. Here then was the long looked-for fight
for which I had waited so many years. But how could
I possibly take advantage of it. There were does and
66 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
young stags all around, and the slightest mistake would
cause my presence to be discovered, ending all my
chances, and in all probability I should never have another
opportunity of being within range of a real fight
between two such splendid animals. It is unnecessary
for me to say that I used the utmost caution in moving
forward to where I might possibly succeed in getting
a picture. My heart was beating so violently that I
breathed with difficulty and my hand trembled so that
I could scarcely manipulate the camera. Among the
small scattered trees I could distinguish the two big
stags, the fallen one had picked himself up and was now
making strenuous efforts to withstand the onslaughts of his
powerRil antagonist. With lowered heads they came at
one another, crash succeeding crash without advantage to
either one.
How shall I describe my sensations as I watched this
magnificent battle ? To say that it was exciting does not
express it at all. Here I was alone in the great wilderness.
Perhaps I even regretted having no companion, for it
seemed selfish to enjoy the spectacle by myself, yet in that
way only can such a scene be watched to the greatest
advantage. Another person would not only have divided
my attention, but would have more than doubled the risk
of discovery. The knowledge of such risk would have
made me nervous, therefore it was perhaps just as well to be
alone, free to concentrate my whole mind on the animals
by which I was almost surrounded, free to move or keep
quiet according to the movements of the keenly alert
creatures ; and so I strained my eyes to see without being
seen, taking advantage of the low, scrubby cover which
separated me from the mighty stags.
How their horns startled the stillness of the wilds ! Each
MATING 67
strike was echoed by the encircling woods which formed a
perfect amphitheatre, surrounding the open barren as though
arranged especially for the purpose of hiding the primitive
fight from the eyes of man. The stunted spruce trees,
from whose gnarled and twisted branches hung wind-blown
festoons of grizzled moss, were fitting accessories to the
scene, for had not they also been engaged in fights since
they raised their wiry heads from the many-coloured mosses ?
They had fought for six months out of every year of their
lives against the driving storms of snow and ice which sweep
this northern country from spring to spring, tearing away
with merciless strength each weakling branch and leaving
only the toughest, well -pruned twigs to carry the necessary
weather-hardened leaves. As these dumb witnesses of the
ways of the wild had fought for survival, so were the great
stags now following out Nature's law — the pruning of the
weakling branch — for the weakling must go and the stags
fought to see who was the weakling and who would be the
trunk of the parent tree, responsible for the future Caribou.
The most powerful had that right and he must prove his
right by victory. For that reason alone were his splendid
horns given to him and he must be true to his trust. The
coward, no matter how large his horns or powerful his
limbs, would have no place in the order of things. He
must lose in the game of life just as he would in the fight
for supremacy, for so it has been ordered.
As I watched the two creatures, each striving with all the
power of his strong-limbed body, I could not help wonder-
ing at the merciless test which is demanded by Nature in
order that the best and the best only shall survive. All
else must be weeded out, or advance and improvement
would cease. Retrogression would commence and the end
would be in sight.
F 2
68 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
The pair of fighting stags seemed to be well matched.
The master of the herd had the advantage of larger antlers,
while the newcomer, who was darker in colour, appeared to
be a rather heavier beast, they were both magnificent
specimens and both intent on victory. At times their
horns would be locked together in such a manner that
there appeared to be danger of permanent entanglement.
Then with heads lowered they would try to force each
other backward. Every muscle was strained to its utmost,
and the eyeballs gleamed white with the intensity of their
passion. First one would gain a slight advantage,
when the other, fearing defeat, would strain with renewed
vigour and regain his loss. So they went back and forth,
occasionally separating only to charge more furiously,
each apparently hoping to get a better hold, or to strike
a blow at the body of his adversary. But the spreading
antlers are designed equally well for offence and defence ;
so long as the two animals are able to maintain the
head-on position neither has much chance of gaining any
great advantage unless there is marked disparity in point of
size. The brow antler, or snow shovel as it is sometimes
erroneously called, (this subject has been treated in another
chapter) is certainly an effective protection to the front of
the animal's head and eyes, for it is practically impossible to
pass this natural guard. At the same time, if this brow
antler is well developed it can be used to lift the other
stag's head. I noticed that this happened several times
during the fight, but on no occasion was there any oppor-
tunity to take advantage of it.
In watching the two animals I was very uncertain how
to act, whether to wait and see the fight to the finish,
or risk disturbing it by trying to secure a photograph.
I might never again have a chance of getting such a
H
o g
,_o o
o 'C
c o
O "
h
MATING 69
picture, but then I also wanted to see how it would end.
Decision had to be made quickly, as the fight might stop
at any moment, and I decided to try for the picture. It
would be exceedingly difficult to use a camera under the
conditions. Not only was there much scrub which would
prove a serious obstacle — as you cannot photograph through
bushes — but the herd of does and stags was scattered
around three sides of me. If they detected the slightest move
my chances would promptly end, it may therefore be easily
understood that my position was an exceedingly difficult
one. The first thing to do was to find my friend the big
white doe ; she proved to be in a clump of firs about
seventy yards away, so that I was fairly safe from her prying
eyes ; then the immediate vicinity had to be examined in
order that I might know where each animal was and be able
to keep my eye on them all, moving only when all heads
were down or turned away. This may sound easy enough,
but I found my two eyes woefully inadequate, and it was
only with the greatest difficulty that I managed to move a
few inches at a time without being discovered by my nearest
neighbours, some of which were not more than ten or
twelve yards away. How different from the stalking
required for shooting ! From where I crouched, both of
the stags could have been killed by even a poor shot, while
practically speaking, the camera could not be used without
a complete change of position. Immediately I began to
move on hands and knees, a young stag that had been
hidden by a small clump of bushes appeared so suddenly
that I was caught as I was about to clamber over a fallen
tree. Fortunately, I saw the stag at exactly the same
moment that he saw me, so I remained immovable with one
foot raised. In this very uncomfortable position did I
remain " frozen " while I was duly examined by the
70 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
wretched stag. At last, after what seemed an interminable
time, he appeared to be satisfied that I was only a rather
peculiar stump, and he turned his head. Instantly I
dropped — only just quickly enough — for at almost the same
moment he glanced in my direction again and was apparently
rather bewildered at not seeing me. This was a critical
moment. If it had been a doe she would without doubt
have come forward to investigate, but the stags are much
less curious, and after staring intently, he walked away,
leaving me to continue my very difficult stalk. In due
time I succeeded in working my way past the worst of the
obstructions to a place which offered me a fairly good sight
of the two stags. There was only one small dead tree to
interfere with the otherwise clear view. Now it was
necessary to stand up very slowly and carefully, so as to
bring the camera above the immediate foreground. With
perhaps fifty caribou within sixty or seventy yards, this was
risky ; however, I finally stood up and had the pleasure of
seeing the two big fighting stags on the ground glass of the
camera. It was a shame to disturb the two in their great
struggle for supremacy, but there was no time to lose, for
with so many animals about me I was bound to be dis-
covered before long, so as soon as the focus was correct and
everything examined, I pressed the button.
What a pity it is that shutters are not silent in their
working. The slight click that was made was easily heard
by one of the nearer does ; for her it was sufficient infor-
mation that something was wrong ; what it was she did
not wait to find out, she simply gave a loud snort — that
aggravating signal of alarm — and the whole herd was on the
move as though a bugle had sounded the charge, scampering
as fast as they could towards the doe. On they came at full
speed, trotting and jumping, some coming straight towards
m^ /i ' i
1 Mi^M-
1 ^ rf
,^:.-^^} r
1
1
.V^j^^T^^
•^.-.J .. A
l^^^^^l
T \ '
i^^^^^B*" " ^ xjyK^^^^^^^i
Stag watching his docs, whicli appear tn be thinking nl- running away.
The herd of about 150 Caribou which took ahirm when the two fighting stags had been
photographed.
MATING 71
me, others going near the fighting stags, who, of course,
took the alarm at once, forgot their grievances and each
other, and trotted off with the herd. All of this took but
a few seconds, so quickly did they rush past and so close
that I forgot, in the excitement, to reload the camera. Too
late did I get my wits together and put in a plate, then I
rushed out a few yards clear of the trees and made an
attempt to secure a photograph of the white-flanked herd,
now thoroughly frightened, as they splashed across the wet
barren, filling the air with sparkling drops of water and
pieces of moss and leaving a trail as though a regiment of
cavalry had passed. There must have been fully one
hundred and fifty altogether, as nearly as I could estimate ;
evidently the main herd, unknown to me, had been
joined by many others during the hours I had been so
intently watching those nearest to me.
Now it was all over. Once more everything was as calm
and quiet as we expect the wild land to be. The pent-up
excitement of the past minutes (or was it hours ?) was gone
and there remained no visible evidence of all that occurred,
nothing but the latent image on the photographic plate and
the sense of great joy and satisfaction in having obtained at
least some sort of picture of a real Caribou fight with real,
well-grown stags. Now, indeed, I might snap my fingers
and laugh at those well-meaning people who had tried so
hard to discourage me. That I should ever be fortunate
enough to again witness such a sight was doubtful, so I
was particularly careful of the precious plate on my way
back to camp. It was late in the afternoon, and I had far
to go, but that long walk seemed short, the difficulties of
getting over the soft bogs were unnoticed, and as I paddled
down stream to my solitary camp I came to the conclusion
that camera-hunting was a fine game, notwithstanding
']2 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
the remarks to the contrary which had been indulged in
by some of my friends who still consider it a namby-pamby
form of sport. It was altogether a day to be remembered,
a day to be marked with a big red star. Everything
appeared in attractive colours, the gaunt grey trees which
lined the banks of the river seemed to be old friends who
nodded their grizzly heads at me as I passed along the
quiet waterway of the wilderness ; even the low murmuring
of the wind through the firs seemed to congratulate me on
my good fortune. The day was almost at an end. The
setting sun left the river in deepening shade, and as I
slowly passed the homes of my beaver friends, the little
fellows appeared in their noiseless way on the surface of the
water, their small bright eyes staring intently at the drifting
canoe, until a current of air carried the scent of hated man
to their nostrils, when the silence of the evening was
instantly broken by the terrific signal of alarm — the striking
of the water with their heavy muscular tails as the animals
dived and sought the protection of dark waters. When
they reappeared I was landing at my camp, where I was
soon busily engaged in making ready for my evening meal
over the crackling fire, the delight of which can only be
properly appreciated by those who live alone in the woods,
for to them it is the cheerful companion of the long autumn
evenings, the last thing to be seen or heard as the healthily-
tired body drops off to sleep, the undisturbed dreamless
sleep found only in the land of pure unspoiled air far from
the haunts of man.
73
On Migration.
CHAPTER III.
THE AUTUMN AND SPRING MIGRATIONS.
In no way is the Newfoundland Caribou so well known
as by its peculiar and much discussed habit of migration.
Many stories by those who know and those who do not
know have appeared from time to time, in which the ques-
tion of cause has been discussed. But after all is said, we
do not know very much about the reason for the great semi-
annual trek, except that it does take place with fair regularity
every spring and late autumn. Not on set days, as some
people imagine, but with the arrival of certain conditions of
weather which appear to affect the animals.
Before going into the question it would be well to look at
the map of the island on page 138, on which I have marked
the approximate course of the Caribou. The northern
peninsula is mostly high country — rugged mountains — parts
of which have as yet scarcely been explored. A great deal
of this mountain region is very bare and exposed to the
frightful storms which blow down from the arctic regions,
storms of driving snow and icy rain which must sweep the
unprotected hills with appalling force and render life difficult,
if not impossible, for animals which feed chiefly on the
ground mosses. The severity of the storms is beyond
74 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
all belief; for days at a time no living creature would
dare venture away from the protection of the woods which,
unfortunately, are not over abundant. The snow, piling
up from these relentless storms, covers the land to a depth
of many feet, so that much of the wild pasturage is lost to
the Caribou, except in the woods and on the ridges where
no snow can lay, for no sooner does it fall than the howling
winds pick it up and carry it headlong into the valleys. It
must be a wonderful thing to see these whirling snow imps
dancing over the bleak mountains, but for the Caribou it is
a sight to inspire dread, for it spells hunger. Not only is
the deepening snow a source of danger to them, a worse
one lurks about these open wastes, and to a lesser extent the
woods : the " glitter," as the Newfoundlander calls it,
freezing rain which ties everything up in its icy grip,
vegetation and all that goes to sustain life for the Caribou
is buried securely in a shroud of glistening ice too smooth
and too hard to be broken by the hunger-driven beasts.
This is a possible if not a probable reason for the
animals going south as the winter approaches. South to
where the kindly influence of the Gulf Stream tempers the
cold and makes life more endurable to the great herds
of hungry creatures. How do they know what is going to
happen, or that by going southward they will find better
conditions ? It was not learned in a day or a year, but
gradually, during the many hundreds of thousands of years
that have passed since the Caribou first wandered into
Newfoundland. Then it was not an island, but part of the
mainland, joined to what we now call Labrador, and from
which it is separated by the Straits of Belle Isle.
Before the island was formed, it is more than probable
that the Caribou spent the summer months further north, in
the region where to-day we find the vast herds of the
o
MIGRATIONS 75
Labrador species. Perhaps what is now Newfoundland was
then the great winter resort for immense herds. One cannot
say for certain, because the weather conditions which prevailed
in those days are not known with absolute certainty. The
past is wrapped in so much mystery, and our theories con-
tinue to change as we investigate more carefully ; what
to-day seems a certainty is to-morrow thrown aside for
newer and more advanced ideas, and we never know what
is the final decision. Such being the case, we must be
satisfied to study the migration chiefly by existing conditions,
and for lack of a better reason we are practically forced to
the conclusion that the search for food is the cause of the
southerly migration. But what about the return journey ?
Why should the animals go back to the north ? So far as
we can judge from appearances, the conditions in various
parts of the island do not show any great differences during
the summer ; the food in the more southerly parts is
about the same as in the north, it is certainly abundant, and
there is no doubt that it is what the Caribou want, for other-
wise so many of them would not remain scattered over the
country which is abandoned by the northern herds when
winter has passed. The theory advanced by some writers
that flies play an important part in the cause of migration is
I believe utterly without foundation, because the black fly
is found in practically every part of the island during the
summer months, and the northern peninsula has its full
share of these pests. Even on the highest ridges, rocky and
with only the scantiest vegetation, miles away from the
forests, the black flies have been so numerous that they
made life miserable, so that when the migratory herds leave
the south they do not escape the warm weather pests. In
the very few places where the black flies are scarce, there are
but a few scattered Caribou during the summer.
76 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
It is not my wish to upset anybody's pet theories, but the
migration subject is of so much interest, that as many
facts as possible should be accumulated from which
some definite knowledge may be derived. For my own
part, I have found it impossible to advance any explanation
which will stand even my own cross-examination, and I am
almost forced to believe that the conditions which originally
made the semi-annual migration a matter of necessity have
passed, but that the animals having acquired the habit are
slow to give it up. If all, or practically all, the Caribou in
the island took part in the great movement, this theory
would have very little to recommend it ; but when we
consider that a great many animals spend the winter in the
north, almost to the extreme end of the peninsula, and also
that a great many spend the summer in the more
southerly portion of the country as far as the coast line,
there seems to be some reason in its favour, and I feel
almost sure that there is no natural cause which would
prevent the animals living permanently in any part of the
island, provided, of course, that they did not concentrate
and thus deplete the food supply.
When first I took up the subject about ten years ago I
was told by many people, including sportsmen and guides,
that all the Caribou left the northern peninsula on the
appearance of the first snow. A trip to the north soon
proved to me the incorrectness of this, for not only did
residents of the region in question — trappers and others —
tell me that the animals stayed all the winter, but I found a
fair number of very fine shed antlers to prove that the large
stags were there at least until the middle or end of
November, and as some of the antlers were those of small
stags and does, the former of which do not shed till well
into December or even later, while the latter carry theirs till
MIGRATIONS 77
almost spring, there was no question of the existence of the
Caribou throughout the winter. The proof that they stay
in the south during the summer is equally good, though I
have not seen them myself, never having been along the
south coast, but I have been told on thoroughly reliable
authority that such is the case, and I have actually seen the
Caribou during August south-east of Grand Lake in the
magnificent high country back of " Old Harry." All of
this goes to prove that the migration is by no means
general, but is only indulged in by a part of the animals,
I should say probably the larger part. Now whether these
are creatures which are slower to change their habits no one
can say, but such may possibly be the case.
The idea which seems to exist pretty generally that the
autumn migration begins between October 15 th and 22 nd
must not be relied on too implicitly. The season
is extremely variable, ranging from October 12th to
almost the middle of December, though it may usually
be expected between October 20th and November 5th,
depending almost entirely on the weather. A heavy fall of
snow appears to be the signal for the start ; if, however, it is
followed by a prolonged spell of good weather, the animals
either remain scattered about the flat country near
Sandy Lake, or they continue slowly and in a very
irregular way towards their winter quarters. With the
advent of cold or snows the movement invariably becomes
more or less general, and is extremely precipitate when the
cold is intense or the snowfall unusually heavy. The
sudden freezing of the waters spurs the animals on at a
terrific speed, and wonderful stories have been told of how
the stillness of the night has been broken by sounds like
thunder, as vast numbers have crashed through the frozen
lakes and rivers, impelled by a frantic desire to escape
78 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
being caught by winter in the flat country where the snow
lays so deep that food would be buried and travelling made
difficult. It has never been my good fortune to witness
any of these stampedes, though I have gone to the island
year after year in the hopes of being present at something
of the sort ; still it does not require much imagination to
picture the scenes. I have several times watched herds
breaking through the small ponds, which were coated with
ice half or three-quarters of an inch thick. They scarcely
notice it as they make their way through, their sharp hoofs
cut it without difficulty, and as their legs are well covered
with thick hair they are well protected against being cut by
the knife-like edges of the ice ; but when the ponds are
covered with a heavy coat of smooth ice not quite strong
enough to bear the weight of the animals, it must cause
great trouble, especially if the water be deep and
swimming necessary. Whether or not they go in single
file as they do through deep snow I cannot say, but it
would be reasonable to suppose that they choose the easiest
method unless they are in a hurry, when probably they
crash through in a body. I judge this to be the case from
the accounts I have received which state that the path
through the frozen ponds or rivers is a broad one, and that
the ice is broken up to an extraordinary extent.
The great path of the migration is between Sandy River,
where it flows into Grand Lake, and about fifteen or twenty
miles to the east. Here it is that the great mass of the
animals pass, and here it is that a few years ago, shortly
after the opening of the railroad and before the enactment
of good game laws, the awful slaughter occurred which
gave J. G. Millais the opportunity to make his well-known
very humorous sketch showing sport in Newfoundland. It
is said that as the train came along, immense herds of
MIGRATIONS 79
Caribou appeared, and as there were many sportsmen and
so-called sportsmen on the train, a grand fusillade com-
menced, which resulted in the most ghastly butchery.
I do not recall the details, and anyhow they are
better left unwritten. But great good resulted from the
bloody affair, for it caused the passing of splendid game
laws and the making of a reservation that included the
whole region through which the herds were most closely
concentrated before they separated to jfind their winter
quarters on the higher lands. Not only is no shooting ot
any sort allowed now on this reserve, but I am glad to say
that even camping is forbidden. This was a most important
improvement, because so long as men were allowed to camp
there they could (and frequently did) shoot without much
fear of being caught. This is not said in criticism of the
game wardens, because in a country like Newfoundland
the natural conditions offer every protection to the poacher.
He could kill within a very short distance of the wardens or
rangers and still escape with little or no difficulty.
Before exhausting the reader's patience by this long-
drawn-out chapter on migration, it might be well to tell
something of the habits of the animals during this period.
In the previous chapter it was shown that the mating
usually occurs immediately before the animals start south,
so that everything is in a peaceful condition. jealousies
and fightings have passed and are forgotten, truculent stags
have become as quiet as old cows, and all are friends once
more. The first fall of snow has warned them that it is
time for the start, and so they head in a general southerly
direction, going fast or slow according to the weather
conditions. Usually they come at a very rapid walk, in
herds numbering from three or four to about one hundred
and fifty. There is absolutely no foundation for the
8o NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
statement that has been made that the herds never number
more than twenty or thirty. In a single day I have often seen
four or five herds containing between fifty and seventy-five,
and have frequently counted a hundred or more going along
together. Most of the travelling is done by daylight ; in
fact, except during a storm, they seldom move about much
after dark. I should say that the best time to see the
Caribou passing is between sunrise and half-past ten.
During the noon hours they usually keep fairly quiet, but
there is frequently quite a movement about an hour before
sunset.
Sitting on the banks of the river, one can often hear
the almost continual splash-splash-splash, as herd after
herd enters the water to swim across. It must not be
thought that the migration means the moving of all the
animals together. Each herd keeps pretty well to itself,
though two or more small herds frequently merge together.
It is barely possible that, at the actual start, the herds are of
immense size and that they break up as they proceed. I
suggest this theory because on some days a great many
herds appear along the same leads or paths, as though they
had all started together, while other equally good leads will
not be used for many days in succession. So noticeable is this
that in watching for the animals I often select a place where
I have either seen one or two herds pass, or where there are
very fresh tracks, and remain there for the entire day, with
results which frequently justify such a course. Each year
sees a slight change in the route selected by the greater
number of animals. What is a first-rate place one year
may be entirely unused the following season, the general
trend being perhaps less than a mile further to the east or west.
