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i-Z  D 


02  <; 


FOPvEST  LIFE   TN  AOADTE. 


SKETCHES   OF  SPORT  AND   NATURAL   HISTORY 

IN  THE  LOWER   PROVINCES   OF  THE 

CANADIAN   DOMINION. 


r.v  CAPTAIN    CAMPPKLL    HARDY. 

ROYAL   ARTILLERY 

AUTUUR   OF    "SPOBTIMO  ADVKNTURKS  IN  THE  NEW   WORLD." 


View  on  Gold  River,  N  8. 


LONDON: 
CHAPMAN  &  HALL,  193,  PICCADILLY. 

1869. 

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


;  >.' 


C/  O  cv*  5  «>    J 


PREFACE. 


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

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

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

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


vi  •     ^      PREFACE. 

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

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

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


■m- 


^.r?"*!.; 


il 


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^ 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 


THE  MARITIME  PHOVINCES 


PAOIB 
1 


CHAPTER  II. 


>       THE  FORESTS  OP  AOADIE 


.        23 


CHAPTER   III. 

THE  ALCINE  DEER  OF  THE  OLD  AND  THE  NEW  WORLDS 


45 


CHAPTER  IV. 


MOOSE   HUNTING 


.        84 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  AMERICAN  REINDEER 


.      120 


CHAPTER  VI. 


CARIBOO  HUNTING 


135 


CHAPTER  VII. 


LAKE  DWELLERS      . 


»  • 


164 


VI"  CONTENTS. 


OAVE   LODOERS 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

i>A(ii>: 
11)1 


CHAPTER  IX. 

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

CHAPTER  X. 

NOTES   ON  NEWFOUNDLAND 201 

CHAPTER  XI. 

CAMPINO  OUT 2a3 

CHAPTER  XII. 

THE   PROGRESS  OF   THE   SEASONS 307 


APPENDIX. 

NOCTURNAL   LIFE  OF  ANIMALS   IN   THE   FOREST  .  .  .336 

ACCLIMATISATION   IN  AOADIE 344 

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


VJ 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS. 


•  • 


SALMO  FONTINATJS  (OOLOURED). 

VIEW  ON  GOLD  RIVER,   N.S. 

THE  LUMnERKR's  CAMP  IN  WINTER 

ELMS  IN  AN  INTERVALE 

MOOSE   RIDINO-nOWN  A  TREE 

MOOSE-CALLINO  RY   NIOHT 

HOPNS  OF  THE  CARIBOO 

ON  THE  BARRENS     . 

BEAVER-DAM  ON  THE  TOBIADUC  . 

MUSQUODOBOIT  HARBOUR 

THE  PABINBAU  PALLS,   RIVER  NEPISIOUIT 

THE   (!RAN/)   FALLS,    NEPIHIOUIT 


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

».  72 

105 
128 
155 
173 
»  227 

244 
254 


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FOEEST  LIFE  IN  ACADIE. 


CHAPTEK  I. 

THE  MARITIME   PROVLXCES. 

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

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

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

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

-atotTvcnlftrf-"-"-^^^^ 

3ent  provinces  or;ors::r^:r£r- 1  ^'^- 

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


8  FOREST  LIFE  IN  ACADIE. 

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

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

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

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

Soona-Kaddy  (Sunacadie).     Place  of  cranberries. 

Kata-Kaddy.     Eel-ground. 

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

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

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

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


THE  MARITIME  PROVINCES.  8 

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

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

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

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

B    2 


FOREST  LIFE  IN  ACADIE. 


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


ft 
I 
J 


■"■rf 


THE  MARITIME   PROVINCES.  6 

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

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

Although    the   country  is  most   uneven,   sometimes 


6  FOREST  LIFE  IN  ACADIE. 

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

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

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

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


THE   MARITIME  PROVINCES. 


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

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


8  FOREST   LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 

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

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


THE  MARITIME  PROVINCES. 


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

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


10 


FOREST  LIFE  IN  ACADIE. 


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

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

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


THE  MARITIME  PROVINCES. 


11 


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

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

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


It 


FOltKST   F.II-'E   IN   ACADIK. 


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

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

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

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


THE  MARITIME  PUOVINCES. 


13 


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

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


14 


FOREST  LIFE  IN  ACADIB. 


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

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

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


THE   MAIIITIMK   PROVINCES. 


i:» 


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

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


16 


F0RE8T  LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 


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


THE   iMARlTLME   PROVINCES. 


17 


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

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

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


18 


FOREST  LIFE  IN   ACADIE. 


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

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

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

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


THE  MARITIME   PROVINCES. 


19 


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


80  FOREST  LIFE   IN  ACADIE. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


■.* 


M 


m 


,;<  THE   ^rAIUTTME    PROVINCES.  21 

'iii- 

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

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


82 


FOREST  LIFE  IN   ACADIE. 


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

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


I 


CHAPTER  11. 


THE   FORESTS   OF   ACADIE. 

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

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

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


S4 


FOREST   LIFE   IN   ACADIF. 


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

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

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


^ 


•Tf 


■ii 


THK    I'OURSTS  OF   ACADIK. 


86 


■"is 

$ 

■*i 
:■€ 


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

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


1 


I 


20  FOllEST    LIKK    L\   ACAIJIK. 

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

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

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

There   is  a  beauty  peculiar  to  this  interesting  order 


THE   FORESTS  OF  ACADIR.  87 

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

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


-^ 


2N 


FoltKST   LIKK   IN    ACADIK. 


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


1 


^ 


TIIK    UMHKKKHS    (AMP    IN    WINTKR 


Ill; 


THE  FORESTS  OF  ACADIE.  29 

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

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

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

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


J  30  FOREST  LIFE  IN   ACADIE. 

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

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

i'  trade  the  hare  twisted  limbs  which  abruptly  terminate 

(  the  column. 

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

I    .  winter  the  sluggish  porcupine,  whose  presence  aloft  is 

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

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

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

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


■'f. 


THE  FORESTS  OF  ACADIE.  3T 

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

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

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

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

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

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


38  FOREST  LIFE   IN  ACADIE. 

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

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

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

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

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


THE  FORESTS  OF  ACADIE. 


33 


:| 


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

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

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


84  FOREST  LIFE  IN   ACADIE. 

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

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

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


■'ff 


f 


THE  FORESTS  OF  ACADIE.  35 

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

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

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

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

T)   2 


36 


FOREST  LIFE  IN  ACADIE. 


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

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

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

The  silver  fir  is  remarkaljle  for  the  horizontal  regularity 


THE  FORESTS    OF  ACADIE.  87 

of  its  branches,  and  the  general  exact  conical  formation 

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

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

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

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

^      tude   of    interlaced   sprays   which    are,   every   summer, 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

which  he  now  takes  the  opportunity  to  build  in  prospect 

of  the  winter's  campaign. 

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

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


i ' 

I    pi 

I' 


38  FOREST  LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 

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

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

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

These  American  birches  are  a  beautiful  family  of  trees, 


THE  FORESTS  OF  ACADIE. 


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

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

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


40  FOREST    LIFE    IN    At!AUIK. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

North  American  winter  in  the  backwoods;  logs,  such  as 

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

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

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

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

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

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

ji;  round  the  dwelling  from  the  fangs  of  gigantic  stumps 

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

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

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

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

and  the  whirr  of  whose  circular  saw  disturbs  only  the 

wild  animals  of  the  surrounding  woods. 

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


THE  FORESTS  OF  ACADIE. 


41 


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

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


h 


42  FOREST   LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 

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

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

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


1 


THE  FORESTS  OF  ACADIE. 


43 


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

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

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

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


m 


f 


1 1 


1 1  • 
I  . 


44  FOREST  LIFE  IN   ACADIE. 

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

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

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

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


I 


KLM^S    1\    AN    INTKKVALE. 


fi; 


:'l 


I' 


ti.il  ^r 


J 


» 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE   ALCINE   DEER   OF   THE   OLD   AND    THE    NEW    WORLDS. 


THE  MOOSE. 

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

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

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


t.  ', 

''il 


ni,  I 


if: 


'■■'■' 


40  FOREST  LIFE  IN   ACAD  IE. 

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

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

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

The  other  noticeable  peculiarities  of  the  elk  are  the 


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

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

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


THE  ALCINE  DEER  OF  THE  OLD  AND  NEW  WORLDS.     47 

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

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


( 


.   i 

i  :       [ 

I,        I  48  FOREST  LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 

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

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

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

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

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

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


|i 


ii,' 


Si  w  THE  PAST  HISTORY  OF  THE  ELK. 

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


i 


I 


THE  ALCINE  DEEIl  OF  THE  OLD  AND  NEW  WORLDS.    49 

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


50  FOREST  LIFE  IN  ACADIE. 

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

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


J 


1 

i 


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


i 


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

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

,/a  "  ^ 

I       The  only  recorded  instance  of  its  occurrence  in  England 

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

^     recent. 

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

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


M 


I 


1. 1 


52  FOREST  LIFE   IN  ACADIE. 

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

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

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

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

Siberia  in  the  breccias  of  Sardinia  and  Corsica." 

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


111 


t 

I" 


■(IH 


tij 


TIIK  ALOINE  DEER  OF  THE  OLD  AND  NEW  WORLDS.    03 

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

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


i': 


64  FOREST  LIFE  IN  ACADIE. 


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

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

Zenobia. 

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


li 

il 

!   i 
III 


■'■'I  i 


THE  ALCINE  DEER  OF  THE  OLD  AND  NEW  WORLDS.    55 

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

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


';■ 


I 


iji 


i,;i 
;ili 


5G  FOREST  LIFE   IN  ACADIE. 


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

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

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


THE  ALCINE  DEER  OF  THE  OLD  AND  NEW  WORLDS.     57 

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


RECENT  NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  THE  SPECIES. 

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

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


ij' 


I  Ji 


58  FOREST   LIFE  IN  ACADIE. 

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


■A- 


THE  ALCINE  DEER  OF  THE  OLD  AND  NEW  WORLDS.    59 

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

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

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


(i- 


I 


.  :ll 


'  I 


f 


60  FOREST  LIFE  IN  AC^\    lE. 

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

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

jii,  forest  southwards  from  the  northern  limit  of  the  growth 

of  trees. 

The  North  American  forest  has  its  most  arctic  cxten- 

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

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


THE  ALCINE  DEER  OF  THE  OLD  AND  NEW  WORLDS.    01 


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

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


02  FOREST  LIFE  IN  ACADIE. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

|y  ments   of  the  Swedish  elks  at  Sandringham  compared 

tl  with  living  specimens  of  moose  of  the  same  age  examined 

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


liii! 


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


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

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


m 


lyji 


n 


ill 


64  FOREST  LIFE  IN  ACADIE. 

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

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

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

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


Ill 


THE  ALCINE  DEER  OF  THE  OLD  AND  NEW  WORLDS.     65 


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

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


I 


FORKHT    LIKE   IN   AC'ADIK. 


I  1 


»n   ; 


( 


.'I 


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

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


THK  ALCINR  DKEIl  OF  TIIK  OLD  AND  NEW  WORLDS.    67 

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

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

F   2 


!i, 


!i|  G8  FOREST  LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

J  calling,  on  an  elevated  ridge  which  overlooked  a  great 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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


:M 


70  FOREST  LIFE   IN  ACADIE. 

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

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


THE  ALCINE  DEER  OF  THE  OLD  AND  NEW  WORLDS,    71 

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

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


72 


FOREST   LIFE   IN  ACADIE. 


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

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

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


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

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

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

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


74  FOREST  LIFK   IN   ACADIE. 

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

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


THE  ALCFNE  DEEIl  OF  THE  OLD  AND  NEW  WORLDS.     TS 

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

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

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

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

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


70  FOREST  LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 

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

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


THE  ALCINK  UEER  OF  THE  OLD  AND  NEW  WOULDS.     77 

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

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


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


W' 


1.0 


I.I 


ill     1112.5 


IIIIIM  iijzj^ 

IM    III  2.0 


1.8 


1.25 

1.4 

1.6 

-^ 6"     

v] 


m^ 


^ 


el 


/. 


/A 


PhotograDhic 


w 


> 


78  FOREST   LIFE   IN   ACADIE, 

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

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

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


1    ■     ■ 

i   f 

• 

|i 

1'; 

1' 

;^|- 

;>j' 

.'■;  1' 

,'B' 

THE  ALCINE  DEER  OF  THE  OLD  AND  NEW  WORLDS.     79 

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

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

rumination.  :''; 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


1'      V 

i  '         '1 

f    ^ 

•   (1 

*/'■' 

I'        ' 

L'EEeI 

80  FOREST  LIFE  IN   ACADIE. 

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

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


m 

11 

THE  ALCINE  DEER  OF  THE  OLD  AND  NEAV  WORLDS.     81 

m 

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


'i  ,1.. 


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

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

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

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

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

M 

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

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

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

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

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

omeroinsj  from  the  water,  reuained  the  shelter  of  the 

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

Indians  have  a  tradition  that  the  moose  originally  came 

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

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

in  the  Nova  Scotian  woods,  they  resorted  to  the  salt 

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

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

first  moose  that  had  been  seen  since  their  return  ;  that 

great  were  the  rejoicings  of  the  Indians  on  the  occasion, 

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

had  seen  them  swimming  for  shore  from  open  water  in 

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

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

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

Such  tales  are  evidently  intimately  connected  with  the 

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

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

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

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

Naturalist." 

:  I- 


-I 


82  FOREST   LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 

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


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


l!    1' 


ii-O 


r'ii 


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

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

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

moisture    of    the    American    wilderness,    rcmovinii;   the  !■ 

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

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

the  Struthiones  of  New  Zealand,  which  have  perished  %■ 

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


■■*! 


CHAPTEK  IV. 

MOOSE    HUNTING. 

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

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


Ill 

111!*  .'  ;' 


:\IOOSE   HUNT  I  NO.  •  8.') 


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

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

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

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

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

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

disappearing  from  the  country.  ;: 

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

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

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


f' 


fin  FOREST   LIFE   IN   ACAD  IE. 

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

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

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

Perhaps  one  of  the  most  singular  of  the  experiences 


tr:l 

1 

vffli 

'•'1 

1 

/, 

'^■■m 

MOUSE   HUNTING.  87 

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

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

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

'  • »' 

if'! 

Kir 


■f 


■   W^ 


sa  FOREST  LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 

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

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

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


MOOSE  HUNTING.  8!) 


I, 
1  r 


luiiitrr  will  never  leave  you  in  the  woods  in   distress ; 

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

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

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

now  introduce  the  rciider  to  the  sport  of  moose  hunting. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

■>••■    ?'<' 

:  ,  M 

.4  !    If 

•■:.  :'; 


90  FOREST   LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 

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

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

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

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

yet." 

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

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


m 

.<h 


MOOSE  HUNTING. 


01 


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

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

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

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


*;  . 


§ 


1-' 


ft 


t 


Ei  * 

■'i||;: 


92  FOREST  LIFE  IN  ACADIE. 

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

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

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

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

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

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


'F'  Dl  1 
'  li  H ! 


MOOSE  HUNTING.  9;i 


i^  I'. 


i 


<;' 


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

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

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

nor  were  its  contents  arranged  in  a  very  orderly  manner 

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

absence  of  the  lady.     Portions  of  moose  were  strewed 

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

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

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

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

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

idea  of  the  ornamental,  for  parts  of  the  Illustrated  Nctvs 

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

puitures  of  saints  and  martyrs.  % 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


I' 


i>: 


04 


FOllEST   LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 


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

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

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

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


MOOSE   HUNTING.  1)5 

Joe  commenced,  a  scries  of  illustrative  yarns,  showing  the 

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

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

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

violent  pains  attack  them  shortly  after  passing  the  rock, 

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

diately  recovered.  'i^' 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


t 

%■ 


It'.' 


1  96  FOREST   LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 


i 


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

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


jk 


MOOSE   HUNTING.  97 

■         ^f 

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

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

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

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

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

contained  in  my  recent  garments,  suspended  from  the 

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

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

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

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

di'ops. 

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

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

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

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

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

overgrowing  and  concealing  their  sharp  broken  limbs  and  N^ 

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

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

scanned  for   miles  around,  whilst  the   numerous  small  r 

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

ment  from  the  quick  sight  of  this  animal      However,  It 

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

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

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

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

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

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

.  1  ft.-.' 

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

"  "I'--' 

'  ■  w'- 

n. 


'^i  I. 


08  FOREST   LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 

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

6  gloomily  threw  myself  back  on  the  blanket  for  another 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

if  barren  going  southward ;    however,   we  try  the  tracks 

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

'!  the  smell  of  the  fire." 

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

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

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

out snapping,  and  we  progressed  rapidly  and  noiselessly 

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

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

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

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

had  been  feeding  as  they  passed.    The  tracks  showed  that 


^! 


MOOSE   HUNTING.  00 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

H  2  1;:; 

% 


r 


100  FOREST   LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

r  game — particularly  so  when  siiniiounted  by  twisted  roots 

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

j5  "with  antlers. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

we  not  a  little  nearer — such  open  country  !  " 

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

moving   his   head,  which  was   surmounted   by  massive 

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

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

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

success  on  our  part  was  partly  attributable  to  the  sudden- 


/>•■,■ 


MOOSK    [lUNTINO.  lOl  .  ; 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

into  the  swamp,  we  creep  noiselessly  through  the  dense  * 

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

is  off.  IV 

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

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

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


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


I-.'. 


102  FOIIKST   LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 

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

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

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

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


MOOSE-CALLING.  10.1 

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

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

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

.         i 


MOOSE-CALLING. 


Few  wliite  hunters  have  succeeded  in  obtaining  the  ;|. 

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

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

As  has  been  stated  before,  September  is  the  first  month 

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

October.  ts 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


104  FOREST   LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 

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

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

hunter  through  a  trumpet  made  of  birch  bark  rolled  up 

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

deceit  is  generally  attempted  by  moonlight,   or  in  the 

early  morning  in  the  twilight  preceding  sunrise — seldom 

after.     Secreting  himself  behind  a  sheltering  clump  of 

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

favourable  night   in  September  or  October,   when  the 

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

foliage,  the  hunter  utters  the  plaintive  call  to  allure  the 

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

«•  and  strange  sound  reverberates  through  the  country;  and 

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

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

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

assumes  the  attitude  of  intense  listening.     Perhaps  there 

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

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

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

through  the  woods.      Presently  a   low   grunt,   quickly 

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

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

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

for  some  moments.      The   hunter,  now  doubly  carefui, 

knowing  that  his  voice  is  criticised  by  the  exquisite  ear 

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


■   .i 


A 


I 


1! 


i 


I 

%' 


Ml 


7  I 


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


K 


o 

'A 
t-i 
11 

a 
m 
O 

O 


* 

'§ 


MOOSE-CALLING.  105 


I 
"^1 


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

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

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

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

branches  are  resmned,  and  presently  the  moose  stalks 

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

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

flash  and  report  from  Ijchind  the  little  clump  of  concealing 

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

mosses  which  carpet  the  plains.  : 

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

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

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

anxious  suspense  with  which  the  hunter  regards  the  last  •■ 

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

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

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

eflect  on  the  imagination,  both  when  experienced  and  in  t 

memory. 

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

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

attribute  of  native  hunters  in  every  wild  country  where  ; 

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

to  attain  their  object  by  imitation  of  their  voices. 


v.- 

It 


t'i' 


106  FOREST   LIFE   IN   ACADIK. 

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

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

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

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


!i 


MOOSE-CALLING.  107  '? 


stiff  witli  cold  and  from  lying  so  long  and  motionless  in 

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

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

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

in 

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

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

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

have  crossed  the  barren  or  the  forest  intervening  betwixt  Ij: 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the  same  time  from  different  parts  of  the  surrounding 

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

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

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

cannot  be  induced  to  come  out  boldly,  though  they  do 

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

edge  of  the  woods  very  quietly.  ^; 

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

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

you  have  only  to  approach  him  when  with  his  partner  in 

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

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

With  mad  fury  he  leaves  his  mate  and  crashes  through  ■ 

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

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

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


108  FOREST   LIFE   IN  ACADIE. 


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

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

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

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

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


MOOSE-CALLING.  10!) 


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

homespun  of  the  country,  an  almost  colourless  material, 

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

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

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

Thus  accoutred,  we  marched  through  the  forest  in  file, 

laying  down  our  bundles  now  and  then  to  folbnv  recent  ^ 

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

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

O  O  .,.1 

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

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

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

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

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

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

sign  of  coming  rain ;  and  their  melancholy  predictions  . , 

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

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


it 


no  FOREST  LIFE  IN    ACADIE. 

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

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

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


I 

MOOSE-CALLINQ.  Ill  t 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

beeches.     Sometimes  a  maple   was  wholly  painted  with  ; 

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

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

greenness.  '^\ 

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

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

leaves  of  the  myriea  growing  with  the  former  slirult  in 

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

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

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

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

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

with  which  they  were  strung.     Gradually  warmed  by 

the  rays  of  the  sun  when,  overcoming  the  surrounding 

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

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

morning  resolving  itself  into  one  of  those  glorious  days  • 

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

light  seems  to  bring  out  colours  on  objects  which  you 

wouhl  never  see  at  other  times;  when  all  nature  seems 

brightened  up  by  the  peculiar  state  of  the  atmosphere ; 

when  the  trees  seem  more  beautiful,  rocks  more  shapely, 

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

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

feelings  are  in  unison  with  all  around.  f-, 


112  FOREST  LIFE   IN    A.CADIE. 

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

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

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

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

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


if!  m 


MOOSE-CALLINQ.  113  & 


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

moment.     We  now  travelled  witli  great   caution ;    any  I 

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

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

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

pearance  by  the  Indian,  who  would  innnediately  apply  jj' 

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

moose  Widking  throunjh  tlie  woods.     At  last  the  forest  > 

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

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

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

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

seeing,  on  crossing  the  stagnant  brook  which  separated  it  : 

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

and  taken  to  the  barren. 

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

CD 

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

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

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


t 


114  FOREST   LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 

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

>•["  y    .  hear  that  ?     Listen." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


MOOSE-CALLING.  115 

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

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

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

I  2 


116  FOREST   LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 

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


iMOOSE-CALLTNG.  117 


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

of  our  noble  bull.  I 

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

difficulty  raised  tlie  ponderous  head  from  the  bushes,  to  i 

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

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

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


118  FOREST   LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 

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

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

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

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


MOOSE-CALLINQ.  1  lo 

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


CHAPTER  V. 

THE   AMERICAN   REINDEER. 

THE  CARIBOO. 

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

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

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


THE  AMERICAN    REINDEER.  121 

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

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

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


k 


' 


122  FOREST   LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 

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

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

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


THE  AMERICAN   REINDEER.  123 

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

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

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

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


124 


FOREST   LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 


Rocky   Mountains,   passes   into  the  American  tenitoiy 
of  Alaska. 

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

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

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


THE   AMERICAN   REINDEER.  125 

appciiniuce  must  bring  starvation  and  a  corresponding 
progress  towards  extinction. 

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


1 

1,' 

1 

1  : 

1  ■' 

120  FOREST  LIFE  IN   ACADIK 

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

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

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

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


TTTE  AMERICAN   REINDEKR. 


127 


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

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

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

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


1'^ 


5 


5! 


ill 


186  FOREST   LIFE   IN   Af'ADIE. 

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

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

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

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


UOKXS    01''    TlIK    CAUllJdO. 

1.  The  ordiiiiiiy  CiiiuKliau  typu. 

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


I 


I  I 


& 


/ 


THE  AMERICAN   REINDEER. 


129 


,1 


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

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


i 


I 


130 


FOREST  LIFE  IN  ACADIE. 


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

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

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


THE  AMERICAN   REINDEER.  131 

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

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

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

roche    (Sticla   pulmonaria)    and    other   jxirasitic   lichens  ' 

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

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

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

Scotia,  I  have  observed  the  snow  quite  trodden  down  | 

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

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

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

same  locality  I  have  observed  such  frequent  scratchings  li 

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

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

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

by  the  mast.  f 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

with  an  unconquerable  desire  to  change  its  residence.  i 

K   2 


132 


FOREST  LIFE  IN   ACADIE. 


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

O 

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


THE   AMERICAN   REINDEER.  133 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

unbroken   ranges   of    wild    country   in    which    he    can  r 

uninterruptedly  indulge  his  vagrant  habits.    Being  more-  ', 

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

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

periodic  migration  are  encroached  upon  and  broken  by  j\ 

new  settlements  and  their  connectinr^  roads.  i 

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

thev   occasionallv    exceed     and    enter    the   settlements.  '■• 

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

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

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


134  FOREST  LIFE  IN  ACADIE. 

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


CHAPTER  VI. 

CARIBOO    HUNTING.  j 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


136 


FOREST  LIFE   IN  ACADTE. 


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

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

When  brought  up  to  the  game  in  the  forest,  thei-e  is 
also  some  difficulty  in  realising  the  presence  of  the 
caril)oo.  At  all  times  of  the  year  its  colour  is  so  similar 
to  the  pervading  hues  of  the  woods,  that  the  animal, 
when  in  repose,  is  exceedingly  difficult  of  detection  :  in 
winter,  especially,  when  standing  amongst  the  snow- 
da})pled  stems  of  mixed  spruce  and  birch  woods,  they  are 
so  hard  to  see,  and  their  light  gray  hue  renders  the  judg- 
ing of  distance  and  aim  so  uncertain,  that  many  escape 
the  hunter's  bullet  at  distances,  and  under  circumstances, 
which  should  otherwise  admit  of  no  excuse  for  a  miss. 

And  now  let  us  proceed  to  our  hunting  gr<jund. 

The  first  light  snow  had  just  fallen  after  two  or  three 


CARIBOO  IIUNTINO.  1:37 

piort'ingly  cold  and  frosty  days  towards  the  close  of 
Novembor,  when  our  party,  consisting  of  ua  two  and  our 
attendant  Indian,  tlie  faithful  John  Williams,  (than 
whom  a  more  artful  hunter  or  more;  agrceahle  companion 
in  camp  never  stepped  in  mocassin)  arrived  at  the  little 
town  of  Windsor,  at  the  head  of  the  l)asin  of  j\linas, 
whence  embarking  in  a  small  schooner,  wc  W(H-e  to  cross 
to  the  opposite  side  to  hunt  the  cariboo  in  the  iicighbcnu- 
hood  of  Parsboro'.  I'he  distance  across  was  but  a  matter 
of  thirty  miles  or  so,  and  with  light  hearts  we  step})c(l  on 
board,  and  stowed  our  camping  apparatus,  bags  of  pro- 
visions, l)lank('ts  and  rifles  in  the  hold  of  the  "Jack 
Easy,"  when  presently  the  rai)i(lly  ebbing  tide  bore  us  [ 

swiftly  down  the  course   of  the  Avon   into   the    dark-  f 

coloured  waters  of  the  arm  of  the  Bay  of  Fundy.  i 

Tlu;  first  part  of  the  voyage  was  pleasant  enough  ;  a  ' 

lio;ht  thouuh  freshening  brecjic  from  the  eastward  filled  i 

the  sails  ;  and  we  swe})t  on  with  the  surging  tide  of  i-cd  I 

mud  and  water  past  the  OT*''^t  dark  headland  of  IMomidon  : 

with  its  snow-streaked  furrows  and  crown  of  evergreen  ' 

forest,   enjoying  both  our  pipes  and  the   [)rospect,  and  '^ 

recalling  the  various  interesting  traditions  of  this  famed 
location  of  the  old  Acadians  whose  memory  has  been  so  .1 

beautifully  perpetuat(;d  by  Longfellow.     lUit  on  leaving  I 

the  cape  and  standing  across  the    open  bay,  we  soon  ,; 

encountered  a  rouglier  state  of  affairs.     The  dai'k  nmrky  • 

clouds  now  commenced  discharging  a  heavy  fall  of  danij) 
snow,  which  froze  upon  everything  as  soon  as  it  fell, 
rendering  the  process  of  reefing,  which  had  become  neces-  il 

sary  from  the  increasing  breeze,  very  difficult  of  accom-  ^ 

plishment.     The  sheets  were  coated  with  a  film  of  ice,  j 

and  frozen  stiffly  in  the  blocks,  and  the  deck  became  so  I 


138 


FOREST  LIFE  IN  ACADIE. 


,1 
'!' 

i 

i 

t 

I 

'} 


wet  and  slippery  that  wc  "wcrc  glad  to  retire  below  into 
the  close  little  caltin.  We  had  cniburkcd  at  .sunset,  as 
the  tide  did  not  suit  until  then,  and  not  even  a  small 
schooner  of  the  dimensions  of  the  "Jack  Easy"  can  leave 
the  Windsor  river  until  the  impetuous  tide  of  this  curious 
Lay  swee}»s  up,  and,  rising  to  the  heiglit  of  forty  f(?et, 
bears  up  all  the  craft  around  the  wharves  from  their  soft 
repose  in  the  red  mud.  It  was  now  dark,  and  the  storm 
increased  ;  the  wind,  being  against  tide,  raised  a  tumul- 
tuous sea.  Presently  there  were  two  or  tliree  vivid  fla.sh(\s 
of  lightning,  followed  by  increased  violence  of  the  wind 
and  dense  driving  hail,  and  the  little  schocmer  lay  heavily 
over.  We,  the  passengers,  were  huddled  together  in  a 
cabin  so  small  that  it  was  with  difficulty  Ave  could  keep 
our  knees  from  teaching  the  stove  round  which  we 
crowded.  Everyone  smoked,  of  cour.se,  and  the  strong 
black  tobacco  of  the  settlers  vied  with  the  ru.shes  of 
smoke,  driven  by  the  wind  down  the  stove-pipe,  in  pro- 
ducing in  the  den  a  state  of  atmosphere  threatening 
speedy  suffocation,  and  we  were  glad  to  grope  our  way 
into  the  dark  hold  and  seek  an  asylum  among.st  the  tub.s, 
barrels,  and  potato  sacks  which  were  rolling  about  in 
great  uneasiness.  At  last  it  was  over  :  a  quieter  state  of 
atiair.^',,  a  great  deal  of  stamping  and  .slipping  on  d(;ck, 
and,  finally,  the  long  rattle  of  the  cable,  told  us  we  were 
anchored  off  Parslioro' — a  fact  which  was  corroborated 
by  the  captain  opening  the  hat('h  and  lowering  him- 
self amongst  us,  one  mass  of  ice  and  snow  ;  his  clothes 
rattled  and  grated  as  he  moved  as  though  they  were 
constructed  of  board.  There  was  no  shore  bed  for  our 
aching  bones  that  night ;  the  tide  did  not  suit  to  reach 
the  wharf,  the  village  was  a  mile  and  a  half  away,  and 


CAUinOO  IIITNTINO.  139 

tlin  nlglit  was  still  stormy,  so  we  again  sought  soft  s|)ot3 
on  the  inexorable  benches  aroiuid  tlic  stove  in  our  den. 

"  Hurrah,  John  ! "  said  I,  as  we  followed  the  Indian 
up  tlu!  ladder,  and  emerged  into  the  eold  morning  air ; 
"  here's  snow  enough  in  all  conscience — ^just  the  thing  for 
our  hunting — step  out  now  for  the  village^,  and  let's  tiy 
and  scare  up  a  breakfast  somewhere." 

It  was  still  snowing  heavily,  and  the  countiy  looked 
as  wintry  as  it  could  do  even  in  North  America.  In  the 
distance  appeared  the  little  white?  wooden  houses  and 
church  of  the  village,  and  l)eliind  them  rose  up  the  great 
grey  form  of  the  (*obe(pud  Hills.  The  brisk  walk 
through  the  snow  soon  recalled  warmth  to  our  benumbed 
frames,  and,  the  village  inn  once  reached,  it  was  not 
long  ere  the  ample  breakfast  of  ham  and  eggs  and  pijta- 
tocs,  pickles  and  cheese,  cold  s(piasli-pie,  and  strong  black 
tea,  was  arranged  before  us. 

"  Will  the  Indian  make  out  with  you,  gents  ?  "  asked 
the  exceedingly  pretty  innkeeper's  daugliter.  AVe  all 
glan(;;cd  at  John,  who  laughed  as  he  anticipated  our 
reply. 

"  Oh,  of  course,  yes  ;  we  are  all  on  the  same  footing 
this  morning,  we  gue.ss.  Come  on,  John,  sit  up  and  give 
us  some  ham." 

The  landlord — who  aftcctcd  to  be  a  bit  of  a  sportsman, 
of  course — told  us  there  were  lots  of  cariboo  back  in  the 
hills,  and  some  moose,  which  he  reckoned  would  bo  the 
great  object  of  our  hunting;  for,  in  this  part  of  'Nova 
Scotia,  the  moose  has  oidy  recently  mad(^  his  appearance, 
and  the  settlers  look  upon  him  as  fiir  nobler  game  than 
the  common  cariboo.     Presently  a  sleigh  with  a  stout  \ 

pony  appeared  for  us  at  the  door,  and,  loading  it  with 


ItO  FOREST   IJFK    IN  ACADTE. 

our  l)agg;io;o,  we  left  to  tlic  tuno  of  a  ponl  of  mony  bells 
which  the  pony  (^JiiTicd  attm:)  d  to  (litlrrciit  parts  of  tho 
1  Kin  loss. 

Our  roiul  lay  throui^di  a  valley,  skirted  Ity  the  lofty 
wooded  sloj)es   of   the    ColxMpiids.     These   hills  are   the 
J  jijreat  stronghold  of  the   carihoo,  aiul  his  last  resort  in 

i  Nova  Scotia  ;  they  extend  through   the   isthmus  whirh 

'  connects  the  province  with  that  of  New  lirunswick,  and 

I  are  covered  with  large  hard-wood   forests   of  sugar  and 

,  white  maple,  hirch,  and  beech.     On  their  l)roa<l  tops  and 

sides  tlu^  carihoo  has  an  unl)roken  raniic  of  more  than  a 
\  hundred  miles,  and   their  eastern  sj»urs,  descending  into 

f  a  tlat  district  of  dense  fir  forests,  with  numerous  chains 

•  of  lakes,  offer  secure  retreats  in  the  breeding  season. 

!  The  country  was  new  to   us,  and  its  features  novel : 

I  the  evergreen  forest,  so  (;hara(;teristic  of  the  greater  jwr- 

i  tion  of  the  province,  here  almost  entindy  gave  way  to 

!  hard-woods,  narrow  lines  of  hemlock  or  s})ruce  springing 

i  up  from  some  deep  gorge  on  the  mountain  side,  here  and 

there  showinji;  their  dark  summits,  and  coursing  like 
veins  through  the  great  i-oUiug  si'a  of  ma])les.  The  latter 
part  of  the  stonn  had  l)een  unaccompanied  by  wind,  and 
the  snow  lay  in  heavy  masses  on  the  trees,  giving  the 
forest  a  most  beautiful  aspect ;  it  covered  every  branch 
and  every  twig,  and  was  thickly  spattered  against  the 
stems,  and  all  the  complicated  tracery  of  the  denuded 
lu'anches  was  l)rought  to  noti<*e,  even  in  the;  deepest 
recesses,  by  the  white  pencil  of  the  snow-storm.  In  the 
fir  forest  the  effect  of  nc^wly-fallen  snow  is  very  fine  also, 
but  the  very  masses  which  cover  the  broad  and  retentive 
bi'anches  of  the  evergreens  and  clog  the  younger  trees 
until  they  seem  like  solid  cones  of  snow,  hinder  and 


lV_!. 