The cause of this is unknown, but it may be accounted
for by the rising or lowering of lakes or rivers, either by
- i^r* T^ »Y
-^&M
■J
•^ "
S 3
3^
MIGRATIONS 8i
natural causes or by the dams built by beavers. The roads
made and used by the Caribou prove that they have been
in use for countless years. In some places the rocks are
worn away to a depth of one or two feet by the thousands
and thousands of hoofs which have passed over them, each
hoof wearing away its minute particle, just as drops of
water will gradually eat into even the hardest stone. Over
the softer barrens, the paths, though equally distinct, are far
more numerous, as the herds do not always travel in single
file ; to do so would cut into the soft bog and the trail would
very soon be converted into a stream, for water abounds
almost everywhere on the island. So it is that the barrens
on the line of the migration are cut up by the innumerable
paths which converge where the land becomes harder, or in
the immediate vicinity of a river-bank where the deep-cut
paths are conspicuous. Through the forests the leads,
though clearly defined, are very devious, for if a tree blows
across the path it causes the animals to swing to the right
or left, with the result that the following of a Caribou road
causes one to twist and turn, until one's sense of direction
becomes very much confused, and it is a clever man
indeed who can follow the same trail twice.
How the stags with their large horns ever make their
way through the dense tangled woods is very difficult to
understand, for a man has all he can do to get through by
twisting, bending, and even crawling ; yet the Caribou
seem to experience absolutely no difficulty. They keep up
their rapid walk, and pass through the thickest forest
scarcely making a sound, unless they happen to be
frightened, in which event they sometimes crash through,
making a frightful commotion, scarcely even following the
leads — each animal going along regardless of his com-
panions, all bent only on escaping the object of their fear.
82 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
As already stated, the weather plays an important part in
the Caribou's progress. The colder and more forbidding
the weather the faster and more steadily do they travel.
Their speed is not less than five or six miles an hour
when they walk, which is their usual gait ; only under
rather exceptional conditions do they trot for any distance,
while they seldom resort to galloping unless they are
frightened. On warm days they take things easy,
travelling in a most leisurely fashion, and spending the
greater part of the day in resting and feeding, particularly
between the hours of nine and three. Then it is that one
sometimes sees the beautiful sight of many hundreds of
animals scattered about the open barrens in herds of various
sizes. At such times they feed and sleep, but never for a
moment do they relax their everlasting vigilance. Usually
each herd has its sentry, which in most instances is an old
doe, whose sense of duty is so highly developed that she
feels it incumbent on her to watch over the welfare of her
herd with unremitting care. She is the one to give the
signal for moving at the slightest intimation of danger. To
the constant watchfulness of these does I owe so many
failures to secure photographs, and I confess to a far from
friendly feeling, even though I am lost in admiration for
them.
The migration season is, of course, the best time to see
Caribou in greatest numbers and with the least possible
trouble. It is only necessary to examine the country for
fresh tracks in order to determine which are the likely
leads, and provided that normal conditions obtain there
should be a practical certainty of seeing anywhere from fifty
to several hundred animals in a day, while on days when
the migration is at its height a thousand or more may be
seen. To the man who is interested in the creatures alfpe^
'J
MIGRATIONS 83
the sight of these marching herds is wonderfully beautiful,
especially if he has the good fortune to see them at really
close quarters, a perfectly possible condition if proper care
is taken in selecting a suitable hiding place.
The first rule for success is to avoid leaving trails to
windward of where you lie in wait, for the animals have an
extremely keen sense of smell, and a man trail even though it
be several hours old is almost sure to be detected, unless it
has been obliterated by a kindly shower of rain or fall of snow.
The situation which promises the best chance of success is
the converging point of a number of leads. Near these, but
preferably not on them, a screen of fir trees can be easily
arranged so that perfect concealment is obtained. The
direction of the wind is of vital importance, for the faintest
breeze will carry the man-scent an incredible distance, and
the slightest breath of tainted air will frighten a Caribou
more than the sight of an army of men.
Some of the happiest moments of my wandering life have
been spent in Newfoundland where, concealed behind small
clumps of dwarf firs, I have seen the silvery-coated Caribou
wending their way across the many-coloured barrens,
absolutely unconscious of the close proximity of their sup-
posed enemy, man. There is something indescribably
beautiful in watching wild animals that, free from all
suspicion, are behaving in a purely natural way, following
their habits with no disturbing condition to influence their
behaviour. There is something so peaceful and satisfying in
it, that it makes a life-long impression on anyone who has
been fortunate enough to have the opportunity of observing
the animals under such conditions, and one cannot help
wondering why some people who are really fond of outdoor
life do not more freely indulge in this form of pastime.
Perhaps it is because they are unable to bring home any
84 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
visible result of such a chase. Nothing to show to their
friends as proof of their experiences. Yet will not these
same people go to an opera and thoroughly enjoy the music,
content only to have their senses satisfied without thought
of having to prove to anyone that they did enjoy the
transient pleasure ?
Not for anything would I give up the memories of my
most fortunate days in the land of Caribou. These memories
will live so long as I live, while the discomforts and the
disappointments — which were many — are happily forgotten,
they are hidden behind the screen of fortunate experiences.
Certain days stand out with delightful clearness, days when
conditions were satisfactory and things happened. Let me
tell of one such day even at the great risk of boring the
reader. It was after a night of bitter cold, such penetrating
cold as one only finds in the northern countries. My
solitary camp on the banks of Sandy River had for many
hours been blown about by the icy wind which found its
way through the heaps of spongy moss that held down the
sod-cloth. The early supper had been cooked under most
unfavourable conditions as the wind-blown smoke drove me
from one side to the other and filled my eyes so that I was
glad to seek the shelter of the tent in which, unfortunately,
I had no stove. It was far too cold to sit up, so after
finishing the badly-cooked meal and filling the plate-holders
of my camera for the next day's work — a difiicult enough
task as my fingers were so benumbed — I sought the inviting
comfort of the blankets at about seven o'clock. It was too
early to sleep, and I was too cold to read as the breath
froze on my glasses ; so I lay in thought, wondering what
would be the end of the storm. Would it bring snow, and
the snow bring Caribou ? So far, very few had passed,
though the snow further north had certainly started the
-^:
MIGRATIONS 85
migration. Sleep came gradually, and some hours later I
awoke to hear the snow gently falling on the tight roof of
the tent. The wind had died away, the welcome sound
of the snow filled me with hope, and once more I slept to
dream of the morrow. When I opened my eyes again, the
snow was no longer falling ; everything was bathed in
moonlight, so cold and so quiet and so wonderfully beauti-
ful. It was scarcely five o'clock, nearly two hours before
the dawn, and for an hour I waited impatiently, only too
anxious to be out on my favourite leads watching for Caribou.
Then no longer able to wait, I got up while the woods were
still bathed in the mysterious moonlight. A fire was soon
started, and in the still air the smoke and sparks rose with-
out curve or flicker, a column of red and blue, like a ghost
against the background of frosted trees.
The snowfall had been light, and had been followed by a
keen frost which coated each twig and leaf. How can anyone
describe such a morning ! No words, however well-chosen,
can give even the slightest suggestion of the beauty of it all.
The curious stillness in itself was indescribable. Nothing
disturbed it but the cheerful crackling of the fire, and the
scarcely perceptible purr of the floating ice, as it brushed
against the overhanging branches on the river bank. Amid
such surroundings my simple breakfast was eaten entirely
alone, as my friend and companion, the Canada Jay, was
not yet awake. I missed the confiding bird, for he usually
shared my porridge with me each morning. Sitting on the
log by my side, he would look up into my face with his
large dark eyes, and with a soft murmuring note beg for
his share. I never got tired of watching him and his cease-
less energy. He would eat very little, but spoonful after
spoonful would be carried away and hidden most carefully
in the trees, behind the curling bark of the large birches, in
86 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
knot holes, and in cracks, so that his storehouse was in
every tree that surrounded my camp. Well did he know
what the winter meant ; the long, cold months when all
would be covered with snow. No berries would then be
found, for beneath the snow they were being preserved for
the early spring supply. Life for many months would be
dependent on the carefully-arranged stores placed well above
snow level. And so my little companion continued each day
to lay up his stock of winter food, nothing too small to escape
his searching eyes, and anything 1 wished to keep had to
be well hidden, for during the day while I was away from
camp the jays from all the neighbourhood met and cleared
camp for me, leaving no trace of food exposed. It is no
wonder that the untidy camper dislikes these birds and calls
them robbers, and rather than be tidy he kills the birds
which are such cheerful company to the solitary man.
At the iirst gleam of day my canoe was in the water,
after the ice near the bank had been thoroughly broken,
and I was soon floating noiselessly on the smooth, dark
water. Beautiful crystal snow-flowers had formed on the
ice, which in some places was moving slowly with the
current. The banks of the river were entirely covered
with frost and snow-coated trees and grass, so that the
whole country looked almost like a perfect fairyland, and
one almost expected to see gauze-winged elves peeping
from behind the glistening trees. Indeed, it was not long
before a slight crackling among the bushes announced the
approach of some living things, not fairies, but beautiful
silvery Caribou, fifteen or twenty of them ; snow-white
fawns, whose dark eyes alone stood out clearly from the
pearly background ; large does, white and grey ; and a white-
necked stag whose orange-coloured antlers broke the
sparkling ice from surrounding bushes. The little herd
U
S
MIGRATIONS 87
stood for a moment on the bank, examining the strange
dark object which floated so quietly down stream. The
commanding doe decided that it was not dangerous, and
gave the order for advance, and immediately the ice which
skirted the bank was being rudely broken by the animals,
as they entered the river and swam silently across scarcely a
hundred yards from me. On landing they stood still for
some minutes, looking about them to see that all was safe,
then each one in turn shook the water from its heavy coat
with such vigour that the air was filled with fine spray,
which glistened in the rosy light of the rising sun. Then
following the leader, they all disappeared among the trees,
taking a lead near which I expected to spend the day.
Seeing the animals moving so early was a good omen, and I
went ashore filled with hopes and the anticipation of a
glorious day's sport.
The landing place I selected was well clear of the leads, so
that I could make my way without fear of leaving any disturb-
ing scent. Walking through the thick underbrush was a noisy
job, as the twigs were so heavily coated with ice that they
crackled loudly at every step. In about twenty minutes I
found myself safely within the shelter of fir trees which I
had arranged some time ago. A better place would have
been diflicult to find. It was perhaps a quarter of a mile
from the river, on the outskirts of a very large barren. On
either side of the blind, or gaze as the Newfoundlanders
would call it, were a number of splendid well-used leads or
paths converging fi*om many landing places j thus most
of the Caribou which crossed over an area of nearly half a
mile would be more than likely to come within easy range
of my battery of cameras, provided the wind remained in
the north. Should it change and blow from the south the
place would be absolutely useless.
88 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
While I was arranging the cameras so that they would
cover every lead without having to be moved, the sound of
crackling ice and splashing water warned me that a herd
was coming. The light was still too weak and yellow for
instantaneous photography, so with a clear conscience I
would be able to enjoy watching the animals. It was not
long before the deathly stillness of the morning was broken
by sound of the approaching herd. Had there been no
ice on the twigs there would have been no sound, save the
curious cracking of their feet ; but the brittle ice made
noiseless walking impossible for man or beast. Soon they
appeared : a small " company " of eight. By good luck
there was no large stag. I say good luck, because with the
impossibility of using the camera a big stag would have been
a thorough aggravation. At first the animals were almost
lost in the long blue shadows, but as they came clear of the
low trees the pale yellow sunlight flickered across them,
painting their white necks with delicate indescribable colour.
One very light-coloured fawn was particularly beautiful, with
his soft, almost fluffy head and large dark eyes, a real live
fairy in the icy wonderland. In single file they came, with
the inevitable doe at the head, nearer and nearer to within
a few feet of where I stood enjoying this true natural history
picture, so quick to come and so quick to go, deliciously
aggravating, because there was no time to sketch it in with
paint, and not light enough for even a colourless photograph,
only barely time to fix it on the mind so that it could be
used some day in a most inadequate painting. The picture
had passed almost before I had realised the beauty of it all,
and in a few seconds nothing remained but the broken,
mud-splashed ice to show where the little herd of south-
bound animals had walked in the trail which had been
used by their ancestors for countless ages.
The blind from which many photographs were nnuic. 'I'hc camera may be seen m position.
4 .. 1
The blind, the eamera, tlie Caribou and the atithor. This photograph was made \sith a second
camera, which had a string attached to the shutter.
MIGRATIONS 89
That the animals had passed my blind without being
frightened was most fortunate, for by so doing a trail had
been established. This is very important, because any
other animals would feel more secure in following the same
trail. For this reason, it has been my practice for several
years to allow the first herd to pass undisturbed. Often I
have noticed that when Caribou (and I do not know
whether this applies to other deer) are startled they leave
some signal on the ground which warns every animal that
comes to the place. Of course, I cannot definitely explain
how this is effected, even though I am absolutely sure that
it does happen, and I say this even at the risk of having
some doubting Thomases say that my imagination is over
fertile. Unfortunately, I have no imagination ; were I thus
endowed I could write books about wild animals which
would appeal to the great public, and incidentally bring
me large cash returns ; but facts, and facts only, appeal to my
prosaic nature, and I can vouch for the truth of what I state
regarding the Caribou's signalling by this invisible method.
Not once, but on many occasions, I have seen one or more
Caribou walking quietly along a trail, when suddenly they
have been frightened, either by seeing me move, by the
sound of a camera being arranged, or worst of all, by a
draught of wind carrying my scent to them. Whatever the
cause makes no great difference. On being startled the
animals have jumped ; then, after standing still for a moment
to examine the cause of their alarm, they have bolted. For
hours afterwards every Caribou, on arriving at the place
where the frightened ones had jumped, has started violently,
and has on nearly every occasion turned and run in a
manner that showed every indication of fear, even though my
presence was entirely unknown to them. My idea is that
when the animal is suddenly frightened it expels a certain
90 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
fluid from the glands in the foot, and that this fluid is a
signal of alarm, a silent and invisible warning, but none
the less so positive that none dare ignore it. Whether this
fluid is expelled voluntarily or by a purely mechanical efl^ort,
I do not pretend to say, but it is quite possible that the sudden
jumping causes the hoof to separate, and that in doing so the
glands are brought into operation, so that a minute particle
of the fluid is left on the ground. I can almost hear the
reader say, " Bosh ! " but will he give any more plausible
explanation ? If he can I shall be delighted ; if not, let him
at least be patient and not condemn my theory too harshly.
After the small herd had passed it was some time before
anything exciting happened. The rising sun was slowly
melting the frost and light snow, so that every minute
reduced my chance of securing a picture of the animals in
ideal surroundings. I pictured to myself a splendid stag
standing on the glistening carpet. How beautiful he would
be, and how his richly-coloured horns would stand out
from the pale background ! While I was thus engaged in
arranging each detail to my satisfaction, a young stag
actually appeared, so quietly that he seemed almost as a
reflection of my thoughts. True, my plans called for a big
stag with record head, while this approaching animal was a
small one with insignificant horns. Still it was a stag, and
he was evidently coming near enough to be photographed,
and the snow was not all melted. So I accepted gratefully
what the gods offered, and as the stag came within range I
shot him with the harmless camera. The slight report of the
shutter sounded woefully loud in the still air : loud enough to
thoroughly frighten the animal, for he quickly ttirned from the
trail and was almost immediately lost among the stunted trees,
but I had secured the picture which appears on the opposite
page.
«6;^^
"As the stag came within range I shot him with the harmless camera."
MIGRATIONS 91
It is in such cases as this that one reahses and appreciates
the difference between camera-hunting and rifle-hunting.
Had I been armed with the rifle there would have been no
sport for me in this incident. The stag was certainly not
worth shooting, for his horns were small and unshapely,
and would not have satisfied anyone but the merest novice.
But the camera is not so particular ; interesting pictures are
made of the most simple subjects, and though a record stag
would have caused very much more excitement, this little
fellow gave me great pleasure, as he completed a picture
which was beautiful in itself, even without any animal at
all, but still more interesting w^ith this touch of wild life.
For some time after this small stag had passed I sat wait-
ing for another visitor to my outdoor studio — the studio
for which no landlord clamoured for monthly rent, and
which was not restricted in size. The walls were the forests,
the roof was the sky ; no dusty rugs covered the floor — my
carpet was the moss, whose colours were more varied and
pattern more complicated than the finest weaves of Persia.
And it was all mine. My models came without knocking
at the door, and departed without leave. In such surround-
ings who would not be happy, who would not be grateful
for being alive and well ? And, above all things, free to
enjoy the fresh fir-scented air, the primitive beauty of it all.
What more could man ask ? Sour indeed must be the
disposition of him who found fault with such surroundings.
Some might say the air was unduly keen. Perhaps it was ;
but only when I wanted to use my fingers to manipulate
the camera or pencil did I realise that they were numb.
An approaching herd of Caribou made me almost painfully
conscious of the fact, for suddenly from every direction they
appeared, breaking their way through the fringe of alders
and low spruce trees. Something must have frightened
92 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
them as they were crossing the river, for not until they left
the trees did they shake the water from their dripping coats.
Then on they came, some trotting, some walking, all in a
hurry and most of them heading straight towards my blind.
What a beautiful sight it was ! Fully a hundred of the
splendid deer splashing through the snow and ice. Unfor-
tunately, a heavy cloud hid the sun so that the light was
bad. But there was another handicap still more serious.
My hands refused to do their work, the focussing screw of
the camera would not respond to the senseless touch of my
numbed fingers. It was maddening. Animal after animal
passed, some good stags among them, and they were within
fifteen or twenty yards, while the camera was focussed for
nine yards, and unless any of the animals came within that
range I should be unable to get a picture. At last, a rather
small stag, with about thirty-point horns, came along
the lead which was directly in front of me. Closer and
closer he came, and I watched the ground-glass intently as,
from a dim blur of grey, he gradually took shape, becoming
more and more clear and defined. He was rapidly filling
the plate, and it seemed as though I should not be able to
get him all in by the time he reached the point of focus.
There was no time to spare, for at the moment that he
showed sharply in focus he exactly covered the plate, and
I pressed the button. He was scarcely nine yards away.
Never have I seen a more thoroughly startled animal. In
the stillness of the morning the sound of the shutter was
alarmingly loud, and the stag apparently believed himself
shot. He nearly tumbled over backward as he jumped clear
of the trail. Then he stopped a moment and stared at me.
The rest of the herd also looked in my direction. What
a splendid chance it was for another picture ! But my
hands were too cold to work quickly, and in vain I fumbled
" He was scarcely nine yards away."
MIGRATIONS 93
at the plate-holder and shutter. The herd stood but a few
seconds, and satisfied that I was a very dangerous person,
armed with a very formidable weapon, they speedily vanished,
kicking up great lumps of snow as they galloped off.
Some of those furthest away, not knowing where the source
of danger lay, came crashing past within a few feet of where
I stood in the shelter of the spruces.
The light was becoming very uncertain. Great clouds
were rolling up so that the sun was obscured most of the
time. In Newfoundland this often happens on mornings
which are unusually bright and clear. From a photographic
point of view it is most unfortunate, as very quick exposures
are impossible without sunlight, and it always happens that
the animals appear at the very moment when the sun is
hidden behind the heaviest clouds. There seems to be a
fate about it.
An hour or so passed before my next visitors appeared :
a doe and a fawn this time — the finest pair I have ever seen.
I have mentioned elsewhere how much variation there is in
the appearance of the Caribou. Many of the does are heavy,
square-built, and lacking grace of form ; but this doe was
nearly as finely built as a wapiti, and the fawn was a picture
of grace and beauty, a perfect harmony of soft grey tones.
They approached slowly, and when within about sixteen
yards I gave a snort to stop them, and as they stood still I
secured the photograph which appears facing page 100.
Scarcely had this pair disappeared than a large herd, number-
ing perhaps seventy animals, came in sight. Evidently the
migration was in full swing, and the slight snowfall had
hurried the animals on their journey. It was a pity that
the light was not better, for though the herd contained no
very large stags it would have been a splendid opportunity
for making an interesting picture, as they were well bunched
94 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
and coming at an easy walk. A picture was secured, and
then they all passed close to the blind without being aware
of my presence, for the noise of their hoofs had drowned
the inevitable click of the shutter. No sooner had this herd
reached the open barren at the back of where I stood, than
there was a sound of animals crashing through the trees
about a hundred yards away. Leaving the blind, I hastened
to a high knoll from which I should be able to see them.
As they came into the open I counted about hfty Caribou ;
among them were two magnificent stags, with horns that
would count fully forty points. They were going too fast
and were too far away to photograph, and as they joined
the part of the herd which had passed me, I could not help
experiencing a feeling of regret that the big stags had not
been among those I had photographed. As it was, I had to
be content with what I had secured, and with the pleasure
of seeing such a splendid pair.
About half-an-hour later the sound of six shots in quick
succession reached my ears from the direction which the
animals had taken. Had either of those two stags fallen ?
Perhaps so. Then no one would ever have a chance of
photographing them in all their glory of life and vigour.
It seemed a pity. Camera-hunting makes us uncharitable
enough to hate the man who shoots, for he kills our models.
Perhaps, on the other hand, the man with the rifle despises
those whose weapon is the harmless camera. I know for
a fact that in certain places (names are best left unwritten)
camera-hunting has aroused strong opposition among both
guides and hunters, for they claim that the animals are so
badly frightened by the persistent chasing done by the
camera-hunters that they become wild, and consequently
shooting grows more diflicult. I contend, however, that
too much camera work will finally have the effect of making
— -T3
60
&0 ^.
<
■M
o
U
a o
MIGRATIONS 95
the animals over-confiding. They will discover that even
when a man happens to get within a few feet of them it
does not always mean death, and then perhaps they will not
discriminate between those who are armed with the camera
and those whose weapon is the rifle. However, that is the
dream of the future, when the camera has to a greater extent
superseded the rifle.
A sound of splashing in the river aroused me, and I
returned to my stand to make ready for possible visitors.
It was not long before a small herd came into view ;
there was a young stag with a very pretty but rather small
head of about thirty points, with the brow antlers noticeably
far apart ; with him were three does and a fawn. Curiously
enough, they were following behind the stag, a very unusual
occurrence which I have only seen three or four times out
of the many thousands of Caribou I have watched travelling.
The little band came along until they were within less than
thirty yards, when the does stopped as though not quite
certain that all was right before them. The stag continued
to approach, walking slowly and without sign of suspicion
until the click of the shutter awakened him to the possibility
of danger. The does took the alarm and made off^ to one
side, and almost before the sound of the shutter had died
away they had all disappeared among the trees. ^
This was evidently one of the lucky days, at least so far
as numbers went. Over two hundred and fifty Caribou had
passed, and many had come unusually near. Dame Fortune
was kind in all but the matter of light, which had been
most unsatisfactory. However, it might have been worse,
for I had been able to secure some reasonably clear pictures.
The day was still young, the light might change for the
better and more Caribou might come. Perhaps even
^ See illustration facing page 28.
96 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
another great big stag would come, like the monster I had
photographed once before. What a morning that had
been ! — when I had realised the hopes of years in securing
a sunlit picture of a perfectly typical line of thirteen Caribou
under the most favourable conditions, showing them on the
migration, travelling as they are supposed to do, and at
exactly the right angle to the camera. No one can believe
how much pleasure that experience had given me. It was
what I knew could be done, if only one had the luck to be
on hand and ready at the proper moment. How many
times it had nearly happened ! But some little and seemingly
insignificant detail had each time prevented success ; and
then, as though that was not enough for one morning's
work, had not the immense stag come along while the sun
was still shining ! How excited I was when I realised that
within sixteen or seventeen yards was a real stag with horns
carrying full forty-five points. What would not any guide
have given to have been able to offer his sportsman such an
opportunity ! I scarcely dare think what their opinion of
me would have been for only shooting with the harmless
camera. Surely they would have regarded it as an
opportunity utterly wasted. But that day was one to be
remembered, to be treasured up in the storehouse of happiest
moments, the storehouse which is never filled.
This day of many Caribou, though not yielding extra-
ordinary chances, was, everything considered, one of the most
interesting in all my experiences, for I was seldom left long
without at least a sight of the animals. True, I did not get
any startling pictures, but before the day had passed I had
used up all my plates, and secured nearly a couple of dozen
photographs, many of which were of particular interest, as
they showed good types of Caribou, some unusual horns,
and the earlier ones depicted the animals travelling on the
MIGRATIONS 97
snow - covered ground, a condition which I had not
previously succeeded in getting. Altogether, I saw over
five hundred Caribou before returning to camp, surely
enough to satisfy even the greediest of hunters. Had the
sun only been a little more generous, the pictures would
have been better, and no apologies would then have been
necessary for the dullness of some of them.
This day's work, though an exceptionally lucky one,
will give some idea of the southerly migration, of how the
animals travel and how abundant they are ; also of the
great pleasure that may be had in watching them. It is a
form of sport which all may enjoy to the utmost, free from
the necessary restriction of game laws, for with the camera,
the game bag is never filled. There is always room
for more.
The migration is so irregular that anything like a rule for
procedure must be so full of exceptions as to be of very
little value, but in a general way it may be said that once
the start is made, the movement continues with more or less
interruptions, according to the weather, until all the animals
which intend seeking the winter quarters of the south have
passed the Sandy River region, and that usually happens by
the middle of December. The earlier herds consist chiefly
of does, fawns, and younger stags, then more stags appear,
and these are, as a rule, the larger ones. Supposing that the
migration started on October 22nd, and that ordinary
weather conditions prevailed — that is to say, some snow and
fairly cool days and cold nights — we might expect the big
stags to be crossing Sandy River between October 26th and
November 15th. Later on, I am told, great herds of stags
come unattended by does, but these I have never seen, even
though I have waited until December 5th ; that autumn,
however, was exceptionally mild, and practically no animals
98 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
passed before the last of November. A heavy snowfall on
December 6th brought immense numbers, both stags and
does coming together in one great rush. Unfortunately, I
just missed the sight, and therefore cannot give any first-
hand information. A late season is most unsatisfactory,
because the stags lose their horns very early, the big stags
seldom carrying theirs later than the middle of November.
By the end of that month the migration, under ordinary
conditions, should be practically at an end. Stragglers
may continue to come for several weeks later, but, unless
the weather is unusually mild, one cannot expect to see
any large number after December ist. In the autumn of
1912 — an exceptional season — conditions prevailed which
caused the animals to act as they have seldom been
known to do. Not only did the migration start very
much earlier, as already mentioned, but it lasted only
about two weeks, which is quite unusual for an early
season. The guides refused to believe that the great mass
of Caribou had passed before October 2 1 st ; they even
laughed at me for suggesting such a thing ; they had never
known it to happen before, therefore it was not possible.
In vain did I tell them that the immense numbers which
had passed over the region where I was working represented
most, if not all, the animals that could be expected to pass
during the whole season. I suggested that they should take
their camps southward, following the herds rather than going
to meet them as they usually did, in order that they
would be in the vicinity of their game when the shooting
season opened. This advice was disregarded, but I
subsequently heard that scarcely any of the hunting parties
that went to meet the migration were lucky, while those
who went south of the railroad had good sport.
All of this goes to show how uncertain arc the ways of
11.,
1 u .U-. when 1 lL■,lli^cd ili.ii within sixteen or seventeen yards was a real stag,
xvith horns carrying hill torty-five points."
MIGRATIONS 99
wild creatures, or perhaps I should say, how dependent
they are on conditions which we do not understand
or appreciate. The autumn of 19 12 did not appear to
be different from an ordinary season, yet undoubtedly there
was something which we did not observe, but which had its
effect on the Caribou. When we hear anyone say that
animals always do this or that, we may be sure that the
speaker's experience is small. For safety's sake, it seems
wise to qualify statements so as to leave a loophole for
escape. We might just as well be modest and own that
our knowledge of wild animals and their ways is exceedingly
limited ; the more we study them, the more are we convinced
of this, unless we are blinded by conceit and preconceived
notions as to what the animals should do. The man who
said that the Black Rhinoceros of East Africa is usually
found singly or in pairs and that more than three 7iever go
together (I have seen five in a herd) is an example of the
man who does not know quite as much as he would wish to
have people believe. It is in every way better to state
simply what one has seen (using one's eyes very carefully),
instead of laying down the law and saying that such a thing
always happens because we have seen it occur on one
occasion.
Having followed the Caribou past Sandy River on their way
south, let us see what becomes of them. A glance at the
map shows them distributed over the interior of the island
south of the railroad. This is a region of high hills and
deep valleys, open country and dense forests, rocks and
marshes, rivers and lakes — in fact, a country of infinite
diversity, yet all suited to the needs of the Caribou. The
herds will keep moving slowly from one feeding ground to
another, restless at all times, for the Caribou is probably the
most truly nomadic of all the deer ; his food is slow to
H 2
lOO NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
grow, so he must not denude his pastures, though this
would seem to be impossible, owing to the abundance of the
different mosses which furnish the necessary nourishment.
But whether this is the cause of his restlessness, I cannot
say ; there must be some reason for his roving habits.
Unfortunately, I have never visited Newfoundland during
the winter months, and so all I write about this season is
only the result of conversation with the trappers and guides.
They tell me that the Caribou are found in herds numbering
anywhere from half-a-dozen animals to several hundred, the
larger herds being most often found during the severe winter
storms when the snow lies deep on the ground for weeks in
succession. Unlike the Moose, which "yards," the Caribou,
so far as I can learn, keep more or less on the move, going
from one valley to another in their everlasting search for
food. In this way the winter is passed, and as the snow
melts they begin the northward journey, not in concerted
action or in large herds, but slowly in straggling twos and
threes. They do not appear to be in any hurry, for there is
no dread of being caught by winter's awful storms. The
does, heavy in fawn, are anxious to reach their summer
homes where they may bring forth their young in a region
of plenty, above the flat lands where floods might injure the
fawns ; and so, during the months of April and May, slowly-
travelling Caribou may be seen repassing, on the leads over
which they had hurried in the autumn.
No longer is the stag a mighty, overpowering beast
with spreading horns, or a spent creature following
patiently the lead of the does. No longer has he the
smooth, new, heavy coat of dazzling white and grey.
He is a different creature. He is quiet and hornless,
his light-coloured coat is rough and shaggy ; the long hair
which has kept him warm during the bitter cold is no longer
O 00
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MIGRATIONS loi
needed, and bit by bit it falls to make room for the thin
summer dress. The does are in much the same condition,
except that some are still carrying their small horns. They
do not keep with the stags, but prefer either the company of
their own sex or a solitary life. Whether or not the
fawns of the previous year return north with their mothers I
have never been able to ascertain. It is probable, however,
that they do so, and are separated immediately before
the young are born. The object of the northern or
return migration has never been discovered, and we are
still in the dark regarding both its object and its cause.
We will therefore leave the subject of migration, after
having watched the strange animals follow the example
of their ancient ancestors, watched them treading in the
footsteps of millions that have gone before. With slight
change in their appearance we have seen them cross the
same barrens and swim the same rivers just as they might
have done countless ages before man walked the earth and
became their enemy, once for the necessity of food and now
for sport. If present indications may be relied on, we may
hope that the same paths will continue to be used for very
many years to come ; yet, with the rapid changes of modern
times, it is not safe to predict the future of any animal.
The day may come when the migration will be a thing of
the past sooner than we believe possible, and we shall have
nothing to show that it ever existed except the paths cut in
the weathered rocks and the modern recorder of facts — the
photograph.
102
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CHAPTER IV.
NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU FROM THE SPORTSMAN'S
POINT OF VIEW.
It is probable that this volume will be read more by
sportsmen than by naturalists, and those interested in a
more general way in the lives of wild animals, therefore a
chapter on the Caribou of Newfoundland from the
sportsman's point of view may prove of some interest, even
though more has been written on these animals as quarry for
the hunter than from any other standpoint.
Perhaps I shall shock some of my friends who believe
that, because I have done so much hunting with the camera,
I am absolutely against shooting. On the contrary, I am
thoroughly in favour of the sport, provided it is done
decently, and that it is not made too one-sided. If the
THE SPORTSMAN'S POINT OF VIEW 103
balance between the hunter and the hunted is close enough,
so that the chances are about even, the sport is greatly
increased, but when everything favours the hunter, and the
animal has practically no chance of escape, I cannot see
where the sport or the fun comes in. For example,
releasing tame pigeons from traps is certainly not sport, no
matter what anyone may say to the contrary. It has none
of the advantages resulting from good, healthy out-in-the-
woods hunting which, though perhaps a survival of ancient
savagery, does much good in stimulating our senses and
making healthy men of us. The killing that is done is only
an incident, often regretted the next moment by the man
who does it. But killing is universal, from the highest to
the lowest ; it has been arranged in the general order of
nature, so it cannot be quite so bad as some people would
have us believe. Of course, man, with his inventive and
mechanical genius, is able to put the advantage too much on
his side, so that if he wishes to enjoy sport to the utmost
and make it a fair competition between man's brains and
animal's instinct he must avoid the most deadly weapons,
otherwise the killing becomes so easy that it is no longer
sport. If the hunter has true sporting instincts and the game
laws are conscientiously respected, there is no reason why,
within certain limitations, shooting should not be regarded as
a wholesome sport. From my own point of view, the camera
is a better weapon than the rifle, as it gives far more
pleasure, requires infinitely greater skill and patience, not
only from the technical ability to use the camera efficiently,
but in the art of stalking, and it gives results that are far more
satisfactory. There is no close season for the camera, no
restrictions as to the size of the " bag," and no animal or
bird is too small or too big to be worth photographing. I
have tried both shooting and camera hunting, with the
I04 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
result that I now find shooting to be almost child's play.
However, others whose inclinations run along different
lines will continue to derive great pleasure from the more
primitive sport, and to these I offer the following
suggestions and information.
In dealing with the subject, I shall endeavour to show in
what way the best sport may be had, not how the animals
may be most easily killed. The Caribou is not like the
antelope of Africa, which is so keenly alert that practically
only one way of hunting is possible for the sportsman. The
constant fear of the larger carnivora has made them so
cautious after the countless generations of alert ancestors,
that they take no chances, but live a life of nervous anxiety
which alone can save them from annihilation. The Caribou
of Newfoundland, on the contrary, has but few enemies, and
consequently is not a really difficult animal to stalk to within
shooting distance. In the past, wolves may have been fairly
numerous, although there is nothing to prove such to have
been the case. A few there certainly v/ere, but even those,
however long they may have inhabited the island, have
almost, if not quite, disappeared. But when Newfoundland
was part of the mainland, the ancestors of the present-day
Caribou learned to fear these persistent hunters, and the fear
has passed down through numberless generations, and an
inherited tendency to watchfulness still exists, though to a
rather less extent than is noticeable with the other large deer.
Man from his earliest days has hunted them, with the
inevitable result that the scent of the human being is held
in dread. Nevertheless, the man who has hunted other
big game will find that, though the Caribou stag offers a
splendid trophy, this trophy can be obtained with less
difficulty than any other of similar size and beauty. In
fact, I might venture to say that difficulties have to be
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THE SPORTSMAN'S POINT OF VIEW 105
made in order that the sport should appeal to those who care
for a trophy chiefly in proportion to the hardships endured
and skill demanded in earning it. No one cares to catch
fish when they rise so freely to the fly that no knowledge ot
fishing is necessary. The fijn is found in having to outwit
the object of the chase, whether it be fish, flesh, or fowl,
and the usual method of hunting Caribou is lacking in most
of the essential elements of real sport. Still, as it may appeal
to those who for some reason or other are unable to do
much hard walking, or whose time is so limited that they are
forced to the easiest and quickest method, I shall endeavour
to describe it.
The average guide is, of course, only too anxious that
his " sport " shall have good luck and get heads with the
greatest ease, so that his reputation shall grow. He therefore
advises the migration as the best season for the shoot. In
giving this advice he means well, because his experience has
shown him that most of the people whom he has guided are
not over-anxious for hard work, and if they can get their
allowance of heads without having to walk a mile, they will
be highly pleased. Then there are a few guides who are
inclined to be lazy, and who for their own sakes give the
same advice, as it saves the work of "packing in" the
necessary outfit, and so they camp on a lake or river and
select a lead within easy distance of the tent, staying there
in hopes that the deer will come to them. Such men, I
am glad to say, are not common in Newfoundland, as the
guides are usually a good lot and full of energy, never saving
themselves in their efforts to give satisfaction to their
employer. It is also a great matter of pride among them
that their party shall bring back good trophies — in fact, I
often think that they are even more interested than the
sportsmen in the results of the trip.
io6 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
In the chapter on Migration, there is a more or less
complete account of the conditions which govern the
animals, so I shall not go into details of the state of affairs
which prevails during that season. It has been seen that
towards the latter part of October the northern Caribou begin
their journey southward, and that they follow certain definite
leads or paths. Along these leads the hunter takes his stand,
selecting, of course, one which seems to be much used.
If possible, his position should command an extensive view ;
then all the approaching herds may be scrutinised with a field-
glass before they are too near. They walk at such a rapid
rate that this must be done quickly. Each stag is carefully
examined to see what is the size of the horns he carries, and
whether they meet the requirements of the hunter. All of
this is done from behind a screen of firs or spruce, which
the Newfoundlander calls a " gaze," If all goes well, the
desirable stag comes along among his does — his place is
usually about the middle of the line, for they go more or
less in single file — he is not very alert, but relies on the
does to keep a sharp look-out and guide him past all dangers
in safety. Everything depends on the wind in this style of
hunting, and if the gaze is not placed well down wind
of the leads there will be little chance of success. The
greatest care must also be taken to avoid crossing the leads
in front of the ambush. Many a good chance has been lost
by not paying attention to this precaution. Men have
watched a herd approach until it was almost within range,
when suddenly, without any apparent reason, the animals
have taken fright and bolted before a shot could be fired.
But if care has been taken in choosing a suitable position,
and the leads have not been defiled by the scent of man,
the Caribou come on without hesitation or suspicion. The
hunter, if he be a novice, usually becomes wildly excited as
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THE SPORTSMAN'S POINT OF VIEW 107
he watches them get nearer and nearer, and even though the
stag happens to be one of only fair size, it appears to be the
largest ever seen. He probably whispers to the guide that
it must have at least fifty points, but is assured that thirty
would be nearer the number. Perhaps the leading doe will
stop for a moment when still rather far away, and the novice
thinks she is about to turn back. With difficulty the guides
restrain him in his desire to shoot. A moment's hesitation,
and once more the grey line resumes its journey. The
does pass, perhaps thirty yards away, or even closer. One
after the other they go by— with each one that passes the
stag with the gleaming horns comes nearer. Imagination
is running riot in the novice's mind, and he decides that of
course the guide must be wrong and the stag must be
a record, for there are certainly nearly sixty points ; but he
says nothing, for at last the animal is almost opposite. The
guide, afraid to let the novice attempt shooting the animal
as it walks, gives a sudden whistle, and the whole herd stops.
This is the chance. The stag presents an easy mark, yet
the excitement makes the novice nervous, and as often as
not he will pull the trigger without taking aim. Even at
the sound of the shot the startled animals may not run more
than a few yards before they will wheel round and stare
in the direction of the sound. At this point the hunter will
show what manner of man he is. Perhaps he will become
still more wildly excited, and fire ofT every cartridge in rapid
succession so wildly that, beyond frightening the Caribou,
no harm is done, except to the guide, who considers that
he has not been rewarded for his careful selection of the
gaze. Probably, however, after firing the first ineffectual
shot, the novice loses his attack of buck fever, and taking
proper advantage of the opportunity brings down his stag
with a well-placed shot.
io8 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
The question is whether or not this is a sportsmanHke
method of hunting big game. That it has in it a certain
pleasing element of excitement there is no doubt. The hours
of patient watching, then the first glimpse of the grey
creatures, the anxiety as to the size of the stag, whether or
not he is large enough to shoot, whether he will come near
enough, and, finally, at just what moment the shot should
be fired. To the man who has never stalked big game this
seems ideal ; he can, perhaps, think of nothing better, and
his heart will beat wildly as the object of his trip to the
wilds comes nearer and nearer. To the older sportsman
there is excitement only if the stag is a really fine one.
Then he, too, may become as nervous as the greenhorn,
with the result that he sometimes loses his head, and the
Caribou's head too. Still, I rather question the sport of
this method of shooting from ambush ; the game is far too
one-sided, for the man need know nothing of the art of
hunting, and if he is even a reasonably good shot, the killing
of the animal, if it comes within fair range, is a matter
of absolute certainty. Unfortunately, it is indulged in to
such a great extent that the man who selects his position
frequently finds that ahead of him, on the same lead, there
may be several other parties, both meat hunters and sports-
men, who take their pick of the stags before he has a chance.
Mr. Selous had this experience, and in writing on the subject
he says, " I must say that I felt thoroughly disgusted with the
whole business. In the first place, to sit on one spot for
hours lying in wait for game, is not hunting; and, although
under favourable conditions it may be a deadly way of
killing Caribou, it is not a form of sport which would
appeal to me under any circumstances. But when pursued
in competition with, and in the midst of numerous other
gunners, I could see no redeeming point in it whatever."
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THE SPORTSMAN'S POINT OF VIEW 109
Further on in the same book (" Hunting Trips in North
America") he says, "As my experiences of the previous day
had thoroughly disgusted me, I told my guide that he must
take me for a long day's walk through the country, as I would
not again sit on a ' lead ' and wait for Caribou to come to
me. He acknowledged that it was a poor form of sport,
but said that at this time of year it paid better than walking
and looking for Caribou, as the animals were all travelling,
and so seldom gave an opportunity for a stalk," etc. This
is true enough. During the migration the guides are
thoroughly averse to any unnecessary walking being done,
not only because the chance of getting good shooting is
lessened for the man who does the walking, but because the
crossing and re-crossing of the leads puts the animals on the
alert. They know that their enemy, man, is about, and
they proceed with extra caution, or even turn back to await
a more propitious time. All of which upsets the plans of
other hunters who have taken up their positions on good
leads. I remember hearing a guide describe a sportsman
who had refused to sit still and wait for the animals to come.
He insisted on keeping on the tramp all day long, and as
the guide remarked with bitterness, " he spoiled all the
best leads for many miles." This shows that if a man
wants to hunt during the migration, he can only retain his
popularity by following the customs of the country, or choose
his hunting-ground away from where the leads are being
watched by those who like the easiest and surest methods
that are allowed. Killing the Caribou in the water would
be the surest of all ways, but, fortunately, it is absolutely
forbidden. Were it allowed, rifles would not be necessary,
for the wretched beasts would be followed with a light,
swift boat, and easily killed with an axe.
In order to make Caribou-shooting a really splendid sport.
no NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
the hunter should select the season immediately before the
rut, or as soon as the stags have lost the velvet covering of
their horns. At this time the animal has to be stalked, and
the stalking will be found to offer plenty of excitement, and
test the endurance of the hunter to its utmost. As stated
elsewhere, the country is a difficult one to travel through,
owing to the softness of the innumerable bogs, and the
extraordinary denseness of the forests, which severely try the
patience of the man and the strength of his clothing.
Occasionally one comes upon a stretch of fine, hard, open
country, over which walking is a pleasure ; but that is not
where the best shooting is to be found. If I were going
after Caribou, I should take the latter half of September ;
then the stag is at his best. He is so keenly alert that the
most careful stalking will be found necessary ; good shooting
will also be called for. Unlike the watching from blinds
when shots usually range between thirty and forty, and seldom
at distances over one hundred yards, long shots are often the
only ones to be obtained. Quick work is demanded, and
in every way the hunting is of a kind that appeals to the real
sportsman. J. G. Millais declares that the best shooting is
to be had along the banks of rivers, as it calls for such quick
action, not only in the matter of shooting, but in deciding
whether or not a head is large enough to be desirable.