CARIliCH)   IIUNTINQ.  Ml 

cli()k(5  the  view  ;  wlicrciin  in  tlioso  lofty  hanl-woods, 
under  wliicli  j^rowM  nothintf  l>ut  slender  wiplin^H,  a  most 
extcnsivi!  glimpse,  of  tiieii"  furtliest  de[»ths  is  ol)t!iined, 
and  thousands  of  delicate  little  rami  ilea  t  ions,  Itofore  un- 
noticed, now  stand  (»nt  in  l»n)d  reliel"  in  the  gi-cy  olodm 
of  tlie  distance.  And  tiien,  when  tiie  storm  has  passed 
l)y,  and  that  ))eautifid  l»Iue  tint  of  a  wintry  sky,  coursed 
by  light  fleecy  scud,  succeeds  the  heavily  laden  cloud, 
how  i'X(|uisitely  tlu;  scene  lights  up!  what  a  soft  warm 
tint  is  thrown  upon  the  light-cok)ured  bark  of  the  ma[»les 
and  birclies,  and  upon  tlie  })roniinent  (h)ttings  and  lines 
of  snow  which  mark  their  forms,  and  how  lovely  is  that 
liglit  purple  sl)ad(!  "wliicli  continually  crosses  the  road, 
marking  the  shadcnvs  !  As  the  sun  increases  in  warmtli, 
or  a  passing  gust  of  Avind  (;ourses  through  the  trees, 
avahinches  of  snow  fall  in  sparkling  spray,  and  the  new 
snow  glitters  in  myriads  of  little  scintillations,  so  that 
the  eye  becomes  i)ained  by  the  intensity  of  brilliancy 
pervading  the  face  of  nature. 

We  stopi)ed  the  sleigh  opposite  a  group  of  Indian  bark 
wigwams,  which  stood  a  sliort  distance  from  the  road  ; 
the  noise  of  voices  and  curlini>'  wreaths  of  smok(>  from 
their  tops  proved  them  to  be  occupied,  and,  as  we  re- 
quired a  second  Indian  hunter,  particularly  one  who  was 
well  accpiainted  with  the  neighbourhood,  we  followed  the 
ti-ack  Avhich  led  u])  to  them,  and  entered  the  largest. 
The  head  of  the  f;.  '^y,  who  sat  upon  a  spread  cariboo- 
skin  of  gigantic  proportions,  was  one  of  the  finest  old 
Indians  I  ever  saw — one  of  the  last  living  models  of  a 
race  now  so  changed  in  physical  and  moral  develoi)mcnt 
that  it  may  be  fairly  said  to  be  extinct.  An  old  man  of 
nearly  eighty  winters  was  this  aged  chief,  yet  erect,  and 


142 


FOREST  J.IFE  IN   ACADIE. 


with  little  to  mark  liis  age  save  the  grizzly  hue  jiervading 
the  long  hair  wliieli  streamed  over  his  broad  shoulders, 
and  half  concealed  the  faded  epaulettes  of  red  scalloped 
cloth  and  l)ead-work.  A  necklace  of  l)eads  hung  round 
his  neck,  and,  suspended  from  it,  a  silver  crucifix  lay  on 
his  bare  expansive  chest.  His  voice,  as  he  welcomed  us, 
and  beckoned  us  to  the  post  of  honour  opposite  to  the 
fire  and  fuithest  from  the  door,  though  soft  and  melo- 
dious, was  deep-toned  and  most  impressive.  Williams, 
our  Indian,  greeted  and  was  greeted  enthusiastically ;  he 
had  found  an  old  friend,  the  protector  of  his  youth, 
in  whose  hunting  camps  he  had  learnt  all  his  science ; 
the  old  squaw,  too,  was  his  aunt,  whom  he  had  not  seen 
for  many  years. 

The  chief  was  engaged  in  dressing  fox-skins :  he  had 
shot  no  less  than  twenty-three  within  the  week  or  two 
preceding,  and  whilst  we  were  in  the  camp  a  couple  of 
traders  arrived,  and  treated  with  him  for  the  purchase  of 
the  whole,  offering  two  dollars  a-piece  for  the  red  foxes, 
and  five  or  six  for  the  silver  or  cross-fox,  of  whicli  there 
were  three  very  good  specimens  in  the  camp.  The  skin 
of  the  fox  is  used  for  sleigh  robes,  ca\)H,  and  trimmings. 
The  valual)le  black  fox  is  occasionally  shot  or  trapped  by 
the  Indians,  and  the  skin  sold,  according  to  condition 
and  season,  from  ten,  even  as  higli  as  twenty  pounds. 
The  coat  of  a  good  specimen  of  the  black  fox  in  winter 
is  of  a  beautiful  jet  black  colour,  the  hair  very  long,  soft, 
and  glossy  ;  and,  as  the  animal  runs  past  you  in  the  sun- 
shine on  the  pure  snow,  and  a  puff  of  wind  ruffles  the 
long  hair,  it  gleams  like  burnished  sib  er.  Ita])pears  that 
the  whole  of  the  black  fox-skins  are  exported  to  liussia, 
and  are  there  worn  by  the  nobility  round  the  neck,  or  as 


CARIBOO   HUNTING.  143 

collars  for  their  cloaks ;  the  nose  is  fastened  hy  a  clasp 
to  the  top  of  the  tail,  the  rest  of  which  hangs  down  in 
front. 

The  old  man  told  us  of  the  curious  method  he  used  in 
obtainino;  his  fox-skins.  He  would  ffo  off  alone  into  the 
moonlit  forest,  to  the  edge  of  some  little  barren,  which 
the  foxes  often  cross,  or  hunt  round  its  edo;es  at  niijht. 
Here  he  would  lie  down  and  wait  patiently  until  the 
dark  form  of  a  fox  appeared  in  the  open.  A  little  shrill 
squeak,  produced  by  the  lips  applied  to  the  thumbs  of 
the  closed  hands,  and  the  f(}x  would  at  once  gallop  up 
with  the  utmost  boldness,  and  meet  his  fate  through  the 
Indian's  gun. 

He  regretted  that  he  was  too  old  to  accompany  us 
himself,  but  advised  us  to  take  a  young  Indian  who  was 
at  that  time  encamped  on  the  ground  to  which  we  were 
proceeding ;  and  we  left  the  old  man's  camp,  and  re- 
sumed our  trudge  on  the  main  road,  after  seeing  him 
make  a  successful  bargain  for  his  fox-skins. 

That  afternoon  we  had  reached  our  destination  ;  the 
last  few  miles  of  the  road  had  been  more  and  more  wild 
and  uneven,  and  at  last  we  di'ew  up  before  a  tenement 
and  its  outbuildings  which  stood  on  the  brow  of  a  hill 
and  overlooked  a  wide  extent  of  country.  It  was  the 
house  of  the  last  settler,  and  tliose  great  undulating 
forests  before  us  were  to  be  the  arena  of  our  sport. 
Buckling  on  the  loads,  we  dismissed  the  sleigh,  and 
turned  at  once  into  their  depths. 

We  had  not  far  to  cany  our  loads,  for  the  Indian 
camp  was  erected  on  a  hard-wood  hill,  within  reach  of 
the  sounds  of  the  last  settler's  clearing.  This  we  found 
afterwards  to  be  a  great  comfort,  as  we  often  called  on 


144 


FOREST  LIFE   IN  ACADIE. 


I- 

i 


■;l 


.  i 


him  for  the  loan  of  liis  sleigh  and  trusty  yoke  of  oxon, 
and  drew  large  sup})lie.s  of  fiiie  mealy  potatoes  from  his 
cellar  ;  gr<?at  luxuries  they  are,  too,  and  valuable  addi- 
tions to  the  camp  fare,  though  they  often  liave  to  l)e 
omitted,  when  the  distance  of  tlie  hunting  country  from 
the  settler's  house  precludes  any  extra  weight  in  the 
apportioned  loads. 

Noel  Bonus,  the  owner  of  the  camp,  was  at  home,  just 
returned  from  his  hunting,  for  an  early  dinner,  and  to 
him  we  applied  direct  to  act  as  our  landlord  and  hunter. 
I  never  saw  a  dirtier  or  more  starved-looking  Indian  ; 
selfishness  and  cunning  were  plainly  stamped  on  his 
tawny  face,  which  was  topped  by  the  shaggiest  mass  of 
long  black  hair  conceivable  ;  he  seemed  irresolute  for 
some  moments  as  to  whether  he  should  admit  us,  and 
take  the  dollar  per  diem  and  his  share  of  the  meat,  or 
whether  he  should  continue  to  hunt  on  his  own  account, 
and  leave  us  to  shift  for  ourselves. 

We  did  not  urge  the  point,  for  we  had  a  first-rate 
hunter,  John  Williams,  with  us,  and  though  he  did  not 
know  tlie  country,  he  woidd  soon  master  that  difficulty  ; 
and,  as  to  a  camp,  we  had  all  the  recpiisite  appliances  for 
quickly  setting  up  on  our  own  ;t  'ount.  This  became 
ji'raduallv  evident  to  JNlaster  Noel,  who  at  last  motioned 
us  to  take  off  our  loads  and  come  in — a  i)roceeding 
wliich  we  politely  declined  doing  until  a  thorough  reno- 
vation and  cleansing  had  taken  place,  and  the  dirty 
bedding  of  dried  shrivelled  fir-boughs,  strewed  with 
bones  and  bits  of  hide  and  hoof,  had  been  swept  out 
and  ri^placed  l)y  fresh.  It  was  a  capital  camp,  strongly 
built,  and  (piite  rain-proof,  standing  on  a  well-tind)i'red 
hard-wood  hill,  the  stems  of  the  smaller  trees  afi'ording 


CARIBOO   HUNTING. 


146 


an  unlimited  supply  of  fuel ;    a  small  spring   trickled 
down  the  hill-side  close  by. 

As  we  unpacked  our  bundles  to  get  at  the  ammunition 
(for  we  were  determined  to  have  a  cruise  around  before 
dark),  Noel  told  us  that  he  had,  early  that  same  morning, 
missed  a  cariboo  not  more  than  a  mile  from  camp.     Wc 
started  in   different  directions,    I  with    Noel,    and   my 
comrade  with  the  older  hunter.     It  was  a  bright,  frosty 
afternoon,  very  calm,  and  the  beautiful  woods  still  re- 
tained their  oppressive  loads  of  heavy  snow,  rendering  it 
very  difficult  to  see  game  between  the  thickly-growing 
evergreens.     Noel  first  followed  a  line  of  marten  traps  of 
his   own  setting — little   dead-falls  occurring  eveiy  fifty 
yards  or  so  in  a  line  through  the  woods  for  nearly  a  mile. 
There  was  nothing  in  them,  though  I  saw  several  tracks 
of  marten  on  the  snow.     Fox-tracks,  and  those  of  the 
little   American    hare,   commonly   called  the  rabbit,  on 
which  the  fox  preys,  were  exceedingly  numerous,  and 
there  was  a  fair  sprinkling  of  the  other  tracks  which  are 
usually  found  on  the  snow  in  the  forest,  such  as  lucifee 
or  wild   cat,  porcupine,  partridge,  and  squirrel.      Pre- 
sently Noel  gave  a  satisfactory  grunt,  and  pointed  to  the 
surface  of  the  snow  ahead,  which  was  evidently  broken 
by  the  track  of  some  large  animal. 

"Fresh  track,  caliboo,*  thees  mornin',''  whispered  he, 
as  we  came  up  to  the  trail  of  two  cariboo,  which  had 
gone  down  wind,  and  in  the  direction  of  some  large 
barrens  which  Noel  said  lay  about  a  mile  away.  We 
might  yet  have  a  chance  by  daylight,  so  on  we  went 
pretty  briskly,  though  cautiously.  Noel  pointed  out 
several  times  small  pieces  which  had  been  bitten  off"  the 

*  The  Indians  pronounce  the  letter  r  as  1. 


14G 


FOREST   LIFE   IN  ACADIE. 


liclioiis  orowino;  on  tlic  stems  of  the  liavd-wood  trees,  of 
Avliieh  they  liad  taken  a  passing  moutlifnl.  Who  but  an 
Indian  eould  have  deteeted  such  minute  evidences  of  their 
actions  ?  There  was  no  douht  but  that  they  were  making 
for  the  barrens,  or  they  wouhl  have  stopped  at  these 
tempting  morsels  hmger,  and  here  and  there  perhaps 
deviated  from  the  line  of  march.  Probably  they  knew 
of  companions,  and  were  going  to  a  rendezvous,  or 
preferred  the  reindeer  moss  amongst  the  rocks  on  the 
barren. 

The  tall  forest  of  maples  and  birches  was  presently 
succeeded  by  a  dense  growth  of  evergreens,  which  be- 
came more  and  more  stunted  as  we  approached  the 
barren,  and  here  and  there  opened  out  into  moist  swampy 
bogs,  into  which  we  sank  ankle-deep  at  every  step  : 
finally,  we  brushed  through  the  thick  shrubbery,  drenched 
witli  the  snow  dislodgxMl  plentifully  over  us  eti  i^d^^^cint, 
and  stood  on  the  edge  of  a  most  extensive  barren. 

Such  a  scene  of  desolation  is  seldom  witnessed,  except 
in  these  great  burnt  and  di'uuded  wastes  of  the  North 
Ameiican  forest.  As  far  as  the  eye  could  reach  was  a 
wild  undulating  wilderness  of  rocks  and  stumps  ;  a  deep 
indigo-coloured  lull  showcxl  the  limits  of  the  barren,  and 
where  the  heavy  fir  forest  again  resumed  its  sway.  It 
appeared  to  be  some  ten  niiles  or  so  in  length,  and  to 
sloixi  from  us  in  a  gentle  declivity  towards  the  west- 
ward. The  average  breadth  might  be  four  or  five  miles. 
Little  thickets  and  groves  of  wood  dotted  it  in  all  direc- 
tions ;  sometimes  a  clump  of  spruce,  against  which  the 
white  stem  of  the  birch  stood  out  in  bold  relief ;  or,  at 
others,  a  patch  of  ghost-like  rampikes ;  whilst  the  brooks 
in  the  valleys  were  marked  by  fringing  thickets  of  alder. 


CARIBOO   HUNTING. 


147 


Boulders  of  rock  and  fallen  trees  were  strewed  over  the 
whole  surface  of  the  country  in  the  wildest  confusion ; 
and  the  dark,  snow-laden  sky  cast  a  shade  over  the 
scene,  investing  it  with  the  most  forbidding  and  gloomy 
appearance  imaginable. 

Carefully  scanning  the  surrounding  country,  and  not 
perceiving  any  signs  of  the  game,  we  proceeded  on  their 
tracks,  which  were  soon  increased  in  number  by  those  of 
three  otL  "  cariboo,  joining  in  from  the  southward.  They 
led  us  through  some  dense  thickets,  where  we  had  to 
proceed  with  the  greatest  caution,  there  being  no  wind, 
and  on  account  of  the  uncertainty  of  the  moment  or 
place  where  we  might  come  upon  them.  I  was  getting 
tired  of  the  whole  proceeding,  when,  as  we  were  crossinj?; 
an  open  spot  amongst  rocks  and  sparsely-growing  spruce 
clumps  of  about  our  own  height,  I  saw  Noel,  who  was 
ahead,  suddenly  stop,  with  his  hand  held  back,  and 
slowly  subside  in  the  snow,  which  proceedings  of  course 
1  followed,  without  question  as  to  the  cause  or  necessity. 

"  What  is  it,  Noel  ? "  said  I,  gaining  his  side  by  slowly 
worming  along  in  the  snow,  with  difficulty  keephig  the 
jnuzzle  of  my  rifle  above  the  surface. 

"  Cali1x)0  lying  down,"  he  replied.  "  You  no  see  them 
now  ?     Better  fire,  I  think." 

I  could  not  for  my  life  see  the  cariboo,  although  I 
looked  along  the  barrel  of  his  gun,  which  he  pointed  for 
me  in  the  right  direction.  They  are  most  difficult  ani- 
mals to  recognise  unless  moving,  being  so  "xceedingly 
similar  in  colour  to  the  rocks  and  general  features  of  the 
liarren,  that  oidy  the  eye  of  the  Indian  can  readily  detect 
them  when  lying  down.  Noel  had  at  once  seen  the  herd ; 
and  here  was  1,  unable  to  perceive  them  amongst  the 


L   2 


148  FOREST   LIFE   IN   ACA    .E. 

rocks  and  ])ushes,  though  pointed  to  tlio  exact  spot,  and 
knowing  that  they  were  little  more  than  one  hundred 
yards  distant.  At  last  I  saw  the  flapping  of  one  of  their 
ears,  and  gradually  the  whole  contour  of  the  recumbent 
animal  nearest  to  me  became  evident. 

I  now  did  a  very  foolish  thing,  and  was  determined  to 
have  my  shot  at  the  nearest  cariboo,  lying  down.  The 
animal  Avas  in  a  hollow,  deeply  bedded  in  the  snow,  so 
that  very  little  of  the  back  could  be  seen,  and  I  a'med  at 
the  lowest  part  visible  above  the  snow.  I  pulled — a  spirt 
of  snow  showed  that  the  dazzling  surface  had  deceived 
me,  and  the  bullet  ricochetted  harmlessly  over  the  back 
of  the  cariboo. 

Up  they  jumped,  five  of  them,  apparently  rising  from 
all  directions  around  us,  and,  after  a  brief  stare,  made  ofi" 
in  long  graceful  bounds.  I  at  once  seized  the  old  musket 
which  the  Indian  carried,  but  the  hammer  descended  on 
harmless  copper — the  cap  was  useless.  "  This  is  bad," 
thought  I  ;  for  I  hate  missing  the  first  shot  on  a  hunt- 
ing excursion,  particularly  with  game  to  which  one  is 
not  accustomed,  as  there  is  still  more  fear  of  becoming 
unsteady,  and  missing,  on  the  next  chance  presenting 
itself ;  and  I  watched  the  cariboo  with  longing  eyes,  and 
a  feeling  of  great  disappointment,  as  they  settled  down 
into  a  long,  swinging  trot,  and  wound  in  file  over  the 
barren,  towards  the  line  of  forest  on  the  north  side.  As 
for  the  hungry-looking  Indian,  I  did  not  know  whether 
to  have  at  him  on  the  score  of  his  excessive  ugliness,  or 
for  not  carrying  better  caps  for  his  gun. 

"  Get  back  to  camp,  Noel,  as  quick  as  you  can,"  said 
I  ;  "it  will  be  dark  in  half  an  hour.  Why  didn't  you 
put  up  the  cariboo  on  their  legs  for  me  before  I  fired  ?" 


CARIBOO   HUNTING.  14!) 

"  Gentleman  just  please  himself,"  replied  the  Indian. 
"  You  did  very  foolish  ;  nice  lot  of  caliboo,  them.  Maybe 
other  gentleman  get  shot,  though." 

"  Oh,  it's  the  fresh  steak  for  supper  you  are  tl' inking 
of,"  thought  I  to  myself,  feeling  as  discontented  and 
generally  uncharitable  as  possible.  *'  I  hope  sincerely 
they  have  not,  though  ; "  and  I  trudged  after  tln^  Indian 
homewards  in  an  unenviable  mood.  Fortunately  there 
was  an  old  road  leadinjj  across  the  barren  towards  the 
settlements,  and,  presently  striking  it,  we  obtained  easy 
walking.  A  couple  of  hours,  the  latter  part  by  moon- 
light, brought  us  to  our  camp.  No  smoke  issued  from 
the  top,  and  everything  was  as  we  left  it.  The  others 
had  not  returned,  and  we  made  up  a  fire  and  cooked  the 
meal  we  so  much  needed. 

"  I  was  almost  afraid  you  were  lost,  John,"  said  I,  as 
the  blanket  which  covered  the  entrance  was  withdrawn 
by  the  returning  hunter  and  my  (companion,  very  late  in 
the  evening  ;  "  any  sport  ?" 

"  Never  fear,"  replied  Williams,  laughing,  as  he  lugged 
in  a  great  sack  of  potatoes,  and  produced  a  bottle  of  new 
milk,  and  some  loaves  of  home-made  bread  ;  "  here's  our 
game.  We  just  had  first-rate  dinner  at  settler's  ;  good 
old  man,  that  old  Harrison." 

They,  too,  had  fired  at  cariboo,  and  wounded  a  young 
one  slightly.  It  had  led  them  a  race  of  some  miles,  and 
finally,  having  joined  a  fresli  herd,  had  escaped  through 
the  confusion  of  tracks.  However,  we  retired  to  our 
repose  on  the  soft  bed  of  fir-boughs  that  night,  quite 
satisfied  and  hopeful.  We  were  in  a  fine  country,  evi- 
dently full  of  game,  and  we  looked  forward  to  our  future 
shots  with  confidence,  satisfied,  from  what  we  had  seen, 


mo 


FOREST  LIFE    IN  ACADIE. 


that  the  cariboo  was  one  of  the  finest  deer,  for  sport,  in 
the  wide  world. 

What  a  hearty  meal  is  breakfast  in  the  winter  camp  of 
a  party  of  hunters  in  the  American  backwoods  !  The 
pure  air  which  enters  freely  and  circulut<\s  round  the 
camp,  heated  by  the  great  log  fire  in  the  centre,  round 
which  we  range  ourselves  for  sleep,  regardless  of  the  cold 
without  (except,  perhaps,  on  some  especially  severe 
passage  of  cold,  when  actual  roasting  on  one  side  will 
scarcely  keep  the  opposite  from  freezing),  conduce  to 
sound  and  healthy  repose,  and  a  feeling  of  wonderful 
freshness  and  activity  on  awakening  and  throwing  off  the 
blanket  or  buffalo  rolje  early  in  the  morning. 

The  Indians  are  already  up,  one  cleaning  the  guns,  or 
"  fixing  "  a  moccasin,  whilst  the  other  is  holding  the  long- 
handled  fiying-pan,  filled  with  spluttering  slices  of  bacon, 
over  the  glowing  embers.  Their  toilet  amounts  to  nil ; 
when  well  they  always  look  clean,  though  they  seldom 
wash  ;  though  they  never  use  a  comb  their  long,  shining, 
raven-black  hair  is  always  smooth  and  unruffled.  We, 
with  our  combs,  brushes  and  towels,  step  out  into  the 
cold  morning  air  and  betake  ourselves  to  the  little  brook 
for  ten  minutes  or  so,  and  then  return  with  appetites 
whetted  either  for  venison  or  the  flesh  of  pig,  washed 
down  by  potations  of  strong  black  tea,  which  has 
simmered  by  the  embers,  perhaps,  for  the  last  half- 
hour. 

"John,"  said  I,  as  we  reclined  on  our  blankets  at 
breakfast  the  morning  after  our  unsuceessful  cari])oo 
hunt,  "  did  you  hear  the  wild  geese  passing  over  to  the 
southward  last  night?  I  heard  their  loud  'honk  !  honk  !' 
several  times,  and  the  whistling  of  their  wings  as  they 


CARIBOO   HUNTING.  l.")! 

flew  over  the  camp.    It  froze  pretty  sharp,  too ;  the  trees 
cracked  loudly  in  the  forest." 

"  I  hear  'um,  sure  enough,"  replied  the  Indian.  "  Guess 
winter  set  in  pretty  hard  up  to  nor'rerd.  I  got  notion 
some  of  us  have  luck  to-day,  capten.  I  dreamin'  very 
hard  last  night.  When  I  dream  so  always  sure  sign  wc 
have  luck  next  day.  I  think  it  will  be  you  ;  me  and  the 
other  gentleman  must  go  back  and  try  to  get  the 
wounded  calil)oo  calf." 

"  Very  well,  then  :  Noiil  hunts  with  me  again  to-day," 
said  I,  looking  at  the  younger  Indian,  who  nodded  assent 
and  drew  on  his  moccasins.  "  Come  on,  Noel ;  put  a 
biscuit  in  your  pocket,  and  let  us  be  oft'  for  the  barrens." 

It  was  a  lovely  morning  when  w^e  left  the  camp  ;  not 
a  breath  of  wind,  and  the  sun  shone  through  the  trees, 
lighting  with  extraordinary  brilliancy  the  sparkling  snow 
which  had  been  s})rinkled  during  the  night  with  rime 
frost.  All  nature  seemed  to  rejoice  at  the  warming 
influence  of  the  sun's  rays.  The  s(|uirrel  raced  up  the 
stems  with  more  than  usual  activity,  and  the  little  chick- 
adee birds  darted  about  amongst  the  spruce  boughs  in 
merry  troo})s,  dislodging  showers  of  snow,  and  con- 
tinuously uttering  the  cheerful  cry  which  has  given  them 
their  local  sohrujuet.  The  tapping  of  the  woodpecker 
resounded  throuy-h  the  calm  forest,  and  the  harsh  warning 
note  of  the  blue  jay  gave  notice  of  our  approach  to  his 
comrades  and  the  forest  denizens  in  general.  Her(3  and 
there  a  ruffed  grouse  started  with  Ijoisterous  flight  from 
our  path,  as  we  disturbed  his  meditations  on  some  sunlit 
stump ;  and,  soon  after  entering  the  barren,  a  red  fox 
jumped  from  the  warm  side  of  a  clump  of  bushes  where 
he  had  been  basking,  and  made  oft"  at  racing  speed — a 


168  FOREST   LIFE  IN    ACADIE. 

far  handsomer  animal  than  our  English  Keynard,  whose 
fur  is  quite  dingy  compared  with  the  bright  orange-red 
coat  of  the  American. 

"  Ah  !  I  don't  like  to  see  this,"  said  Noel,  pointing  out 
some  large  tracks  in  the  snow ;  "  these  brutes  been 
huntin'  about  here  some  time.  You  see  that  track  ? — 
that  wolf-track — two  of  them ;  them  tracks  we  seen 
yesterday,  when  we  thought  dogs  were  chasing  moose, 
them  was  wolf-tracks." 

The  day  before  we  had  noticed  the  tracks  of  what  we 
chen  thought  had  been  dogs  chasing  a  young  calf-moose. 
At  one  place — a  very  deep,  swampy  bog — they  had 
nearly  run  into  him,  for,  on  the  snow,  we  saw  hair  which 
they  had  pulled  from  his  flanks.  It  seems  that  about  ten 
years  ago  wolves  made  their  appearance  in  this  province 
in  considerable  numbers  from  New  Brunswick,  and  their 
nightly  bowlings  caused  the  farmers  to  look  closely  after 
the  safety  of  their  stock  and  folds  for  some  time  in  certain 
settlements.     They  are,  however,  now  rarely  heard  of. 

We  had  not  been  long  on  the  barren  ere  we  came  on 
last  night's  tracks  of  five  cariboo,  and  we  at  once  com- 
menced creeping  in  earnest.  Presently  we  found  their 
beds,  deeply  sunk  in  the  snow,  the  surface  quite  soft,  and 
evidently  just  quitted.  Their  tracks  showed  that  they 
had,  on  rising,  commenced  feeding  along  very  leisurely 
on  the  mosses  of  the  l)arren ;  to  get  at  which  they  had 
scraped  away  the  snow  with  their  broad  hoofs.  It  was 
now  a  capital  morning  for  creeping,  as  the  surfiice  of  the 
snow  on  the  barren  was  quite  soft,  loosened  by  the  power 
of  the  sun.  Now  we  enter  a  little  bog,  with  scattering 
clumps  of  spruce  growing  from  its  wet,  mossy  surface  ; 
at  every  step  we  sink  ankle  deep  into  the  yielding  moss, 


L'AlllliOO   HUNTINU.  iJa 

and  the  chilling  snow- water  soaks  into  our  feet.  We 
look  anxiously  ahead  for  the  game,  but  they  have  crossed 
the  bog  ;  nor  are  they  on  the  next,  which  we  can  scan 
from  our  present  position.  They  muit  be  in  that  dark 
patch  of  woods  just  beyond,  which  skirts  the  barren, 
for  we  have  followed  them  up  to  its  northern  edge. 
What  a  pity !  for  the  snow  under  the  shade  of  the 
forest  is  still  hard  and  crusted,  and  its  crunching 
sound,  under  the  pressure  of  our  moccasins,  step  we 
ever  so  lightly,  cannot  escape  the  ear  of  the  cariboo. 
Yes,  they  have  entered  the  wood,  and  just  as  we 
prepare  to  follow  them,  anil  gently  open  our  way 
through  the  outlying  thickets,  I  hear  a  light  snap 
of  a  bough  within,  which  sends  my  heart  nearly  to 
my  mouth.  Another  step,  and  Noel  at  once  points  to 
game,  and  I  see  some  shadowy  forms  moving  among  the 
trees,  at  about  fifty  yards'  distance.  Now  is  the  time  ;  an 
instant  more  and  we  should  be  discovered,  and  the 
cariboo  bound  off  scatheless,  with  electric  speed.  The 
quick  crack  of  my  rifle  is  followed  by  the  roar  of  the 
Indian's  gun  (which  I  afterwards  ascertained  contained 
two  balls,  and  about  four  drachms  of  powder),  and  the 
brauches  loudly  crash  in  front  as  the  herd  starts  in 
headlong  flight. 

There  was  blood  on  the  snow,  as  we  came  up  to  the 
spot  whence  they  had  fled  :  a  broad  trail  of  it  led  from 
the  spot  where  the  animal  I  had  fired  at  had  been  stand- 
ing. Presently  I  saw  the  cariboo  ahead,  going  very 
slowly,  and  making  round  for  the  barren  again,  having 
left  the  herd.  The  poor  creature's  doom  was  sealed  ;  for, 
as  we  emerged  from  the  woods,  we  saw  it  lying  down, 
and  a  fawn,  which  had  accompanied  it,  made  quickly  off 


184  FOREST  LIFE  IN  ACADIE. 

on  seeing  us  approach.  I  would  have  spared  the  latter, 
but  the  Indian  l)rought  it  down  at  once  by  a  good 
shot  at  eiglity  yards.  Mine  proved  to  be  a  very 
fine  doe,  with  a  dark  glossy  skin,  and  in  excellent 
condition. 

"Plenty  fresh  meat  in  camp  now,"  says  Noel,  who 
really  looked  as  if  lie  could  liave  ejiten  the  whole  cariboo 
then  and  tlun'e.  H(;  did  roast  a  good  junk  of  it  as  soon 
as  he  could  get  a  fire  alight,  and  the  fellow  had  brought 
out  some  salt  in  a  pii'ce  of  paper  in  case  of  an  emergency 
like  the  present.  Whilst  Noel  was  making  up  the  meat 
with  the  assistance  of  the  little  axe  and  hunting-knife 
Avhich  are  invariably  suspended  from  the  hunter's  belt,  I 
lighted  my  pipe  and  heaped  on  the  dead  logs,  which  lay 
everywhere  under  the  surface  of  the  snow,  until  we  had 
a  roaring  fire  that  would  have  roasted  a  cariboo  whole 
with  great  ease  and  dispatch.  J  never  saw  fiitter  meat 
than  that  of  the  largest  cariboo  when  the  hide  was  re- 
moved ;  the  whole  saddle  was  snow-white  with  fat, 
which  covered  the  meat  to  the  depth  of  an  inch  and  a 
half.  Having  stacked  the  quarters  in  a  compact  pile,  and 
deeply  covered  them  with  a  coating  of  snow,  we  started 
for  home,  leaving  the  offal  for  the  Canada  jays  and  crows; 
the  former  were  exceedingly  impudent,  hopping  about 
within  a  few  yards  of  us,  and  screaming  most  impatiently 
for  our  departure.  Noel  of  course  carried  a  goodly  load 
of  the  meat,  including  many  delicate  morsels  for  our 
camp  frying-pan. 

Numerous  droves  of  cariboo  had  crossed  the  barren 
since  the  morning,  and,  as  we  were  on  our  way,  we  saw 
a  small  drove  of  four  passing  across  at  a  distance  of  about 
500  yards  from  us.    They  appeared  scared,  walking  very 


I 


a. 


'A 

O 


(UllIDOO   JlUNTlNd. 


ir)5 


briskly,  and  oc(;asionally  bi'cakin<^  into  a  trot.  Most 
probably  tlioy  had  boon  startod  by  I'M'cst  of  the  party 
in  the  woods  to  the  southward.  (.»  !-  f  them  was  of  a 
very  light  eolour — the  lightest,  1  think,  I  ever  saw — 
being  of  a  })ale,  tawny  hue  all  over ;  the  others  were,  as 
usunl,  dull  grey,  variegated  witli  dingy  white.  S})()i't 
must  have  fallen  to  tlie  lot  of  anyone  who  had  remained 
concealed  in  some  central  thicket  on  the  barren  tliis 
afternoon,  from  tlie  nund)er  that  must  have  passed  at 
dillerent  times,  as  appeared  by  tlmir  (racks.  Though  it 
was  still  early  in  Decendu'r  we  had  onl}'^  as  yet  seen  one 
buck  who  retained  his  horns  ;  the  does  still  wore  theirs. 
The  one  I  had  just  killed  had  an  exceedingly  neat  little 
pair,  which,  but  for  her  untimely  end,  would  have  graced 
h(U'  until  the  ensuing  March. 

Oil  riiturn  to  camp,  I  found  that  my  fiicnd  had  not 
been  so  fortunate  ;  they  had  not  bticn  able  to  discover 
the  wounded  cariboo,  and  had  started  two  herds  without 
jxettinff  a  shot.     This  was  owing  to  the  frozen  state  of 

DO  O 

die  snow  in  the  woods.  We  had  determined  to  exchange 
Indians  next  morning ;  but,  in  conse(juence  of  his  not 
yet  having  had  success,  1  agrei'd  to  start  again  with  the 
second  hunter,  Noel,  and  leave  to  my  fri(!nd  the  undis- 
turbe<l  possession  of  the  barrens,  my  direction  being  the 
liuctegun  plains,  which  were  distant  sonu'  eight  miles  or 
so  to  the  westward.  Noel,  of  course,  ate  until  he  (rould 
eat  no  more  t  night — in  fact,  I  never  saw  such 
gluttony  as  was  displayed  by  this  Indian  whenever  he 
got  a  (thauite.  The  settler's  wife  had  told  me,  a  few  days 
since,  that  he;  made  a  common  practice  of  going  into  one 
house  after  :» Mother  along  the  lOad,  and  at  each  represent- 
ing himself  as  stalling,     llis  appearance  not  generally 


I.-jO 


FOUEST   LIFE   IN   AOADIE. 


belying  his  assertion,  he  has  succeeded  in  getting  a  dinner 
at  each  of  four  different  places  on  the  same  day.  "  But," 
she  said,  "  they  found  hiui  out ;  and  he  finds  it  rather  hai-d 
to  get  asked  out,  or  rather  in,  to  dinner  now-a-days."  On 
one  occasion,  on  returning  with  me  to  camp,  after  an 
unsuccessful  morning,  a  good  deal  before  the  usual  time 
for  dining,  he  complained  of  a  severe  attack  of  indiges- 
tion, and  adopted,  as  an  unfailing  remedy,  a  hearty  meal 
of  fried  pork — the  fattest  he  could  pick  out  of  the  bag. 
He  expressed  himself  to  the  eff'ect  that  lubrication  was 
the  best  remedy  for  such  complaints. 

The  owls  hooted  most  dismally  in  the  forest  that  night 
— a  sure  sign,  as  Williams  said,  of  an  approaching  storm  ; 
and,  as  the  sky  looked  threatening  all  the  latter  part  of 
the  day,  we  retired  to  sleep,  trusting  to  see  a  fall  of  fresh 
snow  in  the  morning,  which  was  much  wanted,  to 
obliterate  the  old  tra(.'ks,  and  soften  the  surface  of  the 
crust. 

Fresh  falls  of  snow  are  necessary  to  continue  and 
ensure  sport  in  the  winter  hunting-camp,  especially  in 
the  earlier  part  of  the  season.  A  few  bright  days  thaw 
the  surface  so  that  the  night-frost  produces  a  disao-reeable 
crust,  which  crunches  and  roars  under  the  moccasin  most 
unmusically  ;  and  then,  unless  the  forest  trees  are  shaken 
by  little  short  of  a  gale,  you  may  give  up  all  idea  of 
getting  within  shot  of  game.  Day  after  day  is  often 
thus  spent  listlessly  in  camp;  the  same  calm,  frosty 
weather  continuing  to  prevent  sport,  and  the  evil  of  the 
crust  on  the  snow  gradually  becoming  worse ;  the 
Indians  shaking  their  heads  at  the  projiosition  to  hunt 
and  uselessly  disturb  the  country,  and  betaking  them- 
selves to  cutting  axe-handles,  mending  their  moccasins, 


CARIBOO  HUNTING. 


157 


01-  constructing  a  liand-slod  perhaps,  whilst  you  Inzily  fall 
back  amongst  the  blankets,  and  snooze  away  far  into  the 
bright  morning,  till  the  noon-day  sun  strikes  down  on  your 
fac(!  through  the  aperture  in  the  top  of  the  camp.  Then 
you  are  told  by  the  dusky  cook  and  steward  of  the  camjj 
that  the  "  pork's  giving  out,"  or  the  "  sweetening  is 
getting  short,"  and  all  things  remind  you  that  "  it's  hard 
times,"  and  no  fresh  meat,  and  all  for  want  of  a  nice  little 
fall  of  snow.  However,  there  lies  a  great  ball  of  a  thing, 
all  covered  with  quills,  like  a  hedgehog,  in  the  cook's 
corner,  and  the  cook  recommends  that  a  "  bilin  "  of  soup 
should  be  instituted  ;  so  ]\Iaster  Porcu})ine  is  scraped, 
and  skinned,  and  chopped,  and,  with  an  odd  bone  or  two 
which  turns  up  from  the  larder,  a  little  rice,  and  lots  of 
sliced  onions,  he  is  converted  into  a  broth,  and  another 
day  in  the  woods  is  cleared  by  the  pork  thereby  saved. 
At  last,  when  the  bitter  reflection  of  having  to  return 
from  the  woods  empty-handed  presents  itself  to  you  some 
morning  on  awakening,  the  joyous  flakes  are  seen  gently 
falling  through  the  top  of  the  camp,  and  hissing  as  they 
meet  the  embers  of  the  fire.  "  Now's  your  time,"  says 
the  party  all  round,  and  the  camp  is  all  bustle  and 
animation — such  tying  on  of  moccasins,  and  buckling  on 
of  ammunition-belts,  and  knives,  and  axes  ;  not  forgetting 
to  provide  for  the  mid-day  refreshment,  by  filling  of 
flasks,  and  stowing  away  of  biscuits  and  lumps  of  cheese. 
Presently  the  wind  rises,  and  the  storm  thickens ;  the 
new  covering  of  snow  seems  to  draw  out  the  frost  from 
the  old  crusted  surface,  and  the  moccasin  now  steps 
noiselessly  in  the  tracks  of  the  game.  That  day,  or  on 
the  next,  there  is  no  need  of  porcupine  soup,  for  huge 
steaks  hang  from  the  camp-poles,  and  a  rich  and  savoury 


168 


FOREST  LIFE  IN  ACADIE. 


odour  pervades  the  camp,  whilst  the  hissing  fryinrr-pan 
tops  the  logs. 

The  want  of  a  fresh  fall  of  snow  had  thus  internipted 
our  sports  in  the  Parsboro'  country  for  some  days,  when 
the  welcome  flakes  at  last  came  down  one  wild  stormy 
night,  and  covered  the  forest  and  barren  with  a  clean 
mantle  of  three  or  four  inches,  obliterating  the  old  tracks 
and  softenmg  the  crust  so  that  it  again  became  practicable' 
to  stalk  the  wary  cariboo.     Many  times  had  we  started 
small  herds  on  the  barren,  and  in  the  greenwoods,  with- 
out sighting  them ;   the  first  token  of  their  proximity 
nnd  of  their  having  taken  alarm,  being  the  crashing  of 
the  branches  which  they  breasted  in  flight. 

It  was  a  beautiful  hunting  morning  on  which,  after 
the  new  fall  of  the  previous  night,  we  trudged  along  the 
forest-path  leading  from  our  camp  to  the  barrens    and 
made  sure  of  shots  during  the  day,  for  the  change  of 
wind,  and  the  storm,  would  cause  a  movement  amon^'o-  the 
deer.     A  mile  or  so  from  camp  the  snow  was  ploiHied- 
up  by  a  multitude  of  fresh  tracks ;  a  herd  of  cariboo\ad 
lust  crossed  it ;    there   could  not  have   been   less   than 
thirty  of  them,  all  going  south  from  the  barrens.     We  at 
once  struck  into  the  woods  after  them,  and  followed  for 
about  an  hour,  when  the  herd  divided  into  two  streams 
One  of  these  we  followed,  the  tracks  every  moment  be- 
coming fresher,  until,  on  passing  through  a  dense  alder 
thicket  which  grew  over   water,    treacherously  covered 
with  raised  ice,  the  ice  gave  way  with  a  crash,  and  we  at 
the  same  moment  heard  the  game  start.     We  rushed  on 
as  fiist  as  possible,  for  they  had  not  seen  or  winded  us 
and  might  possibly  think  the  noise   proceeded  merely 
from  the  ice  falling  in,  as  it  often  does  when  suspended 


CARIBOO  HUNTING, 


159 


over  water  and  laden  with  snow.  Presently  the  tracks 
showed  they  were  walking,  and  on  entering  a  thick 
covert  of  young  spruces,  whose  lower  branches,  thickly 
covered  with  snow,  prevented  our  seeing  far  ahead,  the 
Indian  said,  "  There — fire  1 "  and  a  bounding  form  or  two 
flashed  through  an  opening  in  the  bush  with  such 
rapidity  that  we  could  scarcely  say  that  we  had  seen 
them.  Our  barrels  were  levelled  and  discharged,  but,  as 
might  be  expected,  without  effect.  The  deer  had  been 
lying  down,  and  had  seen  our  legs  under  the  lower 
branches  before  the  Indian  was  aware  of  their  pre- 
sence. 

Williams  said,  "  I  'most  afraid  we  couldn't  get  shot. 
Calil)oo  very  hard  to  creep  when  shiftin'  their  ground  : 
don't  stop  and  feed  much,  and  when  they  lie  down  they 
watchin'  all  the  time,  and  then  up  agen  'most  directly. 
I  know  them  caliboo  makin'  for  some  big  barrens,  five  or 
six  mile  away." 

We  then  turned  back  to  the  northward,  and,  recrossing 
the  road,  made  for  the  barrens  where  my  dead  cariboo 
were  lying.  The  place  was  marked  by  the  great  pile  of 
snow  whi(;h  we  had  shovelled  over  them,  and  by  the 
skins  suspended  on  a  rampike  hard  by  ;  no  wild  animals 
had  disturbed  the  meat,  though  great  numbers  of  moose- 
birds  and  jays  were  screaming  around,  apparently  dis- 
tressed that  the  fresh  snow  had  covered  up  their  little 
pickings  in  the  shape  of  offld,  which  had  been  left  around. 
Here  we  sat  down  on  a  log,  after  clearing  off  th'  snow, 
to  cat  our  biscuit  and  broach  the  flasks  (^  rt'c  had 
tindged  many  miles  since  breakfast,  and  the  sun  was 
past  the  south) — the  Indian,  always  restless,  and  perhaps 
anxious  to  take  a  survey  of  the  country  unimpeded  by 


I 


ICO  FOREST  LIFE  IN  ACADIE. 


followers,  going  off  towards  the  greenwoods,  distant  a  few 
hundred  yards,  munching  as  he  went. 

"  A  capital  fellow  is  old  John,"  said  I  to  my  comrade. 
"  I'll  bet  you  what  you  like  he  comes  back  with  some 
news.     I've  often  seen  him  go  oft'  in  this  manner  whilst 
I-  you  are  eating,  or  resting,  or  smoking,  and  uncertain 

I  what  to  do,  and  come  back  in  half  an  hour  or  so,  appa- 

I  ^rently  having  learnt  more  of  the  whereabouts  of  the  game 

[  than  he  had  when  in  your  company  during  the  whole 

i,  morning's  hunt." 

jt  We  were  not  detained  very  long,  however — indeed, 

j     *  had  hardly  finished  the  biscuit — when,  on  looking  to- 

f  wards  the  edge  of  the  forest,  which  he  had  entered  a  few 

minutes  previously,  we  saw  John  emerge,  and  make  his 
way  back  to  us  with  unusual  celerity  ;  and,  seeing  there 
was  game  afoot,  we  picked  up  the  guns  and  advanced  to 
meet  him. 

"  Come  on,"  says  John,  "just  see  three  or  four  of  'em 
walking  quietly  along  inside  the  woods — didn't  start  'em, 
I  gxiess.  Be  easy,  now  ;  lots  of  time."  And  oft'  we  go 
after  John,  as  quietly  as  he  Avould  have  us,  and  soon  find 
the  track  of  the  cariboo.  John  leads  rapidly  forward, 
l)ending  almost  douljle  to  get  a  glimpse  of  them  through 
the  branches  ahead  ;  but  no,  they  have  left  the  woods, 
and  taken  to  the  open  again,  and  we  follow  into  a  swamp 
thickly  sprinkled  with  little  fir  trees  of  about  our  own 
height.  The  bog  is  very  wet,  having  never  frozen,  and 
we  sink  up  to  our  knees  in  the  swamp,  through  the 
wet  surface-snow,  withdrawing  our  feet  and  legs  at  each 
step,  with  a  noise  like  drawing  a  cork.  It  is  hard  work 
getting  along,  and  already  we  are  rather  out  of  breath ; 
but  we  must  keep  on,  for  cariboo  are  smart  walkers,  and 


„,.-u»J'w>  *-*•-■•••'»•    **■  - 


CARIBOO  HUNTING.  IGl 

until  they  come  to  a  place  where  they  have  an  inclination 
to  loiter  and  browse,  are  apt  to  lead  one  a  dance  for  many 
hom's,  particularly  when  they  have  taken  a  notion  to 
sliift  their  country.  Ha !  there  goes  one  of  them  ;  his 
black  muzzle  and  dusky  back  just  showing  above  the 
bushes  at  the  further  end  of  the  swamp — and  anijthor, 
and  another.  "  Bang  "  goes  a  barrel  a-piece  from  each 
of  us  (we  are  in  dchelon),  and  the  nearest  one  falters, 
either  wounded  or  confused,  as  they  sometimes  become 
by  the  firing.  He  is  again  making  off,  and  passing  an 
opening  ;  the  other  guns  floundering  forward  in  hopes  of 
getting  nearer,  when,  steadying  myself,  and  taking  good 
aim,  he  falls  instantaneously  to  my  second  barrel.  John, 
with  a  yell,  rushes  up,  and  getting  astride  of  the 
struggling  beast,  quickly  terminates  his  existence  with 
his  long  hunting-knife.  It  was  a  fine  doe  cariboo,  with 
a  very  dark  hide,  and  in  fair  condition.  The  others 
having  never  beer  fairly  within  shot,  we  were  satisfied, 
and  after  the  usual  process  returned  to  camp,  our  path 
being  enlivened  by  the  bright  rays  of  a  lovely  moon. 
Wo  all  agreed  that  no  finer  sport  could  be  obtained 
anion»2;st  the  larger  game  than  cariboo-shootino;.  Tliis 
deer  is  so  wary,  such  a  constant  and  fast  traveller,  and 
so  quick  in  getting  up  and  l)oundiug  out  of  range  when 
started  in  the  woods,  that  an  aim  as  rapid  and  true  as  in 
cock-shooting  is  required  ;  and,  when  he  is  down,  every 
pound  of  the  meat  repays  for  backing  it  out  of  the  woods, 
being,  in  my  opinion,  far  finer  wild  meat  than  any  other 
venison  I  have  tasted. 

The  next  day  I  walked  with  the  other  Indian  (Noel) 
to  the  Buctoukteegun  i)lains,  some  ten  miles  distant  from 
our  camp — great  plains  of  milea  and  miles  in  extent, 

M 


1G2  FOREST   LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 

covered  with  Httle  islaiuls  of  dwiirf  spnicos  of  a  few  feet 
in  height.  This  is  a  great  [)]ace  of  resort  for  earihoo  ; 
they  come  out  from  the  forest  on  to  the  phiius  on  fine 
sunny  mornings,  and  scrape  up  the  snow  to  get  at  the 
moss.  Having  passed  a  night  in  a  hnnl)erer's  camp,  we 
proceeded  next  morning  to  the  phiins,  which  the  Indian 
wouhl  scan  from  a  tall  spruce,  to  see  if  there  were  game 
on  them  ;  and  having  bagg(>d  my  cariboo,  and  given 
part  of  it  to  the  lumberers,  who  seemed  very  thaid<ful, 
we  made  up  the  hind  quarters  and  hide  into  two  loads, 
and  arrived  in  camp  the  same  evening.  JNfy  companion, 
whose  shots  I  had  heard  the  day  previous,  had  had 
excellent  sport  on  the  barrens,  having  killed  four  caril)oo ; 
and  the  following  day  I  killed  a  magnificent  buck,  which 
weighed  nearly  four  hundred-weight,  after  a  long  chase 
of  six  miles  through  the  green  woods  from  the  spot 
where  I  had  first  wounded  him,  the  Indian  (it  was 
Williams)  keeping  on  his  track,  though  it  had  passed 
through  multitudes  of  others,  with  unerring  perse verjince. 

Then  comes  the  hauling  out  the  meat.     Old  H ,  the 

last  settler,  whose  house  is  not  far  frcjm  our  camp,  is  sent 
for,  and  contracts  for  tli^  job,  and  one  fine  morning  his 
voice,  as  he  urges  on  his  patient  bullocks  towards  the 
camp,  and  the  grating  of  the  sled  upon  the  snow,  are 
heard  as  we  sit  at  breakfast.  Leaving  his  team  munch- 
ing an  armful  of  hay  in  the  path,  he  comes  to  the  camp 
door,  and,  pushing  aside  the  blanket  which  covers  the 
entrance,  accosts  us, — 

"  Morning,  gents.  Ah  !  Ingines,  how  d'ye  make  out — 
most  ready  to  start  ?  AVe've  got  a  tidy  spell  to  go  for 
the  cariboo  by  all  accounts,  and  my  team  aint  noways 
what  you  may  call  strong.     However,  I  suppose  we  must 


CARIBOO  HUNTINO.  Ifl3 

manngo  it  somoliow,  and  aoeommorlato  a  gontleman  like 
you  appear  to  be." 

"  All  right,  my  good  man,  we  are  ready ;  and  John 
and  Noel  will  go  ahead  and  haul  out  the  eariboo  from 
the  barren  to  the  road  ;"  and  off  we  go,  a  meriy  party, 
following  the  ox  sled,  whilst  the  old  settler  shouts  un- 
ceasingly to  his  cattle,  "  Haw  !  Bright — Gee  !  Diamond  ; 
what  are  ye  'bout  there,  ye  lazy  beasts  ?"  and  the  great 
strong  animals  go  steadily  forward,  occasionally  bringing 
their  broad  foreheads  in  violent  contact  with  a  tree  ;  but 
proceeding,  on  being  set  right,  with  perfect  unconcern, 
till  we  come  to  the  edge  of  the  barren.  Here  the  Indians 
had  already  hauled  out  two  of  the  cariboo  by  straps 
fastened  to  the  horns,  drawing  the  carcases  easily  over 
the  surface  of  the  snow,  and  in  a  couple  of  hours  we  were 
again  eu  route  for  home,  with  everything  packed  up, 
guns  in  case,  and  nine  cariboo  as  trophies. 

The  frozen  carcases  were  pitched  down  into  the  hold  of 
the  little  schooner,  the  same  one  which  had  brought  us 
across  before  ;  and  in  a  few  hours,  with  a  fresh  breeze 
following  us,  we  grated  safely  through  the  floating  field 
of  ice  which  ncfirly  blocked  up  the  basin  of  Minas,  and 
landed  at  Windsor,  Nova  Scotia,  and  so  to  Halifax. 


M   2 


CIIArTER   VII. 

LAKE   DWELLERS. 

— •♦ 

THE  BEAVER. 

The  number  and  extent  of  its  lakes,  scattered  through- 
out the  extent  of  this  picturesque  province,  invaiiably 
surprise  the  visitor  to  Nova  Scotia.  Of  every  variety  of 
size  and  form,  and  generally  containing  groups  of  little 
wooded  islands,  they  occupy  almost  e very  hollow,  and, 
often  connected,  stretch  away  in  long  chains  through  the 
interior,  presenting  the  most  charming  scenery  to  those 
who  seek  sport  or  the  picturesque  through  the  back 
country.  Lake  Rossignol,  in  the  western  portion  of  the 
province,  is  the  largest ;  the  waters  which  j)ass  through 
it  rise  near  Annapolis  on  the  Bay  of  Fundy,  and, 
accumulating  in  a  long  series  of  lakes,  issue  from  Rossig- 
nol as  a  large  river  which  falls  into  the  Atlantic  at  the 
town  of  Liverpool.  By  this  line  of  water  comnmnication, 
almost  crossing  the  province,  the  most  secluded  recesses 
of  the  wild  country  can  be  reached  by  means  of  the 
Lidiau  canoe,  an  easy  and  delightful  mode  "f  progression 
on  the  smooth  lake,  though  it  involves  some  danger 
among  the  rocks  and  rapids  of  the  river,  which,  if  insur- 
mountable, entail  the   "portage,"  and  a  weary  tramp, 


LAKE  DWELLERS. 


1C5 


perhaps,  through  a  long  strctcli  of  forest  with  canoe, 
commissariat,  and  luggage. 

To  the  eye  of  the  naturalist  one  of  the  most  interesting 
points  in  connection  with  the  chain  of  lakes  referred  to 
is,  that  on  their  banks  are  the  houses  of  the  few  families 
of  beaver  loft  in  the  provini'C ;  for  though  their  works 
and  the  fruit  of  their  labours  attest  their  presence 
formerly  in  eveiy  direction,  not  a  beaver  exists  from  the 
Port  Medway  Kiver  —  a  few  miles  eastward  of  the 
Kossignol  waters — and  the  eastern  end  of  Cape  Breton. 
This  animal  was  formerly  abundant  throughout  the 
British  Provinces,  and  a  large  portion  of  the  United 
States,  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific  coast,  and  would 
ere  this  have  totally  disappeared  from  the  maritime 
provinces,  but  for  the  caprice  of  fashion  in  hats  which, 
substituting  silk  for  the  beaver-nap,  arrested  its  destruc- 
tion, and  thereby,  as  Mr.  Marsh  suggests,  in  "  ]\Ian  and 
Nature,"  involved  possible  alterations  in  the  physical 
features  of  a  continent.  Nova  Scotia  abounds  in  all  the 
conditions  necessary  to  its  e5iistence — rivers,  brooks  and 
swampy  lakes — and  its  former  abundance  is  attested  by 
the  prevalence  of  such  names  as  "  Beavcrbank,"  "  Beaver 
Harbour,"  and  the  numerous  "  Beaver  Lakes "  and 
"  Beaver  Kivers "  scattered  round  the  Province.  The 
market  beinu  so  near,  and  its  haunts  so  accessible  and 
easy  of  observation,  it  is  surprising  that  its  extermination 
in  this  part  of  America  has  not  been  long  since  effected. 
Indeed,  the  animal  now  appears  to  be  on  the  increase. 

In  past  times,  undoubtedly,  the  beaver  has  had  much 
to  do  with  the  formation  of  the  "wild  meadows,"  aa 
they  are  locally  termed,  which  are  of  frequent  occurrence 
in  the  backwoods,  and  from  which  the  settler  draws 


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166  FOREST  LIFE  IN  ACADIE. 

plentiful  supplies  for  feeding  his  stock  in  winter,  and  the 
following  was  evidently  the  process.  Wherever  a  brook 
trickled  through  a  valley,  the  beaver  would  bar  its  course 
by  its  strong  compact  dam,  thus  securing  sufficient  back- 
water to  form  a  pond,  on  the  edge  of  which  to  build  its 
dome-shaped  house.  Large  spaces  in  the  woods  thus 
became  inundated,  the  drowned  trees  fell  and  decayed, 
and  freshets  brought  accessions  of  soil  from  the  hills. 
At  length  the  pond  filled  up,  and  the  colony  migrated, 
or  were  exterminated.  The  water  drained  through  the 
unrepaired  dam;  and  on  the  fine  alluvial  soil  exposed, 
sprang  up  those  rich  waving  fields  of  wild  grass,  monu- 
ments of  the  former  industry  of  the  beaver,  and  now  a 
source  of  profit  to  its  thankless  destroyers. 

To  return,  however,  to  Lake  Rossignol  and  its  beavers. 
Attracted  thither  by  the  charms  of  a  canoe  voyage  on  the 
lakes  at  the  commencement  of  the  glorious  fall,  and 
anxious  to  inspect  the  houses  and  dams  of  these  curious 
animals,  we  hired  our  two  frail  barks  and  the  services  of 
three  Indians  at  the  town  of  Liverpool,  Nova  Scotia,  and, 
avoiding  the  ascent  of  the  rapid  river  as  too  arduous  a 
mode  of  access,  sent  canoes  and  luggage  by  a  cross  road 
to  a  line  of  waters  which  flowed  evenly  into  the  great 
lake,  and  where  we  embarked  for  our  explorations.  The 
following  notes  from  my  Camp  Journal  will  give  a  nar- 
ration of  our  observations  and  progress  : — 

"August  28. 

"  Encamped  comfortably  in  a  cove  of  the  second  lake 
of  the  Rossignol  Chain,  which  was  reached  late  in  the 
evening,  vid  the  Sixteen-Mile  Lakes,  where  the  canoes 
were  embarked.  The  unwonted  exercise  of  the  first  long 
day's  paddling  has  somewhat  unstcadied  the  hand  for 


LAKE  DWELLERS.  167 

writing  up  the  notes.  The  scenery  on  the  al)ove-named 
hikes  very  pretty,  and  the  water  in  good  order  for  canoe- 
ing, a  light  breeze  following  us  and  cooling  the  air. 
Lunched  on  an  island,  and,  leaving  the  lakes,  entered  a 
small  rapid  stream.  Here  the  shade  of  the  maples,  which 
completely  overhung  the  brook,  was  most  grateful,  and 
the  light  green  of  the  sunlit  foliage  reflected  in  the  water, 
with  masses  of  king-fern,  and  a  variety  of  herbaceous 
plants  growing  luxuriously  on  the  banks,  grey  rock 
boulders  with  waving  crowns  of  polypodium  rising  frorx 
the  stream,  and  reflected  on  its  smooth  though  swiftly- 
gliding  surface,  and  the  moss-covered  stems  of  fallen 
trees  which  continually  bridged  it  over,  formed  an  ever- 
changing  panorama,  which  evoked  many  expressions  of 
delight  as  we  quietly  glided  down  the  brook — a  beau- 
tiful realisation  of  Tennyson's  idyll.  The  water  was 
clear  as  crystal,  and  covered  golden  gravel,  and  there 
were  frequent  '  silvery  water-breaks,'  caused  by  trout 
jumping  at  the  multitudes  of  small  blue  and  green 
ephemerae  which  danced  above.  Here  we  first  saw  the 
works  of  beaver.  Pointing  towards  the  bank,  on  sud- 
denly rounding  a  turn  in  the  brook,  our  head  Indian 
Glode  whispered,  '  There  beaver-house  ; '  and  we  held 
by  a  projecting  rock  to  examine  the  structure  for  a  few 
moments.  I  confess  I  was  disappointed.  Instead  of  the 
regular  mud-plastered  dome  I  had  expected  and  seen 
depicted  in  all  works  of  natural  history,  the  house 
appeared  merely  as  an  irregular  pile  of  barked  sticks, 
very  broad  at  the  base  compared  with  its  height,  and 
looking  much  like  a  gigantic  crow's  nest  inverted,  and 
formed  without  any  apparent  design.  It  was  in  present 
occupation,  for  the   tall   surrounding  fern   was   beaten 


163  FOREST   LIFE  IN  ACADIE. 

down  all  around.  'All  pretty  much  same/  said  Glodc 
in  answer  to  our  question,  as  we  again  dropped  down 
the  stream.  Presently  the  rippling  of  water  ahead 
showed  a  slight  fall,  and  on  arriving  at  the  spot  the  bow 
of  the  canoe  grated  on  submerged  bushes.  It  was  the 
dam — always  placed  below — belonging  to  the  house,  and 
was  evidently  in  course  of  construction,  a  process  which 
we  were  unavoidably  compelled  to  defer,  by  standing  on 
a  flat  rock,  and,  hauling  out  bushes  by  the  armful,  to 
open  a  passage  for  the  canoes.  Several  other  houses 
were  passed,  at  intervals,  of  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  all 
similar  in  appearance,  and  some  of  great  size.  Our 
anxiety  to  get  to  the  big  lake  prevented  us,  however, 
from  examining  the  structure  closely.  On  this  brook  I 
first  saw  the  blossoms  and  tendrils  of  a  beautiful  climb- 
ing plant  which  grew  up  luxuriantly  amongst  the  bushes, 
and  encircled  small  stems  to  a  considerable  height — the 
Indian  potato-plant  (Apios  tuberosa) — one  of  the  sources 
of  food  used  by  the  old  Indians  before  they  left  the  w^oods 
and  their  forest  fare  for  the  neighbourhood  of  civilization, 
and  adopted  its  food,  clothing,  and  depraving  associa- 
tions. The  flowers  are  like  those  of  the  sw^eet  pea,  and 
arranged  in  a  whorl,  possessing  a  pleasant  though  rather 
faint  smell.  The  cluster  of  bulbs  at  its  root,  called 
potatoes,  are  of  about  the  average  size  of  small  new 
potatoes,  and  have  a  flavour  like  a  chestnut." 

Two  or  three  miles  further,  through  an  open  country 
covered  with  the  bleached  stems  of  a  burnt  forest, 
brought  us  to  the  middle  lake  of  the  Eossignol  Chain, 
which  we  quickly  crossed  to  camp. 

On  the  following  afternoon  we  entered  Eossignol  after 
some  rather  stiff"  paddling.     Two  large  lakes,  affording 


LAKE  DWELLERS.  1C9 

no  shelter  of  rocks  or  islands,  were  crossed  in  the  teeth  [7^];! 

of  a  strong  breeze,  and  the  bows  of  our  canoes  were  fre- 
quently overtopped  by  the  waves.  For  security  the 
paddlers  crouched  in  the  bottom  instead  of  sitting,  as  is 
usual,  on  the  thin  strips  of  ash  w^hicli  constitute  the 
thwarts  in  the  bow  and  stern.  Perfect  in  symmetry, 
and  capable  of  conveying  four  persons,  the  canoes  were 
of  the  smallest  construction  compatible  with  safety  on  ,. 

the  rapid  river  or  its  broad  lakes.    They  were  eighteen  feet  |f| 

in  length,  and  weighed  but  sixty  pounds  each.     From  an  ^* 

end-on  point  of  view,  the  paddlers  seemed  supported  by 
almost  nothing — the  bark  sides  projecting  but  a  few 
inches  beyond  the  breadth  of  their  bodies,  and  the  gun-  |J: 

wale  nearly  flush  with  the  water.  But  we  were  "old 
hands,"  and  were  determined  to  camp  that  night  on  the 
big  lake  ;  and  the  light  barks,  impelled  by  strokes  which 
made  the  handles  of  the  paddles  bend  like  reeds,  forged 
ahead  through  chopping  seas  till  wc  reached  the  shelter 
of  the  rocky  islands  at  the  foot  of  Lake  Rossignol.  Here 
the  lakes  were  connected  by  a  rapid  run,  where,  beaching 
the  canoes,  we  enjoyed  capital  trouting  for  a  couple  of 
hours — killing  over  five  dozen  fish  averaging  one  pound 
— and  dined  on  shore,  picking  a  profuse  dessert  of  blue 
and  liuckle  berries.  A  glorious  view  was  unfolded  as  we 
left  the  run  and  entered  the  still  water  of  the  lake.  The 
breeze  fell  rapidly  with  the  sun,  and  enabled  us  to  steer 
towards  the  centre,  from  which  alone  the  size  of  the  lake 
could  be  appreciated,  owing  to  the  number  of  its  islands. 
These  were  of  every  imaginable  shape  and  size — from  the 
grizzly  rock  bearing  a  solitary  stunted  pine,  shaggy  with 
Usnea,  to  those  of  a  mile  in  length,  thickly  wooded  with 
maple,  beech,  and  birches,  now  wearing  the  first  pure 


m 


»yf 


170  FOREST  LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 

tints  of  autumnal  colour.  From  near  its  centre  was  un- 
folded a  view  of  the  greatest  expanse  of  water.  The 
distant  shores  were  enveloped  in  haze,  but  appeared 
frino;ed  with  a  dark  fir  forest  to  the  water's  edge.  Here 
and  there  a  bright  spot  of  white  sand  formed  a  beach 
tempting  for  a  disembarkation;  and  frequent  sylvan 
scenes  of  an  almost  fairy-land  character  opened  up  as 
we  coasted  along  the  shores — little  harbours  almost 
closed-in  from  the  lake,  overgrown  with  water-lilies, 
arrow-heads,  and  other  aquatic  plants,  with  mossy  banks 
backed  by  bosky  groves  of  hemlocks  ;  cool  retreats  which 
the  soft  moss  covering  the  soil,  and  the  perfect  shade  of 
the  dense  foliage  overhead,  indicated  as  most  desirable 
spots  for  camping.  The  wild  cry  of  the  loon  resounded 
aU  over  the  lake,  and  mergansers  and  black  ducks 
wheeled  overhead  as  they  left  their  feeding-grounds  for 
their  accustomed  resting-places.  Only  one  sight  re- 
minded us  of  civilization.  On  the  crest  of  a  distant 
hill,  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun  lighted  on  a  little  patch  of 
cleared  ground  and  glanced  on  the  window  of  a  solitary 
dwelling.  Our  Indians  said  it  was  a  settler's  house  in  New 
Caledonia,  on  the  forest  road  from  Liverpool  to  Annapolis. 
Warned  at  length  by  the  mellowing  light  which 
seemed  to  blend  lake  and  sky  into  one,  we  steered  the 
canoes  into  a  sheltered  cove,  and  lighted  our  first  camp 
fire  on  the  shores  of  Lake  Rossignol.  This  was  our  head- 
quarters ;  and  here  for  a  week  we  gave  ourselves  up  to 
the  dreamy  pleasures  of  a  life  in  the  woods.  Our  easy 
mode  of  travel  enabling  us  to  take  every  desirable  luxury, 
wc  ate  our  trout  with  Worcester  sauce,  and  baked  our 
bread  in  an  Indian  oven  ;  we  fished  in  the  runs,  bathed 
in  the  sandy  coves,  visited  and  were  visited  by  the  lum- 


LAKE  DWELLERS.  171 

berers,  who  were  rafting  tlieir  logs  down  to  the  sea,  and 
made  frequent  excursions  up  the  affluent  waters  of  the 
lake  in  search  of  beavers  and  their  works.  With  regard 
to  the  latter,  I  will  here  again  introduce  a  few  pages  of 
my  journal : — 

"  August  30th. 

"  A  bright  morning,  very  hot.  After  breakfast  as- 
cended the  Tobiaduc  stream  at  the  north-west  end  of 
the  lake.  Here  the  scenery  becomes  very  beautiful.  The 
river  is  broad  and  still ;  the  woods  on  either  side  much 
inundated  ;  and  the  maple  brightly  coloured  with  orange 
and  scarlet — probably  more  from  unhealthiness  produced 
by  the  high  water  than  by  early  frosts.  Pass  some 
exquisite  island  scenery ;  the  reflections  perfect.  A 
snake  smms  across  under  the  bows  of  my  canoe,  its 
head  carried  an  inch  above  the  surface.  Passirg  a  steep 
bank,  a  beaver  rushes  out  of  a  dense  patch  of  king-fern, 
and  takes  to  the  water  with  a  plunge  ;  and  we  follow  his 
track,  faintly  indicated  on  the  surface,  towards  an  old 
beaver-house  a  few  rods  up  stream.  *  I  heard  him  dove/ 
observed  Glode,  on  arriving  :  the  animal  had  mistrusted 
the  strength  of  his  fortress  ;  and  pursuit  was  hopeless. 

"  Five  or  six  miles  from  the  lake,  we  come  to  the  car- 
rying place  or  portage,  whence  a  woodland  path  leads  by 
a  short  cut  to  Tobiaduc  lake,  and  saves  many  a  mile  of 
heavy  poleing  against  the  rapids  of  the  river.  The  road 
lay  through  a  dark  mossy  forest  of  hemlocks,  soft  and 
pleasant  walking  when  unencumbered  by  loads,  but  very 
fatiguing  U2idei  the  weight  of  canoes  and  all  the  para- 
phernalia of  a  camp.  '  Indian  mile,  long  and  narrer,' 
drily  observed  old  Glode,  on  our  casual  inquiry  as  to 
hoAV  much  further  we  had  to  trudge.     The  forest  gloom 


172  FOREST  LIFE  IN   ACADIE. 

at  lengtli  lightens,  and  the  gleam  of  water  ahead  brings 
us  to  the  Tohiaduc  lakes,  where  a  couple  of  ruffed  grouse, 
shot  en  route,  were  cooked  d  la  spatch-cock,  and  we 
dined  on  a  service  of  birch-bark  dishes. 