Sometimes at first glance the horns appear to be first-rate,
both large and having many points, when a closer examination
reveals a lack of weight and symmetry. As three stags only
are allowed, it is advisable to select heads which are worth
taking home — worthy trophies — though there is such a thing
as being too particular and letting everything go by till the
day comes when packing up becomes a doleful necessity,
doubly doleful if no horns have been added to the outfit.
Rather than go back empty-handed, some men will take
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THE SPORTSMAN'S POINT OF VIEW iii
anything, even though it may be nothing better than a twelve
or fifteen pointer. That is their look-out. But even though
they have it beautifully mounted, it will never be an object
of either interest or satisfaction, except as a reminder of the
trip. I have known both of these things happen. One
sportsman was determined not to fire a shot unless a really
large head could be found — nothing less than a forty pointer
would satisfy his requirements. During the first two weeks
of his trip he saw a number of fairly good stags, carrying
heads of from twenty-eight to thirty-five points. These he
let pass, notwithstanding the warning and importunities of
his guide, who considered it a shame not to take anything
over thirty points. But my fi-iend was decided in his view,
and refused to be coerced. When the last week came, he
would then take those smaller heads, if nothing better oftered.
He never saw another stag, small or large, and came home
empty-handed and very much disappointed, while his guide
was utterly disgusted with him, for the trip had been a very
hard one. Another man, having heard of this bad luck,
made up his mind not to be caught in a similar way. He
had a month at his disposal, and during the first two weeks
shot two small stags, both with considerably under thirty
points. This left him with one still to get, and he decided
that it must be a big one, or he would not shoot. Nothing
fine enough could be found till within three or four days of
his time. Then a splendid stag was seen. It was very shy,
and after spending many hours in attempts to approach within
reasonable range, he finally had to be content with a very
long and unsuccessful shot. So the stag got away, and on the
last day he had to be satisfied with a miserable little twenty-
two pointer, as he was determined not to return without his
full allowance of three.
It is scarcely possible to offer advice as to where the
112 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
best September shooting is to be found. The choice of
country rests usually with the guide, who, if he knows
his job, can nearly always give helpful suggestions. If I
advised going to the upper part of the northern peninsula
and your guide had never been there, and consequently
was not familiar with the country, he would make objec-
tions and tell you of a much better region. Nevertheless,
that is a splendid district, although hard to reach. The
stags are fairly numerous, and, not having been very much
hunted, the large ones are still there. Some men say
there is no country like the Gander River region. This
also is rather difficult to reach, but some of the finest
heads have come from there. Millais justly calls it a
" Hunters' Paradise," his enthusiasm being based on the
excellent luck he had in getting fine stags. The Exploits
also calls seductively to those who have enjoyed good
shooting near its banks. At the lower end of Grand
Lake some fine heads have been taken, so also at the back of
Harry's Mountain, east of Grand Lake, there are many
stags during the September season. I do not care to take
the responsibility of saying that any one place is the best
in a country so large and so little known. Seasons
change, and what is the best country this year may be
the worst next year. If your time is short, be all the
more careful to get a first-class guide, and follow his
advice. If your time is not limited, and you care for
the hardships of exploring, leave the beaten track and go
in search of new ground. It will be far more interesting,
even though you do not find record heads. But remember
what has been written in the chapter on Camping, and
"go light"; take not an ounce that is unnecessary. With
a compact and light outfit you will go further and fare
better.
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THE SPORTSMAN'S POINT OF VIEW 113
In hunting the Caribou, quietness is essential. Never
break a twig if you can avoid it, for a cracking branch
makes a noise which carries far and may give warning of
your approach to the very stag you particularly want.
Equally important is it to keep a sharp look-out at all
timesj especially when entering a barren, where a stag may
be sleeping, for under such conditions they are hard to
see. Among the numerous grey dead stumps and moss-
covered low trees, the colour of the Caribou is so incon-
spicuous that the untrained eye will fail to detect the
animal even at close range. The first intimation will be
a glimpse of a disappearing patch of white, as the Caribou
vanishes into the woods. The success of big game
shooting largely depends on seeing the game 6efore the
game sees you. When the stags are feeding on the open
barrens they may be stalked with comparative ease,
provided no movement is made while they have their
heads up. No matter what may be your position, keep
absolutely quiet until feeding is resumed, for when the
head is down they do not see much beyond the food
they are eating. Always be sure that the wind is in the
right direction, otherwise there is no chance of success,
for the animals are very keen of scent. So, also, is their
hearing acute. Where there are does with the stag,
stalking is always far more difficult, as one will nearly
always be doing sentry duty while the rest are feeding ;
and to circumvent a watching doe requires very careful
calculation and clever stalking. All things considered,
the Caribou of Newfoundland is not as alert as any other
deer that I know of, and is therefore more readily
approached. There is, of course, great variation among
them, some being extremely alert and difficult to stalk,
while others are so absurdly tame that they will allow a
114 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
man to walk right up to within a few yards before taking
fright. Curiosity is often a noticeable failing with them ;
when once it is aroused they will go to almost any
lengths to satisfy it. I do not, however, advise the
hunter to count too much on it, for the very thing which
you imagine will tempt this curiosity will as likely as not
frighten them away. Sometimes a strange noise will
make them very inquisitive, and they will come within
a few feet to find out what it is. Then, occasionally, a
white handkerchief will have the same effect.
Immediately before the mating season the stags may be
called by a peculiar low grunt, which must not be repeated
too frequently ; just often enough to arouse but not satisfy
their curiosity. I have never seen an instance of them
coming any distance in reply to the call — a couple of
hundred yards at most — and it does not appear to excite
them to any great extent, so in this respect they are quite
unlike the Moose. Calling is not much resorted to, except
when a stag has been frightened and has started to run, then
a properly delivered grunt will occasionally cause him to stop
and perhaps return to investigate. If the wind is in the
right direction and there are no does present, they sometimes
come ridiculously near, so that shooting is really too easy to
be interesting.
In advising the September season as the best for those who
are keen hunters and do not object to plenty of hard work
— and Caribou stalking can be as frill of hardships as any
shooting I know of, owing to the extremely difficult walking
— there is another reason, apart from the greater alertness of
the animal, which should of itself be sufficient inducement
for selecting this time of the year. It always seems a pity,
if not worse, to kill any large animal which cannot be used
for food ; not only is it a waste of life, but the primary
^iL'
.ir
n'-A'<'^
A suspicious herd. Something has warned them ot my proximity ; probably a shift of wind has
carried the scent. Whether the animal on the right is a young stag or an unusually fine doe I
am not quite sure.
THE SPORTSMAN'S POINT OF VIEW 115
incentive to hunting is the procuring of meat in such a way
that the best sporting instinct shall be satisfied. To kill
simply for the sake of a pair of horns is not altogether
satisfactory to most of us. The horns are the trophy which
appeal to our vanity ; we like to show them to our
friends, and they give us an excuse for telling how the
animal was shot, and other — to ourselves, at least — interesting
details of the trip. But we do like to think the need of
food in the wilds was part of the reason for the killing. It
makes our comfortably elastic conscience more easy, so that
we are pleased with ourselves. Of course, I know perfectly
well we would not express this so bluntly before our friends,
or even to ourselves, any more than we like to discuss the
feeling of regret which so often comes when we see that we
have really killed a large beast. Most of us have experienced
that moment of remorse. Even guides, who all their lives
have either hunted or been with hunters, have told me how
they frequently would have given anything to have brought
the fallen animal back to life. When a Caribou stag is shot
either during (which is forbidden by law) or soon after the
mating season, it is useless for food, as the flesh has such a
pungent odour that none but those with the strongest of
stomachs could touch it. The texture is almost like that
of a sponge ; the meat is feverish and so disgusting that even
the sight of it is nauseating. The man who shoots these
animals after the middle of October, and until the horns are
dropped, must therefore not count on the stag as furnishing
his supply of meat for camp use. This, of course, does not
apply to the young stags, whose passions are not thoroughly
developed.
The game laws, in full, will be found at the end of this
volume, placed there so that any changes which may be
made from time to time can be inserted without interfering
ii6 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
with the make-up of the book ; but the sportsman should
always procure a copy of the existing game regulations
before undertaking a journey to the island. According to
the present game laws of Newfoundland, shooting Caribou
is allowed after the first day of August ; it is quite a question
whether so early a season is advisable. To begin with, from
the sportsman's point of view, it is scarcely worth while
killing the stags while their horns are still in the velvet, and
soft, as they are until September. Such horns are difficult
to preserve, at least until the velvet begins to dry. Then,
also, during the warm weather of August, the meat does not
keep for any length of time, unless salted or smoked, so
that most of it is likely to spoil before it can be used. Of
course, it is a convenience, when out on a fishing trip in a
wild country, to be able to procure a piece of fresh meat,
as fish becomes monotonous as a steady diet, and this is
especially true of salmon and trout. Besides these reasons,
this early season has a disadvantage in that it allows fire-arms
to be carried into the woods at a time when they are better
left behind, as no shooting of other game, except bear (for
these, I believe, there is no close season), is allowed.
The game laws of Newfoundland are, I consider, as nearly
perfect as any in existence ; they are fair to every class, and
give no particular advantage to those who are blessed with
sufficient of this world's goods to enable them to control
both shooting and fishing to the exclusion of the less fortunate
whose purse is out of all proportion to their love of sport.
Other countries are beginning to realise their mistake in
having allowed the few, who are rich, to take up great tracts
of land. In wild country, both fishing and shooting lands
should be open to all, controlled by sensible laws, and
maintained by the payment of reasonable licence. Not only
does this method stimulate a greater interest among the
o
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o .~
U J=
c —
o ■"
" c
C -T3
30
THE SPORTSMAN'S POINT OF VIEW 117
people for the better preservation of the game, and this is
obviously of the utmost importance, but it brings more
money into the country, benefiting a great many people.
Provision dealers, outfitters, guides, and indirectly many
others are helped. When either fishing or shooting rights
are leased or sold, very few gain employment, and it
frequently happens that the places are only visited by their
owners or lessees once in a number of years. This is all
very well for the game, as it apparently has a better chance
to increase, but I believe far more poaching goes on in the
private reserves than in the open free country. Newfoundland
has jealously guarded her rights, and no man may own
exclusive fishing or shooting. She has been quick to take
advantage of new conditions and profit by the experience of
others. When the railway opened up the country, it was
found that during the Caribou's southerly migration people
flocked to the region between Grand Lake and Kitty's Brook
Falls, chiefly near Howley, and the animals were literally
slaughtered as they crossed the tracks. Had this continued,
it is difficult to say what would have happened. Harm,
certainly, would have resulted. The migration route would
have been changed, or perhaps the habit would have been
entirely abandoned, so that the herds would probably have
suffered greatly. The authorities made a reserve of this
region {see map), and all shooting was absolutely forbidden
within its limits. This put a stop to the disgusting slaughter,
but men would take boats, with the apparent intention of
going up Sandy River to the open country north of the
reserve \ instead of continuing up river, they would camp
within, perhaps, a couple of miles of the railway, and do
their shooting with little fear of detection. The meat was
then brought down river and no one was the wiser. A
change was therefore made — about three or four years ago, I
ii8 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
think — and camping was forbidden on the reserve.^ To
make sure that the law is enforced, the district is patrolled
very thoroughly during the entire season of the migration.
This naturally caused a certain amount of dissatisfaction
among the meat hunters, who now have to go rather further
afield for their supply, but it has an excellent effect on the
Caribou, as they can pursue their journey over the region
where they concentrate in greater numbers with little fear ot
being molested ; so it is probable that they will persist
in the habit.
Another sensible law is that guides shall have to obtain
a licence, and that they may not shoot while out with parties.
Neither may antlers or skins be exported, and the sale of
Caribou meat " in cans, tins, or other packages " is
prohibited. Regarding the number of stags which may
be shot on a licence there is some possible room for argument.
If each sportsman shoots three stags, and each native is
allowed two stags and one doe, the proportion of stags
will eventually be too small, and there will almost certainly
be a falling-off in the vigour of the herds. It is a
question which should be very carefully considered. The
number of does born each year among all the deer usually
exceeds that of the stags, so that if a proper balance is to
be maintained it may be found advisable to allow more does
to be killed. The meat-hunters will always take a barren
or dry doe by preference, as they are in better condition
than either stags or does with fawns. It is impossible to
say for certain whether these does are habitually barren,
or whether they are among the number that miss occasional
years. If the former were the case, the shooting of them
would not be harmful.
^ The authorities very kindly granted me permission to work on the
reserve, as I carried no fire-arms.
119
Reindeer and Caribou.
CHAPTER V.
THE NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU AS A SPECIES.
Having devoted the greater part of my life to the study
of Hving wild animals and their habits rather than their
measurements, cranial conformations and other structural
differences and peculiarities, I feel that in attempting any
explanation of the specific difference between the Caribou
of Newfoundland and that of other species and sub-species
I shall be treading on extremely thin ice.
First of all, I might say that I do not want to hurt
the feelings of those whose life-work is the determining
and describing of species, and who, perhaps, never see the
wild animals themselves in a live state. But I confess that
the everlasting dividings and sub-dividings do not seem
to me to serve any useful purpose, imless the conclusions
are really based on something both tangible and constant.
For evidence of the frequent slenderness of the claims we do
not have to look far, for it is only too common an occurrence
I20
NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
Fig. I.
Newfoundland Stag [Rangifev TcrranoviT, Bangs).
Picked up by H. Heskcth Prichard.
Perhaps the finest head in existence. 49 points.
(From photo.)
AS A SPECIES 12 1
to see these claims absolutely refuted. This is especially
true of plants, when, according to one authority, a species
will be divided into an amazing number of sub-divisions,
while another equally reliable authority refuses to acknow-
ledge the existence of more than perhaps one or two, claim-
ing the others to be only examples of individual variation.
Simplicity rather than complexity should be the rule, and
reduction rather than multiplication of species should prevail.
The abandoning of the positive craze for adding to the list
of names without unquestionable proof would save much
of the confusion which exists to-day, and when two
or more animals can possibly be considered as of the
same species, even though minor points have to be con-
ceded, it is certainly better to ignore the slight differences
rather than to separate them. I do not mean to say that
structural differences should be ignored, for they, of course,
must be considered, but geographical variations are so
great and so numerous, that we may be led into most
dismal confusion if we attempt to make each local race
a sub-species. Yet this is what is happening, not only
with the larger mammals, but also with birds and plants.
Species are, we all believe, made by geographical
conditions, as animals conform to their environment to a
great extent ; but until the different parts of the original
herd or race become separated by some natural division,
the extremes of the development, even though they are
conspicuous, do not entitle them to be called either
different species or sub-species whe7i animals i?i the
intermediate stages of developmejit f?iay still be found in
existence. In this way all the intergrades could be
arranged side by side, to show how the local conditions
have ailected the appearance of the animals rather than
how many possible sub-species may be in process of
122 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
development. If we take the American quail [Co/i?2us
virgi7iia?ius) from Massachusetts, practically its northern
limit, and compare it with one from Florida, we would
see that there is a marked difference between the two.
Then let us take a bird from every hundred miles of the
intervening distance, and lay them in a row. All the
intergradations would be there, showing the bird to be
the same, with coloration varied by habitat. But if we
examine the cheewink (Tipi/o ejyt/i7'opt/ia/mus) of the
north, and compare it with the southern variety from
Florida, we would find that, besides the slight modifi-
cation in feather colours, the eye is red instead of very
dark brown or black, and that their distinction is abrupt
and constant. We are therefore forced to the conclusion
that it is an entirely different bird, deserving a separate
name.
Now, with the Caribou, from about four species a
comparatively few years ago we have to-day, perhaps,
fifteen more or less distinct forms, which are called
species, and which are broadly divided into two classes,
called the Barren Ground and Woodland. Why
this particular classification should be made is rather a
mystery to anyone who has studied the Caribou, for if a
name should mean anything descriptive of the animal's
habits, we would naturally expect the two forms to live
according to their names, whereas they by no means always
do so. Let us take the Newfoundland Caribou, which
is classed among the woodland species. It spends fully
as much, if not more, of its life in the open barren as it
does in the forests, and I believe the same to be true of
those found in Labrador. I expect the only true barren
land species, so far as habitat is concerned, are those
which live in the treeless country of the far north. It is
c
-T3
13
o
AS A SPECIES
123
all very well to say that the two groups present such
marked difference of horn that they can always be dis-
tinguished. I very much doubt whether such is the case.
The variation in horns is so great in different individuals
that it does not seem possible to state clearly what con-
FlC. 2.
Newfoundland Caribou {Rangifer Terrirnova, Bangs).
49 points. A perfect head, compact and even.
Shot Sept., 1904, by J. G. Millais.
stitutes the disparity between those of the Woodland
and the Barren Ground groups. If we accept the
difference in horns as evidence of species, we are simply
manufacturing trouble for ourselves, for nothing is less
constant than the so-called specific form of the antlers of
various groups of reindeer. A glance at the drawings
of the horns of various types will demonstrate the
124
NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
danger of classifying the species by the antlers. Not
only is there enormous variation in the horns of the
different individuals, but each year's growth on a single
animal may show marked peculiarities.
Fig. 3.
Newfoundland Caribou {Rangifer Terraftova, Bangs).
The points on anterior margin of beam
are seldom found.
Shot by J. G. Millais on Upper Gander, October, 1905.
Then, again, there is the question of age to consider.
Are we only to compare the horns of the perfectly mature
stag — that is to say, one of about eight years old, when
the horn is probably at its best — or of the younger or
the older animal ? And how are we to determine the
age with certainty from the material usually sent in to
'f As
5
One of the many typos of docs ; the noticeable teatures being the licavy build, ugly horns,
and very light colour, especially of the face.
AS A SPECIES
125
the museums, and from which species are often described?
It is generally considered true that the same species grows
Fic. 4.
Newfoundland Caribou {Rangifer Tevranova, Bangs).
Length of main beam 29^ inches, spread 28 inches.
37 points. Very heavy type.
{From Madison Grant's Article in the New York Zoological
Society's Report.)
different types of horns, according to the locality in which
it lives — this assumption being often based on a couple of
very good heads which have been taken in, let us say, a
high region of the animal's range, and compared with
126
NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
Fig. 5.
Newfoundland Caribou (Rangifer Terranovo', Bangs).
Shot by F. C. Selous.
A fine type, but not large.
(_From sketch.)
several poor heads taken from the lower lands ; whereas
a series taken from both localities would, most probably,
show us that the heads averaged about the same in general
conformation. In Newfoundland, men claim that certain
parts of the island yield very large horns, while those
of the migratory herds are smaller. Such a statement,
though true in itself, proves absolutely nothing, because
AS A SPECIES
127
'«!(
/-V4,
Fig. 6.
Ncvvf"ound!ani Caribou (Rangifcr Terranova, Bangs).
43 points. An unusually fine head.
(^From photo lent by H. Hesketh Prichard.')
the- greater number of stags are obtained from among the
herds that so regularly cross certain well-known regions
each year on their way south, and consequently the hnest
stags are killed ofF, usually before they reach their maximum
128
NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
growth and development. I have seen ample evidence of
this during the many seasons I have spent directly on the line
of the southerly migration. In the reserve on which shoot-
ing is forbidden, I have
noticed that, as a rule,
within half-an-hour after
a fairly good stag has
passed me, I have heard
shots fired. This time
would easily allow the
animals to get clear of
the reserve. In some
cases I have been able
to practically prove that
the shots were fired at
the very stags I had so
recently seen. This con-
stant weeding out of the
big stags keeps down the
average size of this lot
of Caribou without much
doubt. Yet I have seen
a few heads among them
which would compare
favourably with the very
best found in any part of
the island, though of
course the percentage
of the big fellows
would be smaller. In
regard to the shape of
straggling. thc homs, thcrc is so
Ffom Madison Grant' s Article in the New York Zoological rx\\jQ\\ individual Variation
Society's Report.)
Fig. 7.
Newfoundland Caribou {Rangifer Teyyamvce, Bangs).
Red Indian Lake. Length of beam 41 inches.
36 points.
A rather unusual type, the bays being very long and
AS A SPECIES
129
Fig. 8.
Newfoundland Caribou {Rangifer Terranovce, Bangs).
Shot by F. C. Selous.
A small head with good bays and one good brow.
130 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
that any description of the type must of necessity
be vague. This is particularly true of the very fine
heads carrying forty points and over. It would be
extremely difficult to find two which would correspond
to the same description. In a general way the Newfound-
land stag carries a more massive antler than that carried by
even its closest cousins. The palmation is especially
noticeable, as the bays are frequently very broad and
flat, while the brow antlers, or snow shovels, as they
are sometimes wrongly called, are of extraordinary size,
extending well down to the nose and counting a great
many points, yet it may be said that this is equally true
of Osborn's Caribou [see Fig. 14), though perhaps the well-
developed double brows are more frequently found in the
Newfoundland variety.
As the animal grows old and passes his prime, there is a
marked tendency for the horns to develop great length with
a corresponding decrease in the number of points. Thus the
horn becomes spindly and uninteresting, except in the matter
of inches, for the measurement along the beam gives the
idea of a very fine head. The younger stags, from four
to six years of age, carry horns of greater uniformity of
shape, some of them being remarkably symmetrical and
beautiful, though not large, and with but few points. Many
of them are so compact, that they bear a striking resemblance
to the horns of the white-tail deer. It is unfortunate that
photographs of horns do not usually give a correct idea of
the form, for two reasons. First, because they are seldom
photographed from the same point of view, so that satisfactory
comparisons cannot be made ; second, the length of focus
of the lens plays an important part. For instance, with a
short focus lens, a picture made from the front view distorts
the perspective, and makes the brows and bays unduly
One ot ihc types ot does. This represents about the a\erage bulKl ; the face is, lio\\e\er,
rather darker than is usual.