"  Late  in  the  afternoon,  our  canoes,  leaving  the  lakes, 
entered  the  Tobiaduc  brook,  a  picturesque  stream  similar 
to  the  sixteen-mile  brook  before  mentioned.  The  lovely 
scenery  of  these  forest  streams  must  be  seen  to  be  fully 
appreciated.  The  foliage  in  spots  is  almost  tropical ; 
wild  vines  and  creepers  crowd  the  water's  edge,  with 
towering  clumps  of  royal  fern  (Osmunda  regalis) ;  airy 
groves  of  birches  with  stems  of  purest  white  are  suc- 
ceeded by  fir-woods,  under  which  the  graceful  moose- 
wood  and  swamp  maple  brighten  the  gloom  as  their 
broad  leaves  catch  the  sunlight  ;  the  pigeon  berry 
(Cornus  canadensis)  bedizens  the  moss  with  its  well- 
contrasting  clumps  of  scarlet  berries  ;  and  great  boulders 
of  grey  rock,  circled  over  with  concentric  lichens,  moss 
covered,  and  their  crannies  filled  with  pollypods  and 
oak-fern,  overhang  the  water  in  stern  and  solitary  gran- 
deur. Every  rock  projecting  from  the  stream  is  seized 
upon  by  moss,  whence  grow  a  few  ferns  or  seedling 
maples  ;  and  the  play  of  the  sunlight  as  it  breaks 
through  the  arched  foliage  above  and  lights  up  these 
little  groups  produces  most  exquisite  efiects.  This  is  the 
home  of  the  beaver  and  the  kingfisher.  The  ferns  and 
grasses  on  the  banks  are  trodden  down  by  the  former 
in  its  paths,  and  the  latter  flits  from  bush  to  bush  with 
loud  rattling  screams  as  the  canoe  invades  its  piscatorial 
domains. 

"  At  length  there  was  an  obstruction  in  the  stream  over 
which  the  waters  fell  evenly.     It  was  a  beaver-dam — a 


BEAVER-DAM  ON  THE  TOBIADUC. 


i 


LAKE  DWELLERS.  173 

solid  construction  of  interwoven  bushes  and  poles,  dam- 
ming up  tlic  water  behind  to  a  height  of  between  three 
and  four  feet,  and  completely  altering  the  features  of  the 
brook,  which  from  this  point  was  all  still  water.  \Vo 
landed  on  the  top  to  open  out  a  portion,  and  thereby 
facilitate  the  canoes  being  lifted  over.  Some  of  the 
work  was  quite  fresh,  and  green  leaves  tipped  the  ends 
of  projecting  branches  ;  whilst  on  the  shore  lay  a  pile  of 
water-rotted  material  that  had  been  removed,  and  evi- 
dently considered  unserviceable.  Stones  and  mud  were 
plentifully  intermixed  with  the  bushes,  which  were 
mostly  cut  into  lengths  of  twelve  to  eighteen  feet,  and 
woven  together  across  the  stream.  The  top,  which 
would  support  us  all  without  yielding,  was  about  two 
feet  broad,  and  the  dam  thickened  below  the  surface. 
Some  stout  bushes  leaned  against  the  construction  in 
front.  They  were  planted  in  the  bed  of  the  stream ; 
and,  as  Glode  said,  were  used  as  supi^orts  in  making  the 
dam.  Above  was  a  long  meadow  of  wild  grass  to  which 
the  white  gaunt  stems  of  dead  pines,  drowned  ages  since 
by  the  heightened  level  of  the  stream,  imparted  a  deso- 
late appearance,  and  near  the  head  of  which  the  beavers 
had  their  habitations."  ;. 

This  dam,  and  one   or  two   others  which  I  had  an  i^ 

opportunity  of  observing,  was  built  straight  across  the  i. 

stream,  but  it  is  a  well  authenticated  fact  that  in  laroer  '' 

works,  where  the  channel  is  broader,  and  liable  to  heavy  ; 

waters,  the  dam  is  made  convex  to  the  current.  Some- 
times a  small  island  in  the  centre  is  taken  advantaae  of, 
and  the  dam  built  out  to  it  from  either  bank,  as  in- 
stanced by  a  very  large  one  noticed  on  the  Sable  river,  a 
few  miles  west  of  Rossignol,  where  the  sticks  used  in  its 


174  FOREST  LIFE   IN  ACADIE. 

construction  were  often  three  inches  in  diamotcr,  and  the 
country  above,  on  either  side,  flooded  to  the  extent  of 
nearly  two  feet,  covering  about  one  thousand  acres  of 
meadow  land.  These  dams  possess  great  strength  and 
dural)ility.  In  old  and  deserted  works  trees  spring  from 
the  soil,  which  is  plentifully  mixed  with  the  brushwood 
and  grass  covers  the  embankment.*  Many  such  monu- 
ments of  the  former  labours  of  the  beaver  are  to  be  seen 
in  Nova  Scotia,  in  districts  long  since  untenanted. 

As  the  beaver  residing  on  the  lakes  does  not  build  a 
I  dam  in  the  vicinity  of  his  dwelling,  the  reason  of  the 

strong  instinct  implanted  in  this  animal  to  j)roduce  these 
marvellous  constructions  under  other  circumstances  be- 
comes apparent.f  Whenever,  from  the  situation  or  nature 
of  the  water,  there  is  a  iirobability  of  the  supply  becom- 
ing shortened  by  drought,  and  to  ensure  sufficient  water 
*  to  enter  his  dwelling  from  beneath  the  ice  in  winter,  the 
beaver  constructs  a  dam  below  to  maintain  the  supply  of 
water  necessary  to  meet  either  of  these  contingencies. 
In  former  years,  when  beaver  abounded  in  all  j)<irts  of 

*  Mr.  Tliomps.)!!,  whose  writings  are  preserved  in  Canada  as  most  valualde 
and  authentic,  speaking  of  a  beaver-dam  which  he  saw,  states  :  "  On  a  tine 
afternoon  in  October,  1794,  the  leaves  beginning  to  fall  with  every  breeze, 
my  guide  informed  me  tliat  we  should  have  to  pass  over  a  long  beaver-dam. 
I  naturally  expected  that  we  should  have  to  lead  our  horses  carefully  over  it. 
Wh(;n  we  came  to  it,  we  found  it  a  stripe  of  a2)parently  old  solid  ground, 
covered  wdth  short  grass,  and  wide  enough  for  two  horses  to  walk  abreast. 
\  The  lower  side  showed  a  descent  of  seven  feet,  and  steep,  with  a  rill  of 

j  water  from  beneath  it  ;  the  side  of  tlie  dam  next  the  water  was  a  gentle 

slope.  To  the  southward  was  a  slieet  of  water  of  about  one  mile  and  a  half 
s(j^uare,  surrounded  by  low  grassy  banks.  The  forests  were  mostly  of  poplar 
and  aspen,  with  numerous  stumps  of  the  trees  cut  down,  and  partly  carried 
away  by  the  beavers.  In  two  places  of  tliis  pond  were  a  cluster  of  beaver- 
houres  like  miniature  villages." 

t  I  have,  however,  seen  the  outlet  of  very  small  lakes  dammed  up, 
evidently  to  raise  the  level  of  the  surface  to  some  eligible  site  near  the 
margin,  which  has  offered  some  advantage  or  other. 


LAKE  DWELLERS.  176 

tlio  Province,  it  is  evident  from  the  numerous  l)(\iver 
meadows  now  left  dry,  that  tlicy  took  advantage  not 
only  of  valleys  traversed  by  small  brooks,  hut  even  of 
swampy  lands  occasionally  inundated  hy  heavy  rains. 

The  beaver-house  is  constructed  of  the  same  materials 
as  the  dam.  Branches  of  trees  and  bushes,  partially 
trimmed  and  closely  interwoven,  are  mixinl  with  stones, 
gravel  or  mud,  according  to  the  nature  of  the  soil  ;  and 
on  the  outside  are  strewed  the  barked  sticks  of  willow, 
poplar,  or  birch,  on  which  the  animal  feeds.  As  before 
stated,  it  looks  like  a  huge  bird's  nest,  turned  upside 
down,  and  is  generally  located  in  the  grassy  coves  of 
lakes,  by  the  edge  of  still-water  runs  or  of  artificial 
ponds,  and,  less  frequently,  by  a  river  side,  where  a  bend 
or  jutting  rocks  afford  a  deep  eddying  pool  near  the 
bank.  The  house  rests  on  the  bank,  but  always  overlaps 
the  water,  into  which  the  front  part  is  immersed ;  and, 
as  a  general  rule,  the  bottom  of  the  stream  or  lake  is 
deepened  in  the  channel  approaching  the  entrance  by 
dredging,  thereby  ensuring  a  free  passage  below  the  ice. 
In  these  channels  or  canals,  easily  found  by  probing 
with  the  paddle,  the  hunter  sets  his  iron  spring-traps. 
The  following  passages  from  my  camp  notes  describe  the 
construction  of  the  beaver-house,  as  diown  in  all  the 
habitations  w^hich  we  examined  in  these  waters  : — • 

"  Foot  of  Rossignol,  September  4. 
"  Camped  on  a  be.'iutiful  spot,  the  eftiuence  of  the 
river  from  the  lake,  in  Indian  parlance,  the  '  segedwick,' 
always  a  favourite  camping  ground.  It  was  a  decided 
oak  opening,  an  open  grove  of  white  oaks,  with  a  soft 
sward  underneath ;  the  trees  were  grouped  as  in  a  park. 


176  FOREST  LIFE  IN   ACADIE. 

A  few  low  islands  covered  with  ferns  partially  broke  the 
breadth  of  the  river,  which  here  left  the  smooth  expanses 
of  the  lake  on  its  race  to  the  Atlantic,  about  twenty 
miles  below ;  and  here  our  rods  bent  incessantly  over 
the  struggles  of  trout,  frequently  two  at  a  time.  vVe 
intend  staying  here  several  days  to  rest  after  the  long 
weary  journey  up  and  down  the  Tobiaduc  stream  ;  and 
as  it  is  now  September,  a  brace  or  two  of  ruffed  grouse,  or 
even  a  moose  steak,  may  add  to  our  hitherto  scanty  forest 
fare  of  porcupine  and  trout.  Beneath  these  white  oaks 
repose  the  sii-es  of  the  Micmacs  of  this  district ;  it  was 
once  a  populous  village,  of  which  the  only  remaining 
tokens  are  the  L^'velling  mounds  covered  with  fern,  and 
the  plentiful  bones,  the  produce  of  the  chase,  scattered 
over  the  ground.  Our  canoe-men  seemed  quite  subdued, 
perhaps  a  little  overcome  by  superstitious  awe  on  pitch- 
ing our  camp  her(3  on  the  site  of  their  ancestors'  most 
favoured  residence.  With  a  road  through  to  the  town 
of  Liverpool,  this  lovely  spot  will  one  day,  ere  long, 
become  a  thriving  settlement.  I  wouhl  desire  no  more 
romantic  retreat  were  I  to  become  a  settler  ;  but  always 
bear  in  mind  the  lesson  inculcated  for  all  intending  mili- 
tary settlers  who  may  be  carried  away  by  their  enthu- 
siasm for  the  picturesque  scenery  of  the  summer  and  fall 
in  Nova  Scotia,  to  try  their  luck  away  back  from  civili- 
zation, in  the  well-told  and  pathetic  story  of  '  Cucumber 
Lake,'  by  Judge  Haliburton.  To-day  Glode  and  I  walked 
back  from  the  lake  about  three  miles,  through  thick 
woods,  to  sec  a  beaver-house  on  a  brook  of  which  he 
knew.  We  found  it  without  difficulty,  as  the  grass  and 
fern  for  some  distance  below  was  much  trodden  down, 
and  proceeded  to  make   a  careful   investigation   of  its 


LAKE  DWELLERS.  177 

structure;.  Its  site  was  a  dismal  one.  The  surroundinfif 
forest  had  been  burnt  ages  since,  for  there  was  no  char- 
coal left  on  the  stems,  which  were  bleached  and  hard  as 
adamant.  A  few  alders,  swamp  maples,  and  biicrs 
fringed  the  brook,  the  banks  of  which  were  overgrown 
with  tall  grass,  flags,  and  royal  fern.  Moose  had  re- 
cently passed  through,  browsing  on  the  juicy  stems  of 
the  red  maples.  It  was  a  large  house  ;  its  diameter  at 
the  water  line  nearly  eighteen  feet,  and  it  was  nearly 
five  feet  in  height.  On  the  outside  the  sticks  were 
thrown  somewhat  loosely,  but,  as  we  unpiled  them  and 
examined  the  structure  more  closely,  the  work  appeared 
better,  the  boughs  laid  more  horizontally,  and  firmly 
bound  in  with  mud  and  grass.  About  two  feet  from  the 
top  we  unroofed  the  chamber,  and  presently  disclosed  the 
interi  or  arrangements. 

"  The  cliaml)er — there  w^as  l)ut  one — was  very  low, 
scarcely  two  feet  in  height,  though  about  nine  feet  in 
diameter.  It  had  a  gentle  slope  upwards  from  the  water, 
the  margin  of  which  could  be  just  seen  at  the  edge. 
There  were  two  levels  inside,  one,  which  we  will  term 
the  hall,  a  sloping  mudbank  on  which  the  animal  emerges 
from  the  subaqueous  tunnel  and  shakes  himself,  and  the 
other  an  elevated  bed  of  boughs  ranged  round  the  back 
of  the  chamber,  and  much  in  the  style  of  a  guard-bed — 
i.e.,  the  sloping  wooden  trestle  usually  found  in  a  military 
guard-room.  The  couch  was  comfortably  covered  with 
lengths  of  dried  grass  and  rasped  fibres  of  wood,  similar 
to  the  shavings  of  a  toy-broom.  The  ends  of  the  timbers 
and  brushwood,  which  projected  inwards,  were  smoothly 
gnawed  off  all  round.  There  were  two  entrances — tlic 
one  led  into  the  water  at  the  edge  of  the  cliamber  and 


176  FOREST  LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 

let  in  the  light,  the  other  went  down  at  a  dec  per  angle 
into  black  water.  The  former  was  evidently  the  summer 
entrance,  the  latter  being  used  in  winter  to  avoid  the 
ice.  The  interior  was  perfectly  clean,  no  barked  sticks 
(the  refuse  of  the  food)  being  left  about.  These  were  all 
distributed  on  the  exterior,  a  fact  which  accounts  for  the 
bleached  appearance  of  many  houses  we  have  seen.  In 
turning  over  the  materials  of  the  house,  I  picked  up 
several  pieces  of  wood  of  but  two  or  three  inches  in 
length,  which  from  their  shortness  puzzled  me  as  to  the 
wherefore  of  so  much  trouble  being  taken  by  tlie  beaver 
for  so  (apparently)  small  a  purpose.  My  Indian,  how- 
ever, enliglitened  me.  The  side  on  which  a  young  tree 
is  intended  to  fall  is  cut  through,  say  two- thirds,  the 
other  side  one-third,  and  a  little  above.  The  tree  slips 
off  the  stem,  but  will  not  fall  prostrate,  owing  to  the 
intervention  of  branches  of  adjacent  trees.  So  the  beaver 
has  to  gnaw  a  little  above  to  start  it  again,  exactly  on 
the  plan  adopted  by  the  lumberer  in  case  of  a  catch 
amongst  the  upper  branches,  when  the  impetus  of  another 
slip  disengages  the  whole  tree.  The  occupants  of  the 
house  were  out  for  the  day,  as  they  generally  are 
throughout  the  summer,  being  engaged  in  travelling  up 
and  down  the  brooks,  and  cutting  provisions  for  the 
winter's  consumption.  Returning  to  camp  by  another 
route  through  the  woods,  we  had  to  cross  a  large  wild 
meadow  now  inundated  —  a  most  disagreeable  walk 
through  long  grass,  the  water  reaching  above  the  knees. 
At  the  foot,  where  Glode  said  a  little  sluggish  brook  ran 
out,  we  found  a  beaver-dam  in  process  of  construction — 
the  work  quite  fresh,  and  ac(!ounting  for  the  inundation 
of  the  meadow  above." 


=:. 


:• 


LAKE  DWELLERS.  179 

"  September  5. 
"  Glode  and  I  tried  creeping  moose,  back  in  the  woods, 
this  morning,  but  without  success.  No  wind  and  an 
execrable  country ;  all  windfalls  and  tliiftk  woods,  or  else 
burnt  barrens.  Follow  fresh  tracks  of  an  enormous  bull, 
but  are  obliged  to  leave  them  for  want  of  a  breeze  to 
cloak  our  somewhat  noisy  advance  amongst  the  tall 
huckleberry  bushes.  Indians  are  particularly  averse  to 
starting  game  when  there  is  no  chance  of  killing.  It 
scares  the  country  unnecessarily.  Disturb  a  bear  revel- 
ling amongst  the  berries,  and  hear  him  rush  off  in  a 
thick  swamp.  Lots  of  bear  signs  everywhere  in  these 
woods.  In  the  evening  proceed  up  the  lake  with  one  of 
the  canoes.  The  water  calm,  and  a  most  lovely  sunset. 
Passing  a  dark  grove  of  hemlocks,  we  hear  two  young 
bears  calling  to  one  another  with  a  sort  of  plaintive  moan. 
The  old  ones  seldom  cry  out,  being  too  knowing  and 
ever  on  the  watch.  At  the  head  of  a  grassy  cove  stood 
a  large  beaver-house  ;  and,  as  it  was  now  the  time  of  day 
for  the  animals  to  swim  round  and  feed  amongst  the 
yellow  water-lilies,  we  concealed  ourselves  and  canoe 
amongst  the  tall  grass  for  the  purpose  of  watching. 
But  for  the  mosquitoes,  which  attacked  us  fiercely, 
it  was  a  most  enjoyable  evening.  The  gorgeous  sunset 
reflected  in  the  lake  vied  with  the  shadows  of  the  crim- 
son maples ;  and  every  bank  of  woods  opposed  to  the 
sun  was  suffused  with  a  rich  orange  hue.  The  still  air 
bore  to  our  ears  the  sound  of  a  fall  into  the  lake,  some 
three  miles  away,  as  if  it  were  close  by,  and  tlu*  cry  of 
the  loon  resounded  in  every  direction.  Wood-ducks  and 
black  ducks  flew  past  in  abundance,  and  within  easy 
range  of  our  hidden  guns  ;  and  long  diverging  trails  in  the 


N    li 


180  FOREST   LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 

iniiTor-like  surface  showed  the  passage  of  otter  or  musk- 
rats  over  the  lake.  Presently  the  water  broke  seme  sixty 
yards  from  us,  and  the  head  and  back  of  a  beaver 
showed  above  the  surface,  whilst  another  appeared  nlmost 
simultaneously  farther  off.  After  a  cautious  glance 
around,  the  animal  dived  again  with  a  roll  like  that 
of  a  porpoise,  reappearing  in  a  few  minutes.  He  was 
feeding  on  the  roots  of  the  yellow  lilies  (Nupliar  ad  vena). 
Probably  three  minutes  elapsed  during  each  visit  to  the 
bottom.  Taking  advantage  of  one  of  these  intervals, 
the  Indians  pushed  the  canoe  from  the  concealment 
of  the  grass,  and  with  a  few  noiseless  yet  vigorous 
strokes  of  the  paddle  made  towards  the  spot  where  we 
supposed  the  animal  would  rise.  As  the  head  reappeared, 
we  let  fly  witli  the  rifle,  but  missed  the  gpme,  the  report 
echoino;  from  island  to  island,  and  evokino;  most  discordant 
yells  from  the  loons  far  and  near.  Of  course  we  had 
seen  all  that  was  to  be  seen  of  the  animals  for  the 
night ;  '  and  so,'  as  Mr.  Pepys  would  say,  '  disconsolate 
back  to  camp.' " 

During  the  excursion  we  had  opportunities  of  examining 
many  beaver-houses,  placed  in  every  variety  of  situation 
• — by  the  lake  shore,  by  the  edge  of  sluggish  "  still 
waters,"  on  the  little  forest  brook,  or  on  the  brink  of 
the  rapid  river.  They  all  presented  a  similar  appear- 
ance— equally  rough  externally,  and  all  similarly  con- 
structed inside.  Neither  could  we  observe  anything 
like  a  colony  of  beavers,  their  houses  grouped  in  close 
proximity,  as  so  frequently  noticed  by  travellers.  The 
beaver  of  Eastern  America  appears,  indeed,  quite  un- 
sociable in  comparison  with  his  brethren  of  the  West. 
We  siiw  none  but  isolated  dwellings  either  on  lake  or 


LAKE   DWELLERS.  181 

river-shore,  and  these  placed  at  several  hundred  yards 
apart  from  each  oth(»r. 

With  respect  to  the  number  of  animals  living  together 
in  the  same  house,  our  Indians,  who  had  lived  in  this 
neighbourhood  and  Jmnted  beaver  from  their  youth, 
corroborated  the  fact,  often  stated  by  naturalists,  of 
three  generations  living  together— the  old  pair,  the  last 
progeny,  and  the  next  elcl  st  (they  generally  have  two 
at  a  birth)  ;  the  latter  leaving  every  summer  to  set  up 
for  themselves. 

At  the  time  of  our  visit  the  beavers  were  retu ruins: 
from  the  summer  excursions  up  and  down  the  rivers,  and 
setting  to  work  to  repair  damages  both  to  houses  and 
dams.  This  work  is  invariably  carried  on  during  the  night ; 
and  the  following  is  the  modus  operandi: — Repairing 
to  the  thickets  and  groves  skirting  the  lake,  the  beaver, 
squatting  on  his  hams,  rapidly  gnaws  through  the  stems 
of  trees  of  six  or  even  twelve  inches  diameter,  with  its 
powerful  incisors.  These  are  again  divided,  and  dragged 
away  to  the  house  or  dam.  The  beaver  now  plunges  into 
the  water,  and  Imngs  up  the  mud  and  small  stones  from 
the  bottom  to  the  work  in  progress,  carrying  them  closely 
under  the  chin  in  its  fore  paws.  The  vulgar  opinion  that 
the  broad  tail  of  the  beaver  was  used  to  plaster  down  the 
mud  in  its  work,  has  long  since  been  pronounced  as  erro- 
neous. Its  real  use  is  evidently  to  counterpoise,  by  an 
action  against  the  water  in  an  upward  direction,  the 
tendency  to  sink  head  foremost  (which  the  animal  would 
otherwise  have)  when  propelling  itself  through  the  water 
by  its  powerful  and  webbed  hind  feet,  and  at  the  same 
time  supporting  the  load  of  mud  or  stones  in  its  fore 
paws  under  the  chin.     Our  Indians  laughed  at  the  idea 


182  FOREST   LIFE   IN    ACADIE. 

of  the  trowel  story.  That,  and  the  assertion  that  the 
tail  is  likewise  used  as  a  vehicle  for  materials,  may  be 
considered  as  exploded  notions. 

The  food  of  the  beaver  co^isists  of  the  bark  of  several 
varieties  of  willow,  of  poplar,  and  birch ;  tlicy  also  feed 
constantly  during  summer  on  the  roots  and  tendrils  of 
the  yellow  pond  lily  (Nuphar  advena).  They  feed  in  the 
evening  and  throughout  the  night.  For  winter  supplies 
the  saplings  of  the  above-mentioned  trees  are  cut  into 
lengtlis  of  two  or  three  feet,  and  planted  in  the  mud 
outside  the  house.  Lengths  are  brought  in  and  the  bark 
devoured  in  the  hall,  never  on  the  couch,  and  when 
peeled,  the  sticks  are  towed  outside  and  used  in  the  spring 
to  repair  the  house. 

The  house  is  approached  from  the  water  by  long 
trenches,  hollowed  out  to  a  considerable  depth  in  the 
bottom  of  the  lalce  or  brook.  In  these  are  piled  their 
winter  stock  of  food,  short  lengths  of  willow  and  poplar, 
which,  if  left  sticking  in  the  mud  at  the  ordinary  level  of 
the  bottom  below  the  suiface,  would  become  im'pacted  in 
the  ice.  The  beaver  travels  a  lonir  distance  from  his 
house  in  search  of  materials,  both  for  building  and  food. 
I  saw  the  stumps  of  small  trees,  which  had  been  felled  at 
least  three-quarters  of  a  milo,  from  the  house.  Their 
towing  power  in  the  water,  and  that  of  traction  on  dry 
land,  is  astonishing.  The  following  is  rather  a  good 
story  of  their  coolness  and  enterprise,  told  me  by  a  friend, 
who  was  a  witness  to  the  fact.  It  occurred  at  a  little 
lake  near  the  head  waters  of  Roseway  river.  Having 
constructed  a  raft  for  the  purpose  of  poling  round  the 
edge  of  the  lake,  to  get  at  the  houses  of  the  beaver,  which 
were  built  in  a  swampy  savannah  otherwise  inaccessible, 


LAKE   DWELLERS.  183 

it  had  been  left  in  the  evenin«T;  moored  at  tlie  edge  of  the 
lake  nearest  the  camps,  and  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
from  the  nearest  beaver  house,  the  poles  lying  on  it. 
Next  morning,  on  going  down  to  the  raft  the  poles  were 
missing,  so,  cutting  fresh  ones,  he  started  with  the  Indians 
towards  the  houses.  There,  to  his  astonishment,  was  one 
of  the  poles,  coolly  deposited  on  the  top  of  a  house. 

Besides  the  house,  the  beaver  has  another  place  of 
residence  in  the  summer,  and  of  rcstreat  in  the  winter, 
should  his  house  be  ])roken  into.  In  the  neighbourhood 
of  the  house  long  burrows,  ►  oad  enough  for  the  beaver 
to  turn  in  with  ease,  extend  from  ten  to  twenty  feet  in 
the  bank,  and  have  their  entrance  at  a  considerable  depth 
below  the  surface  of  the  water.  To  these  they  invariably 
fly  when  surprised  in  their  houses. 

One  of  the  principal  causes  which  have  so  nearly  led 
to  the  extermination  of  the  beaver,  was  the  former  demand 
for  the  castoreum,  and  the  discovery  that  it  could  be  used 
as  an  unfailing  bait  for  the  animal  itself.  This  substance 
is  contained  in  two  small  sacs  near  the  root  of  the 
tail,  and  is  of  an  orange  colour.  Now  seldom  em- 
ployed in  pharmacology  for  its  medicinal  properties 
(stimulant  and  anti-spasmodic),  being  superseded  by 
more  modern  discoveries,  it  is  still  used  in  trapping  the 
animal,  as  the  most  certain  bait  in  existence.""'     It  is  said 

•  Ei'inan  thus  notices  it  in  his  Siherian  travels  : — "There  is  hardly  .any 
drug  which  reconinieuds  itself  to  man  so  powerfully  by  its  impression  on 
the  external  senses  as  this.  The  Ostyaks  were  acquainted  with  its  virtues 
from  the  earliest  times  ;  and  it  was  related  here  (Obdorsk)  that  they  keep  a 
supply  of  it  in  every  yurt,  that  the  women  may  recover  their  strength  more 
quickly  after  child-birth.  Li  like  manner  the  Kosaks  and  Russian  traders 
have  exalteil  the  beaver-stone  into  a  panacea. 

"  To  the  sentence  '  God  arose,  and  our  enemies  were  scattered,'  the  Sibe- 
rians add,  very  characteristically,  the  apocryphal  interpolation,  '  and  we  are 
free  from  head-ache.'    To  ensure  this  most  desirable  condition,  every  one 


1B4  FOREST   LIFE   IN    ACADIE. 

to  be  likewise  efficacious  in  trapping  the  wild  cat,  which 
is  excessively  fond  of  the  odour.  jNIr.  Thompson,  a 
Canadian  writer,  thus  speaks  of  it : — "  A  few  years  ago 
the  Indians  of  Canada  and  New  Brunswick,  on  seeing 
the  steel  trap  so  successful  in  catching  foxes  and  other 
animals,  thought  of  applying  it  to  the  beaver,  instead  of 
the  awkward  wooden  traps  they  made,  wliicli  often  failed. 
At  first  they  were  set  in  the  landing  paths  of  the  beaver, 
with  about  four  inches  of  water  over  them,  and  a  piece 
of  green  aspen  for  a  bait,  that  would  allure  it  to 
the  trap.  Various  things  and  mixtures  of  ingredients 
were  tried  without  success ;  but  chance  made  some  try  if 
the  male  could  not  be  caught  by  adding  the  castoreum, 
beat  up  with  the  green  buds  of  the  aspen.  A  piece  of 
willow  about  eight  inches  in  lenu;th,  beat  and  bruised 
fine,  was  dipped  in  tliis  mixture.  Tt  was  i)laced  at  the 
water  edge  about  a  foot  from  the  steel  trap,  so  that  the 
beaver  should  pass  direct  over  it  and  be  caught.  This 
trap  proved  successful ;  but,  to  the  surprise  of  the  Indians, 
the  females  were  caught  as  well  as  the  males.  The  secret 
of  this  bait  was  soon  spread  ;  every  Indian  procured  from 
the  trader  four  to  six  steel  traps  ;  all  labour  was  now  at  an 
end,  and  the  hunter  moved  about  with  pleasure,  with  his 
traps  and  infallible  bait  of  castoreum.  Of  the  infatuation 
of  this  animal  for  castoreum  I  saw  several  instances.  A 
trap  was  negligently  listened  by  its  small  chain  to  the 
stake,  to  prevent  the  beaver  taking  away  the  trap  when 
caught ;  it  slipped,  and  the  beaver  swam  away  with  the 
trap,  and  it  was  looked  upon  as  lost.     Two  nights  after 

has  recourse,  at  home  or  on  his  travels,  and  Avith  the  finnest  faith,  to  two 
medicines,  and  only  two,  viz.,  beaver-stone,  or  heaver  eliinx  as  it  is  here 
called,  and  sal-ainnioniac." 


LAKE   DWELLERS.  1*^5 

he  was  taken  in  a  trap,  with  the  other  trap  fast  on  his 
thigh.  Another  time  a  beaver,  passing  over  a  trap  to  get 
the  castoreum,  had  his  hind  leg  broken  ;  with  his  teeth 
he  cut  the  l)roken  leg  off,  and  went  awa} .  We  concluded 
that  he  would  not  come  a^jain  :  but  two  nights  afterwards 
he  was  found  fast  in  a  trap,  in  every  case  tempted  by  the 
castoreum.  The  stick  was  always  licked  or  sucked  clean, 
and  it  seemed  to  act  as  a  soporific,  as  they  always  re- 
mained more  than  a  day  without  coming  out  of  their 
houses." 

And  yet  the  beaver  is  an  exceedingly  wary  animal, 
possessing  the  keenest  sense  of  smell.  In  setting  the 
large  iron  traps,  without  teeth,  which  are  generally  used 
in  Nova  Scotia,  and  placed  in  the  paths  leading  from  the 
house  to  the  grove  where  he  feeds,  so  careful  must  be  the 
hunter  not  to  leave  his  scent  on  the  spot,  that  he  gene- 
rally cuts  down  a  tree  and  walks  on  its  branches  towards 
the  edge  of  the  path,  afterwards  withdrawing  it,  and 
plentifully  sprinkling  water  around. 

The  presence  of  the  beaver  in  his  snow-covered  house 
is  readily  detected  by  the  hunter  in  winter  by  the  appear- 
ance (if  the  dwelling  is  tenanted)  of  what  is  called  the 
"  smoke  hole,"  a  funnel-shaped  passage  formed  by  the 
warm  vapour  ascending  from  the  animals  beneath. 

With  regard  to  specific  distinction  of  the  beavers  of 
America,  Europe,  and  Asia,  the  remarks  of  Professor 
Baird,  of  the  Smithsonian  Institute,  in  his  report  of  the 
mammals  of  the  Pacific  railroad  routes,  summing  up  the 
evidence  of  naturalists  on  the  comparative  anatomy  of 
the  Castors  of  the  Old  and  New  Worlds,  appear  worthy  of 
note  as  establishing  a  satisfactory  result. 

The  question  has  been  elaborately  discussed,  and  the 


■!' 


186  FOREST   LIFE  IN    ACAD  IE. 

results  of  many  comparisons  show  considerable  difference 
of  arrangement  of  bones  of  the  skull,  a  slight  difference 
as  regards  size  and  colour,  and  an  important  one  as 
regards  both  the  form  of  the  castoreum  glands,  and  the 
composition  of  the  castoreum  itself.  Professor  Owen, 
Bach,  and  others  agreeing  on  a  separation  of  species.'* 
Hence,  instead  of  being  termed  Castor  Fil)er  (Var.  Ami'ri- 
canus),  the  American  Beaver  now,  (and  but  recently), 
is  designated  as  Castor  Canadensis,  so  termed  rather  than 
C.  Americanus,  from  the  prior  nomenclature  of  Kuhl. 

THE  MUSK  EAT  (Fiber  Zibethicus  of  Cuvier)  is  so 
like  a  miniature  beaver,  both  in  conformation  and  habit, 
that  Linna3us  was  induced  to  class  it  amongst  the  Castors. 
Like  that  of  the  latter  animal  its  tail  is  flattened,  though 
vertically  and  to  a  much  less  extent,  and  is  proportionally 
longer.  It  is  oar-shaped,  whilst  the  form  of  the  beaver's 
tail  has  been  aptly  compared  to  the  tongue  of  a  manmial. 
J')oth  animals  have  the  same  long  and  lustrous  brown-red 
hair,  with  a  thick  undercoat  of  soft,  downy  fur,  which,  in 
the  musk  rat,  is  of  a  blueish  gray  or  ashes  colour,  in  the 
beaver  ferruginous.  The  little  sedge-built  water  hut  of 
the  rat  is  similarly  constructed  to  the  beaver's  dome 
of  barked  sticks  and  brushwood,  and  both  have  burrows 
in  the  banks  of  the  river  side  as  summer  resorts. 

The  range  of  the  musk  rat  throughout  North  America 
is  co-extensive  with  the  distribution  of  the  beaver,  and  it 

*  Dr.  Brandt,  who  has  written  a  most  elaborate  exposition  on  the  differ- 
ences of  the  beavers  of  the  Old  and  New  Worlds,  states  the  eastoreuni-bag 
of  the  American  to  l)e  more  elonjfated  and  thinner  skinned  than  that  of  the 
European  ;  and  that  in  the  secretion  of  the  latter  species  there  is  a  much 
larger  proportion  of  etherial  oil,  castorine,  and  castoreum-resinoid. — Vide 
liaird's  Alammals  of  Pacific  Route. 


LAKE   DWELLERS.  187 

still  continues  plentiful  in  Eastern  America  in  spite  of 
the  immense  numbers  of  skins  exported  every  year.  The 
Indians  are  ever  on  the  look-out  for  them  on  the  banks 
of  the  alluvial  rivers  entering  the  Bay  of  Fundy,  in  which 
they  especially  abound,  and  in  every  settler's  barn  may  be 
seen  their  jackets  expanded  to  dry. 

Their  little  flattened  oval  nests,  composed  of  bents 
and  sedges,  are  of  frequent  occurrence  by  lake  margins  ; 
and  very  shallow  grassy  ponds  are  sometimes  se(;n  dotted 
with  them  quite  thickly.  On  the  muddy  banks  of  rivers 
their  holes  are  as  numerous  as  those  of  the  European 
water-rat,  the  entrance  just  under  the  surfa(.'e  of  the 
water,  and  generally  marked  by  a  profusion  of  the  shells 
of  the  fresh-water  mussel.  Tliey  are  vegetable  feeders, 
with,  I  believe,  this  solitary  exception,  though  I  am  sorry 
to  have  to  record,  from  my  own  experience,  that  can- 
nibalism is  a  not  unfrequent  trait  when  in  confinement. 

To  the  canoe-voyageur,  or  the  fisherman  on  the  forest- 
lakes,  the  appearance  of  the  miisk  rat,  sailing  round  in 
the  calm  water  on  tie  approach  of  sunset,  when  in  fine 
summer  weather  the  l)almy  west  wind  almost  invariably 
dies  away  and  leaves  the  surface  with  faithful  reflections 
of  the  beautiful  maroinal  folia2:e  of  the  woods,  is  one  of 
the  most  fixmiliar  and  pleasing  sights  of  nature.  Coming 
forth  from  their  home  in  some  shady,  lily-bearing  cove, 
they  gambol  round  in  the  open  lake  in  widening  circles, 
apparently  fearless  of  the  passing  canoe,  now  and  then 
divino;  below  the  surface  for  a  few  seconds,  and  re- 
appearing  with  that  grace  and  freedom  from  splash,  on 
leavini*;  and  reffiuning  the  surface,  wdiich  characterise  the 
movements  both  of  this  animal  and  of  the  beaver. 

Travelling  down  the  Shubenacadie  and  other  gently- 


18W  FOREST  LTFR   IN   AOADIE. 

running  forest-stroains  in  duy-time,  I  have  often  seen 
tlicni  crossing  and  re-crossing  tlie  surface  in  the  quiet 
reaches  through  chirk  (overhanging  woods,  carrying  in 
their  mouths  pieces  of  bracken,  prol>iil)ly  to  feed  on  the 
stem,  though  it  seemed  as  if  to  sha(h'  themselves  from 
tlie  sunbeams  ghuicin*'  throujTjh  the  foliaijc. 

The  Miemac  calls  this  little  animal  "  Kewesoo,"  and  is 
not  impartial  to  its  flesh,  which  is  delicate,  and  not  unlike 
that  of  rabbit. 

I  have  heard  of  a  worthy  Catholic  priest  who  most 
conveniently  adopted  the  belief  that  both  beaver  and 
musk  rat  were  more  of  a  fishy  than  a  fleshy  nature,  and 
thus  mitigated  the  rigours  of  a  fast-day  in  the  backwoods 
by  a  roasted  beaver-tail  or  savoury  stew.  By  the  Indians 
of  Nova  Scotia  or  New  Brunswick  the  flesh  of  the  former 
animal  is  rarely  tasted,  but  to  the  wilder  hunters  of  New- 
foundland it  is  the  primest  of  forest  meats.  The  musk 
rat  will  readily  swim  up  to  the  call  of  the  hunter— a  sort 
of  plaintive  squeak  made  by  chirping  with  the  lips  applied 
to  the  hollow  of  closed  hands. 

The  acclimatisation  of  both  these  rodents  in  England 
has  been  frequently  advocated  of  late.  In  the  case  of 
the  beaver,  which  in  historic  times  was  an  inhabitant  of 
Wales  and  Scotland,  according  to  Giraldus,  its  introduc- 
tion must  be  at  the  expense  of  modern  cultivation,  from 
its  tendency  to  destroy  surrounding  growths  of  young 
forest  trees,  and  to  make  ponds  and  swamps  of  lands 
already  drained.  The  musk  rat,  I  am  inclined  to  think, 
in  concurrence  with  Mr.  Crichton's  opinion,  would  prove 
a  valuable  addition  to  the  bank  fauna  of  sluggish  Enixlish 
streams. 

I  have  thus  classed  together  as  true  lake  dwellers  these 


LAKE   DWKLLEItS.  180 

two  first-coiisiiis,  as  tlicy  appojir  to  bo,  the  beaver  and 
the  musk  rat,'^  yet,  as  the  lieading  is  somewhat  fjinciful, 
and  my  oljcct  is  to  notice  the  water-freqiu'nting  mam- 
malia of  tlie  W(jodH,  I  will  proceed  to  mention  otlier 
animals  which  i)rowl  round  the  mari^ins  of  hikes  or 
brooks,  more  or  less  taking  to  the  water,  undiir  the  sub- 
divisional  title  of  "  dwellers  by  lake  shores." 

THE  OTPER  of  Eastern  Americui  (Lutra  Canadensis), 
(there  is  a  distinct  species  found  on  the  Pacific  slope,) 
differs  from  the  European  animal  in  colour,  size,  and  con- 
formation. The  former  is  much  the  darkest  colouri'd,  a 
peculiarity  attaclnul  to  many  North  American  mammals 
when  compared  with  their  Old-Woi-ld  congeners.  It  is 
also  the  largest.  Taken  ^^ct  se,  but  slight  importance 
would  attach  to  such  variations  ;  and  it  is  on  the  grounds 
of  well-ascertained  osteological  differences  only  that  the 
separation  of  species  in  the  case  of  both  the  beaver  and 
the  otter  of  America  has  been  agreed  on. 

The  Canadian  otter  measures  from  nose  to  tip  of  tail, 
in  a  large  specimen,  between  four  and  a-half  and  five  feet ; 
its  colour  is  a  dark  chestnut  brown  or  liver,  and  its  fur  is 
very  close  and  lustrous.  Under  the  throat  and  belly  it  is 
lighter,  approaching  to  tawny.  The  breeding  season  is  in 
February  and  early  March  (of  wild  cat  and  fox,  ibid),  and 
the  she  otter  brings  forth  in  May  a  litter  of  three  or  four 
pups.  The  clear  whistle  of  the  otter  is  a  very  common 
sound  to  the  ear  of  the  occupant  of  a  fishing  camj),  and 
the  Indians  frequently  call  them  up  by  successful  imita- 
tion of  their  note.     The  skin  is  valuable  and  much  sought 

*  The  musk-rat  is  often  found  as  an  occu})ant  of  an  old  beaver-house 
deserted  bv  the  latter  animal. 


''tl 


^. 


li)0  FOREbT  LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 

after  in  the  mnnufactiire  of  nuifFs,  trinimiiigs,  and  espe- 
cially of  the  tall  ornamental  fur  caps  generally  worn  as 
part  of  the  winter  ct)stiime  in  Canada.  The  price  of  the 
skin  varies  according  to  season,  good  ones  bringing  fi-om 
four  to  six  dollars  each. 

They  are  most  frequently  taken  in  winter  by  traps — 
dead-falls  placed  over  little  forest  brooks  trickling  be- 
tween lakes,  and  steel-traps  submerged  at  a  hand's 
depth  close  to  the  bank,  where  they  come  out  from 
under  the  ice  to  their  paths  and  "rubs."  These  re- 
sorts are  readily  detected  by  the  tracks  and  stains  on 
the  snow,  and  the  smooth,  shining  appearance  of  the 
frozen  bank  where  they  indulge  in  their  curious  amuse- 
ment of  sliding  down,  after  the  manner  of  the  pas- 
time termed  in  Canachi  "  trebogining."  Even  in  con- 
finement the  animal  is  full  of  sport,  and  gambols 
like  a  kitten.  The  term  "  otter-rub  "  is  applied  to  the 
place  where  they  enter  and  leave  the  water,  from 
their  habit  of  rubbing  themselves,  like  a  dog,  against  a 
stump  or  root  on  emerging  from  the  water.  The 
otter  is  a  very  wary  animal,  and  I  have  rarely  come 
upon  and  shot  them  unawares,  though  in  cruising  up  and 
down  runs  in  a  canoe  in  spring  I  liave  often  seen  their 
victims,  generally  a  goodly  trout,  deserted  on  hearing  the 
dip  of  our  paddles,  and  still  floundering  on  the  ice.  Fresh- 
water fish,  including  trout,  perch,  eels  and  suckers,  form 
their  usual  food ;  they  will  also  eat  frogs.  They  have 
paths  through  the  woods  from  lake  to  lake,  often  ex- 
tending over  a  very  considerable  distance,  and  the 
shortest  cuts  that  could  be  adopted — a  regular  bee-line. 
Their  track  on  the  snow  is  most  singular.  After  a  yard 
or  two  of  foot  impressions  there  comes  a  long,  broad  trail. 


LAKE  DWELLERS.  1!)1 

as  if  made  by  a  cart-wlicel,  where  the  animal  must  have 
thrown  itself  on  its  belly  and  slid  along  the  surface  for 
several  yards. 

THE  FISHER,  Black  Cat,  or  Pecan  (INTustela  Pen- 
nautii),  the  largest  of  the  tree  martens,  a  somewhat 
fox-like  weasel,  which  lives  almost  constantly  in  trees, 
is  another  dweller  by  lake  shores,  though  not  in  the 
least  aquatic  in  its  habits,  and,  not  being  piscivorous, 
quite  unentitled  to  the  name  first  given.  Its  general 
colour  is  dark  brown  with  uncertain  shades,  a  dorsal 
line  of  black,  sliining  hair  nniching  from  the  neck  to  the 
extremity  of  the  tail.  The  hair  underneath  is  lighter, 
with  several  patches  of  white.  The  eye  is  very  larg(>, 
full  and  expressive. 

The  skin  possesses  about  the  sume  value  as  that  of  tlie 
otter.  Squirrels,  birds  and  their  eggs,  rabbits  and  grouse, 
contribute  to  its  support.  The  Indians  all  agTce  as  to  its 
alleged  habit  of  attacking  and  killing  the  porcupine. 
"  The  Old  Hunter  "  informs  me  that  "  it  is  a  well-known 
fact  that  the  fisher  has  been  often — veiy  often — trapped 
with  its  skin  and  flesh  so  filled  with  quills  of  this  animal 
that  it  has  been  next  to  an  impossibility  to  remove  the 
felt  from  the  carcass.  In  my  wanderings  in  the  woods  in 
winter  time,  I  have  three  times  seen,  where  they  have 
killed  porcupine,  nothing  but  blood,  nK^ss,  and  cpiills, 
denoting  that  Mr,  F.  had  partaken  of  his  victim's  flesh.  1 
searched,  but  could  not  find  any  place  where  portions  of 
the  an'-^al  might  have  been  hidden;  this  would  have 
been  a  circumstance  of  course  easy  to  ascertain  on  the 
snow.  Now  what  could  have  become  of  that  for- 
midable fighting  tail  and  the  bones  ?      I  know  that  a 


u„«. 


192  FOREST   LIFE  IN   ACADIE, 

snicall  dog  can  neither  cmek  the  latter,  nor  those  of 
the  beaver." 

Mr.  Andrew  Downs,  the  well-known  Nova  Scotian 
practical  naturalist,  says  he  has  often  found  porcu- 
pine-quills in  the  fisher's  stomach  on  skinning  the 
animal. 

The  fisher  is  becoming  rare  in  the  forests  of  Acadie. 
According  to  Dr.  Gilpin,  a  hundred  and  fifty  to  two  hun- 
dred is  the  usual  annual  yield  of  skins  in  Nova  Scotia, 
and  these  chiefly  come  from  the  Cobequid  range  of  hills 
in  Cumberland. 

The  length  of  the  animal,  tail  included,  is  from  forty 
to  fifty  inches,  of  which  the  tail  would  be  about 
eighteen. 

THE  MINK  (Putorius  vison,  Aud.  and  Bach.)  is  much 
more  a  water-side  frequenter  than  the  last  described 
animal,  and  indeed  is  quite  aquatic  in  its  habits,  being 
constantly  seen  swimming  in  lakes  like  the  otter,  which 
it  somewhat  resembles  in  its  taste  for  fish  and  frogs. 
The  mink  has,  moreover,  a  strong  propensity  to  maraud 
poultry  yards,  and  is  trapped  by  the  settler,  not  only  in 
self-defence,  but  also  on  account  of  the  two,  three,  or 
even  five  dollars  obtainable  for  a  good  skin.  The  general 
colour  is  dark,  reddish-brown,  and  the  fur  is  much  used 
for  caps,  boas  and  muffs.  It  is  a  rich  and  beautiful  fur, 
finer  though  shorter  than  that  of  the  marten. 

The  droppings  of  the  mink  may  be  seen  on  almost 
every  flat  rock  in  the  forest  brook,  and  where  their  runs 
approach  the  water's  edge,  perhaps  leading  through  a  gap 
between  thickly-growing  fir  stems,  are  placed  the  nume- 
rous traps  devised  to  secure  the  prize  by  settlers  and 


III' 


LAKE  DWELLP:RS. 


i!);3 


Inclums.  Fish,  flesh,  or  fowl  alike  may  form  the  bait- 
a  pieee  of  gaspereau,  or  the  liver  of  a  rabbit  or  porcupine' 
1.  very  enticing.  With  its  half-webbe.l  feet  an,l  aqivtic' 
habits,  the  American  mink  appears  to  have  a  well-marked 
Jiuropean  representative  in  the  hitreola  of  Finhuid. 


I 


'i 


I 


I  r 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

CAVE    LODGERS. 


THE    BLACK    BEAR. 

(Ursus  Aviericanus,  Pallas.) 

This  species  has  a  most  extensive  range  in  North 
America,  is  common  in  all  wooded  districts  from  the 
mouths  of  the  ]\Iississippi  to  the  shores  of  Hudson's 
Bay,  from  the  Labrador,  Newfoundland,  and  the  islands 
of  the  Gulf,  to  Vancouver,  and  is  found  wherever 
northern  fir-thickets  or  the  tangled  cane-brakes  of  more 
southern  regions  oiler  him  a  retreat. 

In  the  Eastern  woodlands  the  black  bear  (here  the 
sole  representative  of  his  genus)  is  the  only  large  wild 
animal  that  becomes  offensive  when  numerous,  as  he  is 
still  in  all  the  Lower  Provinces.  He  is  a  continual  source 
of  anxious  dread  to  the  settler,  whose  cattle,  obliged  to 
wander  into  the  woods  to  seek  provender,  often  meet 
their  fate  at  the  hands  of  this  lawless  freebooter,  who 
will  also  burglariously  break  into  the  settler's  barn,  and, 
abstracting  sheep  and  small  cattle,  drag  them  off  into 
the  neighbouring  woods.  And  he  is  such  an  exceed- 
ingly cunning,  wide-awake  beast  that  it  is  very  seldom 
he  can  be  pursued  and  destroyed  by  the  bullet,  or 
deluded  into  the  trap  or  snare  ;    and  hence  he  is  not 


CAVE   LODGERS.  195 

SO  often  killed  as  his  numbers  and  bad  character  mijrht 
warrant. 

Compared  with  the  U.  Arctos — the  common  brown 
btar  of  Europe — the  black  bear  shows  many  well-marked 
dii^^inctions,  the  grizzly  (U.  horrilnlis)  claiming  a  much 
clcse.'"  relationship  with  the  former.  Professor  Baird 
points,  however,  to  important  dental  differences  between 
them  ;  and  considers  the  invariably  broader  skulls  of  the 
brown  bear  conclusive  as  to  identity.  Perhaps  the 
greater  size  of  the  grizzly  might  be  merely  regarded  as 
owing  to  geographical  variation ;  but,  taken  in  conjunc- 
tion with  the  above  and  other  osteological  differences, 
and  the  longer  claws  and  shorter  ears  of  the  American, 
we  can  only  regar^l  them  as  representative  species. 

The  black  bear  grows  to  some  six  feet  in  length  from 
the  muzzle  to  the  tail  (about  two  inches  long),  and 
stands  from  three  to  three  and  a  half  feet  in  height  at 
the  shoulder.  The  general  colour  is  a  glossy  black,  the 
sides  of  the  muzzle  pale  brown;  there  is  no  wool  at  the 
base  of  the  hair.  In  many  specimens  observed  in  Nova 
Scotia  I  have  seen  groat  differences  both  as  regards 
colour  of  the  skin  and  length  of  leg — even  in  breadth  of 
the  skulls.  Some  animals  are  brown  all  over,  others  glossy 
black,  and  wanting  the  cinnamon  patch  at  the  muzzle. 
There  are  long  and  low  bears,  whereas  others  have  short 
bodies  and  great  length  of  limb.  The  settlers,  of  course, 
as  they  do  in  the  case  of  other  animals,  insist  upon  two 
species :  my  own  conclusion  is  that  the  species  is  very 
susceptible  of  variation.  They  have  a  mythical  bear 
called  "  the  ranger,"  which  does  not  hybernate,  and  is 
known  by  length  of  limb,  and  a  white  spot  on  the  breast. 
This  latter  peculiarity  I  have  seen  in  several  skins,  but 

o  2 


196  FOREST   LIFE    LN    ACADIE. 

f"  have  only  noticed  traclcB  of  bears  on  the  snow  in  winter, 

when  a  sudden  and  violent  rainstorm,  or  a  prolonged 

f^f*  thaw  has  flooded  their  den,  and  sent  them  forth  to  look 

for  fresh  shelter,  as  they  cannot  endure  a  wet  bed  during 
hybernation. 

The  bear  is  very  particular  in  choosing  a  comfortable 
dormitory  for  his  long  winter  s  nap.  In  walking  through 
the  woods,  you  will  find  plenty  of  caves— likely  looking 
places  for  a  bear's  den — but  "  Bruin,"  or  rather  "  Mooin," 
as  the  Indians  call  him  (a  name  singularly  like  his  Euro- 
pean sobriquet  in  sound)  would  not  condescend  to  use 
one  in  a  hundred,  perhaps.  He  must  have  a  nice  dry 
place,  so  arranged  that  the  snow  will  not  drift  in  on  his 
back,  or  water  trickle  through ;  for  he  grumbles  terribly, 
when  aroused  from  his  lair  in  mid-winter,  either  by  the 
hunter's  summons  or  unseasonable  weather.  And  then 
he  is  so  cautious — the  Indians  say  "  he  think  all  the  same 
as  a  man  " — that  he  will  not  go  into  it  if  there  are  any 
sticks  cut  in  the  vicinity  by  the  hands  of  man,  or 
any  recent  axe-blazings  on  the  neighbouring  trees. 
Another  thing  he  cannot  endure,  is  the  presence  of  the 
porcupine.  The  porcupine  (Erethizon  dorsatus)  lives  in 
rocky  places,  full  of  caves,  and  often  takes  possession  of 
large  roomy  dens,  which  poor  Mooin,  coming  up  rather 
in  a  hurry,  having  stopped  out  blueberry  picking  rather 
later  than  usual,  and  till  all  was  blue,  might  envy,  but 
would  not  share  on  any  account.  The  porcupine  is  not 
over-cleanly  in  his  habits,  besides  not  being  a  very 
pleasant  bedfellow  cq^rojws  of  his  quills;  but  to  which 
of  these  traits  the  bear  takes  objection  I  cannot  say — 
perhaps  both.  The  quills  are  very  disagreeable  weapons, 
and  armed  with  a  little  barbed  head ;  when  they  pierce 


■'.\^ 


I  • 


CAVE   LODGEUS.  107 

the  skin  they  are  very  difficult  of  extraction,  and  a 
portion,  breaking  off  in  the  wound,  will  traverse  under 
the  surface,  reappearing  at  some  very  distant  point. 

Having  determined  on  his  winter's  residence,  and 
cleaned  it  out  before  the  commencement  of  winter  (the 
extra  leaves  and  rubbish  scraped  out  around  the  entrance 
being  a  sure  sign  to  the  hunter  that  the  don  will  afford 
him  one  skin  at  least,  when  the  winter's  snow  shall  have 
well  covered  the  ground),  Mooin,  finding  it  very  difficult 
to  procure  a  further  supply  of  food,  and  being,  moreover, 
in  a  very  sleepy  frame  of  mind  and  body — fiit  as  a  prize 
pig  from  recent  excessive  gorging  on  the  numerous  berries 
of  the  barren,  or  mast  under  the  beechwoods— turns  in 
for  the  winter ;  if  he  has  a  partner,  so  much  the  better 
and  the  warmer.  He  lies  with  his  fore-arms  curled 
around  his  head  and  nose,  which  is  poked  in  under- 
neath the  chest.  Here  he  will  sleep  unintermptedly 
till  the  warm  suns  late  in  March  influence  his  som- 
niferous feelings,  uidess  hifi  sweet  mid-winter  rej)ose 
be  cut  short  by  a  sharp  poke  in  the  ribs  with  a  pole, 
when  he  has  nothing  for  it  but  to  collect  his  almost 
lost  power  of  reflection,  and  crawl  out  of  his  den — 
saluted,  as  he  appears,  by  a  heavy  crushing  blow  over 
the  temples  with  the  back  of  nn  axe,  and  a  volley  of 
musket  balls  into  his  body  as  he  reels  forward,  which 
translates  him  into  a  longer  and  far  different  state  of 
sleep. 

There  has  been  great  uncertainty  as  to  what  time  the 
female  brings  forth  her  young ;  some  say  that  it  is  not 
until  she  leaves  her  winter  quarters  in  the  early  spring, 
and  that  though  the  she -bear  has  been  started  from  her 
den  in  winter,  and  two  little  shapeless  things  found  left 


i\ 


193  FOREST   LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 


r:i. 


behind,  these  are  so  absurdly  small  as  to  appear  pre- 
mature.    And  then  comes  the  old  story  of  the  little  ones 

^  being  produced  without  form,  and  afterwards  licked  into 

shape  in  the  den.  Even  the  Indians  possess  many  dif- 
ferent ideas  on  this  subject,  often  affirming  that  the  old 
bear  has  never  been  shot  and  discovered  to  be  with 
young.  Now  all  this  is  great  nonsense,  and  as  I  know  of 
an  instance  in  which  a  bear  was  shot,  a  few  years  since, 
on  the  14th  of  February,  suckling  two  very  little  ones  in 
an  open  primitive  den,  formed  merely  by  a  sheltering 
windfall,  and  also  have  consulted  the  testimony  of  tra- 
vellers  on    the   habits    of  hybernating   bears   of   other 

[.•  descriptions,  capping  all  by  the  reliable  evidence  of  my 

>  old  Indian  hunter,  John  Williams,  I  am  convinced  that 

the  following  is  the  true  state  of  the  case  : — The  she- 
bear  gives  l»irth  to  two  cubs,  of  very  small  dimensions 

"  — not    much    larger   than    good- sized    rats — about   the 

middle  of  Feln'uary,  in  the  den ;  and  here  she  subsists 
them,  without  herself  ol)taining  any  nourishment,  until 
the  thaws  in  March.    A  few  years  ago  a  cub  was  brought 
;  to  me  in  May  by  a  settler,  who  had  shot  the  mother  and 

kidnapped  one  of  her  offspring;  it  was  a  curious  little 
animal,  not  much  larger  than  a  retriever  pup  of  a  few 

.'  weeks  old,  and  a  strange  mixture  of  fun  and  ferocity. 

:  The  settler,  as  I  handed  him  the  purchase  money — one 

dollar — informed  me  that  it  was  as  playful  as  a  kitten  ; 
and,  having  placed  it  on  the  floor,  and  given  it  a  basin  of 
bread  and  milk,  which  it  immediately  upset — biting  the 
saucer  with  its  teeth  as  though  it  suspected  it  of  trying 
to  withhold  or  participate  in  the  enjoyment  of  its  con- 
tents— it  commenced  to  evince  its  playful  disj)osition  by 
gambolling  about  the  room,  climbing  the  legs  of  tables, 


V 


,•  'I 

':"s  "■ 


CAVE   LOOdEKS.  10:t 

hauling  off  the  covers  with  superincumbent  ornaments, 
and  tearing  sofa  covers,  until  I  was  fain  to  end  the 
scene  by  securing  tlie  young  urchin.  But  I  got  such 
a  bite  through  my  trowsers  that  I  never  again  admitted 
him  indoors.  I  never  saw  such  a  little  demon  ;  when 
fed  with  a  bowl  of  Indian  meal  porridge,  he  would  bite 
the  rim  of  the  bowl  in  his  rage,  growling  frantically,  and 
then  plunge  his  head  into  the  mixture,  the  groans  and 
growls  still  coming  up  in  bubbles  to  the  surface,  whilst 
he  swallowed  it  like  a  starved  j^ig.  I  afterwards  gave 
him  to  a  brother  otticcr  going  to  England,  and  whether 
(as  is  the  usual  fate  of  bears  in  captivity)  he  after- 
wards killed  a  child,  and  met  a  felon's  death,  I  never 
heard. 

The  growth  of  bears  is  very  slow ;  they  do  not  reach 
their  full  size  for  four  years  from  their  birth. 

On  entering  his  <len  for  hybernjrtion  the  bear  is  in 
prime  order ;  the  fat  pervades  his  carcase  in  exactly  the 
same  manner  as  in  the  case  of  the  pig,  the  great  bulk  of 
it  lying,  as  in  the  flitch,  along  tho,  back  and  on  either 
side  ;  this  generally  attains  a  thickness  of  four  inches, 
though  in  domesticated  specimens,  fed  purposely  by  North 
American  hairdressers,  it  has  reached  a  thickness  of  eis2,ht 
inches.  It  is  by  the  absorption  of  this  fat  throughout 
the  Ions  fast  of  four  months  that  the  bear  is  enabled  to 
exist.  Of  course  evaporation  is  almost  at  a  stand-still, 
and  a  plug,  called  by  the  Norwegians  the  "  tappen,"  is 
formed  in  the  rectum,  and  retained  until  the  spring. 
Should  this  be  lost  prematurely,  it  is  said  that  the  animal 
immediately  becomes  emaciated. 

A  large  bear  at  the  end  of  the  fall  will  weigh  five  and 
even  six  hundred  pounds  ;   this  has  been  increased  in 


'}^i 


\  'Vi' 


2W  FOREST   LIFE  IN   ACADIE. 

domesticated  npecimens  by  oatmeal  feeding  to  over  seven 
Inindrcd. 

Having  awoke  at  last,  the  genial  warmth  of  a  spring 
day  tempts  him  forth  to  tiy  and  find  something  to 
appease  the  growing  cravings  of  appetite.  What  is  the 
hill  of  fare  ?  meagre  enough  generally,  for  the  snow  still 
covers  the  dead  timber  (where  he  might  find  colonies  of 
ants),  the  roots,  and  young  shoots  and  buds  ;  but  he 
bethinks  himself  of  the  cranberries  in  the  open  bogs  from 
which,  unshaded  by  the  branches  of  the  dark  fir-forest, 
the  snow  has  disappeared,  disclosing  the  bright  crimson 
berries  still  clinging  to  their  tendrils  on  the  moss-clumjjs 
cO-nd  rendered  tender  and  luscious  by  the  winter's  frost. 
Even  the  rank  marsh-grass  forms  part  of  his  diet ;  and,  as 
the  snow  disappears,  he  turns  over  the  fallen  timber  to 
look  for  such  insects  as  ants  or  wood-lice,  which  might 
be  sheltered  beneath.  Although  so  large  an  animal,  he 
will  seek  his  food  patiently;  and  the  prehensile  nature  of 
his  lips  enables  him  to  pick  up  the  smallest  insect  or 
forest  berry  with  great  dexterity.  The  runs  between  the 
forest  lakes  also  afford  him  early  and  profitable  spring 
fishing ;  and  he  may  be  seen  lying  on  the  edge  of  the  ice, 
fishing  for  smelts  (Osmerus),  which  delicate  little  fish 
abound  in  the  lakes,  near  their  junction  with  harbours, 
throughout  the  winter,  tipj)ing  them  out  of  the  water  on 
'.'•i  •'.  to  the  ice  behind  him  in  a  most  dexterous  manner  with 

his  paws.  Later  in  the  spring  he  continues  his  fishing  pro- 
pensities, and  makes  capital  hauls  when  the  gaspereaux, 
or  ale  wives  (Alosa  vernalis), — a  description  of  herring — 
rush  up  the  forest  brooks  in  countless  multitudes,  carry- 
ing an  ample  source  of  food  to  the  doors  of  settlers  living 
by  the  banks  in  the  remotest  wilds.     Works  on  natural 


ii-. 


'f, 


W; 


;^!i 


CAVE   L0DOER.S.  i>()l 

liistoiy  supply  al)un<laiit  evidence  of  Ids  general  confor- 
mation as  a  menil)er  of  the  plantigrade  family,  of  the 
adaptation  of  the  broad,  callous  soles  of  his  feet  for  walk- 
ing, sitting  on  his  haunches,  or  standing  erect,  and  of 
the  long  but  not  retractile  (;laws  fitted  for  digging,  l)y 
which  he  can  easily  ascend  a  tree,  or  split  the  fallen 
rampike— like  a  Samson  as  he  is — striking  them  into 
its  surface,  and  rending  it  in  twain,  in  search  of  ants ; 
and  what  a,  fearful  weapon  the;  fore-hand  becomes,  armed 
with  these  terrible  claws,  when  they  are  sent  home  into 
tlu^  flesh  of  an  enemy  (jr  intended  victim,  when(;ver  the 
rascal  takes  a  notion  of  laying  aside  his  frugivorous 
propensities  to  satisfy  a  thirst  for  stronger  meat ! 

Having  noticed  his  tastes  as  a  herbivorous  and  ])isci- 
vorous  animal,  we  have  yet  to  mention  this,  in  wliicli, 
though  it  has  been  but  sliglitly  implanted  in  him  by 
nature,  he  sometimes  indulges,  and  which,  once  indulged 
in,  becomes  a  strong  habit,  and  stamps  him  as  being  also 
carnivorous.  Poor  Mooin  !  still  unsatisfied,  and  half- 
starved— perhaps  unsuccessful  in  his  spring-fishing,  or 
in  berrying — hears  the  distant  tinkling  of  cattle-bells 
as  the  animals  wander  through  the  woods  from  some 
neighbouring  settlement.  Nearer  and  nearer  they  come  ; 
and  he  advances  cautiously  to  meet  them,  keeping  a 
sharp  look-out  in  case  they  might  be  attended  by  a 
human  being,  of  whom  he  has  a  most  wholesome  dread. 
By  a  little  careful  mananivring  he  drives  them  into  a 
deep,  boggy  swamp  where  he  can  at  leisure  single  out 
his  victim,  and,  jumping  on  its  back,  deals  it  a  few  such 
terrific  blows  across  the  back  and  shoulders,  that  the 
poor  animal  soon  succumbs,  and  falls  an  easy  prey. 
Stunned,  torn,  and  bcmired,  it  is  then  dragged  bai.k  to 


*,i 


•20-2  FUUKST   IJFK    IN    ACADIK. 

t\ 

the  dry  Hlopos  of  tlic  woods  and  dovoiircd.  The  settlers 
say  that  the  bear,  whik;  killing  his  vi(ttiin  (which  moans 
and  lu'Uows  piteousl)  all  the  while  he  is  beating  it  to 
death  in  thii  swamp),  will  every  now  and  then  retire 
to  the  woods   behind    and    listen    for   any  aj»])roaehing 

!'B^  signs    of  reseue,   prior   to    returning   and   finishing   his 

1st'  work.     This  wicked   ajjpetite  of  his  often   leads  to  his 

^  destruction  ;  for  a  search  being  entailed  for  the  missing 

beast,  and  the  remains  found,  the  avenger,  on  the  follow- 
ing evening,  armed  with  a  gun,  goes  out  to  waylay  the 
bear,  who  is  sure  to  revisit  the  carcase.  It  would  never 
do  to  remain  in  andjush  near  the  sj)ot,  for  the  villain 
,j,  always    comes    back    on   the    watch,    planting   his   feet 

;>•  as  cautiously  as  an  Indian  creeping  on  moose,  with  all 

"''■'■  his  senses  on  the  (jui  vive.     So  the  man,  finding  l)y  his 

track  in  which  direction  he  had  retreated  from  the  car- 
■^'  '  case,  goes  back  into  the  woods  some  quarter  of  a  mile  or 

so,  and  then  secretes  himself;  and  Mooin,  not  suspecting 
V  any  ambuscade  at  this  distance  from  the   scene  of  his 

1'5  recent  feasting,  comes  along  towards  sundown,  hand  over 

hand,  and  probably  meets  his  just  fate.     Young  moose, 
too,   often  fall  victims  to  the  bear,  though   he    would 
never  succeed  in  an  attempt  on  the  life  of  a  full-grown 
')''  animal. 

The  bear  is  conscious  of  being  a  villain,  and  will  never 
look  a  man  in  the  face.  This  I  have  observed  in  the 
case  of  tame  animals,  and  marked  the  change  of  expres- 
sion in  their  little  treacherous  black  eye)  about  the  size 
of  a  small  marble)  just  before  they  were  about  to  do 
something  mischievous.  In  their  quickness  of  temper,  and 
^,  in  the  suddenness  with  which  the  usually  perfectly  dull 

f'V'i  and  unmeaning  eye  is  lighted  up  with  the  most  wicked 


I".; 

'■»'  V' 
I ,  ■  ' 


"I 


lit. 


i^'ii 


CAVE  LODGERS.  203 

expression  iiiiiiyinaMe,  iiumediutely  followed  by  action, 
they  put  me  much  in  mind  of  some  of  the  monkey 
tribe. 

The  strength  of  the  bear  is  really  prodigious,  fully 
equal  to  that  of  ten  men,  as  was  oiu-e  proved  by  n  tanu; 
bear  in  this  province  hauling  a  barrel  which  had  been 
smeared  with  molasses,  and  contained  a  little  oatmeal, 
away  from  the  united  etibrts  of  the  number  of  men 
mentioned,  who  held  on  to  a  ro}»e  passed  round  the 
barrel.  The  bear  walked  away  with  it  as  easily  as  p(js- 
sible.  The  same  bear,  having  nearly  killed  a  horse,  and 
S(;alped  a  boy,  was  afterwards  destroyed  by  his  owner. 
The  way  he  tried  to  do  for  the  animal  was  curious 
enough;  he  ai)proached  the  horse,  which  was  loose  in 
the  road,  from  behind  ;  on  its  attem})ting  to  kick,  the 
bear  caught  hold  of  its  hind  legs,  just  above  the  fetlocks, 
with  the  quicloiess  of  lightning  ;  the  horse  tried  to  kick 
again,  and  the  bear,  with  the  greatest  ;ipparent  eas(% 
shoved  its  hind  legs  under  till  the  horse  was  fairly 
brought  on  its  haunches,  when  the  rascal  at  once  jumped 
on  its  back,  and,  with  one  tremendous  blow,  buried  its 
powerful  claws  into  the  muscle  of  the  shoulder,  and  the 
horse,  trembling  and  in  a  profuse  perspiration,  rolled 
over  and  would  have  been  killed  if  the  affair  had  not 
been  witnessed  and  the  bear  at  this  juncture  driven 
away. 

I  have  been  told  by  an  Indian  of  a  scene  he  once  wit- 
nessed in  the  woods  when  resting  on  the  shore  of  a  lake 
before  proceeding  across  a  portcuje  with  his  canoe.  A 
crashing  of  l)ranchcs  proclaimed  the  rapid  advance  of  a 
large  animal  in  flight.  In  a  few  moments  a  fine  young 
moose,  about  half  grovrn,  dashed  from  the  forest  into  the 


tlH^ 


204  FOREST   LIFE    IN    ACADIE. 


lake,  ciiriying  a  bear  on  its  shoulders,  and  at  once  striiek 
jj;;  out  into  deep  water.     The  two  were  soon  separated,  and 

p^,  the  Indian  at  the  same  time  launching  his  canoe,  succeeded 

in  wounding  the  bear,  which,  seeing  the  man,  had  turned 
back  for  the  shore.  The  moose  escaped  on  the  opposite 
side. 