AS A SPECIES
131
prominent, while the tops are decreased, so that no idea of
their size and length is given. To obviate these defects, a
long focus lens should always be used, and the photographs
should be made from at least two definite points of view, one
directly in front and one from the side. In addition to these.
Fig. 9.
Newfoundland Caribou (Rangifev Montmus, Setoii).
An extremely fine head.
[National Collection of Heads and Horns, New York Zoological Park.)
a three-quarter front view would also be good. In this way
the respective merits of different heads could be compared
to much better advantage. I may be criticised for not living
up to my theories, but it happens that I have not the time
or opportunity to make the pictures in the way that I should
like ; I have had to depend on the photographs furnished to
K 2
132
NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
Fig. 10.
Newfoundland Stag [Rangifer Terranova, Bangs).
Thi» head is presumably of an old stag rather past its prime.
(_From photo lent by H. Hesketh Prichard.)
AS A SPECIES
133
me by the kindness of my friends, from which I have made
the accompanying drawings.
The number of points found on the best Newfoundland
horns is between forty and fifty ; a very occasional head has
been obtained with over fifty points. They are, however, so
rare that they can scarcely be considered normal. Their
Fig. II.
Newfoundland Doe.
20 points.
total length along the outer curve rarely, if ever, exceeds fifty
inches, as compared with sixty inches of the Barren Ground
Caribou [R. arcticus). The Newfoundland does have small
and rather insignificant horns, ranging commonly from six to
about twenty-two inches in length, and possessing from two
to twenty-eight points, six or seven being the normal number.
134
NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
Fig. 12.
Mountain Caribou {Rangifer Montanus, Seton).
Woodland group. Length of beam, 35 inches ; points, 31.
(,From Madison Grant's Article in New York Zoological Society's Report.')
Unlike most of the other species, they are frequently horn-
less. Mr. H. Hesketh Prichard, in writing on the " Caribou
of Labrador and Eastern Canada," Badmwto?i Magazine.,
says, " On the barrens (of Labrador) I have never seen a
AS A SPECIES
135
hornless doe, and, if such specimens exist, I should be
inclined to regard them as freaks. Moreover, not only have
Fic. 13.
Woodland Caribou {Rangifer Caribou, Gmelin).
Southern type, from Quebec.
{From photo lent by H. Hesketh Prichard.')
the does of the barrens horns, but these horns are long and
display many points. Thirteen or fourteen tines are quite
common," etc. Mr, Selous states that the does of R. fno?itanus
and R. osbor?ti are also seldom, or never, hornless. So it
136
NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
Fig. 14.
Osborn's Caribou {Rangifev Osbomi, Allen).
Woodland group. From Cassiar Mountains, British Columbia.
Length of main beam, 44 inches. 36 points.
{From Madison Grant's Article in New York Zoological Society's Report.)
AS A SPECIES 137
would seem that, in this respect, the Newfoundland Caribou
differ slightly from the various other species. It would be
interesting to know whether the tendency, in the way of
development, is towards increase or decrease of the growth of
horn ; and whether, in the far distant future, the Newfound-
land does will be entirely hornless. If we may judge from
other species of deer, it would seem that the size of horns is
gradually diminishing.
In considering the question as to which of the various
groups of Caribou should be regarded as species, there is
some stress laid on the size of the various geographical races ;
but it does not seem reasonable that size, unless it is
extremely marked, should be taken as evidence of dis-
tinctiveness, because the conditions under which the animal
lives must necessarily have decided effect on its growth.
For instance, the Kenai Peninsula (Alaska) appears to produce
types of unusual size, as, for example, the Kadiak bear,
which is by far the largest of the grizzlies. So also is Stone's
Caribou of that region the largest of the so-called Barren
Ground group. Yet it is, probably, only a geographical
race of the Osborn and mountain varieties, even though these
are of the Woodland group, while Stone's is not supposed to
be closely allied to Grant's, which is considered to belong
to the Barren Ground lot. If this does not make a con-
fusion of species, groups and races, it is hard to say what
would.
For the possible benefit of the reader, the following tables
of species are given. European classification :
I.
Rangi
fer tarandus
typlcus.
2.
spitzbergensis
3-
caribou.
4-
terraenovae.
5-
groenlandicus
6,
arcticus.
138
NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
-rt
W
trt
n
3
3
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c
o
o
c
o
o
c
3
O
C
n
.8
rt
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AS A SPECIES 139
Mr. Madison Grant, who believes in the separation of the
two groups — I. Barren Ground, and II. Woodland — classifies
them as follows :
I. BARREN GROUND CARIBOU.
A. European Species,
1. Rangifer tarandus ... ... Northern Europe and Siberia.
2. „ spitzbergensis ... Spitzbergen.
3. Undescribed Siberian races Siberia.
B.
A
merican Species.
I.
Rangi
fer
groenlandicus
. . •
Greenland.
2.
»
pearyi
Ellesmere Island.
3-
>j
arcticus ...
...
Extreme North of America and
the Arctic Islands.
4-
jj
granti
...
Alaskan Peninsula.
5-
jj
stonei
> • •
Cook Inlet.
6.
Undescr
bed American
races.
II. WOODLAND CARIBOU.
A merican Species.
1. Rangifer terrasnova; ... Newfoundland.
2. „ caribou ... ... Canada, Maine, west to Mani-
toba.
3. „ montanus ... Rocky Mountains, from Idaho
to Central British Columbia.
4. „ osborni ... ... Cassiar Mountains of British
Columbia, northward.
5. Undescribed American forms Alaska and Arctic Canada.
In many of these species there is considerable uncertainty,
which is acknowledged by those who have been instrumental
in making the separations, the reasons being that, in some
instances, there has been insufficient material to work on, and
in others there has been difficulty in making careful examina-
tion of the country between the ranges of some of these
described species. When the country has been more
thoroughly explored, and a sufficient number of animals
taken, it will probably be acknowledged that what are now
140
NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
Fig. 15.
Stone's Caribou. (Type.) (Rangifer Stonei, Allen.)
Barren Ground group. From Cook Inlet, Alaska.
Length of main beam, 49 inches. 36 points.
(Fj-om Madison Grant's Article in New York Zoological Society's
Report.^
AS A SPECIES
141
considered species, in some cases, merge so gradually in
their intergradations, that they will be regarded simply as
geographical races. If not, what shall we call the dividing
line between some of the races, which we even now believe
have every intergrade between the two extremes of variation ?
Just as some of the antelopes and gazelles of Africa are
Fig. i6.
Barren Ground Caribou (Rangifer Arcticus, Rich.).
From Fort Chimo, North Labrador.
Length of main beam, 58 inches.
{From Madison Grant's Article in New York Zoological Society's Report.')
becoming hopelessly confijsed, through the attempt that is
being made to make new species with each slight change in
the curve of a horn, and as the giraffe is being divided up
with each slight change in colour, so are the Caribou going
to become more and more mixed if a halt is not called. In
the end, it will be victory, I feel sure, for the "lumpers"
and defeat for the " splitters."
142
NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
"^'l-.H^V^^^'^
a. It
e e
;m
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l>.
f'
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AS A SPECIES
143
F:g. 19. Siberian Reindeer (Rangifer Teyandiis, Heim).
Fig. 20. Greenland Caribou (Rangifer Groenlandicus, Gmel.).
Fig. 21. Barren Ground Caribou {Rangifer Arcticus, Rich.).
Fig. 22. Grant's Caribou (Rangifer Granti, Allen). Alaska Peninsula.
{From Aladison Grant's Article in New York Zoological Society's Report.)
144 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
It is conceded, by even the most extreme enthusiasts
among the " sphtters," that the variation in horn formation
of the reindeer is exceedingly variable and undefinable,
and that size is a matter largely of environment, and
consequently very unsatisfactory as a proof of species.
What, then, about colour ? Surely this is equally
unstable. It is not as if the Caribou had a patterned
pelage, and that the pattern varied with the different
groups, geographical or otherwise. Nor as if their colour
was constant throughout the year ; we know that, generally
speaking, it is not, but that it turns lighter during the
winter. Now, in order to describe the colour, so that
it would be of any value, the animals should be compared
when their summer coats are perfect, and perhaps also in
the middle of winter. But, even then, would anything be
proved ? Possibly, but by no means certainly, for the indi-
vidual colouring is so extremely variable. A glance at the
photographs illustrating this volume will convince any one
of the extraordinary individual difference that may be found
among the animals, not only of one country, but of one
herd. In a painting I once exhibited of Caribou in their
autumn dress, I was severely criticised by a man who had
been several times to Newfoundland for showing one of the
does almost white. He had never seen one like it, and so
did not believe it was correct. Yet it is a common thing to
see at least one in a herd that is practically entirely white,
although not an albino. This is true equally of stags and
does, and may be seen from some of the photographs.
Whether it correlates with age or some other condition, I
cannot say, but evidence is rather in favour of the theory of
age, as it is usually the stags which have spindly horns, or, at
least, horns that are on the verge of "going back," that are
most conspicuously white before winter has actually begun.
!*
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K i
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i
p
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^^^^^v ^^^^
^^^^^^^^^^Kt^PT^' >r»j -
rr^-V' ..;. (J'-AA K
r
i
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-HI
^^^^^HfeAK/2^^V_T^H
jj^^^
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This shows the graceful pose ot a Caribou doc, which is so different from the usual
conception ot these animals.
AS A SPECIES
145
Fig. 23. Grant's Caribou (Barren ground), Alaska Peninsula. Spread, 35I inches. See
side view of same head. Fig. 22.
Fig. 24. Woodland Caribou, Northern Quebec. Shot by Hesketh Prichard.
Fig. 25. Siberian Caribou. Spread, 33^ inches. See side view of same head. Fig. 19.
Fig. 26. Osborn's Caribou (Woodland), Cassiar Mountains, British Columbia. Spread,
385 inches. See side view of same head. Fig. 14.
146
NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
Figs. 27, 28 and 29. Newfoundland Caribou.
Fig. 30. Stone's Caribou (Barren ground). Spread, 34 inches. See side view of
same head, Fig. 15.
Fig. 31. Mountain Caribou (Woodland). Spread, 21 inches. See side view of
same head, Fig. 12.
Fig. 32. Greenland Caribou (Barren ground), West Coast of Greenland. Spread,
39 inches. See side view of same head. Fig. 20.
AS A SPECIES 147
What scientists are inclined to overlook is the remarkable
individuality of animals, and this is, I think, more noticeable
among Caribou than any animal with which I am at all
familiar. In proof of this, I must once more ask the reader
to refer to the photographs. Careful comparisons will show
how true this is. In no case is it more marked than in the
three different pictures of does facing pages 122, 124 and
130. The complete difference in appearance is so great that
it is not easy to believe that they represent the same species.
Not only is this true of the adults, but even the fawns, which
are about of equal age. Both colour and form are distinctly
different.
L 2
148
A glimpse of Newfoundland.
CHAPTER VI.
NEWFOUNDLAND: THE COUNTRY AND ITS HISTORY.
As the home of its own species of Caribou, Newfound-
land itself may have some claim to the reader's attention,
and so a chapter on the island, its history, its development
and appearance will perhaps prove of interest, even though
it has but an indirect bearing on the romance of the
Caribou.
First of all, let us see how Newfoundland is placed
geographically. There seems to be a prevailing idea that
it is situated somewhere in the Arctic regions, not far
from the North Pole, whereas it is approximately between
46 and 51 degrees north latitude — St. John's, the capital,
being on the same parallel as Paris ; this will give a
clear idea of the island's northerly position. It lies at the
entrance to the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and is separated
from the coast of Labrador by the Straits of Belle Isle,
which are scarcely ten miles in width at the narrowest
COUNTRY AND HISTORY 149
point ; and on the south, Cabot Strait divides it from
Cape Breton and Nova Scotia. The nearest land to the
eastward is Ireland, about 1600 miles away. Strategically,
it is placed so that it controls practically the entire East-
ward shipping of Canada, and is therefore of the greatest
value as a part of the British Empire. It has the distinction
of being the oldest British colony, and the beginning of
her Western possessions. Its discovery by John Cabot, a
Venetian, took place in 1497, about five years after
Columbus had startled the world by proclaiming the
existence of the Western Hemisphere. Henry VII., seeing
the possibility of acquiring glory for his country, granted
Cabot a charter to set up " our banners and ensigns in
every village, town, castle, isle or mainland of them newly
found," though history does not say that he offered any
other " help " to the captain and crew of the little ship
Mathew^ which sailed from Bristol on its venturesome voyage
to unknown regions. Instead of help, we find that he
demanded in return for the valuable charter nearly a
quarter of all the profits resulting from the voyage.
Cabot's first voyage led to the discovery of Newfoundland,
on which island he does not record having found many towns
or castles upon which to plant the banners of the King ; but he
brought back wonderful stories of the fish which abounded
in the waters of the island. In return for the important
discovery, the most generous monarch rewarded him with
the sum of ten pounds. The pecuniary gains from explora-
tion in those days were not equal to what they are now, when
a single lecture on any great geographical achievement will
bring twenty or thirty times as much as the bold adventurer
of olden times received altogether.
Newfoundland proved a great attraction to the fishermen
of Western Europe, for in no place in the world has such
I50 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
fishing been found. It is still its great source of wealth,
the dried cod alone bringing in nearly one and a half millions
of pounds sterling ; the total cod and inshore fisheries pro-
ducing annually nearly two million pounds. This gives some
slight idea of the abundance of the fish, but perhaps the
actual amount of cod taken in a single year will show this
even more clearly ; 200,000,000 is the estimated number.
Whether the fish are less numerous now than in the days
when they first attracted the attention of the European
fishermen it is difficult to say, but we can readily understand
what excitement was produced by the stories brought back
by Cabot and his crew, and how gladly men left; the less
prolific home waters for those of the West. Apparently it
was only as a fishing resort that the new island was regarded
for many years, so little importance being attached to the
land itself that it does not appear to have been taken as
a formal possession by any country, but was used as a
harbour land for the vessels of many nations until, in
1583, Sir Humphrey Gilbert took possession of St. John's
harbour in the name of Queen Elizabeth. Thus it will be
seen that the capital of Newfoundland is actually older by
some thirty years than New York.
Mr. P. T. McGrath, in his excellent book on the country,
states that by " 1600 there were 200 English fishing-vessels
in the Newfoundland trade, employing 10,000 men and boys,
and garnering a product valued at ^500,000 sterling. A
handsome sum in those days, when a pound sterling had
much greater intrinsic value than it has to-day."
The trade in fish has, as already shown, increased to
enormous proportions. In its development there have been
many serious international disputes, the mention of which
would be quite out of place in this volume. The whole
earlier history of the island was more or less a period of
COUNTRY AND HISTORY 151
squabbles and trouble, even piracy having played its shame-
ful part. Incessant wars added to the difficulties of those
who attempted settlement of the land. Disputes arose
between England and France which have only recently been
finally settled.
McGrath gives to Captain Richard Whitbourne, of
Exmouth, the credit of being the iirst to suggest the
possibilities of the island for farming purposes in 16 15,
when he published a book entitled " A Discourse and
Discovery of Newfoundland," " to induce Englishmen to
settle there and develop its fisheries and farming resources ;
describing its climate, soil and possibilities in terms now
abundantly confirmed. King James so highly approved of
this book that he ordered a copy to be sent to every parish
in the kingdom ; the Archbishops of Canterbury and York
commended it to the clergy and laity ; and to nobles and
commoners the name of the ' New Isle ' was familiar, so
that settlement there was widely discussed, as its fisheries
were extensively enterprised."
For over a hundred and fifty years prior to the publication
of Captain Whitbourne's book the island was most bar-
barously governed by incompetent and selfishly interested
men, mostly owners of small vessels, who were bent on pre-
venting any permanent settlement being made. Drastic laws
were passed to this effect, such as the absolute prohibition of
any one spending the winter on the land, and the forbidding
of the landing of any woman. With such unheard-of
restrictions the " colony " had no chance to grow, and
the result of the unfair treatment accorded to would-be
settlers continued to have a bad effect for many years after
the conditions were changed for the better.
To quote further from Mr. McGrath's book regarding
the obstructions against colonists : " The laws against the
152 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
cultivation of the soil, and even against the erection of per-
manent dwellings, were enforced up to the beginning of the
last century. In 1790, Governor Millbanke proclaimed that
he was directed not to allow any right of private property
whatever in any land not actually employed in the fisheries."
In 1799, Governor Waldegrave ordered fences enclosing a
piece of ground in St. John's to be torn down, and pro-
hibited chimneys even in temporary sheds. Only in 1 8 1 1
were permanent buildings allowed, and two years more passed
before grants of land were issued. Not until 1825 '^^^ road-
making begun, though St. John's had then 12,000 people ;
and within twenty miles there were probably half as many
more.
The next and perhaps the most really important develop-
ment was the building of the railway, begun in 1890, and
completed about seven years later by the late Sir Robert G.
Reid. With the completion of the railway from St. John's
in the east to Port-aux-Basques on the south-west, a regular
steamship service was inaugurated between the latter place
and North Sydney, Cape Breton, and also other coast
towns ; so that the island at last had a chance of develop-
ment. Here we will leave it, and go back to the original
inhabitants, on whom a few words may be of interest.
Of these early people there is not a great deal known.
They were supposed to be a branch of the great Algon-
quins, and were called Beothics. That they lacked the
power and development of their mainland cousins seems
fairly certain, for they never made any serious or concerted
attempt to hold their own against the white man, or to
work with him ; and though at one time they appeared
to be on fairly friendly terms, they lost all faith after having
been once fired on by mistake. Later on, both the English
and the French made a warfare against them ; so did
COUNTRY AND HISTORY 153
the Micmac Indians, who came irom Nova Scotia. In 1760,
Governor PalHser is said to have made attempts to re-establish
kindly relations with the rapidly-diminishing native Indians,
but without satisfactory results.
It is pathetic to read of an institution having been formed,
in 1827, for the purpose of "civilising of the Beothics,"
when the last one seen alive was in 1823, four years earlier !
So much for the history of Newfoundland. It is but
a brief sketch, but more would certainly not be justified
in a book supposed to be only on Caribou. I may even be
criticised for having gone into the subject at all. The
natural conditions of the island may, however, be said to
have more direct bearing on the animals, so I shall tax the
reader's patience by giving a rough outline of the principal
features. A glance at the map will give an idea of the shape
of the island, which is about the tenth largest in the world,
being rather over 300 miles in width and length, with an
approximate area of 46,000 square miles. Its coast is
deeply indented with excellent harbours, some of which are
of immense size, and account for the proportionately long
coast-line of over 6,000 miles. There are innumerable
lakes, many as yet unnamed and practically unknown, the
largest and best known being Grand Lake, which is nearly
sixty miles long and contains some 200 square miles.
Many of the other large lakes are shown on the map, the
largest having an area of about seventy square miles. A
great many are not shown at all.
The rivers are both numerous and large ; the Exploits being
about 200 miles long and navigable for over thirty miles.
The Gander is half as long, the Humber eighty miles in
length, and the Terra Nova but little smaller. The more
important of the smaller rivers, though too numerous to
mention, are mostly indicated on the map. Most of these
154 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
rivers are rough and rocky, except near their outlet. They rise
in hilly country, and are therefore of very variable depth, rising
and falling to a marked degree according to the rains. In
point of beauty some of them would be hard to surpass. The
rich growth of trees along their banks and the boldness of the
hills combine to make scenery which I have seldom seen
equalled. The numberless waterfalls and cascades will cause
surprise to those who, for some reason, believe Newfoundland
to be a flat land of bogs and rocks. So little has the beauty of
the country been exploited, that people have not the slightest
idea of what wonderful scenery is hidden away in the
mountainous regions only waiting to be discovered.
I have frequently been interested in watching strangers
coming in to Port-aux-Basques, a dreary, little, rocky harbour,
somewhat forbidding but beautiful withal, for the rich colour-
ing of the close-fitting carpet of mosses and grasses which
clothes the rocks is exceedingly fine. This is more or less
what the stranger expected to see ; but soon after the train
starts, he begins to open his eyes as the country changes.
Here the road runs along the delightful sea coast, where
stretches of gleaming sand receive the everlasting pounding of
the sea. Again it climbs along the rocky shore, on which the
force of the eternal winds is shown in the curious growth of
stunted trees, that rise from ground level, gradually getting
higher till they are, perhaps, six or seven feet tall. No
branch protruding, clipped by the cold wintry blasts, they are
like well-pruned hedges. From his comfortable seat, the
stranger looks down into the clearest, greenest water he has
ever seen. It is the harvest ground of Newfoundland. An
exclamation from the other side of the carriage makes him
look to the East, where wonderful ranges of mountains hide
their rocky summits in the morning mist. If it is early in
the summer, he will see patches of snow packed away in the
o
a
COUNTRY AND HISTORY 155
dark blue shadows, and he will give a sigh of relief as he
thinks of the sweltering heat he has just left behind him in
the big cities. The richly-coloured marshes and the many
ponds are a splendid foreground for the rugged mountains ;
and the stranger looks astonished and remarks that he
never knew that the island was anything but flat. Many
surprises are in store for him as the train carries him along
over numerous beautiful rivers in whose clear waters the
salmon are working their way up to the spawning beds.
Lakes of all sizes are passed in rapid succession, some
surrounded by marshes and bogs, others nestled away
between heavily-timbered mountains. The train goes slower,
and snorts and puffs as it winds its way over the high hills,
reaching an elevation of between one and two thousand feet.