In  the  spring  the  old  she  bear,  a(3companied  by  her 
brace  of  little  whining  cubs,  is  almost  sure  to  turn  on  a 
human  being  if  suddenly  disturbed,  though,  if  made  aware 
[''.r  of  coming  danger  in  time,  she  will  always  conduct  them 

out  of  the  way.  I  have  known  many  instances  of  settlers, 
out  trouting  by  the  lakes  near  home,  l)eing  chased  out  of 
the  woods  and  nearly  run  into,  by  the  she  bear  in  spring- 
time. 

In  June,  likewise,  in  tlie  running  season,  it  is  not  safe 
to  be  back  in  the  woods  unarmed  or  alone.  A  whole 
gang  will  go  together,  makmg  the  forest  resound  with 
their  hideous  snarlino;  and  loud  moaning  cries.     Hearing 

o  in  o 

the  approach  of  such  a  procession,  the  sojournei'  in  camj) 
piles  fuel  on  the  lire,  and  keeps  watch  witli  loaded 
gan.  In  old  times,  before  they  accpiired  the  dread  of 
fire-arms,  the  India-  •  -iay  these  animals  were  much 
Ixjlder. 

The  bear  is  readily  taken  in  a  dead-fall  trap  with  a  bai  t 
composed  of  almost  anything :  a  bundle  of  birch-bark 
tied  up,  and  smeared  over  with  a  little  honey,  molasses, 
or  tallow,  answers  very  well. 

They  travel  through  the  woods  and  along  the  water- 
side in  well  defined  paths,  which  afibrd  excellent  walking 
to  the  hunter.  Bear-traps  are  placed  at  intervals  in  the 
vicinity  of  tlieir  roads,  and  many  a  rascal  loses  his  jacket 
to  the  settlers  in  summer  time  in  return  for  his  audacious 


CAVE  LODGERS.  -lo:^ 

raids  on  the  cattk',  to  obtain  which  he  will  sometimes 
break  in  the  side  of  a  barn. 

The  skin  realises  from  four  to  twelve  dollars,  according 
to  size  and  condition. 

The  fall  is  the  best  time  for  bear  hunting — "  the  berry- 
ing time,"  as  it  is  designated  by  the  settlers,  when  he  is 
engaged  in  laying  in  a  stock  of  corpulency,  the  material 
whereof  shall  stick  to  his  ribs  durin<;  the  long  fast  of  the 
coming  winter.  So  intent  is  he  now  on  his  luscious  feast 
on  blue  and  whortle  berries,  that  he  does  not  keep  as  good 
a  look-out  for  foes  as  at  other  times,  and  may  be  easily 
detected  in  tlie  early  morning  by  the  oliservant  hunter, 
who  knows  his  habits  and  meal  times,  and  huits  roun<l 
the  leeward  edges  of  barrens. 

Later  still,  in  a  good  season  for  beeehmast,  he  may  be 
hunted  in  hard-w^ood  hills.  A  bttle  light  snow  will  not 
send  him  home  to  bed,  wdiilst  it  materially  aids  the 
hunter  in  tracking  the  animal.  Sometimes  the  bear  will 
go  aloft  for  the  mast,  and  even  construct  a  rough  platform 
amongst  the  upper  branches,  where  he  can  rest  without 
holding  on.  1  have  seen  many  such  apparent  structures, 
and  could  in  no  other  way  account  for  their  appearance, 
and  to  this  I  may  add  the  testimony  of  the  Indian. 

The  l)ear  takes  a  deal  of  killing,  and  will  run  an  in- 
credible distance  with  several  mortal  wounds.  A  singular 
trait,  approaching  almost  to  reflective  power,  is  his  habit 
of  stopping  in  his  flight  to  pick  up  wet  moss  in  a  swamp 
wlierewith  to  plug  up  the  wound. 

I  but  once  surprised  a  bear  in  the  wood  in  the  act  of 
feeding,  imconscious  of  my  approach.  IMy  Indian  saw 
a  portion  of  his  black  hair  moving  just  above  the  side  of 
a  large  fallen  tree,  and  in  a  moment  we  both  lay  prostrate. 


'^N=v 


203  FOKEST  LIFE    IN   ACADIE. 

II. 

Ifri  The  animal  presently  rose  from  his  hitherto  recumbent 

position  and  sat  up,  munching  his  mouthful  of  beech-nuts 

!'*»  with  great  apparent  satisfaction — a  magnificent  specimen, 

'•  and  black  as  a  coal. 

We  should  now  have  fired,  Init  at  this  juncture,  as  luck 

%■  would  have  it,  a  red  fox,  which  our  tracks  below  had 

probably  disturbed,  raced  up  behind  and  induced  us  to 
look  round.  The  bear  at  once  sank  quietly  down  behind 
the  log,  and,  worming  along,  bounded  over  a  precipice  into 
a  thick  spruce  swamp  before  we  were  aware  that  we  were 
discovered.     This  fox  must  have  been  his  good  genius. 

Notwithstanding  the  value  of  the  skin  and  the  standing 
grievance  between  the  settler  of  the  back-woods  and  the 
black  bear,  the  latter  is  apparent!}  increasing  in  numbers 
in  many  parts  of  the  Lower  Provinces.  In  Nova  Scotia 
there  is  no  bounty  on  their  noses,  though  the  wolf  (a  rare 
visitor)  is  thus  pla(ied  under  a  ban.  In  Anticosti  bears 
are  exceedingly  immerous,  and  a  well-organised  bear 
hunt  on  this  island  would  doubtless  show  a  wonderful 
return  of  sport ;  but  then — the  flies ! 


THE  CANADA  PORCUPINE. 

{Erethizon  dorsatm,  Cuvier.) 

This  species  is  common  in  the  woodland  districts  of 
Eastern  North  America,  from  Pennsylvania  to  the  Arctic 
Cii'cle.  West  of  the  Missouri,  according  to  Baird,  it  is 
replaced  by  the  yellow-haired  porcupine  (E.  epixanthus). 

A  cave-dwelling  animal,  choosing  its  residence  amongst 
the  dark  recesses  of  collocated  boulders,  or  the  holes  at 
the  roots  of  large  trees,  it  spends  much  of  its  time  abroad. 


CAVE   LODGERS.  207 

It  is  sometimes  seen  sluggishly  reposing  in  tree  tops,  where 
it  gnaws  the  bark  of  the  young  branches  ;  and  is  often 
(especially  in  the  season  of  ripe  berries)  found  in  the  open 
barren,  though  never  far  away  from  its  retreat.  A  porcu- 
pine's den  is  easily  discovered,  both  by  the  broad  trail  or 
path  which  leads  to  it,  and  by  the  quantity  of  ordure  l)y 
which  the  entrance  is  marked.  From  the  den  the  paths 
diverge  to  some  favourite  feeding  ground — perha2)s  a 
grove  of  beech,  on  the  mast  of  which  the  animal  revels  in 
the  fall ;  or,  if  it  be  winter  time,  to  the  shelter  of  a  tall 
hemlock  spruce.  The  marks  of  the  claws  on  the  bark  are 
a  ready  indication  of  its  whereabouts  ;  and  as  the  Indian 
hunter  passes  in  search  of  larger  game,  he  knows  he  is 
sure  of  roast  porcupine  if  venison  is  not  procurable,  and 
probably  tumbles  him  down  on  return  to  camp  by  a 
bullet  through  the  head. 

The  spines  of  the  Canadian  porcupine  are  about  three 
inches  long,  proceeding  from  a  thick  coat  of  dark  brownish 
hair,  mixed  with  sooty-coloured  bristles.  They  are  largest 
and  most  abundant  over  the  loins,  where  the  animal,  when 
In'ought  to  a  stand,  sets  them  up  in  a  fan-like  arc,  and 
presents  a  most  formidable  array  of  points  always  turncnl 
towards  its  02:)ponent.  It  endeavours  at  the  same  time  to 
strike  with  its  thick  muscular  tail,  leaving,  where  the 
blow  falls,  a  great  number  of  the  easily-detached  quills 
firmly  sticking  in,  rooted  by  their  barbed  p(jints. 

A  porcupine  can  gallop  or  shaffle  along  at  a  good  pace, 
and  often,  when  surprised  in  the  open,  makes  good  its 
retreat  to  its  rocky  den,  or  gains  a  tree,  up  which  it 
scrambles  rapidly  out  of  reach. 

The  spines  are  of  a  dull  white  colour,  with  dusky  tips. 

To  the  forest  Indians  of  Acadie  the  porcupine  is  an 


w 


#' 


208  FORKST  LIFE  IX   ACADIE. 


m 


animal  of  con.sideral)le  importance.  It  is  a  very  common 
arti(;le  of  food,  and  its  quills  are  extensively  employed  by 
the  squaws  in  ornamentation.  Stained  most  brilliantly 
by  dyes  either  obtained  from  the  woods  or  purchased  in 
the  settlements,  they  are  worked  in  fanciful  patterns  into 
1;^  the  birch-bark  ware   (baskets,   screens,  or  trays),  which 

form  their  staple  of  trade  with  the  whites. 

All  the  holes,  hollow  trees,  and  rocky  precipices  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  an  encampment  are  continually  explored 
by  Indian  boys  in  search  of  a  porcupine's  den. 
. ,;,  The  Indians  commonly  possess  little  cur  dogs,  which 

f  greatly  assist  them  in  discovering  the  animal's  retreat  ; 

V  they  will  even  draw  them  forth  from  their  holes  without 

^,.  injury  to  themselves — a  feat  only  to  be  accomplished  by 

'-  ,  ixettinir  hold  of  them  underneath. 

1  It  is  a  curious  fact  that  the  settler's  dogs  in  general 

evince  a  strong  desire  to  hunt  porcupine,  notwithstanding 

the  Avoeful  plight,  about  the  head  and  forelegs,  in  which 

they  come  out  of  the  encounter,  and  the  long  period  of 

;  inflammation  to  which  they  are  thereby  subjected.     The 

Indian's  porcupine -dog,  however,  goes  to  work  in  a  far 

:  more   business-like  manner — seldom  giving   his   master 

,  I  occasion  to  extract  a  single  quill.     "The  Old  Hunter" 

■  i  tells  me  as  follows  : — "  I  once  knew  an  instance  of  an 

I  Indian's  dog,  quite  blind,  that  was  particularly  <77'ea<  on 

'v|.  2wrcupines,  so  much  so,   that   if  they  treed,   the  little 

'  ,'  animal  would  sit  down  beneath,  occasionally  barking,  to 

f  inform  its  master  where  lodged  the  '  fretful '  one.    Another 

'i  i  dog  belonging  to  an  Indian  I  knew,  was  not  to  be  beaten 

when  once  on  porcupine.     If  the  animal  was  in  den,  in 

"'.  he  went  and,  if  possible,  would  haul  it  out  by  the  tail. 

,  If  not  strong  enough,  the  Indian  would  fasten  his  hand- 


'i./i 


,-  II 


CAVE   LODGERS.  209 

kerchief  round  his  middle,  and  attach  to  it  a  long  twisted 
withe.  The  dog  would  go  in,  and  presently,  between 
the  two,  out  would  come  the  porcupine." 

The  porcupine  becomes  loaded  with  fat  in  the  fall  by 
feasting  on  the  numerous  berries  found  on  the  barrens. 
The  latter  half  of  September  is  their  running  season. 
The  old  ones  are  then  very  rank,  and  not  fit  to  eat. 
Their  call  is  a  plaintive  whining  sound,  not  very  dis- 
similar to  the  cry  of  a  calf  moose.  At  this  season,  when 
hunting  in  the  woods,  I  have  frecpiently  found  old  males 
with  bad  wounds  on  the  back — the  skin  extensively 
abraded  by,  apparently,  a  high  fall  from  a  tree  on  the 
edge  of  a  rock.  My  Indian  says  with  regard  to  this,  "  he 
make  himself  sore  back,  purpose  so  as  to  travel  light,  and 
get  clear  of  his  fat." 

The  female  brings  forth  two  at  a  birth  in  the  den  very 
early  in  the  spring. 

It  is  a  remarkable  fact  that,  though  abundant  in  Nova 
Scotia,  the  porcupine  is  not  found  in  the  island  of  Cape 
Breton,  separated  oidy  by  the  Gut  of  Canso  in  places 
but  a  few  hundred  yards  across.  Frequent  attempts  have 
indeed  been  made  by  Indians  to  introduce  the  animal  in 
Cape  Breton  by  importation  from  the  south  side,  but  have 
always  ended  in  failure.  Though  the  vegetable  features 
of  the  island  are  identical  with  those  of  Nova  Scotia 
proper,  the  porcupine  will  not  live  in  the  woods  of  the 
former  locality.  This  is  a  well-ascertained  fact,  and  no 
attempt  at  explanation  can  be  offered. 

Again,  though  it  is  found  on  the  Labrador,  and  at  the 
Straits  of  Belle  Isle,  the  great  island  of  Newfoundland, 
which  is  thus  separated  from  the  mainland,  contains  no 
porcupine. 


■  s: 

;|  210  FOREST  LIFE  IN   ACADIE. 

'%  The   mannot   of    the    eastern   woodlands    (Arctomys 

: ';"'  monax),  and  the  striped  ground-squirrel,  or  "  chipmunk  " 

-i  (Tamias   striatus,  Baird),   are   more  properly  burrowing 

!|  *t  animals  than  cave-dwellers,  under  which  heading  we  can 

J  •,'  !■; 

IC?'  class  only  the  bear  and  the  porcupine. 

m 


CHAPTER   IX. 


ACADIAN    FISH   AND   FISHING. 


THE  BROOK  TROUT. 

Salmo  Fontinalis  (Miteliell.) 

The  following  description  of  this  fish — and  I  believe 
the  latest — appears  in  the  "Transactions  of  the  Nova 
Scotian  Institute  of  Natural  Science  for  18G6,"  and  is 
due  to  Dr.  J.  Bernard  Gilpin,  M.D. : — 

"  The  trout,  as  usually  seen  in  the  lakes  about  Halifax, 
are  in  lenQ-th  from  ten  to  eio-hteen  inches,  and  weiojht 
from  half  a  pound  to  two  pounds,  though  these  measure- 
ments are  often  exceeded  or  lessened.  The  outline  of 
back,  starting  from  a  rather  round  and  blunt  nose,  rises 
gradually  to  the  insertion  of  the  dorsal  fin,  about  two- 
thirds  of  the  length  of  the  head  from  the  nose  ;  it  then 
gradually  declines  to  the  adipose  fin,  and  about  a  length 
and  a  half  from  that  runs  straight  to  form  a  strono-  base 
for  the  tail.  The  breadth  of  the  tail  is  about  equal  to 
that  of  the  head.  Below,  the  outline  runs  nearly  straight 
from  the  tail  to  the  anal  fin;  from  thence  it  falls  rapidly 
to  form  a  line  more  or  less  convex  (as  the  fish  is  in  or 
out  of  season),  and  returns  to  the  head.  The  inter-inax- 
illary  very  short,  the  maxillary  long  with  the  free  end 
sharp-pointed,  the  posterior  end  of  the  opercle  is  more 

p  2 


H^  '■ 


■•.■V;-,l 


'te 


'   t,- 


,1*      '.I 

i^U  212  FOREST   LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 

angular  than  in  the  S.  Sahir,  the  lower  ja^v  shorter  than 
upper  when  closed,  api)eanng  longer  when  open.  The 
eye  large,  about  two  diameters  from  tip  of  nose ;  nostrils 
double,  nearer  the  snout  than  the  eye.  Of  the  fins,  the 
dorsal  has  ten  or  eleven  rays,  not  counting  the  rudimen- 
Ml  tary  ones,  in  shape  irregularly  rhomboid,  but  the  free 

|':|  edge  rounded  or  curved  outward  :  the  adipose  fin  varies, 

some  sickle-shaped  with  free  end  very  long,  others 
having  it  very  straight  and  short.  The  caudal  fin  gently 
curved  rather  than  cleft,  but  differing  in  individuals.  Of 
the  lower  fins  they  all  have  the  first  ray  very  thick  and 
flat,  and  always  faced  white  with  a  black  edge,  the  other 
rays  more  or  less  red.  The  head  is  blunt,  and  back 
rounded  when  looked  down  upon.  The  teeth  are  upon 
•  f  the  inter- maxillary  bone,  maxillary  bones,  the  palatine, 

and  about  nine  on  the  tongue.  There  are  none  so-called 
vomerine  teeth,  though  now  and  then  we  find  one  tooth 
behind  the  arch  of  the  palate,  where  they  are  sometimes 
irregularly  bunched  together.  The  colour  Viiries ;  but 
through  all  the  variations  there  are  forms  of  colour  that, 
being  always  persistent,  must  be  regarded  as  typical. 
There  are  always  vermilion  s})ots  on  the  sides ;  there 
are  always  other  spots,  sometimes  decided  in  outline, 
in  others  diffused  into  dapples,  but  always  present.  The 
caudal  and  dorsal  fins  are  always  spotted,  and  of  the 
prevailing  hue  of  the  body.  The  lower  fins  have  always 
broad  white  edges,  lined  with  black  and  coloured  with 
some  modification  of  red.  The  chin  and  upper  part  of 
the  belly  are  always  white.  With  these  permanent  mark- 
ings, the  body  colour  varies  from  horn  colour  to  greenish- 
grey,  blue-grey,  running  into  azure,  black,  and  black 
with  warm  red  on  the  lower  parts,  dark  green  with  lower 


^■'^: 


ACADIAN   FISH   AND  FISHING.  21^ 

parts  bright  yellow;  and,  lastly,  in  the  case  of  young 
fish,  with  vertical  bands  of  dusky  black.  The  spots 
arc  very  bright  and  distinct  when  in  high  condition  or 
spawning  ;  faint,  diffused,  and  running  into  dapples 
when  in  poor  condition.  In  the  f<irmer  case  all  the 
hues  are  most  vivid,  and  heightened  l)y  profuse  nacre. 
In  the  other  the  spots  are  very  pale  yellowish-white, 
running  on  the  back  into  vermicular  lines.  The  iris  in 
all  is  dark  brown.  I  have  seen  the  rose  or  red-coloured 
ones  at  all  times  of  the  year.  The  young  of  the  first 
year  are  greenish  horn  colour,  with  br<jwn  vertical  stripes 
and  bright  scarlet  fins  and  tail,  already  showing  the 
typical  marks  and  spots,  and  also  the  vermilion  specs. 
Fin  rays  D.  l.S,  P.  113,  V.  8,  A.  10  ;  gill  rays  12.  Scales 
very  small;  the  doi*sal  has  two  rudimentary  rays,  ten  or 
eleven  long  ones,  varying  in  different  fish.  Typical 
marks — axillary  plate  nearly  obsolete,  free  end  of  maxil- 
lary sharp,  bars  in  young,  vermilion  specs,  both  young 
and  adult  lower  fins  red  with  white  and  black  edge." 

To  the  above  description  I  would  add  that  the  imme- 
rous  yellow  spots  which  prevail  in  every  specimen  of 
S.  Fontinalis  vary  from  bright  golden  to  pale  prinu'ose, 
that  the  colour  of  the  specs  inclines  more  to  carmine 
than  vermilion,  and  that  in  bright,  well-conditioned  fish, 
the  latter  are  surrouuded  by  circlets  of  pale  and  purest 
azure. 

It  will  thus  be  seen  that  the  American  brook  trout  is 
one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  fresh-water  fishes.  Just  taken 
from  his  element  and  laid  on  the  moist  moss  by  the  edge 
of  the  forest  stream,  a  more  captivating  form  can  scarcely 
be  imagined.  His  sides  appear  as  if  studded  with  gems. 
The  brilliant  brown   eye  and  bronzy  gill-covers  reflect 


214  FOREST   LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 

"l  golden  lig] it;  and  the  grudations  of  the  dark  green  back, 

';  with   its   fantastic,   lahyriiitliine   markings,    to    tlic    soft 

!  yellow  beneath,  are  marked  l)y  a  (x'litral  roseate  tinge 

;;  inclining  to  lavender  or  pah^  mauve. 

t'^'t  Tliis  species  al)ounds  throughout  the  Northern  States 

and    British    provinces,    showing  a  great  varii'ty  as   to 

■i  form  and  colour  (l)otli  external  and  of  the  flesh)  accord- 

:'  ing  to  locality.      In  the  swampy  bog-hole  the  trout  is 

■  black  ;  his  flesh  of  a  pale  yellowish-white,  flabby  and 
insipid.  In  low-lying  forest  lakes  margined  by  swamp, 
where  from  a  rank  soft  bottom  the  water-lilies  crop 
up  and  almost  conceal  the  surface  near  the  shores,  he 
is  the  same  coarse  and  spiritless  fish.  Worthless  for 
the  camp  frying-pan,  we  leave  him  to  the  tender  mercies 
of  the  mink,  the  eel,  and  the  leech.  The  bright,  bold 
trout  of  the  large  lakes,  is  a  far  different  fish.  His  com- 
paratively small  and  well-shaped  head,  followed  by  an 
arched,    thick    shoulder,    depth    of   body,    and    brilliant 

jl'..  colouring  ;  the  spirited  dash  with  which  he  seizes  his  prey, 

and,  finally,  the  bright  salmon-pink  hue  of  his  delicate 
flesh,  make  him  an  object  of  attraction  to  both  sportsman 
and  epicure.  Such  fish  we  find  in  the  clearest  water, 
where  the  shores  of  the  lake  are  fringed  with  granite 
boulders,  with  be[iclies  of  white  sand,  or  disintegrated 
granite,  where  the  rush  and  the  water-weeds  are  only 

■  seen  in  little  sheltered  coves,  where  the  face  of  the  lake 
is  dotted  with  rocky,  bush-covered  islands,  and  where 
there  are  great  cool  depths  to  which  he  can  retreat 
when  sickened  by  the  heat  of  the  surface-water  at  mid- 

l  sumir  "^\ 

„;(1'  Thouo;h  more  a  lacustrine  than  a  river  fish,  seldom 

attaining  any  size  if  confined  to  running,  water  between 


I'l 


■^v.    .f 


t%. 

•I 


ACADIAN   FISH   AND  FISIIINO.  215 

the  sea  and  impassable  falls,  the  American  trout  is  found 
to  most  perfection  and  in  greatest  number  in  hikes  wliich 
communicate  with  the  sea,  and  allow  him  to  iiidul«;e 
in  his  well  ascertained  jiredilcction  for  salt,  or  rather 
l)ra(^kish  tidal-water.  A  favourite  spot  is  the  ddbouchuro 
of  a  lake,  where  the  narrowing  water  gradually  a((|uires 
velocity  of  current,  and  where  the  trout  lie  in  skulls  and 
give  the  greatest  sport  to  the  fly-fisher. 

In  a  recent  notice  of  S.  Fontinalis  from  the  pen  of  an 
observant  sportsman  and  naturalist  appearing  in  "  Land 
and  Water,"  this  fish  is  surmised  to  be  a  char.  Its  claim 
to  be  a  member  of  the  Salveline  gi-oup  is  favoured  by 
reference  to  its  similar  habits  in  visiting  the  tidal  por- 
tions of  rivers  on  the  part  of  the  char  of  Norway  and 
Sweden,  its  similar  deep  red  colouring  on  the  belly, 
and  general  resemblance.  I  am  quite  of  "Ubique's" 
opinion  touching  this  point,  and  think  the  common 
name  of  the  American  fish  should  be  char.  Indeed, 
I  find  the  New  York  char  is  one  of  the  names  it 
already  bears  in  an  American  s^Dorting  work,  though  no 
comparison  is  made.  Besides  its  sea-going  propensities, 
its  preferring  dark,  still  waters,  to  gravelly  shallow 
streams,  and  its  resplendent  colours  when  in  season,  a 
most  important  point  of  resemblance  to  the  char  would 
seem  to  be  the  minuteness  of  its  scales. 

The  American  trout  spawns  in  October  and  November 
in  shallow  water,  and  on  gravel,  sand,  or  mud,  ac- 
cordincr  to  the  nature  of  the  soil  at  the  bottom  of  his 
domains. 

In  fishino;  for  trout  tlirou2;li  the  ice  in  winter  to  add 
to  our  camp  fare,  I  have  taken  them  at  the  "  run  in  "  to 
a  large  lake,  the  females  full  of  spawn  apparently  ready 


2lfi  FORES'^  LIFE  IN   AOADIE. 

to  drop  at  the  end  of  January,  and  all  in  firm  condition. 

f  Tliis  would  seem  a  curious  delay  of  tlic  spawning  season  : 

.;  my  Indian   stated   that  trout  spawn  in  early  spring  as 

I  'j.  well  as  in  the  fall.     They  congregate  at  the  head  of  a 

%f'»  lake  in  large  numbers  in  winter,  and  readily  take  bait,  a 

piece  of  pork,  or  a  part  of  their  own  white  thi'oats,  let 

down  on  a  hook  through  the  ice.     In  such  localities  they 

get  a  good  livelihood  by  feeding  on  the  caddis-worms 

which  crawl  plentifully  over  the  rocks  under  water. 


TROUT    FISHING. 


Before  the  ice  is  fairly  ofl'  the  lakes — and  then  a 
few  days  must  be  allowed  for  the  ice-water  to  run  otF — 
there  is  no  use  in  attempting  to  use  the  fly  for  trout 
fishing  in  rivers  or  runs,  though  eager  disciples  of  Walton 
may  succeed  in  hauling  out  a  few  ill-fed,  sickly  looking 
fish  from  spots  of  open  water  by  diligently  tempting  with 
the  worm  at  an  earlier  date.  Indeed  trout  may  be  taken 
with  bait  through  the  ice  throughout  the  winter,  but  they 
prove  worthless  in  the  eating.  But  after  the  warm  rain 
storms  of  April  have  j)eiformcd  their  mission,  and  the 
>■  f.  soft  west  wind  has  coursed  over  the  surface  of  the  water, 

••]i  then  may  the  fisher  proceed  to  the  head  of  the  forest 

lake  and  cast  his  flies  over  the  eddying  pool  where  the 
brook  enters,  and  where  the  hungry  trout,  aroused  to 
appetite,  are  congregated  to  seek  for  food. 

"  Now,  when  the  first  foiil  torrent  of  the  brooks, 
:'  Swell'cl  with  the  vernal  rains,  is  eljbed  awiiy, 

And,  whitenin_^  down  their  niossy-tinctur'd  stream 
^  - ;  Descends  the  billowy  foam  :  now  is  the  tinie, 

ii.-'-'-;V  While  yet  the  dark-brown  water  aids  the  yuile, 

'""'■■  To  tempt  the  trout." 


ACADIAN   FISH   AND   FISIIINU.  217 

About  the  10th  of  May  in  Nova  Scotia,  whon  warm 
liazy  weather  occurs  with  westerly  wind,  the  trout  in  all 
the  lakes  and  streams  (an  enumeration  of  which  would 
be  impossible  from  their  extraordinary  friMpiency  of 
occurrence  in  this  province)  are  in  the  best  mood  for 
taking  the  fly  ;  and,  moreover,  full  of  the  energy  of  new 
found  life,  whicli  appears  in  these  climates  to  influence 
such  animals  as  have  been  dormant  durinix  the  long 
winter,  equally  with  the  suddenly  outbursting  vegetation. 
A  few  days  later,  and  the  great  annual  feast  of  the  trout 
commences — the  feast  of  the  May-fly.  Emerging  from 
tlieir  cases  all  round  the  shores,  rocky  shallows,  and 
islands,  the  May-flies  now  cover  the  surface  of  the  lakes  in 
multitudes,  and  are  constantly  sucked  in  by  the  greedy 
trout,  which  leave  their  haunts,  and  dis})erse  themselves 
over  the  lake  in  search  of  the  alighting  insects.  Although 
the  fish  thus  gorge  themselves,  and,  for  some  days  after 
the  flies  have  disappeared,  are  quite  apathetic,  they  derive 
much  bf^nefit  in  flesh  and  flavour  therefrom.  The  abun- 
dance of  fish  would  scarcely  be  credited  till  one  sees  the 
countless  rises  over  the  surface  of  the  water  constantly 
recurring  during  the  prevalence  of  the  May-fly.  "It's 
a  steady  boil  of  them,"  says  the  ragged  urchin  with  a 
long  "  troutin'-pole,"  as  he  calls  his  weapon,  in  one  hand, 
and  a  hujrc  cork  at  the  end  of  a  string  with  a  bunch  of 
worms  attached,  in  the  other. 

There  is  now  no  one  more  likely  place  than  another 
for  a  cast.  Still  sport  may  be  had  with  the  artificial 
May-fly,  especially  in  sheltered  coves,  where  the  fish 
resort  when  a  strong  wind  blows  the  insects  oflf  the  open 
water.  Some  anglers  of  the  more  patient  type  will  take 
fish  at  this  time  on  the  lake  by  .sitting  on  rocks,  and 


i 


218  FOEEST  LIFE  IN  ACADIE. 


I 

1^1 


m 


m 


gently  flipping  out  a  very  fine  line  with  minute  liooks, 
to  which  the  living  May-fly  is  attached  by  means  of  a 
I^J'  little  adhesive  iir   brtlsam,   as  far   as   they  can   on   the 

I  f  f,  surface  of  the  Avater,  where  they  float  till  some  passing 

|r,'^|;  fish  rises  and  sucks  in  the  bait.     However  the  best  sport 

Illfii  is   to   be   obtained  on  the  lakes  a  few  days  after  the 

"  May -fly  glut,"  as  it  is  termed,  is  over. 

The  May  and  stone  flies  of  America,  which  make  their 

I'.''  appearance   about   the   same   time,  much  resemble  the 

\^(:  ephemeral  representatives  of  their  order  found  in  the  old 

country.     The  Mayfly  of  the  New  World  is,  however, 

difterent  to  the  gi .. ._   drake,  being  of    a   glossy  black 

colour. 

With  the  exception  of  these  two  insects,  we  have  no 
representatives  of  natural  flies  in  our  American  fly-books. 
The  scale  is  large  and  the  style  gaudy ;  and,  if  the  bunch 
of  bright  feathers,  which  sometimes  falls  over  the  head 
of  Salmo  fontinalis,  were  so  presented  to  the  view  of  a 
shy  English  trout,  I  question  whether  he  would  ever  rise 
to  the  surface  again.  Artificial  flies  are  sold  in  most  pro- 
vincial towns  in  the  Lower  Provinces,  and  are  much  sought 
for  by  the  rising  generation,  who,  however,  often  scorn 
the  store-rod,  contenting  themselves  with  a  good  pliable 
wattle  cut  in  situ.  It  is  surprising  to  see  the  bunches  of 
trout  the  settlers'  "sonnies"  will  bring  home  from  some 
little  lake,  perhaps  only  known  to  themselves,  which 
they  may  have  discovered  back  in  the  woods  when 
hunting  up  the  cows ;  and  the  satisfaction  with  which 
the  little  ragged  urchin  will  show  you  barefoot  the  way 
to  your  fishing  grounds,  skipping  over  the  sharp  granite 
rocks  strewed  in  the  path,  and  brushing  through  fir 
thickets  with  the  greatest  resolution,  all  to  become  pos- 


ACADIAN  FISH   AND  FISHING.  lM9  |j 

sessed  of  a  bunch  of  your  flies  and  a  smidl  length  of  ; 

old  gut.  : 

The  cast  of  flies  best  adapted  for  general  use  for  trout- 
fishing  in  Nova  Scotia  consists  of  the  red  hackle  or  palmer, 
a  bright  bushy  scarlet  fly,  with  perhaps  a  bit  of  gold  twist 
or  tinsel  further  to  enhance  its  charms,  a  brown  j)alm(>r, 
and  a  yellow-bodied  fly  of  wool  with  mallard  wings.     The  fl 

latter  wing  on  a  body  of  claret  wool  with  gold  tinsel  is  ' 

also  excellent.     Many  other  and  gaudier  flies  are  made  || 

and  sold  to  tempt  the  fish  later  on  in  the  year  :  they  \l 

are    quite  fanciful,  and  resemble  nothing  in  nature.     I  j| 

cannot  recommend  the  artificial  minnow  for  use  in  this  t| 

part  of  the  world,  though  trout  will  take  them.     They  J?! 

are  always  catching  on  submerged  rocks,  and  are  very  "'| 

troublesome  in  many  ways.    The  most  successful  minnow  i| 

1  ever  used  was  one  made  on  the  spot  by  an  Indian  who  -I 

was  with  me  after  moose — a  common  large  trout-hook 
thickly  bound  round  with  white  worsted,  a  j)iece  of 
tinfoil  covering  the  under  part,  and  a  good  bunch  of 
peacock's  herl  inserted  at  the  head,  bound  down  along 
the  back,  and  secured  at  the  end  of  the  shank,  leavinc: 
a  little  projection  to  represent  the  tail.  It  was  light  as 
a  feather,  and  could  be  thrown  very  accurately  any- 
where— a  great  advantage  when  you  find  yourself  back 
in  the  woods  and  wish  to  pull  a  few  trout  for  the  camp 
frying-pan  from  out  a  little  pond  overhung  with  bushes. 
The  fish  took  it  most  greedily. 

The  common  trout  is  to  be  met  with  in  eveiy  lake, 
or  even  pond,  throughout  the  British  Provinces.  One 
cannot  walk  far  through  the  depths  of  a  forest  district 
before  hearing  the  gurgling  of  a  rill  of  water  amongst 
stones  beneath  the  moss.     Following   the   stream,   one 


220  FOREST  LIFE   IN  ACADIE. 


5  „„1J.„      1  r,n 


soon  comes  on  a  sparkling   forest   brook   overhung   by 

waving  fern  fronds,  and   little  pools  with  a  bottom  of 

golden   gravel.      The  trout  is  sure  to  be  here,  and  on 

I  your  approach  darts  under  the  shelter  of  the  projecting 

I  roots  of  the  mossy  bank.    A  litth^  further,  and  a  winding 

;  lane  of  still  water  skirted  by  graceful  maples  and  birches, 

>  leads  to  the  open  expanses  of  the  lake,  where  the  gloom 

'.  of  the  heavy  woods  is  exchanged  for  the  clear  daylight. 

'  This  is  the  "run  in,"  in  local  phraseology,  and  here  the 

lake  trout  resort  as  a  favourite  station  at  all  times  of  the 

year.     A  basket  of  two  or  three  dozen  of  these  speckled 

beauties  is  your  re\vcird  for  having  found  your  way  to 

these  wild  but  enchanting  spots. 

Though,  as  has  been  observed,  the  trout  of  America  is 
more  a  lake  than  a  river  fish,  yet  the  gently  running  water 
at  the  foot  of  a  lake  just  before  the  toss  and  tumble  of  a 
rapid  is  reached  is  a  favourite  station  for  trout.  Such 
spots  are  excellent  for  fly-fishing  ;  I  have  frequently  taken 
five  dozen  fine  fish  in  an  hour,  in  the  Liverpool,  Tangier, 
and  other  noble  rivers  in  Nova  Scotia,  from  rapid  water, 
weighing  from  one  to  three  pounds. 

Towards  midsummer  the  fish  begin  to  refuse  fly  or 

bait,  retiring  to  deep  pools  under  the  shade  of  high  rocks, 

sickened  apparently  by  the  warmth  of  the  lake  water. 