On reaching Bay of Islands, the stranger is again surprised,
for here is a harbour of immense size with many prosperous
villages along its shores, under the shadow of the protecting
ranges of lofty hills. The whole scene recalls the flords of
Norway. Then comes the Humber River, probably the most
beautiful of the larger rivers. Rocky mountains rise like
giant walls from the deep, dark waters ; glittering cascades
drop hundreds of feet among the rich vegetation ; and yet
this is Newfoundland, not as our geography describes it, but
as it really is. The stranger is astonished and wonders, as
so many have done, why he never heard of the scenery of
the island, but only of its rocks and fogs. As he crosses the
path of the Caribou migration, should it be the right time of
year, he will, if he be lucky, see herds of the wandering
animals making their way southward. They will line up
and stare at the noisy thing that passes them, belching such
a dense column of black smoke as it goes along in its
haste. The conductor pulls the signal cord three times, the
engine blows in reply, and the train slows down to let
156 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
me off at the river where my canoe awaits me. I say
good-bye to the stranger, and in the dim evening light, as
the train leaves me alone in the wilderness, I see him gazing
wistfully from the window as he sees me carry my outfit
down to the canoe, for he, too, would like to be going
into the woods to see the country in the way that man
likes best.
Except where it crosses the base of the great northern
peninsula, the railroad keeps well toward the west and
north coast, for only near the sea has the island been
settled. The population of little over a quarter of a
million is composed largely of fishermen. Small farms
are only too few, except in the extreme east. But the
interior has so far scarcely been touched by man, except
by the Harmsworths, whose big pulp works are well
known. There are practically no roads, except near the
coast, and as horses cannot be used over most of the wild
country, owing to the amount of bogland and dense timber,
little has been done to open up the island. Where
farming is carried on it is highly successful. In 1901
there were perhaps eighty-six thousand acres of improved
land, which yielded about three-and-a-half million dollars,
nearly one-third of which was from cabbages, the other
two large items being hay and potatoes. I mention these
facts because they prove that the climate is not what
people, outside of the island, believe it to be. The
summer season is short, but, as is usually the case. Nature
makes up for that by causing vegetation to grow with
remarkable rapidity. The temperature during the winter
is cold in the north, where it is furthest from the influence
of the Gulf Stream, but in the southern and eastern parts,
especially near the coast, it is not nearly so severe. The
summer temperature is delightful, very hot days being
T^^^fi
'4^
COUNTRY AND HISTORY 157
almost unknown.^ When one hears the favourite story
of the depth of snow in Newfoundland, which is, that
the telegraph poles were entirely submerged, it must not
be imagined that this is a normal happening, or that the
whole island was thus covered ; and two important points
must be borne in mind : first, that the poles used are very
short — I should say about twelve feet above ground ; and
second, that this only occurred in a place which is famous
for extraordinary deep drifts. As it is a story which every
stranger hears, I mention it with these explanations.
The animal life on the island, with the exception of the
Caribou, is neither numerous nor are many species of the
larger kinds found. Bears, never an abundant animal,
exist in fair numbers. The popular idea of there being
two species, known as the black and the brown, is, I
think, wrong. They are probably colour phases of the
same animal, which is the ordinary black bear. Lynx are
scarce, and are said to have only comparatively recently
come over on the ice from Labrador, as they were not
recorded by the earlier writers. Captain Hardy, in 1869,
says : " The presence of the wild cat is uncertain " ; by
wild cat it is presumed he alludes to the lynx. Wolves,
which may formerly have been fairly numerous, are now
practically extinct. Foxes are found in most parts of the
island, and are becoming famous for the large proportion
that run to the silver phase. I am told that about one
in every five or six is either silver (or black as they are
also called) or partly so. These dark foxes are, of course,
very valuable, and every trapper's ambition is to get a
really good one which would make him a rich man.
^ The mean temperatures for St. John's are given as 21 '09 for January
and 56-51 for July.
158 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
Only a month or so ago, I heard from a trapper friend of
mine that a man I knew had had the good fr)rtune to
get a line silver fr)x, which he had sold for seventeen
hundred dollars (about ^340). At first sight it would
appear that trapping must be a paying occupation, but
foxes are scarce, and a man seldom gets more than four
or five during the season, and of course fine "silvers"
are rare. Beavers are on the increase, thanks to the few
years of protection which has been granted to them.
Eight years ago they were scarce, so much so that a
day's journey by canoe would often not discover a single
house or dam in use. Last autumn, I found nearly
twenty occupied houses within a day's walk of my camp,
and this was on a river which but a few years ago had
no signs of recent beaver. Unfortunately, this year sees
the end of the close season, and we may expect these
interesting little animals to be nearly wiped out during
the coming winter, except, possibly, on the reserve, where,
let us hope, they will not be molested, and the
visitor to the island will have the opportunity of seeing
them and their marvellous work. It seems to be a pity
to take off the protection just as the animals are
really beginning to become numerous. They are so
easily killed off that a single season's trapping will undo
the advantages gained by the years of protection. Had
they been allowed another ten years of immunity, they
would have become one of the show features of New-
foundland. Musk rats are not as abundant as might be
expected from the great extent of the country apparently
suited to their requirements. Nowhere have I seen them
in any number, and, curiously enough, they seldom appear
to build lodges as they do in other countries. In all
my wanderings in Newfoundland, I have seen but one
CARIBOU ON THE RI\'ER BANK.
Their suspicious have been aroused, and thev are not quite certain whether it is sale to cross.
This clearly shows the graceful form ot these animals.
COUNTRY AND HISTORY 159
lodge, while in the States of New York and New Jersey
they may be seen in most suitable ponds where they
have not fallen victims to the steel trap. Otters are
scarce, if one may judge from the small number taken
by trappers ; they are of large size and have very fine,
heavy pelts. Mink do not exist in Newfoundland, neither
do squirrels, raccoons, opossums or porcupines ; this seems
curious, as the conditions which favour them in the adjoining
provinces appear to exist in the island, so far as we can
judge. The varying hare is fairly abundant, but a disease
is said to have greatly depleted their numbers a few years
ago. Birds are not as numerous as one would expect from
the position of the island. A few Canada geese breed on
the marshes ; ducks of several kinds are found, including
the harlequin (I have found the young of the latter
bird in the northern portion of the peninsula, thus proving
that they breed, at least in that part of the island). A
few of the waders breed there, or pass through in the
course of their migrations. Of the game birds, the
ptarmigan is probably the most numerous, but they are
very restricted in their distribution. Unless much harassed
by sportsmen, they are aggravatingly tame and can scarcely
be induced to fly. This gives a rough idea of the fauna
of Newfoundland, without going into great detail or
mentioning the minor species.
The flora, though interesting, is not very varied. The
island is richest in the lower forms of plant life, such as
the lichens and mosses, which are extremely abundant, and
their richness and diversity of colours do much to make
the beauty of the barrens so noticeable. Of the flowers,
by far the most noticeable is the fire weed {Chamce?ierion
angustifoliuni)^ whose wonderful masses of magenta pink
brighten the burnt ground and line the banks of some of
i6o NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
the rivers, so that the eye is dazzled by the splendour of
the colour. On the barrens the curious pitcher -plant
{Sarracejiia purpurea) is conspicuous. Its strange, deep
crimson flowers stand guard over the pools nestled among
the many-coloured mosses. Of the flowering shrubs, the
most common are the viburnums, dog-wood, pigeon-
wood, kalmia and mountain ash. Of the shrubs whose
flowers are not noticeable, the alder is by far the most
equally distributed. It chokes every small waterway
and forms a serious obstruction to travel through much
of the marshy ground. Edible fruits, as mentioned in
Chapter VII., comprise the " bake apple," blueberry and
raspberry, all of which are remarkably plentiful. Wild
cranberries are found on most of the marshy ground, and
flourish so well that one is surprised that their cultivation
is not extensively carried on.
There is a prevailing idea that the trees of Newfound-
land are all of stunted growth, and that large timber
does not exist on the island. That there is a great
amount of small growth is true enough, for practically
every marsh is fringed with forests of short, close-grow-
ing fir and spruce. Nearly every pond, too, is sheltered
by these small trees, but in the hilly country and pro-
tected valleys there is a vast amount of really good
timber, which is attracting the lumber companies from
many parts of the world, and some of the largest and
most modern pulp mills have been, and still are being,
established in various parts of the country. Along the
more accessible waterways, both rivers and lakes, the
larger trees are mostly a thing of the past. It is this
that has given rise to the popular notion that large trees
do not exist. The most important soft wood trees are
the fir, spruce, white pine and tamarack ; the latter goes
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U
COUNTRY AND HISTORY i6r
by the name of juniper. All of them grow to a very fair
size, and the timber obtained is of rather unusually good
quality owing to their slow growth. Poplars are numerous
in certain districts, especially near rivers. Of the hard
woods the birches are most abundant. Maples are also
found, but not commonly of very great size.
Just as in parts of Canada and the northerly States, the
trees are covered with a remarkable growth of mosses, the
most conspicuous being the usnea, or old man's beard, which
clings to the trunks and hangs from most of the branches in
graceful masses and imparts a curious effect to the woods,
the grey colour looking almost like frost under the shade of
the branches. Moss seems to grow on everything that is
more or less shaded, so that the ground in the woods is a
carpet of the thickest and richest mosses, which cover each
stump and fallen tree, completely concealing them in a green
shroud. Even stones and rocks are covered, so that moss,
and moss only, is seen in the woods, and the forms of the
prostrate logs and standing stumps are but faintly visible. In
the autumn when the golden leaves of the birches bestrew
the rich, green ground, the effect is wonderful, especially
after a rain, when the vividness of the colours is so greatly
enhanced.
Unfortunately, walking through the woods of Newfound-
land is not altogether a joy, owing to the denseness
of the vegetation, the unevenness of the ground and the
great number of fallen trees. Only along the erratic Caribou
roads can one hope to make one's way with comparative ease
and comfort, and even on these trails it is always difficult to
carry a load, on account of the low-growing branches, which
form a regular network of wiry twigs. The best walking
may be found in the open marshes and barrens. Most of
these are formed of peat in its various stages. When it is
/
1 62 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
well-formed and firm, it affords excellent though somewhat
springy walking, but where it is in the watery stage it is
extremely treacherous both to man and beast. It forms,
indeed, one of the chief difficulties in the way of inland
exploration, as it practically prevents the use of horses, except
where rough roads are made. On the bogs and marshes
there are countless pools and ponds which are somewhat
curious in their formation. Not only are they found on the
flat lands, but on the steep hill-sides, and are always full of
water, which may be a few inches or several feet in depth.
Below this water there is usually a light, watery peat which
may be of almost any depth, its consistency being like that
of very thick pea-soup. Needless to say, these pools are
dangerous and are avoided by the larger animals.
Such, then, is the home of the Caribou. It is but
a rough sketch of the island, but if the reader wishes to
know more on the subject, the best advice I can give is that
he should go there and see for himself what Newfoundland
has to offer. Be he hunter, fisherman, or merely a lover
of the wilds, he will find himself amply rewarded.
163
liM&iSm
A Camp in Newfoundland.
CHAPTER VII.
CAMPING IN NEWFOUNDLAND AND HOW TO DO IT.
On the chance that the reader will be tempted, either
through the stories of others, or by what has been written in
the previous chapters, to visit the land of the Newfoundland
Caribou, a few words on the subject of camping may-
prove of use and interest. When going to camp in any
country which is more or less new, one is always con-
fronted with the very important question of outfit. What
is necessary for one's comfort should be taken, if possible,
but the many things which are entirely unnecessary, and
which comprise the greater part of most outfits, should
be left behind locked up safely in the rubbish room at home
where they will not be a cause of temptation to yourself or
others. This is not sarcasm, but plain common sense. For
the only way to travel in comfort in the wilds is to travel
M 2
1 64 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
light ; every useless article is an obstacle in the path of peace
and happiness — first to be bought and paid for, then to be
packed and unpacked every time a move is made, and, worst
of all, it has to be transported, frequently under conditions
when every ounce is a matter of serious consideration. Now
in order to decide what to take and what to leave behind, it is
highly essential that the country to be visited shall be known
as much as possible, therefore let us start the (let us hope)
helpful task of giving advice by an account of the country
so far as it concerns camping. I have already, in a previous
chapter, given a brief description of the island, but I shall
repeat myself to some extent, even at the risk of bringing
down the reader's wrath on my unfortunate head. First of
all, please note that Newfoundland is 7iot a land of fog and
snow and nothing more, according to the popular idea. It
is a land of many and very varied conditions, some good and
some bad, but it is large enough to take care of them all
without any feelings of shame, if we except perhaps the flies
and mosquitoes in certain regions. The best idea I can give
of its size is to say that it is over ii,ooo square miles larger
than Ireland. This will help the Britisher, while the
American will get a better idea when he is told that it is
about the size of New York State. In some parts it is very
mountainous and rugged, in others it is flat or rolling.
Travelling on foot is diflicult throughout a large proportion
of the country, owing to the bogs and marshes which are very
numerous and many of which are very soft. The open dry
bogs are frequently rough and tussocky, and most trying to
the man who is handicapped with a heavy load. Only here
and there does one come across a flne smooth bog of hard
peat and moss which offers good walking.
The woods are extremely dense, even though the trees
are as a rule of low growth, but the toughness and elasticity
With the hca\v hiad (if cameras and plates, walking over the soft, spongy bogs is
exhausting work.
■Hi
^
1
• f - A
>
The easiest way to travel in Newfoundland.
CAMPING 165
of the lower branches, which so often hang with their ends
buried in the moss on the ground, make walking through them
a difficult task, unless one happens to find a good Caribou
road, when it is sometimes fairly easy. On the mountains there
are many great stretches of fine open country, more or less
stony, or tracts of smooth-faced rock sparsely covered with
scanty vegetation. In such regions good walking may be
counted on, except in the narrow valleys between the
ridges, or through thickets which are in the sheltered spots,
chiefly on the southern slopes of the hills, where they are
protected from the biting winds. These thickets are made
up of dwarf black spruce, composed to all intents and purposes
of barbed wire and steel springs, warranted to tear the strongest
clothing ever manufactured, and try the very best of tempers.
All of this may sound as though I were trying to discourage
the man who thinks of going to Newfoundland. This is not
at all my object. What I want to do is to show how
important it is to go light in a country where travelling by
foot is anything but easy. Unfortunately, in the regions
where the waterways are unavailable, everything has to be
carried on men's backs as horses cannot be used owing to
the soft bogs in which they would very soon be mired.
A great part of the country may be reached by
water, for probably no place of its size has so many rivers
and lakes as Newfoundland. These have already been
described, so I shall not go into details regarding names and
sizes. Some of the rivers allow of easy canoeing, others are
too rough, and many of them are so filled with boulders
that canoeing or boating in any form is difficult and some-
what risky, especially when heavy loads are carried. The
lakes, which are quite large, are usually good for boating,
but owing to the sudden storms, especially in the hilly
districts, canoeing is likely to be unpleasant, and at times
1 66 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
impossible, so that delays may be experienced. This I
mention as a caution regarding the food supply. It is
decidedly uninteresting to be weatherbound at the wrong
end of a lake without sufficient provisions.
The selection of a camping ground is important or not
according to the time of year. In the summer, when on a
fishing trip (and I may mention the interesting fact, well
known to so many people, that the rivers of the island are
wonderfully well stocked with salmon and trout, both sea-
trout and residents {S. fojiti?ialis)^ so that the very best of
sport is to be had on any of the waters upon payment of
a small rod licence), any fairly level place will do, provided it
has firewood, and not too many insect pests. In the autumn,
however, one should be most careful to select a place
sheltered from the north wind. On either the north or west
bank of a river there is often to be found sufficient shelter
under the fringe of trees, but never choose the east or south
bank. I tried it once, when almost as soon as I had put up my
tent, a terrific storm from the north broke, and for three days
I was pelted with frozen snow, and life was entirely unsatis-
factory. The wind blew with such violence that it was
impossible to keep a fire going, even though I built a rude
screen of boughs to shelter it. A more thoroughly unpleasant
three days I have seldom spent, but it taught me a lesson
from which I profited during the many subsequent trips.
The weather, which is so important a condition where
camping is concerned, is not quite all that one might wish
in Newfoundland ; still, when one becomes used to it and
adopts the philosophical attitude, the dull days do not count,
and rain is taken somewhat as a matter of course. During
the summer, fine weather prevails, as a rule, and very seldom
is it too hot, except occasionally during the noon hours,
when the sun makes one lazy and disinclined even to fish.
.f. o
5 ^
ii o
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CAMPING 167
It always cools off later in the day, and the nights are never
too warm. Unless one has the misfortune to strike a
prolonged spell of rain, summer camping is delightful ; but
the best time of all is during the early autumn, when, if the
weather man is kind, life in this wild island is a joy. The
brisk, cool days, the chilly evenings which make one
appreciate to the fullest the open log fire, and nights so keen
that sleeping is an actual pleasure, and one wakes to the
delicious freshness of the morning air, fit as a king and ready
to do anything. Later on, towards the end of October, the
coolness becomes somewhat exaggerated, the condensed
milk freezes in the tin, washing is shirked, for it requires
courage to break away the ice which lines the bank of the
river and indulge freely in water sports. Blankets which,
but a few days ago, seemed unduly heavy are now too light,
and the chief attraction of the camp centres round the
roaring fire, the heart of the camp. Yet this cold is
exhilarating to a degree that can scarcely be described in
words. Personally, I can say that at no season of the year
do I get the same pleasure from camping ; the colder the
better, up to a certain point, even if getting out of the warm
blankets in the morning does look like a hardship when
there is no crackling fire outside or inside the tent as an
attraction. That is the only disadvantage of solitary
camping in cold weather, for the early autumn morning
looks, feels, and sounds cold when the outside of one's
blankets is coated with ice crystals, and there comes a sincere
longing for the cheerful sound of the fire. These remarks
give a hint that warm clothing is required for late camping,
and so they should be remembered when I give suggestions
on the subject of wearing apparel.
I take it for granted that any advice I offer is for the man
who takes a guide, as I find very few who will go entirely
1 68 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
alone. They do not altogether appreciate the amount of
work which going single-handed involves, and not used to
being entirely alone in the wilds, they imagine that it is
dreary, I suppose no words from me will cause them to
change their opinions on the subject. Individually, I like it,
perhaps because it is what I have been accustomed to for so
many years, and because it gives me opportunities of doing
the work I enjoy, to the best advantage ; for there is no
question that animals can be studied when one is alone far
better than if two or three people are together. Quietness is
the keynote of success in such work. It is difficult enough to
practise it alone, but in company it is practically impossible.
The man who would hunt in Newfoundland must make
up his mind to lead a thoroughly simple life. He must not
expect the comforts of an African safari, where chairs and
tables are considered essential and a bath-tub is carried,
where one is waited on hand and foot, and where clothes are
changed for dinner, which is served on a white table-cloth.
Such luxurious living is not for the northern wilds. The bare
necessities of life are the only luxuries to be had, and one is
very thankful for them. In place of the chair the dry side of a
log is used ; the table, unless in a long term camp, is one's
lap ; the " hot " bath is the nearest river or pond, and the
bath " tent " is the great out-doors. Folding beds are
forgotten in the far better couch of springy spruce boughs
piled up a foot deep on the mossy ground. It is all very
primitive, but it has a strong appeal to the man with good
red blood in his veins. The namby-pamby has no place out
in those woods and hills ; he is not wanted, and for his own
sake it were better that he stayed at home and found his
sport among the domesticated game of old England.
It is customary when camping in Newfoundland to take a
guide and " helper," or cook. A good guide makes the trip.
CAMPING 169
a bad one mars it ; so try to engage a man who has really
first-rate references fi-om someone you know, if possible.
The same may be said of the cook, except that good ones
are the rara ayis of the country, for the culinary art is of
a very low order. Lucky indeed is he who finds a cook
that can make decent " biscuit " (soda bread, or scones) and
fry a piece of meat properly ; broiling meat is seldom
indulged in, as they say it loses the fat, which they regard
as the most important part. The great tendency is to soak
everything in grease, and it requires more persuasive powers
than most of us possess to discourage this practice. The
guides receive from a dollar and a half to three dollars (six
to twelve shillings) per day. Some of them supply a boat or
canoe without further charge, also cooking utensils. There
is, however, so much variety to the arrangement that it is
best to have a clear understanding before the engagement
is made. Helpers get from one to two dollars (four to eight
shillings) per day. On the whole, the Newfoundlander is a
splendid fellow, hard-working, honest, good-natured, and
only too anxious to please. This was the case some
years ago ; now, unfortunately, many of them have sadly
deteriorated since they have come under the baneful influence
of a certain type of sportsman who would spoil the best man
that ever lived. The hardiness of these men must always be
a source of surprise to the newcomer. Water has no dread
for them, and they will get soaked day after day without
a murmur. This is just as well, for it is a very clever man
who can keep dry with any degree of regularity in that
country.
If the sportsman wishes to avoid trouble, he may engage
his entire outfit from any one of the sporting camps at a
given price per day all included — men, boats, tents, cooking
outfit, food, and even bedding. I would, however, suggest
lyo NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
that it is better to carry one's own bedding ; it is better and
more satisfactory in many ways. A definite understanding
with the outfitter befo7'e starting will save a lot of possible
annoyance, for most of the unpleasantness that does occur
arises from failing to do so. It is therefore fairer to both
parties that careful arrangements be made, so that the out-
fitter shall know what he is expected to supply, and the
sportsman know what he is to pay.
Now let us see what outfit is necessary. Beginning with
clothing : warmth, strength (especially for a long trip) and
lightness are the essentials. First of all let us take the
under-clothing. It should be of good wool and sufficiently
large ; tight clothes are cold, as well as most uncomfortable.
Several thicknesses of thin underwear will give more satis-
faction than single garments which are very thick. In
cool weather, besides a woollen shirt, which I need
scarcely add is advisable, three vests and two pairs of
drawers may be worn and will be found most satisfactory.
Two or three pairs of coarse woollen stockings should be
worn during the autumn as the wet ground is remarkably
chilly. When canoeing or watching for Caribou, one's
feet are apt to get very cold, and nothing makes a man
more uncomfortable.
On the question of foot-wear I scarcely know what to
say. The native uses soft, thin seal-skin boots which, when
good, are waterproof and well adapted to the boggy country,
but they do not wear well and are a great bother to put on.
The ideal thing would be light, high, thoroughly waterproof
leather boots, if such an article can be found. I have tried
many sorts, but though they sometimes resist the water when
quite new, they nearly always leak after a little use. Heavy
boots are trying for walking on the soft ground, difficult
to dry if they get wet, and very bad for canoe work.
CAMPING 171
Felt-lined rubber boots are the only things that really keep
the feet dry for any length of time, but, unless very thick
socks are worn, the heat from the feet condenses in cold
weather and makes the inside rather damp, while in warm
weather they are uncomfortable and steamy. So, as I said
before, it is a subject on which sound advice is difficult to
give ; and I say this after having tried all but the very
heavy boots, which being so noisy are entirely unsuited
to my work of careful, quiet, close-range stalking. During
the last two seasons I used the heavy lumberman's rubber
boots, and had perhaps more satisfaction with them than
anything I had previously tried. These came up about half-
way to the knee, so that under ordinary conditions no water
got into them. Besides wearing two pairs of woollen stock-
ings and a pair of socks (the coarser and more open the
better, as they allow of ventilation and are much warmer
than when made of fine closely knitted wool), I wore next to
the boot the regular lumberman's felt stocking coming
nearly up to the knee. This acts as a non-conductor, so that
when walking through icy water the amount of condensation
caused by the outside cold coming against the inside
warmth from the toot is reduced. These boots, felt and
stockings, must be dried every night. In very cold weather
it is of the utmost importance to have the foot-wear large
enough, so that nothing binds the foot. I never fully
realised the extraordinary advantage of having the clothing
very loose until one day on board the Rooseyeh^ Lieutenant
Peary (as he was then, the year before he discovered the
North Pole) insisted on my wearing some of his Esquimaux
seal-skin clothes as we looked over the ship. The day
was bitterly cold, and I had been shivering in my heavy
winter overcoat. I discarded it with some reluctance, and
was amazed at the comfortable warmth of the very light.
I -2 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
loose-htting seal-skins, which weighed not one-tenth as
much as the overcoat.
In the way of outer garments any good, loose-htting
woollen clothes will do, provided they are strong and pretty
tightly woven, otherwise they will soon be torn by the hard,
rough, wiry branches through which one so often has to
force a way. Corduroy, though about the only material that
Vv'ill withstand the roughest usage, has the disadvantage of
being both cold and easily wet, and when once wet it is very
difficult to dry. It is also rather noisy. I find knicker-
bockers preferable to trousers, as they allow greater freedom
at the knees, particularly in travelling by canoe when one is
in a more or less cramped position for many hours at a time.
For a hat there is nothing better than a good felt, with
the brim just wide enough to carry the rain-water clear of
one's neck ; it also keeps the irritating spruce needles from
going in the same direction. Gloves may be used, but it
the weather is really cold, " mits," m.ade of pure undyed
wool, are far more satisfactory. They are more easily
removed and very much warmer. The best kind are home-
made and double-knitted. In the summer months, thin
leather gloves are useful for keeping the black flies off one's
hands. The last necessary object of wearing apparel, and at
times the most important, is the mackintosh. Each man has
his own ideas on which is best. I have always used the very
light kind made after the pattern of a shirt, so that it is
opened only far enough down to be slipped over the head
with ease. These are especially good for a rainy day in a
canoe. To these things may be added a warm sweater,
which at times is most acceptable, and for sleeping in, some-
thing loose, warm, and of wool, stockings included, and a
Jaeger helmet cap which protects the back of the neck from
cold.
CAMPING 173
Next we come to the bedding, an important part of
the outfit, as on it so much of one's comfort depends.
Lightness being a great consideration, we must try to get
the greatest possible warmth with the least possible weight.
Blankets are heavy, and unless of extremely line quality,
do not give warmth in proportion to their weight. The
very best material I have been able to find is pure lamb's
wool carded into thick sheets, but not bleached or dyed;
quilts made of this, encased in a fine, smooth material,
make the very finest of bedding, and next to eider down
it is the lightest. It is well to remember that the same
amount of bedding is necessary beneath as above, for the
cold from the ground strikes upward with an unpleasant
chill that prevents sleep. Two thicknesses of the woollen
quilts should prove sufficient in any ordinary autumn
weather ; the efficacy of the quilts is materially increased
if they are made in bag form, the sides being sewn up
rather more than half-way, so as to allow of easy entrance.
A pillow may be carried, but I find my spare clothes put
into a pillow-case answers the purpose. A large bag of
strong waterproof canvas keeps out the dampness from the
spruce boughs and prevents the wind blowing through the
quilts. If this bag laces up one side it can be more
readily opened during warm weather. The canvas is
much better than rubber sheeting, as it is not so heavy
and is not nearly so likely to tear. Waterproof canvas
bags for all camp belongings are useful ; they stow well
in a canoe, and are easily handled if they have a strap on
one side and the end. The canvas should be mildew
proof, otherwise its life will be short.
The tent problem is easily solved, and simply depends
on where and how you expect to travel. If on foot, you
must of necessity take the lightest available one. It need
174 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
not necessarily be very small, but the material must be
thin and of the best. I use a sea island cotton, not much
thicker than light shirting, it is very closely woven, mildew
proof, very strong and light, and absolutely watertight ;
far better than the so-called " silk," or any of the materials
filled with paraffin or similar dressings — these add to the
weight, are dangerously inflammable, and in cold weather
stiffen so that they are difficult to roll. In preference to
this material I prefer the ordinary unbleached muslin or
calico. The pattern of tent does not matter so very
much, the great importance is to have one that can be
easily and quickly pitched. If you camp in the mountains
it must be low, as long poles will not always be available,
and the high winds will not have so much effect on it.
During the summer, one can manage without any tent, as
birch or spruce bark can be easily peeled and a lean-to
made in a very short time. A light portable stove adds
much to one's comfort in cold weather, being especially
useful for drying clothes. If one is carried it is well to
see that a proper insulation ring is put in the roof for
the pipe to pass through. I cannot speak with much
experience on this subject, as I have only once used
a stove, and even in the coldest weather, when the
temperature has been twenty-five degrees below zero, I
have managed to get along without one, though not
without some discomfort it must be confessed. Cooking
utensils may be either of tin or aluminium; they should
nest together as compactly as possible, so as to be
portable. Enamel ware is frightfully heavy and does not
stand the knocking about which it would receive, but I
do like my cup and plate of this material. An aluminium
cup gets so hot that one cannot drink out of it, while a plate
made of this metal does not help to keep the food hot.
This herd crossed the river directly opposite my camp, and on lauding they noticed the tent.
The light was so bad that it required an exposure of several seconds to get the photograph.
CAMPING 175
Ordinary plated knives, forks and spoons are by far the nicest.
They are cheap, easily cleaned, and not very heavy.
The question of food should be carefully considered, so
that no unnecessary weight shall be carried. Let us begin
by seeing what the country can offer us while we are out.
In the summer, fish, both salmon and trout, can be had in
abundance. By smoking these they will keep for a few
weeks. In certain regions, notably in the highlands,
ptarmigan are fairly numerous and may be shot after Septem-
ber 20th. They are extremely tame, except where there is
much shooting, and can be killed with either rifle or shot
gun, though with the latter it is like butchery, as the birds
will not always take to flight. The Canada goose breeds in
the open bogs, but is never very numerous. Ducks of
several kinds breed here, the most numerous being the black
duck. They are, however, always difficult to get. Bears
are found occasionally, but not often enough to be reckoned
upon as an article of food. The varying hare is fairly
plentiful, but though he may be easily snared, his nocturnal
habits keep him safe from sportsmen unless they have the
assistance of a dog. In any event, there is absolutely no
sport in shooting them, for they will stand within a few feet
of you without showing the slightest fear. The only meat
that can reasonably be relied on is the Caribou, and, early in
the season, fish.
Some edible wild fruits are to be found. " Bake apples,"
a raspberry-like berry which grows close to the ground on
the bogs and ripens in August, are good eating, either
raw or cooked, and make excellent preserves. Raspberries
are quite numerous and of good quality, but best of all are the
huckleberries, or blueberries, which in places are so abundant
that the ground is tinged with their soft blue colour. They
are ripe and fit to eat from August until October, when
176 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
they are softened by the frosts. Either raw or stewed they
are equally good, and though liked by all they are par-
ticularly appreciated by the camper who has the good luck
to find himself in a good " patch." These, and a few
"wild pears" {ajnelanchiej-') and cranberries, constitute the wild
fruit supplies. It will easily be seen that, with the exception
of perhaps meat, everything needed for food must be carried.
All supplies can be obtained either in St. John's or at
Curling, Bay of Islands. The quality is generally good and
the prices fair (with the exception of coffee, with which I
have had no luck). It is scarcely necessary to give a list of
food, for this is not a *' how to camp " chapter, but rather an
account of the conditions to be met with, and which are more
or less peculiar to the island. It might be well to note that
if you are ordering food supplies, the men drink tea on every
available occasion. Never do they miss a chance of " boiling
a pot." If nothing else in the outfit is handy and getatable,
the kettle is sure to be in a conspicuous place. The men
expect you to supply them with tobacco and feel much
aggrieved if it is not forthcoming.
On the subject of boats a few words may not be amiss.
Fifteen years ago, canoes were practically unknown in
Newfoundland, dories and " river boats " were the only kinds
used. Lately, however, the Canadian canoe has come into
fashion and many of the guides have them. Unfortunately,
these men, most of them rough fishermen, accustomed to
heavy, stiff boats, are somewhat awkward in the light
canoe, and handle it clumsily. This is all very well
in still water, but in rapid rivers and rough lakes skill
is necessary to ensure safety. The canoes are the light
canvas-covered models without keels, as a rule, and have no
serious objection to capsizing if given a reasonable excuse.
The man who is accustomed to their ways never gives them
Mending our canoe with Caribou skins. Only by this method were we able to make the
return journey down one of the rough rivers.
The canoe in tlie water with its sheathing of Caribou skins
CAMPING 177
the excuse, but the tyro often does. Then, again, these men
scarcely reaHse how dehcate a canoe is, and that it must
receive good care or it soon becomes useless. Pulling them
over rough stones or snags should be avoided, and they
should always be turned bottom up at nights and never left
in the water where a floating log may be driven against them
with disastrous results. I merely mention these points
because I have seen several instances in which accidents have
occurred through failure to take proper precautions. A good
eighteen-foot canoe should carry two men and about two-
hundred-and-flfty or three hundred pounds of outfit without
difficulty, except in very rough water. Some of the wider
models will carry much more, but, of course, will not paddle
so easily. For a long trip the dory is usually employed. It
is a heavy, ungainly, flat-bottom boat, but has wonderful
carrying capacity and may be knocked about with compara-
tive impunity. They seem to have a failing towards leaking
which does not add very materially to one's comfort.
Observance in this direction before startiitg may prove
useful, a little calking and pitch will save no end of
discomfort.
An article which will be found of use in the early part
of the shooting season is " liquid smoke," for with it
meat may be " smoked " very quickly and with scarcely
any trouble. The shooting season opens for Caribou on
August I St (why I do not know, as the stags are still in
the velvet and the horns are therefore useless as trophies),
and the weather at that time is likely to be quite warm,
so that meat will not keep long unless preserved in some
way. Salted venison is not good, but the meat when lightly
smoked is very palatable. Fish may also be treated in the
same way.
This chapter would not be complete without allusion to
the painful subject of insect pests. I wish I could honestly
178 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
avoid it, but it would not be quite fair if I failed to warn the
prospective visitor to the land of Caribou that he will be
pretty sure to encounter both black flies and mosquitoes in
objectionable quantities. Sand flies also will be found near
the sea coast and on some of the rivers and lakes. The
season for the black flies begins in June, and lasts with fair
certainty till September, and frequently on warm days until
well into October. I have been nearly driven mad by these
pests at times when the ground was covered with ice and
snow. The black fly fortunately confines his operations to
the hours of daylight, but the mosquito takes the next watch
with full vigour, even though he also likes to annoy poor
man while the sun still shines. His season is shorter than
that of the black fly, and he is seldom troublesome after
August. The sand fly holds forth mostly during the early
mornings and late evenings during the summer, and though
very small in point of size he makes up for it by causing
great annoyance. The question is, what should be done to
protect oneself from these pests ? A mosquito net of fine
mesh is essential if you would sleep in comfort, but during
the day-time when one wants to shoot, fish, paint, or merely
lie in comfort, a remedy is indeed difficult to find. In point
of efficiency there is nothing like the black oil of Stockholm
tar. It is disgusting stuff^ to use, but it gives peace. Some
of the prettier preparations of citronella and pennyroyal are
not so objectionable, but then they do not do their work so
well. Head nets keep out the flies, or keep them in if they are
not properly adjusted ; they are hot and bothersome contriv-
ances in many ways, and are by no means an unmixed blessing.
The hands may be protected by gloves, if you do not mind
wearing them, but they are only valuable if made long enough
to cover the wrist, for that is where the worst bites are
received.
CAMPING 179
This brings us, I think, to the end of the subject. If I
have forgotten to mention anything of importance the reader
must forgive me, and even though such omission may
exist, it is to be hoped the hints and suggestions will prove of
some value. I must also crave forgiveness if I seem to have
dwelt too much on the less pleasant aspects of camping, but
it is by guarding against discomforts that one's pleasure may
be made most complete, for the delights of camping in the
island will speak for themselves and demand no precautions.
In bringing this volume to a close, I can but hope that
the reader will have taken the material it contains in the
spirit in which it is offered, and even though its many short-
comings will have been noticed, it will perhaps stimulate an
interest in the wild creatures of Newfoundland ; and I
sincerely trust that the reader, should he ever visit the
island, will enjoy as much as I have the numerous delights
which it has to offer.
N 2
i8o
THE GAME LAWS OF NEWFOUNDLAND.
CARIBOU OR DEER.
Sec. 3. — No person shall hunt, kill or pursue with intent to kill, any Moose
or Elk within this Colony, at any time before the ist day of January, 19 12.
Maximum penalty $200 or three months' imprisonment.
6. — No person shall hunt, kill or pursue with intent to kill, any Caribou
from the ist day of February to the 31st day of July in any year, both days
inclusive, or from the ist day of October to the 20th day of October in any
year, both days inclusive.
7. — No person other than a licensee under this Act shall, during the time
by this Act allowed for killing Caribou, kill or take more than two stag and one
doe Caribou in any one year.
10. — No person not actually domiciled in this Colony shall hunt, kill or
pursue with intent to kill, in any season any Caribou without having first
procured a license tor the season, nor shall more than one license be granted in
any one year to any one person.
II. — Such licenses to hunt Caribou shall only be issued by a Stipendiary
Magistrate, a Justice of the Peace, or the Department of Marine and Fisheries.
A fee of $1 for each license shall be paid to the person issuing same.
13. — Any person not domiciled in this Colony shall be entitled to hunt,
kill and pursue with intent to kill. Caribou on taking out a license, for which a
fee of $,^0 shall be paid, and such license shall entitle the holder thereof to kill
not more than three stag Caribou. Licenses may be issued to Officers of His
Majesty's Ships of War employed on this station for the Fisheries Protection
without payment of any fee upon application to the Minister of Marine and
Fisheries.
14. — Licenses shall be issued to all guides by any of the persons named in
Section i i,but the fee of $1 in the said section mentioned shall not be charged.
Every non-domiciled guide shall pay for such license a fee of $50. Every
applicant for such license shall make oath or affirmation that he will use his best
endeavours to have the provisions of this Act carried out, and that whenever
any breach thereof may occur he shall forthwith report the same to the nearest
Magistrate, Justice of the Peace or Warden, with a view of prosecuting the
offender to conviction.
1 5. — No person holding a license to hunt, kill or pursue Caribou shall
employ as a guide, valet, or personal servant, labourer or bearer in a hunting
expedition any person who has not obtained a license under the next preceding
section.
GAME LAWS i8i
1 6. — Any person obtaining a license to hunt, kill or pursue Caribou shall
make oath or affirmation before the person granting the said license that he will
not violate or permit the violation of any portion of this Act.
17. — No person holding a license to hunt Caribou shall kill or take more
stag Caribou than the number indicated by his license, and no member of a
hunting expedition, whether a guide, bearer or labourer, or otherwise in the
employ ot the holder of such license, shall kill any Caribou other than under
the said license, and as a part ot the number indicated therein.
18.— It shall be the duty of the holder of a license to hunt, kill or pursue
Caribou to return his license at the expiration thereof to the Magistrate or other
person authorised to issue the same with a statement thereon in writing under
oath or affirmation specifying the number of Caribou killed by him and his
party under the said license.
19.— Save as provided in this Act, no person shall export the antlers, heads
or skins of any Caribou, nor shall the owner, master, officers or crew of any
vessel permit the exportation therein of any such antlers, head or skin, or any
part thereof, save as provided and under a permit of a Customs officer.
Penalty $500 or six months' imprisonment.
20. — If any master, owner, or officer, or any one of the crew of any vessel
shall be convicted of a violation ot the last preceding section, he shall, upon
such conviction, be liable for every such offence to a penalty of $500 or six
months' imprisonment, and such penalty shall constitute a claim against the said
vessel, and become a lien thereon, and may be collected and enforced by the
seizure, confiscation and sale of the said vessel, despite any change of registry or
ownership between the date of the offence and the seizure of the vessel.
21. — Any person holding a license to hunt, kill or pursue Caribou under
this Act may export the carcasses, antlers, head or any part of any Caribou killed
under the said license, upon entering the same at the Custom House for
exportation and receiving a permit therefor. Such person shall make oath or
affirmation, specifying the articles which he intends to export, and that the same
are portions of Caribou killed under license held by him, and stating the name
of the person from whom he obtained the said license, and the date thereof, and
that the articles about to be exported are not being exported as articles of
commerce, and he shall thereupon pay a fee of 50 cents to the officer of
Customs before whom such export entry is made, which fee the said officer is
hereby authorised to retain. Such affidavit or affirmation shall be forwarded to
the Department of Marine and Fisheries.
22. — No person holding a license to hunt, kill or pursue Caribou under
this Act shall export from this Colony the carcasses, heads, or antlers of more
than three stag Caribou.
23. — Any person not holding a license to hunt, kill or pursue Caribou, but
who is domiciled in this Colony, may export the antlers, heads or skins of
Caribou upon entering the same for exportation at a Customs House in the
Colony, and receiving a special permit therefor. Such permit shall not be
granted except upon an afficiavit made before the Customs officer to whom
application for a permit is macie, stating the name of the owner of the articles to
1 82 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
be exported, their destination, and the person from whom and place where
obtained, and that the same are not being exported as an article of commerce.
Such affidavit shall be transmitted by the officer of Customs to the Department
of Marine and Fisheries.
24. — Any person who shall put up the flesh of Caribou in cans or tins or
other packages shall be liable to a penalty not exceeding two hundred dollars, or,
in default thereof, to imprisonment for any period not exceeding three months.
25. — Any flesh of Caribou found put up in cans, tins or other packages
may be seized, and may be destroyed by the order of a Justice of the Peace.
26. — It shall not be lawful for any person to purchase, or to receive in
exchange, from any other person, any venison or any portion of the flesh of
Caribou, at any time between the ist day of January and the 31st day of July
in any year, and any person ofl^ending against the provisions of this section shall
be liable to a penalty not exceeding two hundred dollars, or, in default, to
imprisonment for any period not exceeding three months.
27. — If any Customs officer is informed or becomes aware that any antlers,
heads or skins of Caribou are being exported except by a person who has
complied with the provisions of this Act in all respects, it shall be the duty of
such officer to seize the said antlers, heads or skins, or any portion thereof, and
to make complaint before a Stipendiary iVIagistrate or Justice of the Peace that
a violation of this Act has been committed.
28-29. — All persons are prohibited from setting any snare, trap or pit for
the destruction or capture of, or killing or pursuing with intent to kill any
Caribou : —
[a) With dogs ; or
(i?) With hatchet, tomahawk, spear, machine, contrivance or weapon, other
than firearms loaded with ball or bullet ; or
(f) While swimming or crossing any pond, lake, stream, river or
watercourse.
No person is allowed to hunt or kill Caribou within the area as hereafter
described, that is to say : —
Commencing one-and-a-half miles south of Grand Lake Station, on the
shores of the lake, to a point at the same distance from the railway at Howley ;
thence to Goose Brook, one-and-a-half miles from the railway line ; thence east
to the railway line near Kitty's Brook Falls ; thence northwardly six-and-a-half
miles ; thence to a point at Junction Brook, three miles north of Grand Lake
Station ; and thence southwardly along the course of the brook and shore ot the
lake to the place of commencement.
All fines and penalties under this Act shall be sued for and recovered in a
summary manner on information or complaint before a Justice of the Peace by
any person who shall inform and sue for the same ; and one-halt of all fines and
forfeitures imposed shall be awarded to such complainant who shall prosecute
the offender to conviction.
Any person who shall violate any section of this Act for which no penalty
is herein provided shall be liable to a fine not exceeding $200, and in default ot
payment to imprisonment for any period not exceeding six months.
GAME LAWS 183
BIRDS AND WILD RABBIT OR HARE.
No person shall hunt, kill, purchase or have In his possession any ptarmigan
or willow-grouse, commonly called partridge, or the eggs of any such birds
within this Colony between the 15th day of December and the 20th day of
September in any year under a penalty of not exceeding one hundred dollars, or
imprisonment not exceeding three months. Provided it shall not be held
unlawful to sell, etc., or have possession of such birds where the party shall
prove that the said birds were killed between the 20th day of September and
the 1 5th day ot December in any year.