.  .  As,  however,  the  woods,  especially  in  the  neighbourhood 

''-*';  of  water,   are   at   this  season  infested  with  mosquitoes 

and  black  flies,   a  day's  "  outing "  by  the  lake  or  river 

side  becomes  anything  but  recreative,  if  not  unbearable. 

The  twinge  of  the  almost  invisible  sand-fly  adds,  too, 

to   our   torments.      In   Nova  Scotia  the  savage  black- 

Sh^^  fly  (Simulium  molcstum)  disappears  at  the  end  of  June, 

though  in  New  Brunswick  the  piscator  will  find  these 


m 


V 


ACADIAN  FISH  AND  FISHING.  221 

wretches  lively  the  whole  summer.  They  attack  every- 
thing of  life  moving  in  the  woods,  being  dislodged  from 
every  branch  shaken  by  a  passing  object.  No  wonder 
the  poor  moose  rush  into  the  lakes,  and  so  bury  them- 
selves in  the  water  that  their  ears  and  head  are  alone 
seen  above  the  surface.  In  Labrador  the  flies  are  yet 
worse,  and  travelling  in  the  interior  becomes  all  but 
impracticable  during  the  summer. 

In  August  the  trout  recover  themselves  under  the 
cooling  influence  of  the  frosty  atmosphere  which  now 
prevails  at  night,  and  will  again  take  the  fly  readily,  con- 
tinuing to  do  so  until  quite  late  in  the  fall,  and  even  in 
the  spawning  season. 


THE  SEA  TEOUT. 

Salmo  Canadensis  (Hamilton  Smith). 

Closely  approximating  to  the  brook  trout  in  shape 
and  colouring — especially  after  having  been  some  time 
in  fresh  water — the  above  named  species  has  been  pro- 
nounced distinct.  They  have  so  near  a  resemblance  that 
until  separated  by  the  careful  comparison  of  Dr.  Gilpin, 
I  always  believed  them  to  be  the  same  fish,  especially 
as  the  brook  trout  as  aforesaid  is  known  to  frequent 
tidal  waters  at  the  head  of  estuaries.  The  following 
description  of  the  sea  trout  is  taken  from  Dr.  Gilpin's 
article  on  the  Salmonidse  before  alluded  to,  and  is  the 
result  of  examination  of  several  fish  taken  from  fresh 
water,  and  in  the  harbour  : — 

"  Of  those  from  the  tide-way,  length  from  twelve  to 
fourteen  inches ;  deepest  breadth,  something  more  than 


228  FOREST  LIFE  IN   ACADIE. 

one  quarter  from  tip  of  nose  to  insertion  of  tail.     The 

outline   rounds   up  rather  suddenly  from  a   small   and 

fH^E  arched  head  to  insertion  of  dorsal ;  slopes  quickly  but 

gently  to  adipose  fin ;   then  runs  straight  to  insertion 

|ijti|  of  caudal ;  tail  gently  curved  rather  than  cleft ;  lower 

kp]  line  straight  to  anal,  then  falling  rather  rapidly  to  make 

llji  a  very  convex  line  for  belly,  and  ending  at  the  gills. 

I^'f  The   body   deeper   and   more   compressed   than   in   the 

gf'^^/:  brook  trout.     The  dorsal  is  quadrangular ;  the  free  edge 

iiilr|;  convex  ;    the  lower  fins  having  the  first  rays  in  each 

p)J!-  thicker  and  flatter  than  the  brook  trout.     The  adipose 

'    '  fin  varies,  some  with  very  long  and  arched  free  end,  in 

■,,  others  small  and  straight.     The  specimen  frcj.ii    '.:e  fresh 

;,*f^."  water  was  vciy  much  longer   and   thinn  ir,  with  head 

proportionally   larger.      The  c  .lour  of    those  from  the 

tide-way  Avas  more  or  less  dark  greenish  blue  on  back 

shading  to  ash  blue  and  white  below,  lips  edged  with 

dusky.     They  all  had  faint  cream-coloured  spots,  both 

f|.  V  above  and  below  the  lateral  line.     With  one  exception, 

they  all  had  vermilion  specs,  but  some  only  on  one  side, 

others  two  or  three.     In  all,  the  head  was  greenish  horn 

colour.     The  colour  of  the  fins  in  pectoral,  ventral,  and 

anal,   varied    from    pale    white,    bluish-white,    to    pale 

orange,  with   a   dusky  streak  on   different  individuals. 

Dorsal  dusky  with  faint  spots,  and  caudal  with  dusky 

',!',!.  tips — on  some  a  little  orange  w\ash.     The  lower  fins  had 

the  first  ray  flat,  and  white  edged  with  dusky.     In  the 

specimen  taken  on  September  the  10th  from  the  fresh 

water,  the  blue  and  silver  had  disappeared,  and  dingy 

ash  colour  had  spread  down  below  the  lateral  line ;  the 

greenish  horn  colour  had  spread  itself  over  the  whole 

gills  except  the   chin,  which   was  white.     The  silvery 


Xl 


1  -'N:'-'; 


1    r..   '• 


''i 


y' 


^^'f&'y- 


:T' 


V, 


ACADIAN  FISH  AND  FISHING.  223 

reflections  were  all  gone,  tlie  cream-coloured  dapples 
were  much  more  decided  in  colour  and  shape,  and  the 
vermilion  specs  very  numerous.  The  caudal  and  all  the 
lower  fins  had  an  orange  wash,  the  dorsal  dusky  yellow 
with  black  spots,  the  lower  fins  retaining  the  white  flat 
ray  with  a  dusky  edging,  and  the  caudal  a  few  spots. 
The  teeth  of  all  were  upon  the  inter-maxillary,  maxil- 
laries,  palatine,  and  the  tongue  ;  none  on  the  vomer 
except  now  and  then  one  tooth  behind  the  arch  of  palate. 
Fin  rays,  D.  13,  P.  13,  V.  8,  A.  10  ;  gill  rays  12.  Axil- 
lary scale  very  small.  Dorsal,  with  two  rudimentary  | 
rays,  ten  or  eleven  long  ones,  free  edge  convex  ;  first  ray  I 
of  lower  fins  flat,  scales  very  small,  but  rather  larger  | 
than  those  of  brook  trout."  | 

Dr.  Gilpin  sums  up  as  follows  on  the  question  of  its  | 

identity  with  brook  trout : — 

"We  must  acknowledge  it  exceedingly  closely  allied 
to  Fontinalis — that  it  has  the  teeth,  shape  of  fins,  axillary      ♦ 
plate,  tail,  dapples,  vermilion  specs,  spotted  dorsal,  alike; 
that  when  it  runs  to  fresh  water  it  changes  its  colour, 
and,  in  doing  this,  approximates  to  its  red  fin  and  dingy  i 

green  with  more  numerous  vermilion  specs,  still  more  i 

closely.     Whilst,  on  the  other  hand,  we  find  it  living  i; 

apart  from  Fontinalis,  pursuing  its  own  laws,  attaining  a  t 

greater  size,  and  returning  year  after  year  to  the  sea.  t 

The  Fontinalis  is  often  found  unchanged  imder  the  same  !; 

cir(!umstance8.    The  fbrnier  fisli  always  preserves  its  more  |^ 

arched   head,  deeper  and    more    compressed    body,   and  T 

perhaps  shorter  fins.     In  giving  it  a  specific  name,  there-  1 

fore,  and  using  the  appropriate  one  given  by  Colonel 
Hamilton  Smith — so  far  as  I  can  discover  the  first  de- 
scriber — I  think  I  will  be  burne  out  by  all  naturalists." 


iiJi.' 


224  FOREST  LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 

The  size  attained  by  this  fish  along  the  Athmtic  coasts 
rarely  exceeds  five  pounds  :  from  one  to  three  pounds 
is  the  weight  of  the  generality  of  specimens.  The 
fiivourite  localities  for  sea  trout  are  the  numerous  har- 
bours with  which  the  coasts  of  the  maritime  provinces 
(of  Nova  Scotia  in  particular)  are  frequently  indented. 
First  seen  in  the  early  spring,  they  affect  these  harbours 
throughout  the  summer,  luxuriating  on  the  rich  food 
afforded  on  the  sand  flats,  or  amongst  the  kelp  shoals. 
On  the  former  localities  the  sand-hopper  (Talitrus)  seems 
to  be  their  principal  food ;  and  they  pursue  the  shoals  of 
small  fry  which  haunt  the  weeds,  preying  on  the  smelt 
(Osmerus)  on  its  way  to  the  brooks,  and  on  the  caplin 
'^  ';■  (Mallotus)  in  the  harbours  of  Newfoundland  and  Cape 

Breton.     They  will   take  an  artificial  fly  either  in  the 
harbour  or  in  fresh  water. 

When   hooked    by   the    fly-fisherman   on   their   first 
V  entrance  to  the  fresh  water,  they  afford   sport   second 

•j-'  only  to  that  of  salmon-fishing.     No  more  beautiful  fish 

ever  reposed  in  an  angler's  basket.     The  gamencss  with 
which   they  prolong  the  contest — often  flinging  them- 
^li-  selves  salmon-like   from  the  water — the  flashing  lights 

reflected  from  their  sides  as  they   struggle  for  life  on 
|.|  removal  of  the  fly  from  their  lips,  their  graceful  form, 

|!;(  and  colouring  so  exquisitely  delicate — sides  molten-silver 

^;.; j'.  with  carmine  spangles,  and  back  of  light  mackerel-green 

■  ' ''  — and,  lastly,  the  delicious  flavour  of  their  flesh  when 

,  brought  to  table,  entitle  the  sea  trout  to  a  high  conside- 

ration and  place  amongst  the  game-fish  of  the  provinces. 
In  some  harbours  the  trout  remains  all  the  summer 
'.  V  months  feeding  on  its  favourite  grounds,  but  in  general 

!  it  returns  to  its  native  fresh  water  at  distinctly  marked 


ACADIAN   FISH  AND  FISHING.  825  j  i 


periods,  and  in  large  detacliments.  In  the  early  spring, 
before  the  snow  water  has  left  the  rivers,  a  few  may- 
be taken  at  the  head  of  the  tide — fresh  fish  from  the 
salt  water  mixed  with  logies,  or  spent  fish  that  have 
passed  the  winter,  after  spawning  in  the  lakes,  under 
the  ice.  The  best  run  of  fish  occurs  in  June — the 
midsummer  or  strawberry  run,  as  it  is  locally  called — the 
season  being  indicated  by  the  ripening  of  the  wild  straw- 
berry. As  with  the  salmon,  there  is  a  final  ascent, 
probably  of  male  fish,  late  in  the  fall.  The  spawning 
fish  remain  under  the  ice  all  winter  in  company  with  the 
salmon,  returning  to  sea  as  spc^nt  fish  with  the  kelts 
when  the  rivers  are  swelled  by  freshets  from  the  melting 
snow. 

SEA  TROUT  FISHING. 

A   more    delightful   season   to    the    sportsman    than 
"strawberry   time"   on   the   banks   of  some   fine   river 
entering  an  Atlantic  harbour  and   well   known   for  its 
sea  trout  fishing,  can  hardly  be  imagined.     With  rivers 
and  woods  refreshed  by  recent  rains,  the   former   at  a 
perfect   state   of  water   for   fishing,    and   the   river-side 
paths  through  the  forest  redolent  with  the  aroma  of  the 
simimer  flora,  and  the  delicious   perfume  of  heated  fir 
boughs,   the  angler's   camp  is,   or   should  be,   a  sylvan 
abode    of   perfect    bliss.      Or   even    better  —  for   then 
we   are   free   from   the   persistent    attack    of    mosquito 
or   black    fly  —  is   the    cabin   of   a   comfortable    yacht, 
in  which  we  shift  from  harbour  to  harbour,  anchoring 
near  the  mouth  of  the    entcrifig  river.      The  flies  and 
sea  fog  are  the  only  drawbacks  to  the  pleasant  holiday 


: 


226  FOREST  LIFE  IN  ACADIE. 

of  a  troutiiiff  cruise  aloim  shore.  The  former  seldom 
venture  from  land  (even  on  the  forest  lake  they  leave 
the  canoe  or  raft  at  a  few  yards'  distance  from  the  shore) 
and,  if  the  west  wind  be  propitious,  the  cold  damp 
"I  fog    is   driven   away    to   the    north-east,   following   the 

;|  coast  line,  several  miles  out  to  sea. 

f:  Nothing  can  exceed  the  beauty  of  scenery  in  some  of 

;::  the  Atlantic  harbours  of  Nova  Scotia ;    their  innumer- 

'  able  islands  and  heavily- wooded  shores  fringed  with  the 

golden  kelp,  the  wild  undulating  hills  of   maple  rising 

,  in  the   background,    the  patches   of   meadow,   and   the 

'■  neat  little  white  shanties  of  the  fishermen's  clearings,  are 

":  the  prettiest  and  most  common  details  of  such  j)ictures, 

.•'  w^hich   never  fade   from   the   memory   of  the  lover   of 

,;>  nature.     How  easily  are  recalled   to   remembrance   the 

fresh  clear  summer   mornings    enjoyed   on    the  water; 

the   fir   woods    of    the   western    shores   bathed    in   the 

morning  sunbeams,  the  perfect  reflections  of  the  islands 

and  of  the  little  fishing  schooners,  the  wreaths  of  blue 

smoke    rising    from    their   cabin   stoves,   and   rendered 

distinct    by    the    dark     fir    woods    behind,    and    the 

roar  of   the  distant  rapids,  where   the   river  joins  the 

;  harbour,  borne  in  cadence  on  the  ear,  mingled  with  the 

■  cheerful  sounds  of   awakening   life  from    the  clearings. 

1  o  o 

j;  The   bald-healed   eagles    (H.    leucocephalus)    sail  majes- 

_c  tically  through  the  air,  conspicuous  when  seen  against 

t 

"I  the  line  of  woods  by  their  snow-white  necks  and  tails. 

The  graceful  little  tern  (Sterna  hirundo)  is  incessantly 
occupied,  circling  over  the   harbour,   shrilly   screaming, 
;.  and  ever  and  anon   dashing   down   upon  the  water  to 

'2  clutch  the  small  fry ;  whilst  the  common  kingfisher,  as 

J  abundant  by  the  sea-shore  as  in  the  interior,  thinking 

;•"'■ 

?! 
w 


■'v-wTi  •','-•     iwy^^»|r  T" 


i» 


M 


;  I 
.-'.I 


u 

o 

a 


o 
a 

o 

Q 
O 

c? 

•/; 


ACADIAN   FISH  AND  FISHING.  227  !{ 

I 
all  fish,  salt  or  fresh  water,  that  come  to  his  net,  equally  | 

good,  shoots  over  tlic  harl)()ur  with  jerking  flight,   and  fi 

uttering  his  wild  rattling  cry  ;  now  and  then  he  makes  i| 

an  impetuous  downward  dash,  completely  burj-ing  himself  I 

beneath  the  surface  in  seizing  his  prey.  ^i 

If  there  is  a  run  of  trout,  and  we  wish  to  fish  the  '?• 

river,  we  go  to  the  sea-i)Ools,  which  the  fish  enter  with  the 
rising  tide,  and  where   we  may  sec  their  silvery  sides  ■ 

flashing  as  they  gjimbol  in  the  eddies  under  the  appa- 
rently delightful  influence  of  the   highly-aerated  water  ; 
of  a  large   and  rapid   stream,  or  as  they   rush   at  the                        '" 
dancing  deceit  which  we  agitate  over  the  surface  of  the 
pool.     Here,  in  their  first  resting-place  on  their  way  up 
the  river,  they  will  always  take  the  fly  most  readily;  and 
with  good  tackle,  a  propitious  day,  and  the  by  no  means                        ,;.: 
despicable  aid  of  a  smart  hand  with  the  landing-net,  the                        .; 
mossy  bank  soon  glitters  with  a  dozen  or  two  of  these                        '< 
delicious  fish.                                                                                                 \ 

Should  they  not  be  running,  or  shy  of  rising  in  the  ' 

fresh  water  from  some  of  the  many  unaccountable 
humours  in  which  all  game  fish  are  apt  to  indulge, 
harbour  fishing  is  our  resource,  and  we  betake  ourselves 
to  the  edge  of  the  sand  flats  where  the  fish,  dispersed 
in  all  directions  during  high  water,  now  congregate 
and  lie  under  the  weeds  which  fringe  the  edge  of  the 
tide  channels.  Half-tide  is  the  best  time,  and  the  trout 
rush  out  from  under  the  kelp  at  any  gaudy  fly,  tempt-  ! 

ingly  thrown  towards  the  edge,  with  a  wonderful  dash, 
and  may  be  commonly  taken  two  at  a  time.     The  trout- 
beaches  in  Musquodoboit  Harbour,  lying  ofl"  Big  Island,  ' 
of  which   an   engraving   is   given,   may   be   a   pleasant 
remembrance  to  many  who  may  read  these  lines.                                     ;■ 

q  2  •' 


22tt  FOREST   LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 

A  desorted  clearing,  with  soft  grji.say  liaiiks  poHitivoly 
reddened  with  wild  strawberries,  is  a  most  tempting  spot 
for  a  picnic,  and  we  go  ashore  with  pots  and  pans  to 
bivouac  on  the  sward.  "Boiled  or  fried,  shall  l)e  the 
trout  ? "  is  the  question  ;  we  tr}^  both.  Perhaps  the 
former  is  the  best  way  of  cooking  the  delicate  and 
salmon-flavoured  sea  trout  (especially  the  larger  fish),  but 
in  camp  we  generally  patronise  a  fry,  and  this  is  our 
mode  of  proceeding.  The  fire  must  be  l)right  and  low, 
the  logs  burning  without  smoke  or  steam ;  the  frying- 
pan  is  laid  on  with  several  thick  slices  of  the  best 
flavoured  fat  pork,  and,  when  this  is  sufficiently  melted 
and  the  pan  crackling  hot,  we  put  in  the  trout,  split 
and  cleaned,  and  lay  the  slices  of  pork,  now  sufficiently 
bereft  of  their  gravy,  over  them.  A  little  artistic 
manoeuvring,  so  as  to  lubricate  the  rapidly  browning 
sides  of  the  fish,  and  they  are  turned  so  soon  as  the 
under  surface  shows  of  a  light  chestnut  hue.  Just 
before  taking  off",  add  the  seasoning  and  a  tablespoonful 
of  Worcester.  The  tin  plates  are  now  held  forth  to 
receive  the  spluttering  morsels  canted  from  the  pan,  and 
we  fall  back  on  the  couch  of  maple  boughs  to  eat  in 
the  approved  style  of  the  ancients,  whilst  the  fresh  mid- 
day breeze  from  the  Atlantic  modifies  the  heat,  and 
drives  away  to  the  shelter  of  the  surrounding  bushes 
the  fisherman's  most  uncompromising  foes — the  mos- 
quitoes and  black  flies. 

In  Nova  Scotia  the  best  localities  for  pursuing  this 
attractive  sport  are  the  harbours  to  the  eastward  of 
Halifax— Musquodoboit,  Tangier,  Ship,  Beaver,  Liscomb, 
and  Country  harbours.  In  Cape  Breton  the  beautiful 
Mnrgarie  is  one  of  the  most  noted  streams  for  sea  trout. 


ACADIAN   FISH    A\U    KltiHINU.  2i'9 

and  its  clear  water  and  picturesque  scenery,  winding 
through  intervale  meadows  dotted  with  groups  of  witch 
elm,  and  backed  by  wooded  hills  over  a  thousand  feet 
in  height,  entitle  it  to  pre-eminence  amongst  the  rivers  of 
the  Gulf. 

Prince  Edward's  Island  affords  some  sood  sea- trout 
fishing,  and,  further  north,  the  streams  of  the  Bay  of 
Chaleurs  and  of  both  shores  of  the  St.  Lawrence  are  so 
thronged  with  this  fish,  in  its  season,  near  the;  head  of 
the  tide,  as  seriously  to  impede  the  salmon  tisher  in  his 
nobler  ^Jnrsuit,  taking  the  salmon  fly  with  a  pertina- 
(dty  against  which  it  is  useless  to  conti'ud  ;  nor  is  he 
free  from  their  attacks  until  a  ca.s(tade  of  sufficient 
dimensions  has  intervened  between  the  haunts  of  the 
two  fish. 


THE  SALMON. 

{Salmn  Salnr.) 

The  Salmon  of  tlie  Atlantic  coasts  of  America  not 
having  been  as  yet  specifically  separated  from  the  Euro- 
pean fish,  a  scientific  description  is  unnecessary,  and  w^e 
pass  on  to  note  the  habits  of  this  noble  game  fish  of  our 
provincial  rivers. 

From  the  once  productive  rivers  of  the  United  States 
— with  the  exception  of  an  occasional  fish,  taken  in  the 
Penobscot,  or  the  Kennebec  in  Maine — t.i  lalmon  has 
long  since  been  driven,  the  last  recorded  capture  in  the 
Hudson  being  in  the  year  1840.  Mr.  Roosevelt,  a  well- 
known  American  sportsman  and  author,  states  that 
"  the  rivers  fiowing  into  Lake  Ontario  abounded  with 
them,  even   until   a  recent   period,    but  the    persistent 


230  FOREST   LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 

efforts  at  their  extinction  have  at  last  prevailed  ;  and, 
except  a  few  stragglers,  they  have  ceased  from  out  our 
waters." 

Cape  Sahle  being,  then,  the  south-easternmost  point 
in  the  salmon's  range,  we  first  find  nim  entering  the 
rivers  of  the  south  coast  of  Nova  Scotia  very  early  in 
March,  long  before  the  snow  has  left  the  woods ;  thus 
disproving  an  assertion  that  he  will  not  ascend  a  river 
till  clear  of  snow  water.  At  this  time  he  meets  the 
spent  fish,  or  kelts,  returning  from  their  dreary  residence 
under  the  ice  in  the  lakes,  and  those  gaunt,  hungry  fish 
may  be  taken  with  most  annoying  frequency  by  the 
angler  for  the  new  comers. 

As  a  bread  rule,  with,  however,  some  singular  excep- 
tions, the  run  of  salmon  now  proceeds  with  tolerably 
progressive  regularit}^  along  the  coast  to  the  eastward 
and  northward,  the  bulk  of  the  fish  having  ascended  the 
Nova  Scotian  rivers  by  the  middle  of  June.  The  excep- 
tions referred  to  occur  in  the  case  of  a  large  river  on  the 
eastern  coast  of  Nova  Scotia — the  Saint  Mary — and  some 
of  the  tributaries  of  the  Bay  of  Fundy,  in  which  there  is 
a  run  of  fish  in  JVIarch,  as  on  the  south-eastern  coast. 
This  fact  militates  somewhat  against  the  theory  of  the 
salmon  migrating  in  winter  to  warmer  waters  to  return 
in  a  body  in  early  spring  and  ascend  their  native  rivers, 
entering  them  progressively. 

In  the  Bay  of  Clialcurs  the  season  is  somewhat  more 
delayed  ;  the  fish  are  not  fiiirly  in  the  fresh  water  before 
the  middle  of  June,  which  is   also  the  time  for  their 

ascending  the  rivers  of  Labrador. 

o    ■ 

At  midsummer  in  Nova  Scotia,  and  in  the  middle  of 
July  higher  up  in  the  gulf,  the  grilse  make  their  appear- 


1 


ACADIAN   FISH   AND  PISHING.  231 

ancc  in  fresh  water  in  company  with  the  sea  trout. 
They  are  locally  termed  jumpers,  and  well  deserve  the 
title  from  their  liveliness  when  hooked.  With  a  light 
rod  and  fine  tackle  they  afford  excellent  sport,  and  take 
a  small  bright,  yellowish  fly  with  great  boldness. 

The  American  salmon  spawns  very  late  in  the  fall,  not 
before  November,  and  for  this  jjurpose  affects  the  same 
localities  as  his  European  congener — shallow  water's  run- 
ning over  beds  of  sand  and  gravel.  The  spawning  grounds 
occur  not  only  in  the  rivers,  but  around  the  large  parent 
lakes,  at  the  entrance  of  the  little  brooks  that  feed  them 
from  the  forest,  and  where  there  are  generally  deltas 
formed  of  sand,  gravel,  and  disintegrated  granite  washed  | 

down  from  the  hills.  The  s[)ent  fish,  as  a  general  rule, 
though  some  return  with  the  last  freshets  of  the  year, 
remain  all  winter  under  the  ice  (particularly  if  they  have 
spawned  in  lakes  far  removed  from  the  sea),  returning 
in  the  following  spring,  when  numbers  of  them  are  taken 
by  the  settlers  fishi?ig  for  trout  with  worm  in  pools  where 
the  runs  enter  the  Likes.  They  are  then  as  worthless  and 
slink  as  if  they  had  but  just  spawned.  In  Ma}  the  young 
salmon,  termed  smolts,  affect  the  brackish  water  at  the 
mouth  of  rivers,  and  fall  a  prey  to  juvenile  anglers  in 
immense  numbers — a  practice  most  destructive  to  the 
fisheries,  as  these  litth?  fish  would  return  the  same  season  as 
grilse  of  three  or  four  pounds  weight.  The  salmon  of  the 
Nova  Scotian  rivers  vary  in  weight  from  seven  to  tliirty 
pounds,  the  latter  weight  behig  seldom  attained,  though 
a  fair  proportion  of  fish  l)rought  to  market  are  over 
twenty  pounds.  Those  taken  in  the  St.  Mary  are  a 
larger  description  of  fish  than  the  salmon  of  the  southern 
coast.      In   the    Bay   of   Chaleurs,  in  the   Kestigouche, 


232  FOREST   LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 

salmon  of  forty  and  fifty  pounds  are  still  taken  ;  in 
former  years,  sixty  pounds  and  over  was  not  an  uncom- 
mon wei,L;lit.  The  salmon  of  the  Labrador  rivers  are 
not  remarkable  for  size  :  the  average  vveij^ht  of  two  hun- 
dred  fish  taken  with  the  fly  in  the  river  St.  John  in 
July,  18G3,  was  ten  pounds,  the  largest  being  twenty- 
three  ;  and  the  largest  salmon  ever  taken  by  the  rod  on 
this  coast  weighed  forty  pounds. 

The  average  weight  of  the  grilse  taken  in  Nova  Scotia 
and  the  Gulf  a})pears  to  be  four  pounds.  Fish  of  seven 
or  eight  pounds  which  I  have  taken  in  American  rivers 
are,  to  my  thinking,  salmon  of  another  year's  growth, 
and  present  an  appreciable  difference  of  form  to  the  slim 
and  graceful  grilt.  In  the  latter  part  of  November,  the 
time  when  the  salmon  in  the  fresh  water  are  in  the  act 
of  spawning,  a  run  of  fish  occurs  along  the  coast  of  Nova 
Scotia.  They  are  taken  at  sea  by  nets  off  the  headlands, 
and  are,  as  affirmed  by  the  fishermen,  proceeding  to  the 
southward.  Brought  to  market,  they  are  f.nind  to  be 
nearly  all  females,  in  prime  condition,  with  the  ova 
very  small  and  in  an  undeveloped  state,  similar  to  that 
contained  in  a  fish  on  its  first  entrance  into  fresh  water. 
Where  can  these  salmon  l)e  going  at  the  time  when  the 
rest  of  their  sjiecies  are  busily  engaged  in  reprt)duction  ? 
Another  of  the  man}^  mysteries  attached  to  the  natural 
history  of  this  noble  fish  !  In  fresh  running  water  the 
salmon  takes  the  artificial  fly  or  miiniow,  whether  from 
hunger  or  offence  it  does  not  clearly  ap])ear  ;  in  salt 
water  he  is  not  unfrequently  taken  on  the  coast  of  Nova 
Scotia  by  bait-fishing  at  some  distance  from  shore,  and 
in  sixty  or  seventy  fathoms  water.  The  caplin,  smelt, 
and  sand-eel,  contribute  to  his  food. 


ACADIAN   FISH   AND   FISHING.  233 

Dr.  Gilpin,  of  Nova  Scotia,  speaking  of  many  instances 
of  mnrvollons  captures  of  stilmon,  telb  the  following 
authentic  story ;  the  occurrence  happened  in  his  own 
time  and  neighbourhood — Annapolis  : — • 

"  Mr.  Baillie,  grandson  of  the  *  Old  Frontier  j\Iis- 
sionary,'  was  fishing  the  Generals  Bridge  river  up  stream  3 

for  trout,  standing  above  liis  knees  in  water,  with  an  old  i 

negro  named  Peter  Prince  at  his  elbow.     In  the  very  act  | 

of  casting  a  trout  fly  he  saw,  as  is  very  usual  for  them,  a 
large  salmon  lingering  in  a  deep  hole  a  few  yards  from  f 

him.    The  sun  favoured  him,  throwing  his  shadow  behind. 

• 

To  remain  motionless,  to  pull  out  a  spare  hook  and  pen-  I 

knife,  and  wdth  a  bit  of  his  old  hat  and  some  of  the  grey  1 
old  negro's  w^ool  to  make  a  salmon  fly  then  and  there,  he 

and  the  negro  standing  in  the  running  stream  like  statue  s,  ■. 

and  presently  to  land  a  fine  salmon,  was  the  work  of  but  i 

a  few  moments.     This  fly  must  have  been  the  original  of  ; 

Norris's  killing  '  silver  grey.' "  ^ 


THE   RIVERS   OF  NOVA   SCOTIA   AND   THE 

GULF. 

Rivers  and  streams  of  varying  dimensions,  but  nearly 
all  accessible  to  salmon,  succeed  each  other  with  wonder- 
ful frecjuency  throughout  the  \\\\y)\v  Atlantic  Sea-board  of 
Nova  Scotia.  In  former  years,  when  they  were  all  open 
to  the  ascent  of  migratory  fish,  the  amount  of  jdscine 
wealth  represented  by  them  was  incalculable.  The 
salmon  literally  swarmed  along  the  coast.  Their  only 
enemy  was  the  spear  of  the  native  Indian ;  and  the 
earlier  annals  of  the  province  show  the  prevalence  of  a 


234  FOREST  LIFE  IN  ACADIE. 

custom  with  regard  to  the  hiring  of  hihourers  simikir  to 
that  once  existing  in  some  parts  of  EngLand — a  stipulation 
that  not  more  than  a  certain  proportion  of  salmon  should 
enter  into  their  diet.  Now,  the  salmon  having  passed  the 
ordeal  of  bag-nets,  with  which  the  shores  of  the  long 
harbours  are  studded,  and  arrived  in  tlie  fresh  water, 
vainly  loiters  in  the  pool  below  the  monstrous  wooden 
structure  called  a  mill-dam,  which  effectively  debars  his 
progress  to  his  ancestors'  domains  in  the  parent  lakes, 
and  before  long  falls  a  prey  to  the  spear  or  scoop-net  of 
the  miller.  From  wretchedly  inefficient  legislation  the 
salmon  of  Nova  Scotia  is  on  the  verge  of  extinction, 
with  the  gaspercaux  and  other  migratory  fish,  which 
once  rendered  the  immense  extent  of  fresh  water  of 
this  country  a  source  of  wealth  to  the  province  and  of 
int;alculable  benefit  to  the  poor  settler  of  the  backwoods, 
whose  barrels  of  pickled  fish  were  his  great  stand-by  for 
winter  consumption. 

One  of  the  noblest  streams  of  the  Nova  Scotian 
coast  is  the  Liverpool  river,  in  Queen's  County,  which 
connects  with  the  largest  sheet  of  fresh  water  in  the 
province.  Lake  Rossignol,  whence  streams  and  brooks 
innumerable  extend  in  all  directions  through  the  wild 
interior,  nearly  crossing  to  the  Bay  of  Fundy.  All 
these  once  fruitful  waters  are  now  a  barren  waste.  The 
salmon  and  gaspereaux  are  debarred  from  ascent  at  the 
head  of  the  tide,  where  a  series  of  utterly  impracti- 
cable mill-dams  oppose  their  progress  to  their  spawning- 
grounds.  A  pitiful  half  dozen  barrels  of  salmon  taken 
at  the  mouth  is  now  shown  against  a  former  yearly 
tc.ke  of  two  thousand. 

A  few  miles  to  the  eastward  we  come  to  the  Port 


ACADIAN   FISH  AND  FISHING.  235 

Medvvay  river,  nearly  as  large  as  the  preceding,  which, 
not  being  so  completely  closed  against  the  salmon,  still 
affords  good  sport  in  the  beginning  of  the  season,  in 
April  and  May.  This  is  the  furthest  river  westwardly 
from  the  capital  of  the  province — Halifax — to  which  the 
attention  of  the  fly-fisher  is  directed.  There  are  some 
excellent  pools  near  the  sea,  and  at  its  outlet  from  the 
lakes,  twenty  miles  above.  The  fish  are  large,  and  have 
been  taken  with  the  fly  in  the  ^.atter  part  of  March. 
The  logs  going  down  the  stream  are,  however,  a  great 
hindrance  to  fishiufj. 

Proceeding  to  the  eastward,  the  next  noticeable 
salmon  river  is  the  La  Have,  the  scenery  on  which  is 
of  the  most  picturesque  description.  There  are  some 
excellent  pools  below  the  flrst  falls.  The  run  of  fish  is 
rather  later  than  at  Port  Metlway,  or  at  Gold  liiver, 
which  is  further  east.  On  the  4th  of  ^biy,  when  excel- 
lent sport  was  being  obtained  in  these  waters,  I  have 
found  no  salmon  running  in  the  La  Have.  About  the 
1 0th  of  May  appears  to  be  the  beginning  of  its 
season. 

We  next  come  to  Mahone  Bay,  an  expansive  indenta- 
tion of  the  coast,  studded  with  islands,  noted  for  its 
charms  of  scenery,  and  likewise  commendable  to  the 
visitor  in  search  of  salmon-fishing.  About  six  miles 
west  of  the  little  town  of  Chester,  which  stands  at  its 
head,  is  the  mouth  of  Gold  River.  Until  very  re- 
cently this  was  the  favourite  resort  of  sportsmen  on 
the  western  shore.  Its  well-defined  pools  and  easy  stands 
for  casting  added  to  its  inducements;  and  a  throng  of  fish 
ascended  it  from  the  middle  of  April  to  the  same  time 
in  May.     The  increase  of  sporting  propensities  amongst 


238  FOREST   l.IFK   IN   ACADIE. 

the  rising  generation  of  the  neighbouring  villages  proves 
of  late  years  a  great  clrawl)ack  to  the  chances  of  the 
visitor.  The  pools  are  continually  occupied  by  (dumsy 
and  undiscerning  loafers,  who  infest  the  river  to  the 
detriment  of  sport,  and  do  not  scruple  to  come  alongside 
and  literally  throw  across  your  line.  Though  dear  old 
Isaac  might  not  possibly  object  to  rival  floats  a  yard 
apart,  another  salmon-fly  careering  in  the  same  pool  is 
not  to  1)0  endured,  and  of  course  spoils  sport.  Still, 
however,  without  such  interruptions,  fair  fishing  may  be 
ol)tained  here,  and  a  dozen  fish  of  ten  to  twenty  pounds 
taken  by  a  rod  on  a  good  day.  Excessive  netting  in 
the  salt  water  is,  however,  fast  destroying  all  prospects  of 
sport  here  as  elsewhere. 