It shall be unlawful for any person to export from this Colony for sale as
an article of commerce, any willow or other grouse or partridge, under a penalty
of five dollars for each bird so exported.
No person shall hunt, etc., sell, purchase or have in his possession any
curlew, plover, snipe or other wild or migratory birds (except wild geese) or
eggs of any such birds within the Colony between the 1 5th day of December
and the 20th day of September in each year, under a penalty of not less than
$25 nor exceeding $100, or, in defeult of payment, of imprisonment not
exceeding three months.
No person shall trap or snare any wild Rabbit or Hare between the ist day
of March and the 20th day of September in any year under a penalty of not less
than $25 and not exceeding $100, or imprisonment not exceeding three months.
Any person except a traveller on a journey found on Sunday carrying
firearms, shall be subject to a fine not exceeding forty dollars, and in default of
payment, to imprisonment for a period not exceeding one month.
Any person, except a traveller on a journey, found on the shooting grounds
carrying firearms with or without dogs between the 15th day of December and
the 1st day of October, where such game is known to frequent shall be subject
to a fine not exceeding fitty dollars, and in default of payment, to imprisonment
for a period not exceeding one month.
No person shall hunt, kill, wound, take, sell, barter, purchase, receive or
give away, or have in his possession, any Capercailzie or Black Game, or the
eggs of any such birds within this Colony, at any time from the 12th day of
October, 1907, to the 12th day of October, 191 7, under a penalty not exceeding
one hundred dollars and costs, and in default of payment, to imprisonment not
exceeding two months.
The following description of the birds is published for general information :
The Capercailzie Cock is a large bird weighing from seven to twelve pounds, of
dark blue plumage, but white trom the crown downwards and with white spots
on the upper wing coverts. The Black Cock, which is larger than the Partridge,
is also of dark blue plumage, with white feathers under the tail and wings.
The hens of both species are colour of the local Partridge in early summer
— a light brown.
Nothing contained in these Rules and Regulations shall extend to any poor
settler who shall kill any birds (except those prohibited for a term of years from
being killed) for his immediate consumption or that of his family.
1 84 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
OTTERS, BEAVERS AND FOXES.
No person shall hunt beavers or export beaver skins till October ist, 1913.
No person shall, in any year, take, kill, wound or destroy any otter or
beaver between the ist day of April and the ist day of October, under a penalty
of $25 or imprisonment not exceeding one month.
Any person who shall purchase, receive or have in his possession any skin
or carcass of a beaver killed or taken in violation of the law, shall be liable to a
penalty for a first offence, not exceeding $200, or in default, imprisonment not
exceeding two months ; and for a second offence shall be imprisoned for six
months with hard labour.
Possession of a carcass or skin of a beaver shall \)& prima fade evidence of a
violation of this Act.
No person shall hunt foxes from March 15th to October 15th in any year.
TROUT AND SALMON.
No person shall catch, kill, capture or take any salmon, trout or inland
water fishes in any river, stream, brook, pond, lake or estuary in Newfoundland
by any other means except rod, hook and line.
No person shall by spearing, sweeping or hauling with any net or seine,
take or attempt to take any salmon, trout or inland water fish, and the use of
lime, explosives or other deleterious compounds for killing or catching fish
of any description is prohibited.
In every mill-dam, rack or framework erected or built across any pond,
lake, river, brook or stream where salmon and trout have been known to enter,
there shall be put a proper pass-way or fish-ladder not less than four feet in
width, capable of allowing salmon or trout of any size to. enter the waters above.
Any logs or timber of any description which may be so placed as to impede the
passage of salmon or trout in a river or stream shall be instantly removed, and
no sawdust or mill rubbish of any kind shall be cast into any pond, lake, river,
brook, stream or watercourse.
No person shall catch, kill or take any salmon or trout in any river, brook,
stream, pond or lake in this Colony between the 15th September and the
1 5th January next following in any year.
No person shall buy or sell or have in possession any salmon or trout
which have been taken contrary to these rules, and every salmon or trout so
taken may be forfeited to the complainant by any Justice.
No person not being a resident of this Colony or its dependencies or not
having a fixed place of domicile therein shall take or fish for any salmon, sea-
trout, ouananiche, trout or charr, or any fish inhabiting or resorting to the inland
waters or estuaries of this Island or its Dependencies, unless such person shall
first have taken out and obtained an Inland Fishery License. Provided, never-
theless, that this section shall not apply to officers of His Majesty's ships upon
service on or visiting this station.
GAME LAWS 185
The conditions on which the said license is granted shall be : —
(a) That the licensee shall in all respects conform to the laws of this
Colony, and especially to the Statutes and the Rules and Regulations of the
Board having reference to the taking of fish in inlanci waters, and shall do all in
his power to prevent the infraction of such laws, rules and regulations, and to
promote the protection of the Inland Fisheries ; {l>) That he shall pay to the
Board or its authorised Agent the sum of $io as a fee for saici license; (c) Upon
proot to the satisfaction of the Board that such licensee has been guilty of any
violation of the law the Board may declare the said license to be cancelled, and
the said licensee is thenceforth deprived of all rights and privileges under
the same.
FIRE PATROL REGULATIONS.
The Government has appointed a Chief Woods Ranger and Fire Wardens
for the better protection of the game forests. His duties are, in part : —
(i) To periodically travel over all woodlands, whether belonging to the
Crown or private owners under lease from the Crown.
(2) To trace the origin of every woods fire and fully report same to the
Government.
(3) To act in the capacity ot an officer for the enforcement of the game
laws of the Colony.
(4) To see that the following notice is conspicuously displayed : — " Camp-
fires must be totally extinguished before breaking camp, under penalty of not to
exceed twelve months' imprisonment or $400 fine, as provided by law."
The Government of Newfoundland having leased to the Anglo-Newfound-
land Development Company certain land and water areas situate in the districts
adjoining Red Indian and Victoria Lakes, tourists and sportsmen will please
note that, before entering upon the lands of the Anglo-Newfoundland
Development Company — whose lands extend along the line of railway from
Grand Falls to Gaff Topsails (Summit), inclusive — it will be necessary to first
take out a permit, which can be obtained by applying to the Company's head-
quarters at Grand Falls. It is also required by the terms of the contract
arranged with the Government, that " Every tourist or party of tourists shall be
required to employ one at least of guides or fire wardens employed by the
Anglo-Newfoundland Development Company, as guide at the usual fees when
entering on the lands of the said Company."
CUSTOMS REGULATIONS.
When Tourists, Anglers and Sportsmen arriving in this Colony bring with
them Cameras, Bicycles, Angler's Outfits, Trouting Gear, Firearms and
Ammunition, Tents, Canoes, and Implements, they shall be admitted under the
following conditions : —
1 86 NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU
A deposit equal to the duty shall be taken on such articles as Cameras,
Bicycles, Trouting Poles, Firearms, Tents, Canoes, and Tent equipage. A
receipt (No. i) according to the form attached shall be given for the deposit
and the particulars of the articles shall be noted in the receipt as well as in the
marginal cheques. Receipt No. 2, if taken at an outport office shall be mailed
at once, directed to the Assistant Collector, St. John's, if taken in St. John's the
Receipt No. 2 shall be sent to the Landing Surveyor.
Upon the departure from the Colony of the Tourist, Angler or Sportsman,
he may obtain a refund of the deposit by presenting the articles at the Port of
Exit and having them compared with the receipt. The Examining Officer shall
initial on the receipt the result of his examination and upon its correctness being
ascertained the refund may be made.
No groceries, canned goods, wines, spirits or provisions of any kind will be
admitted free and no deposit for a refund may be taken upon such articles.
INDEX.
Abitibi, 49
Alaska, Caribou of, 5, 137, 139 ;
Illustrations, 143, 145
Alder, The, 30, 160
Algonquins, The. See Indians, Beo-
thic.
Aluminium cooking utensils, 174, 175
America, North, Caribou of, 139
American Museum of Natural His-
tory, 4
Anglo - Newfoundland Development
Company, i 8 5
Antelope, The African, 104, 141
Arctic Islands, Caribou of the, 139
Aurora Borealis, 41
" Badminton Magazine," Mr.
Prichard's article quoted, 134, 135
Bake apples, 175
Barren Ground Caribou, 122, 137;
horns, 133 ; group of Caribou in-
cluded in, 139 ; illustrations of,
140—143, 145, 146
Bears, Black, in Newfoundland, 18,
157 ; Polar, 38 ; shooting of, 1 16 ;
Kadiak, 137 ; as food, 175
Beavers, food of, 31 ; habits, 45 ;
Game Laws regarding, 158, 184
Bedding for camping out, 1 73
Belle Isle, Straits of, 10, 11, 74, 148
Bicycles, Customs Regulations re-
garding, 185, 186
Birches, Silver, 30, 161
Birds in Newfoundland, Game Laws
regarding, 183, 184
Black Game, 183
Blinds, 89, 94, 106, 1 10
Blueberries, 175, 176
Boats, 176, 177
Bogs, 32, T,s, 36, 162—64
Breton, Cape, 149, 152
Bristol, 149
British Columbia, Caribou of, 136,
139, 145
Browse, 30
Cabot, John, 21, 149, 150
Cabot Strait, 149
Camera, The, as a recorder of facts,
4, 5 ; advantages over the rifle, 91,
102, 103 ; Customs Regulations,
185, 186
" Camera Adventures in the African
Wilds," 4 note
Camping out in Newfoundland, re-
strictions, 79 ; outfit for, 163 — 72 ;
selection of ground, 166, 167 ;
choice of a guide, 167 — 69 ; the
cook, 169 ; bedding, 173 ; laws
concerning camp fires, 185
Canada, 139
Canoe, The Canadian, 176, 177
Canoes, Customs Regulations regard-
ing, 185, 186
Capercailzie, 183
Caribou, The Newfoundland —
Killing of, primitive methods, 9,
I o ; number of, 11, 12; deriva-
tion of name, 13 ; measurement,
13, 14; weight, 14; colouring,
14, 15, 24, 25, 37, 63, 64; feet
of the, 15, 16, 34 — 36 ; horns, 16,
I7> 20, 23, 24, 37, 62, 63 ; his
four periods of life, 17 — 42 ; habits
of the doe, 17—19, 100 ; the fi
awn.
19, 20 ; coat, 20, 21, 33, 34;
the throat glands, 25 ; the southerly
i88
INDEX
Caribou, The Newfoundland — cont.
migration, 27 — 41 ; sight, 29 ;
food, 30, Ziy 38, 39 ; swimming
powers, 36, 37 ; the mating, or
rutting season, 43 — 72, 115; fights
between master stags, 46, 47, 60 —
62 ; 65 — 71 ; methods of signal-
ling, 89, 90 ; keenness of scent,
104, 106, 113; curiosity, 114;
meat of, 114, 115, 182; age, 124,
125 ; distribution of, map showing,
138 ; individuality, 147 ; shooting
of. Game Laws regulating, 180 — 82 ;
laws against export of, 181, 182
Cartier, 21
Cassiar Mountains, 136, 145
Cat, Wild, 157
Cheewink, 122
Chief Woods Ranger, duties, 185
Citronella, 178
Cod Fishery, The, 149 — 152
Columbus, 149
Cook Inlet, 139, 140
Cooking utensils, 174, 175
Corduroy, use of, 172
Cox, Mr. Whitaker, 6
Cranberries, 176
Curlew, The, i 83
Curling, 176
Customs Regulations, 185, 186
Deer, Virginian or White-tailed, 21,
36, 130
Does, Barren, as leaders, 27, 28, 2,2,,
44, 87, 118; keenness of scent,
28, 29, 52, Si, Sl> 58, 82, 113,
170 ; horns, 37, 42, 64, i^—iS \
habits, 100
Dog-wood, 160
Dory, The, 176, 177
Ducks, 159 ; black, 175
Elizabeth, Queen, 150
Elk, 180
EUesmere Island, 139
Exploits River, 112, 153
Exportation of antlers, heads, or
skins, laws against, 181, 182
Fences, primitive, for catching Cari-
bou, 9, 10
Fire Patrol Regulations, 185
Fire Weed, 159, 160
Fire-arms and ammunition. Customs
Regulations concerning, 185, 186
P'ires, Camp, laws regulating, 185
Firs, 30, 1 60
Fish of Newfoundland, 149 — 52
Fishing, Laws regulating, 116, 117 ;
licences, 184, 185
Flies, Black, 18, 75, 172, 178 ; gad-
flies, 18, 19 ; sand, 178
Florida, Quail of, I22
"Forest Life in Acadie," Hardy, 11,
157
Fort Chimo, 141
Foxes, 157, 158 ; Game Laws re-
garding, 184
Fruits, Wild, 175, 176
Gad-flies, 18, 19
Gaff-topsail, 27, 185
Game and Fisheries Board, 6
Game Laws of Newfoundland —
Birds, Wild Rabbit and Hare, 183,
184
Caribou or Deer, 180 — 82
Otters, Beavers and Foxes, 184
Salmon and Trout, 184, 185
Mentioned^ 79, 109, 115, 116
Gander River, 112, 153
" Gaze," 106, 107, 1 10
Gazelle, The African, 141
Gilbert, Sir Humphrey, 150
Giraffe, The, 141
" Glitter," 40, 74
Gloves, 172
Goose Brook, i 82
Goose, The Canada, 159, 175 ; Wild,
183
Grand Falls, 185
INDEX
189
Grand Lake, 6, 27, 45, 77, 78, 112,
117, 153, 182
Grant, Mr. Madison, Article ot, cited,
6, 125 ; illustrations from, 128,
134, 136— 141, 143, .145
Greenland, Caribou ot, 139, 143,
146
Guides, Methods of, 105, 107, 109,
112, 115 ; licences, 118, 180
Gulf Stream, influence, 74, 156, 157
Hardy, Captain C, " Forest Life
m
Acad
le.
1 1,
157
24,
en-
Hares, 159, 175 ; Game Laws re-
garding, 183, 184 ; Northern, feet
of, 34 ; colour, 38
Harlequin, The, 159
Harmsvvorth, Messrs., 156
Harry's Mountain, 1 1 2
Henry VII., 149
Hornadav, Dr., 6
Horns of the Caribou —
Rubbing off the velvet, 23,
62, 63 ; discarding the, 37 ;
tangled in fighting, 60 — 62 ; colour,
63, 64, 144, 145 ; variation in,
difference as evidence of species,
123, 124 ; age determined by, 124,
125 ; size, 126 — 33 ; photo-
graphing of, 130 ; number of
points, 133 ; the Newfoundland
doe, 133 — 2)^ ; size diminishing,
137 ; laws against export of, 181,
182
Howley, Mr. J. P., 6, 9, 12, 27, 117,
182
Huckleberries, 175, 176
Humber River, 153, 155
Hunting Caribou, methods, 39, 40
Huntress, Mr., 6
Ice Storms, 40
Idaho, 139
Indians, Beothic, 9, 22, 152, 153 ;
Micmac, 153
Insect Pests, 18 — 20, 75, 177 — 79
Ireland, 149 ; bogs of, 32
Islands, Bay of, 155, 176
James, King, 151
Jay, The Canada, 85, 86
Johnstone, Mr. J. W. N., 6
Junction Brook, 182
Juniper, 30, 63, i6x
Kadiak. Bear, 137
Kalmia, 160
Kenai Peninsula, 137
Kitty's Brook Falls, 117, 182
Labrador, 148 ; Caribou of, ii^ 74,
75. 122, 134, 135, 142, 157
Larch, 63
Licences, 1 80
Lichens, 11, 30,^38, 39, 159
" Liquid smoke," 177
Lynx, 18, 34, 157
McGrath, Mr. P. T., 6, 150—52
Mackintoshes, 172
Maine, 139
Manitoba, 139
Maple, 30, 31, 161
Massachusetts, Quail of, 122
McUhew, Cabot's ship, 149
Micmac Indians, 153
Migration of Caribou —
Times, 27, 41, 77, 78 ; mating
during, 47, 48 ; reason for, 73 — 77 ;
path of, 78, 79 ; habits during,
79 — lOI
Millais, Mr. J. G., " Newfoundland
and Its Untrodden Ways " quoted,
6, II, 12, 14, 16, 17, 25 note,
78, 79, 1 10, 112 ; head shot by,
illustration, 123, 124
Millbanke, Governor, 152
Mink, 159
Moose, discovery, 21 ; habits, 31, 32,
36, 100, 114 ; weight, 35 ; Game
Laws regarding, 180
190
INDEX
Morris, Sir E. P., 5
Mosquitoes, 18, 19, 178
Mosses, 32, 38, 39, 67, 159, 161
Moulton, Mr., 12
Mountain ash, 160
Mountain Caribou, 134 — 37, 146
Musk-ox, 38
Musk-rat, 158, 159
Myrtle, 31
" New Isle," 151
New Jersey, 159
New York, 150, 159
New York Zoological Park, 6 ;
National collection of Heads and
Horns, 131, 142
Newfoundland, Caribou of, 8— 11,
139, 146 ; Summer in, 17, 18 ;
rivers of, 30, 31, 153—56, 165,
166 ; bogs, 2Si 36 ; formation of,
74, 75> 153 ; the railway, 117,
152; the reserve, 117, 118, 128;
Game Laws of, 1 1 7, 1 1 8, 1 80 — 86 ;
geographical position, 148, 149 ;
cod fishery of, 149 — 52 ; restrictions
against colonists, 151, 152 ; original
inhabitants, 152, 153 ; farms, 156 ;
temperature, 156, 157 ; animal life,
157 — 59 ; flora, 159 — 61 ; woods,
161, 162, 164, 165; lakes, 165,
166 ; weather, 166, 167
Newfoundlander, The, 169
North Pole, 171
North Sydney, 152
Norway, fiords of, 155
Nova Scotia, 149, 153
Old Harry, 77
Old Man's Beard, 39, 161
Opossums, 159
Osborn's Caribou, 130, 135, 136, 145
Otters, 159; Game Laws regarding,
184
Outfit for camping out, 170 — 72 ;
Customs Regulations regarding,
185, 186
Palliser, Governor, 153
Partridge, 183
"Pears (wild)," 176
Peary Caribou, 142
Peary, Lieutenant, 171
Pennell, Mr., 6
Pennyroyal, 178
Piduateh, 25 note
Pigeons, tame, 103
Pigeonwood, 160
Pine, 160
Pitcher Plant, 160
Plover, 183
Pools, "bottomless," 32
Poplars, 30, 161
Porcupines, 159
Port-aux-Basques, 152, 154
Prichard, Mr. H. Hesketh,'."6 ;
" Caribou of Labrador and Eastern
Canada," quoted, 134, 135 ; photo-
graphs lent by, 120, 127, 132, 135,
142, 145
Ptarmigan, 159, 175, 183
Pulp mills, I 56, 160
Quail, the American, 122
Quebec, Caribou of, 135, 145
Rabbit, Wild, Game Laws regard-
ing, 183, 184
Raccoons, 159
Raspberries, 175
Rats, Musk, 158, 159
Red Indian Lake, 128, 185
Reid Company, of Newfoundland,
Reid, Sir Robert G., 152
Reindeer, habits, 18, 19 ; feet of,
34, 35 ; the Siberian, 143
Rhinoceros, Black, 99
Richardson, Sir John, quoted, 13
Roberval, 2 1
Rocky Mountains, Caribou of the,
139
Roosevelt, the ship, 171
INDEX
191
St. John's, 148, 150, 152, 157 note,
176
St. Lawrence, Gulf of, 148
Salmon, Game Laws regarding, 184,
185
Sandy Lake, 47, 77, 78
Sandy River, 45—47, 84, 97, 99> 1 1?
Scotland, Stags of, 12
Selous, Mr. F. C, 6 ; " Hunting
Trips in North America," quoted,
108, 109; head shot by, illustration,
126, 129 ; on hornless does, 135,
Seton, Ernest Thompson, " Life His-
tories of Northern Animals," 6, 7,
21, 34, iS^ 138
Shoe Hill, 25 note
Shooting of Caribou —
Primitive methods of
kill
i"g.
10 ; numbers killed, 11, i;
9.
an
incident, 78, 79 ; rifle and camera
compared, 94, 95, 102 — 4 ; in
water, forbidden, 109, 182 ; time
for, 1 14 — 17
Siberia, Caribou of, 139, 145 ; Rein-
deer of, 143
Snipe, 183
Snow-shovel or brow-antler, 68, 130
Spatter-dock, 3 1
Spitzbergen, 139
Spruce, 30, 67, 160, 165
Squires, Mr., 6
Squirrels, 159
Stag, The Newfoundland —
Keenness of scent, 28, 29, 59 ; his
band of does, 49, 50 ; fights be-
tween master stags, 46, 47, 60 — 62,
65 — 71 ; habits during the rutting
season, 58
Stalking of Caribou, 1 10, 113
Stone's Caribou, 5, 137, 140, 146
Storms in Newfoundland, 40, 73
Stoves for camping, 175
Tamarack, 30, 63, 160
Tar, Stockholm, 178
Tents tor camping out, 173, 174 ;
Customs Regulations regarding,
185, 186
Terra Nova, i 53
" Toler," The, 25 note
Trapping, 157, 158
Trout, 166 ; Game Laws regarding,
184, 185
Trouting gear, Customs Regulations
regarding, 185, 186
Upper Gander River, 124
Usnea, 39, 161
Venison, salted, 177
Viburnums, 30, 31, 160
Victoria Lake, i 85
Virginia or white-tailed deer, 21, 36,
130
Waldegrave, Governor, 152
Wapiti, The, 21
Water-lily, 31, 32
Weasel, 38
Whitbourne, Captain Richard, " A
Discourse and Discovery of New-
foundland," 151
White Bear Bay, 12
Willow, 30
Willow Grouse, 183
Wolves, 18, 37, 104, 157
Woodland Caribou, 13, 122, 134 —
Z(^, 139, 145. 146
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