There  are  two  fair  sized  salmon  rivers  entering  the 
next  harbour,  Margaret  s  Bay,  which,  being  the  nearest 
to  the  capital  of  the  province,  are  over-fished.  With  the 
exception  of  a  pretty  little  stream,  called  the  Nine-mile 
River,  which  is  recovering  itself  under  the  protection  of 
the  Game  and  Fish  Preservation  Society,  these  conclude 
the  list  of  the  western-shore  rivers  of  Nova  Scotia. 

The  fishing  along  this  shore  is  quite  easy  of  access  by 
the  mail-coach  from  Halifax,  which  jolts  somewhat 
roughly  three  times  a  week  over  the  rocks  and  fir- 
pole  bridges  of  the  shore-road  through  pretty  scenery, 
frequently  emerging  from  the  woods,  and  skirting  the 
bright  dancing  waters  of  Margaret's  Bay  and  Chester 
Basin.  The  woodland  part  of  a  journey  in  Nova  Scotia 
is  dreary  enough ;  the  dense  thickets  of  firs  on  either  side 
being  only  enlivened  by  an  occasional  clearing  with  its 
melancholy  tenement  and  crazy  wooden  out-buildings,  and 
by  the  tall  unbarked  spruce-poles  stuck  in  a  swamp  or 


ACADIAN   FISH   AND   FISHING.  237 

held  up  by  piles  of  rocks  at  their  base,  supporting  the 
single  wire  along  which  messages  are  conveyed  through 
the  province  touching  the  latest  prices  afloat  of  mackerel, 
cod-fish,  or  salt,  on  the  magnetic  system  of  Morse. 

Indian  guid(>s  to  the  pools,  who  are  adepts  at  camp- 
keeping,  canoeing,  and  gatiing  the  fish  for  you,  as  well  as 
at  doing  a  little  stroke  of  business  for  themselves,  when 
opportunities  occur,  with  the  forbidden  and  murderous 
spear,  reside  at  the  mouths  of  most  of  these  rivers.  Their 
usual  charge,  as  for  hunting  in  the  woods,  is  a  dollar  per 
diem. 

The  flies  for  the  western  rivers  of  Nova  Scotia  are  of 
a  larger  make  than  those  used  in  New  Brunswick  and 
Canada,  owing  to  the  turbidity  of  the  water  at  the  season 
when  the  best  fishing  is  to  be  obtained.  They  mo  v  be  pro- 
cured in  several  stores  in  Halifax,  where  one  Connell  ties 
them  in  a  superior  style,  and  will  forward  them  to  order 
anywhere  in  the  provinces  or  in  Canada.  A  claret-bodied 
(pig's  wool  or  mohair)  with  a  dark  mixed  wing  is  good 
for  the  La  Have.  Green  and  grey  are  good  colours  for 
Gold  River.  With  the  grey  body  silver  tinsel  should 
be  used,  and  wood-duck  introduced  into  the  wing.  An 
olive  body  is  also  good.  There  is  no  feather  that  sets  off 
a  wing  better  than  wood-duck.  It  is  in  my  estimation 
more  tempting  to  fish  than  the  gokUni  pheasant  tippet 
feather.  Its  broad  bars  of  rich  velvety  black  and  })urest 
white  give  a  peculiarly  attractive  and  soft  moth-like 
appearance  to  the  wing. 

The  harbour  of  Halifax,  nearly  twelve  miles  in 
length,  has  but  one  stream,  and  that  of  inconsiderable 
dimensions,  emptying  into  it.  The  little  Sackville  river 
was,  however,  once  a  stream  affbrding  capital  sport  at 


238  FOREST   LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 

JNIidsummcr,  its  season  l)eing  announced,  as  the  old 
fisherman  who  lived  on  it  and  by  it,  generally  known 
as  "  Old  Hopewell,"  told  mc,  by  the  arrival  of  the  fire- 
flies. He  has  taken  nineteen  salmon,  of  from  eight  to 
eighteen  poimds  weight,  in  one  morning  with  the  fly. 
It  offers  no  sport  to  speak  of  now  ;  the  saw  mills  and 
their  obstructive  dams  have  quite  cut  off"  the  fish  from 
their  spawning  grounds. 

To  the  eastward,  between  Halifax  and  Cape  Canseau, 
occurs  a  succession  of  fine  rivers,  running  through  the 
most  extensive  forest  district  in  the  province.  The 
salmon  rivers  of  note  are  the  Musquodoboit,  Tangier 
river,  the  Sheet  Harbour  rivers,  and  the  St.  Mary's. 
There  are  no  important  settlements  on  the  sea-coast, 
which  is  very  wdld  and  rugged  to  the  east  of  Halifax, 
and  consequently  they  are  less  looked  after  and  more 
poached.  Formerly  they  teemed  with  salmon.  Besides 
the  mill-dams,  they  are  netted  right  across,  and  the  pools 
are  swept  and  torched  without  mercy  by  settlers  and 
Indians.  The  St.  Mary's  is  the  noblest  and  most  beau- 
tiful river  in  Nova  Scotia,  and  its  salmon  are  the  largest. 
The  nets  overlap  one  another  from  either  shore  through- 
out the  long  reaches  of  interv^alc  and  wild  meadow, 
dotted  with  groups  of  elm,  which  constitute  its  noted 
scenic  charms,  and  the  lumbermen  vie  with  the  Indians 
in  skill  in  their  nightly  spearing  expeditions  by  the  light 
of  blazing  birch-bark  torches. 

There  are  many  other  fine  rivers  besides  those  men- 
tioned discharging  into  the  Atlantic,  which  the  salmon 
has  long  ceased  to  frequent,  being  completely  shut  out, 
and  which  would  swell  the  dreary  record  of  the  ruin  of  the 
inland  fisheries  of  Nova  Scotia.     In  these  waters,  at  a 


ACADIAN   FISH  AND  FISHING.  235) 

(liatant'o  from  the  capital,  "  Halifax  law,"  as  the  settlers 
will  tell  you,  is  "no  acc'ount."  The  spirit  of  wanton 
extermination  is  rife  ;  and,  as  it  has  been  well  remarked, 
it  really  seems  as  though  the  man  would  he  loudly 
applauded  who  was  discovered  to  have  killed  the  last 
salmon. 

Salmon  are  abundant  in  the  Bay  of  Fundy,  which 
washes  a  large  portion  of  Nova  Scotia,  but  its  rivers 
are  generally  ill  adapted  for  sport.  Running  through 
fiat  alluvial  lands,  and  turbid  with  the  red  mud,  or 
rather,  fine  sand,  of  the  Bay  shores,  they  are  generally 
characterised  by  an  absence  of  good  stands  and  salmon 
pools.  The  Annapolis  river  was  once  famous  for 
salmon  fishing.  On  its  tributary,  the  Nictaux,  twenty 
or  thirty  might  be  taken  with  the  fly  in  an  after- 
noon ;  and  the  Gaspereau,  a  very  pictures(]^ue  stream 
entering  the  Basin  of  Minas  at  Grand  Pre,  the  once 
happy  valley  of  the  French  Acadians,  still  affords  fair 
sport. 

We  will  now  turn  to  the  rivers  of  the  Gulf  which 
enter  it  from  the  mainland  on  the  shores  of  New  Bruns- 
wick, Lower  Canada,  and  Labrador,  commencing  with 
those  of  the  fonner  province. 

Proceeding  along  the  eastern  shore  of  New  Brunswick 
from  its  junction  with  Nova  Scotia,  we  pass  several  fine 
streams  with  picturesque  scenery  and  strange  Indian 
names,  which,  once  teeming  with  fish,  now  scarcely  afford 
the  resident  settler  an  annual  taste  of  the  flesh  of  salmon. 
The  Miramichi,  however,  arrests  our  attention  as  being 
a  noble  river ;  its  yield  and  exportation  of  salmon  is 
still  very  large.  Winding  sluggishly  through  a  beautiful 
and   highly   cultivated   valley  for  nearly  one   hundred 


. 


240  FOUEST   LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 

miles  from  tlic  Atlantic,  the  first  rjipids  and  pools  where 
fly-fishing  may  be  jtractised  occur  in  the  vicinity  of 
Boicstown  ;  here  the  sport  aflbrded,  in  a  good  season,  is 
little  inferior  to  that  which  may  be  ol>tained  on  the 
Nepisiguit.  One  of  its  branches,  also,  the  north-west 
IMiramichi,  is  worth  a  visit ;  and  I  have  known  some 
excellent  sport  obtained  on  it  in  passing  through  to  the 
Nepisiguit,  from  which  river  the  water  communication 
for  a  canoe  is  interrupted  but  by  a  short  portage  through 
the  forest. 

It  is,  however,  on  entering  the  southern  expanses  of 
the  beautiful  Bay  of  Chaleurs  that  we  first  find  the 
paradise  of  the  salmon-fisher ;  and  here  still,  despite 
of  many  foes — innumerable  stake-nets  which  debar  his 
entrance,  the  sweeping  seine  in  the  fresh  water,  the  torch 
and  spear  of  the  Indian  tribes,  and  lastly,  and  perhaps 
the  least  destructive  agent,  the  tackle  of  the  fly-fisher- 
man— the  bright  foamy  waters  of  the  Nepisiguit,  the 
Restigouche,  the  Metapediac,  and  many  others,  repay  the 
visitor  and  sportsman,  whence  or  how  far  soever  he  may 
have  come,  by  the  sport  which  they  afford,  and  by  the 
wild  scenery  which  surrounds  their  long  course  through 
the  forests  of  New  Brunswick. 

And,  first,  of  the  Nepisiguit.  This  now  famous  river, 
which  of  late  years  has  attracted  from  their  homes 
many  visitors,  both  English  and  American,  to  spend  a 
few  weeks  in  fishing  and  pleasantly  camping-out  on  its 
banks,  discharges  its  waters  into  the  Bale  des  Chaleurs 
at  Bathurst,  a  small  neat  town,  easily  accessible  from 
either  Halifax,  St.  John,  or  Quebec,  and  by  various 
modes  of  conveyance — coach,  rail,  and  steamboat.  Kising 
in  the  centre  of  northern  New  Brunswick,  in  an  elevated 


I- 

I  Ml 


ACADIAN   FISH   AND  FISHING.  241 

lake,  region  which  gives  Ijirtli  to  thi;  Tohiqiuj  iiiid  Upsal- 
quitch,  rivers  of  about  ^.ml  size,  the  Nepisiguit  has  an 
eastward  course  of  nearly  one  hundred  miles  through 
a  wilderness  country,  where  not  even  a  solitary  Indian 
camp  may  be  met  with.  It  is  one  of  the  wildest  of 
American  rivers ;  sometimes  contracted  between  clifts 
to  the  breadth  of  a  few  yards,  coursing  sullenly  and 
darkly  below  overhanging  forests,  and  sometimes,  though 
rarely,  expanding  into  broad  reaches  of  smoothlj^-gliding 
water — its  most  common  feature  is  the  evcr-recurrinjj 
cascade  and  rapid. 

The  adventurous  fisherman  will  do  well  to  supplement 
his  sport  on  the  river  by  embarking  on  a  long  journey 
through  the  solitudes  of  the  intericjr  to  its  parent  lakes. 
A  short  portage  of  a  couple  of  miles,  and  the  canoe 
floats  on  the  Tobique  lakes,  and  thence  descends  the 
Tobi(jue  through  another  hundred  miles  of  the  wildest 
and  most  beautiful  scenery  imaginable.  At  the  junction 
of  this  latter  river  with  the  broad  expanse  of  the  uiip)er 
St.  John,  civilisation  reappears  ;  the  traveller  changes  his 
conveyance  for  the  steamer  or  coach,  and  the  frail  canoe 
returns,  with  her  hardy  and  skilful  sons  of  the  river,  to 
battle  with  the  rocks  and  rapids  of  the  toilsome  route. 

The  whole  of  this  tour  is,  however,  fraught  with 
interest  to  the  sportsman  and  lover  of  wild  scenery. 
Moose,  caribo(j,  and  bear  are  invariably  met  Avith ;  the 
two  former  being  generally  seen  bathing  in  the  water 
in  the  evenings,  whilst  a  visit  from  a  bear  at  night  is 
by  no  means  an  uncommon  occurrence  at  some  camp  or 
another  on  the  way  ;  or,  perchance,  Bruin  may  be  sur- 
prised when  gorging  in  the  early  morning,  breakfasting 
amongst   the   great   thickets  of  wild   raspberries  which 


212  FOREST   LIFE  IN   ACADIE. 

ubouutl  on  the  banks.  A  little  Hcavcli  up  tlu!  triltutnry 
hrook.s  ^vill  discover  the  woiKlcrful  works  of  bciiver  now 
in  progress  ;  and  other  frecpienters  of  the  river,  mink, 
otters,  and  musquash,  are  plentiful,  and  frcnpicntly  to 
be  seen.  In  July  and  August  the  young  flappers  of 
many  species  of  duck  form  an  agreeable  change  in  the 
daily  bill  of  fare  ;  and  though  salmon  do  not  ascend  the 
Nepisiguit  beyond  the  Grand  Falls,  twenty-one  miles 
from  Bathurst,  they  may  be  taken  at  the  head  waters 
of  the  Tobique ;  whilst  river  trout  of  large  size,  and 
atibrding  excellent  sport,  will  greedily  rise  at  an  almost 
bare  hook  throughout  the  whole  extent  of  water. 

lleelining  in  the  bottom  of  the  canoe,  the  position  of 
the  traveller  is  most  comfortable,  and  he  may  make 
notes  or  sketches,  as  fancy  leads  him,  with  ease  ;  indeed, 
from  the  facility  with  which  all  necessaries  and  even 
luxuries  may  be  conveyed,  but  little  hardship  need  be 
anticipated  in  a  canoe  voyage  through  the  rivers  of 
northern  New  Brunswick. 

The  length  of  the  journey  just  described  much 
depends  on  the  state  of  the  Avater  and  the  number  of 
the  party.  With  good  water  a  canoe  will  get  through 
"with  two  sportsmen,  two  canoe  men,  and  all  their  goods 
— camps,  blankets,  and  provisions — in  ten  or  twelve 
days  ;  but  should  the  rivers  be  low,  two  canoes  must 
be  employed  l)y  the  same  numljcr.  A  few  years  since  I 
took  a  still  more  northern  route  to  the  upper  St.  John, 
vid  the  Kestigouche  and  Grand  River ;  the  head-waters 
were  so  shallow  that  we  literally  had  to  drag  our  canoe, 
fixed  on  long  protecting  slabs  of  cedar,  for  some  days 
over  the  rocky  bed ;  we  were,  moreover,  nearly  starved, 
and  occupied  nearly  three  weeks  in  reaching  Fredericton 


ACADIAN   FISH   AND   FISIIINQ.  243 

on  the  St.  John,  down  wlioso  Itroud,  (loop  stroam,  how- 
ever, wo.  paddlod  ut  tlio  rate  of  fifty  milon  a  day. 

The  scenery  on  this  lino  of  watcr-ooninmnioation  with 
the  St.  Jolni  is  grander,  l)ut  not  so  wild  as  on  the  former 
route,  whicli  I  roconuuond  as  possessing  many  advan- 
tages, partieuhirly  in  the  way  of  spoi-t. 

Mais  revenona  d  no8  saumons — to  describe  the  oapa- 
bihties  of  the  Nepisiguit  to  afford  sport  to  the  sahnon- 
fishor,  and  direct  the  visitor,  "he  ascent  of  sahnon 
in  this  river  is  restricted  to  twenty-one  miles  of  water 
by  an  insuperable  bairior — the  Grand  Falls  ;  but  fi'oni 
the  head  of  the  tide,  two  miles  above  the  town,  to  this 
point,  are  a  succession  of  beautiful  pools  with  every 
variety  of  water,  so  stocked  Avith  fish,  and  with  such 
picturesque  surrounding  scenery,  that  the  eye  of  the 
spt)rtsninn  who  may  hap}»ily  combine  the  love  of  nature 
with  the  lust  of  sport  drinks  in  constant  and  ever- 
varying  delight  as  he  is  introduced  to  these  bewitching 
spots.     And  now  of  the  pools  scriatuti. 

Two  miles  above  Iktliurst  we  come  to  the  "  Rough 
AVators,"  whore  there  is  good  fishing.  No  camp  is 
needed  here  ;  for  it  is  so  near  the  accommodation  of  a 
comfortable  hotel,  that  I  question  whether  any  one  would 
care  to  experiment,  except  for  novelty.  It  is  a  pretty 
spot,  and  the  dark  water  hero  and  there  breaks  into  pure 
white  foam  as  it  passes  over  a  lodge  which  crosses  the 
channel  from  the  steep  red  sandstone  cliffs  opposite.  A 
short  distance  above  are  the  "  Round  Rocks,"  with  little 
falls  and  intervening  pools,  whore  the  river  begins  to 
show  its  true  character  ;  and  here,  as  at  the  last-men- 
tioned spot,  a  good  day's  fishing  may  be  obtained  from 
the  town.     But  one  is  now-a-days  liable  to  interference, 

R   2 


244  FOREST  LIFE  IN   ACADIE. 

howevc]',  for  of  hito  years  tlic  little  ragged  vircliins  from 
the  Aeadian  settlement  on  the  south  shore  have  iml)il)e(l 
u  strong  love  of  sport  in  addition  to  their  hereditary 
poaching  propensities,  and  with  a  rongh  j)ole,  a  few 
yards  of  coarse  line,  and  a  hait  in  appearance  anything 
hut  a  salmon  fly,  they  will  hook  some  dozen  or  more 
salmon  in  a  day  when  tliey  are  running  freely,  of 
course  losing  nearly  every  fish. 

Distant  ahAit  miles  from  Bathurst,  and  accessil)le  1)^'" 
a  fiiir  waggon  road,  are  the  Pabineau  Falls,  one  of  the 
choicest  fishing  stations  on  the  river.  The  scenery  here 
is  most  beautiful ;  the  forest  has  now  claimed  the  banks, 
and,  as  the  stranger  emerges  from  its  shade,  and  stands 
on  the  l)road,  smo.^th  expanses  of  light  grey  and  pink 
rocks  which  slo}»e  from  him  towards  the  brink  of  the 
stream,  viewing  its  clear  grass-green  waters  rolling  in 
such  fierce  undulations  over  long  descents,  and  thun- 
dering, enveloped  in  mist,  through  various  contracted 
passes  into  boilnig  jjooLs,  witli  congregated  masses  of 
foam  ever  cii'clijig  over  their  black  (lei)ths,  he  becomes 
impressed  with  the  idea,  of  irresistible  power,  and  is 
constrained  to  acknowledge  that  he  stands  in  the  pre- 
sence of  no  ordinary  stream,  but  ■  ^  a  mighty  river. 

I  have  here  stocjd  by  tlie  maig..i  of  the  water,  where 
hundreds  of  tons  momentarily  rushed  past  my  feet  in 
a  compact  mass,  and  watched  the  bright  gleam  of  the 
salmon  as  they  would  dart  up  frcjui  Itclow  like  arrows  to 
encounter  the  fall ;  a  sUght  pause;  as  they  near  the  head ; 
another  convulsive  effort,  and  they  are  safely  over  ;  but 
many  fall  back,  at  present  une(|ual  for  the  contest,  into 
the  dark  pool. 

There  are  several  wel'  built  bark  shanties  on  the  rocks 


t 


S 


r 


ACADIAN   FISH  AND  FISHING.  245 

above  the  Mis,  for  the  fine  scenery,  and  the  ease  with 
which  the  numerous  pools  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
Pabineau  can  be  fished,  have  made  this  a  favourite  haunt 
for  anglers. 

Two  miles  above  are  the  Rceterbox  Pools,  where  there 
is  some  swift,  deep  water  at  a  curve  in  the  river,  and  at 
the  foot  of  a  long  reach  of  rapids.  It  is  a  very  good 
station  to  fish,  en  passant,  but  not  of  sufiicient  extent  to 
induce  more  than  an  occasional  visit. 

"  Mid-landing  "  is  the  next  spot  where  good  sport  may 
be  obtained,  particularly  at  the  end  of  July,  when  the 
river  becomes  low.  The  great  depths  of  water  here, 
shaded  by  high  rocks,  induce  large  fish  to  remain  long  in 
these  cool  retreats.  Very  small,  dark  flies,  and  the  most 
transparent  gut  must  be  used  ;  and  with  these  pre- 
cautions, when  other  pools  have  been  failing  in  a  dry 
season,  I  have  taken  half  a  dozen  salmon  a  day  from  the 
deep  waters  of  Mid-landing,  and  from  the  long,  rough 
rapid  which  runs  into  the  pool. 

Three  miles  above  are  the  "  Chains  of  Rocks,"  the 
great  and  the  little.  A  camp  below  the  last  fall  of  the 
lower  chain  will  command  all  the  pools.  This  range  of 
pools  contains  an  abundance  of  fish.  Below  the  foil  is  a 
long  expanse  of  smooth  water,  at  the  head  of  which 
salmon  congregate  in  great  numbers  preparatory  to 
ascending  the  rough  water  above  ;  they  lie  in  several 
deep,  eddying  pools,  where  projecting  ledges  narrow  the 
channel,  and  may  Ije  seen  flinging  themselves  out  of 
water  throughout  the  day.  Above  this  long  series  of 
cascades  which  fidl  over  terraces  of  dark  rocks,  for 
nearly  half  a  mile,  there  is  some  eveidy-gliding  water, 
in  which  fisli   may   be    .aken  from  stands   on  the  left 


246  FOREST  LIFE  IN   ACADIE. 

bank.  Here,  and  at  the  little  chain  just  aljovc,  is 
my  favourite  resort  at  this  part  of  the  river  ;  there  is 
excellent  camping-gi'ound  in  the  tall  fir-woods  on  the 
north  shore,  and  bold  jutting  rocks  command  the  pools 
admirably. 

Between  this  spot  and  the  Basin,  two  miles  al)Ove, 
there  are  but  few  spots  where  the  fly  may  be  cast  pro- 
fitably ;  and,  taking  the  bush-path  which  skirts  the  river, 
we  may  now  shoulder  our  rods,  and  trudge  up  to  the 
Grand  Falls,  our  canoes  following,  spurting  through  the 
rapid  water  in  long  strides  as  they  are  impelled  by  the 
vigorous  thrusts  of  the  long  iron-shod  fir-poles.  The 
Basin  is  a  broad  and  deep  expansion  of  the  river,  and  a 
reservoir  where  the  salmon  conixreo-ate  in  multitudes, 
ultimately  spawning  at  the  entrance  of  numerous  gravell}'" 
brooks  which  flow  into  it  from  the  surrounding  forest, 
and  daily  making  sorties  to  tlie  Falls,  a  mile  above,  to 
enjoy  the  cool  water  which  flows  thence  to  the  lake 
between  tall,  overhanging  cliffs,  sometimes  completely 
shaded  from  the  sunlii>;ht  save   durinc:  a  very  limited 

O  '77'  */ 

portion  of  the  day. 

In  this  mile  of  deep  swift  water,  which  winds  in  a 
dark  thread  from  the  Basin  to  the  foot  of  the  falls 
between  lofty  walls  of  slate  rock,  salmon  lie  during  the 
day  in  thousands  ;  there  are  certain  spots  which  they 
prefer,  found  l)y  experience  to  be  the  best  pools,  where 
the  splash  of  the  fish  and  the  voice  of  the  angler  awaken 
echoes  from  the  cliffs  throughout  the  season.  Fine 
fishing,  and  fine  tackle  for  these — aye,  and  a  good 
temper,  too — for  it  is  the  most  favoured  resort  for  rods, 
and  we  may  often  be  compelled  to  cease  awhile  from  our 
sport,  whilst  a  canoe  (liere  the  only  mode  of  conveyance 


ACADIAN   FISH  AND  FISHING.  247 

from  pool  to  pool)  with  its  scarlct-sliirted  paddlers, 
creeps  through  the  water  by  the  opposite  shore. 

There  are  but  one  or  two  places  in  the  cliffs  here 
where  a  camp  may  be  pitched,  and,  if  these  are  occupied, 
we  must  drop  down-stream  again  to  some  less-frequented 
locality.  The  best  of  these  is  a  green  sloping  bank,  over 
which  a  cool  brook  courses  between  copses  of  hazel  and 
alder  into  the  river  below.  It  is  a  charming  situation, 
and  from  a  grassy  plateau  overhanging  the  river,  where 
the  camps  are  usually  placed,  we  may  look  down  into  a 
clear  pool,  some  seventy  feet  below,  and  watch  the 
salmon  which  occupy  it,  dressed  in  distinct  ranks. 

The  Grand  Falls  are  rather  more  than  100  feet  in 
height.  The  river,  here  greatly  contracted,  descends 
into  a  deep  boiling  pool,  first  by  a  succession  of  headlong 
tumbles,  and  then  in  a  compact  and  perpendicular  fall  of 
forty  feet.  The  first  fishing  pool  is  just  below  the 
eddying  basin  at  the  foot  of  the  fall,  which  is  seldom 
entered  bv  the  cnnoe  men,  as  currents  both  of  air 
and  water  sweep  round  it  towards  the  pitch ;  besides, 
the  fish  here  are  so  euijaixed  in  battlinii;  with  the  heavino; 
water,  in  their  vain  attempts  to  surmount  the  falls,  that 
they  will  not  regard  the  Hy. 

All  this  portion  of  the  Nepisiguit  must  be  fished  from 
a  canoe,  excepting  a  few  rocky  stands,  where  almost 
every  cast  is  made  at  the  risk  of  the  hook  snapping 
against  the  cliffs  behind  ;  and  this  leads  us  to  say  a  few 
words  on  the  canoe  men  of  the  river.  They  are  a  hardy 
and  generally  intelligent  race  of  Acadian-French,  appa- 
rently a  good  deal  crossed  with  Indian  blood,  exceedingly 
skilful  in  managing  their  bark  canoes,  and  in  getting 
fish  for  the  sportsman;    they  have  great  experience  in 


248  FOREST  LIFE  IN  ACADIE. 

the  requirements  of  a  camp  in  tlie  woods,  and  arc, 
witlial,  very  merry,  companionable  fellows.  For  a 
fishing  camp  anywhere  above  the  Pabineau,  a  canoe  and 
three  men  (one  to  act  as  cook  and  camp-kccpcr),  arc 
indispensable  ;  and  on  arriving  at  Btithurst,  the  services 
of  any  of  the  following  men  of  good  character  should  be 
secured  :  The  Chamberlains,  the  Vineaus,  David  ]juchct» 
Joe  Young,  and  others;  Baldwin,  the  landlord  of  the 
little  hotel,  knows  them  all  well.  Their  wages  are  a 
dollar  a  day  for  the  canoe  men  ;  the  cook  may  be  hired 
for  half  a  dollar,  but  he  will  grumble,  and  most  likely 
succeed  in  getting  three  shillings.  If  a  voyage  through 
to  the  St.  John,  vid  the  Nictaux  and  Tobiquc  lakes,  be 
contemplated,  selection  should  be  made  of  those  men 
who  have  taken  parties  through  before.  All  provisions 
necessary  for  a  sojourn  on  the  river — everything,  from 
an  excellent  ham  to  a  tin  of  the  best  chocolate — are  to 
be  had  at  the  store  of  INIessrs.  Ferguson,  Rankin,  and  Co., 
ill  Bathurst,  obliging  people,  very  moderate  and  liljcral ; 
they  will  deduct  for  all  the  cooking  utensils,  supplied 
by  them,  which  may  be  returned  on  coming  down  the 
river. 

Notwithstanding  the  immense  destruction  of  fish  in 
the  Ne2)isiguit  in  every  possiWe  way— netting  and 
torching  in  fresh  water,  whenever  the  nature  of  the 
stream  allows  of  such  proceedings,  wholesale  sweejiing 
and  spearing  on  their  spawning  beds  by  tribes  of  Indians, 
even  into  the  month  of  November,  when  they  are  quite 
black  and  slimy,  extensive  netting  at  its  moutli,  and 
the  number  taken  by  fly-fishers — even  yet  the  river 
swarms  with  salmon ;  a  favourable  condition  of  the 
water  and  the  command  of  a  few  pools  will  insure  good 


ACADIAN   FISH  AND  FISHING,  249 

spor*:.  The  fish  arc  not  very  large,  us  in  the  mcirc 
nortlicrn  rivers  of  the  bay ;  the  average  of  the  weights, 
of  seventy  salmon  killed  by  one  rod  at  the  Grand  Falls 
a  few  seasons  since,  was  11  lb.  8oz. ;  and  of  thirty 
grilse,  411).  The  fish  commence  running  up  in  June,  Imt, 
from  the  height  of  the  water,  there  is  rarely  good  fishing 
before  July ;  the  1  Otli  is  about  the  best  time,  and  1  )y 
that  time  they  have  gone  up  as  high  as  the  Grand  Falls. 
The  flies  for  the  Nepisiguit  should  be  small  and  neat, 
and  of  three  sizes  to  each  pattern,  for  different  states  of 
water.  As  mistakes  are  often  made  from  the  different 
mode  of  numbering  l)y  different  makers,  it  will  be  suffi- 
cient to  say  that  the  length  of  the  medium  fly  should  be 
If  in.  from  the  point  of  the  shank  to  the  extreme  bend, 
measuring  diagonally  across.  The  patterns  should  be 
generally  dark,  and  all  mixed  wings  should  be  as  modest 
as  possible ;  no  gaudy  contrasts  of  colour,  as  used  in 
Norway  or  Scotland,  will  do  here.  A  lark  fly,  tied  as 
follows,  is  a  great  favourite :  body  of  black  mohair, 
ribbed  with  fine  gold  thread,  black  hackle,  very  dai'k 
mallard  wing,  a  narrow  tip  of  orange  silk,  and  a  very 
small  feather  from  the  crest  of  golden  pheasant  for  a 
tail.  Then  I  like  a  rich  claret  body  with  dark  mixed 
wing  and  tail,  claret  hackle,  and  a  few  fibres  of  English 
jay  in  the  shoulder.  Small  grey-bodied  flies  ribbed  with 
silver,  grey  legs,  and  wing  mixed  with  wood-duck  and 
golden  pheasant,  will  do  well.  INIany  other  and  brighter 
flies  may  be  used  in  the  rough  A\ater,  and  a  primrose 
body,  with  black  head  and  tij),  and  l)utterfly  wing  of 
golden  pheasant,  will  prove  very  tempting  to  grilse, 
whicli,  late  in  July,  may  be  taken  in  any  number  in 
many  p;  rts  of  the   river,  particularly  at  the   Pabiueau 


880  FOREST  LIFE   IN  ACADIK 

and  Chain  of  Rocks.     These  flios  will  do  anywhere  in 
New  Brunswick. 

At  the  head  of  the  Bay  of  Chalcurs,  and  about  fifty 
miles  from  Bathurst,  we  come  to  the  Rcstigouche,  one  of 
the  larorcst  rivers  of  British  North  America,  220  miles  in 
length,  and  formei-ly  teeming  with  salmon  from  the  sea 
to  its  upper  waters.     So  abundant  were  the  fish  some 
twenty-^'  -     years  ago,   that  Mr.  Perley,   Her  Majesty's 
Commissiojier  for  the  Fisheries,  states  that  3000  barrels 
were  shipped  annually  from  this  river,  and  in  those  days 
salmon  of  6011).  weight  were  not  uncommon.     Of  late 
years  there  has  been  a  sad  falling-off,  and  instead  of 
eleven  salmon  going  to  a  barrel  of  2001b.,  more  than 
twice  the  number  must  now  be  used.     Unfortunately  for 
the  preservation  of  the  fish,  and  the  prospects  of  the  fly- 
fisher,  the  character  of  this  beautiful  river  is  very  different 
to  that  of  the  Nepisiguit.     For  100  miles  the  Rcstigouche 
runs  in  a  narrow  valley  between  wooded  mountains  with 
an  almost  unvarying  rapid  current,  with  but  few  deep 
pools  and  no  falls.     Hence  the  chances  of  rod-fisliino-  are 
greatly  diminished,  whilst  settlers  and  Indians  torch  and 
spear  everywhere.     The  channel  is  much  used  by  the 
lumberers  for  the  Avatcr-conveyancc  of  provisions  to  tli' 
gangs  employed  in  the  woods  at  its  head-waters — scows 
{Lc,  large  flat-bottomed  barges)  being  employed,  drawn 
by  teams  of  horses  which  find  a  natural  tow-path  in  its 
shingly  beaches  by  the  edge  of  the  forest.     High  up  the 
river   there    are    many  rifts   and    sand-beaches,   partly 
exposed   in   a  dry  season,   through  wliicli    the   channel 
winds  ;  and  the  scow  is  often  dragged  through  shallow 
places,  thus  ploughing  up  the  spawning  grounds  of  the 
salmon. 


ACADIAN  FISH  AND  FISHING.  251 

A  few  years  since,  after  a  fortnight's  fisliing  on  the 
Ncpisiguit,  during  which  my  companion  and  myself 
took  eighty  salmon,  notwithstanding  an  unprecedented 
drought,  we  visited  the  Restigouche,  more  for  the  sake 
of  enjoying  its  fine  scenery  than  expecting  sport.  Stay- 
ing for  a  day,  however,  at  the  house  of  a  hospitable 
farmer  who  dwelt  by  the  river-side,  at  the  junction  of 
the  JVIatapediac  with  the  main  stream,  I  had  the  plea- 
sure of  hooking  the  first  salmon  ever  taken  with  a  fly 
in  the  Restigouche  water,  a  fine  clean  fish  of  twelve 
pounds.  In  an  hour's  fishing  I  had  taken  three  salmon, 
each  differently  shaped,  and  at  once  pronounced  by  my 
host  to  ]je  fre(|uenters  of  three  separate  rivers  whi(di 
here  unite — the  two  already  mentioned  and  the  Upsal- 
quitch. 

The  Matapediac  has  a  course  of  sixty  miles  fi-om 
a  large  lake  in  Rimouski,  Lower  Canada,  and  the  Upsal- 
quitch  runs  in  on  the  New  Brunswick  side.  They  arc^ 
both  fine  rivers,  and  ascended  by  salmon  in  large 
numbers  ;  the  latter  is  stated  to  be  very  like  the  Nc- 
pisiguit in  character — full  of  falls  and  rapids,  and  I 
believe  it  would  afford  equal  sport.  It  looked  most 
tempting  as  we  passed  its  mouth  on  our  hjng  canoe 
voyage  up  the  main  river,  but  we  had  not  time  to  stay 
and  test  its  capal)ilities.  About  sixty  miles  from  the  sea 
we  discovered  a  salmon  pool  in  the  Restigouche,  and 
took  eight  small  fish  from  it  in  an  afternoon  ;  but  such 
pools  are  few  and  far  l)etween,  and  I  would  not  recom- 
mend any  one  to  ascend  this  river  for  sport  above  the 
Upsalquitch.  The  flies  we  used  here  were  dark  clarets 
and  reds  ;  I  believe  any  fly  will  take,  recommending, 
however,  larger  sizes  than  the  Nepisiguit  flies,  as  the 


2r)2 


FOREST   LIFE   IN   AOADIE. 


RostigouL-lic  siilinoii  run  much  Ijirovr,  and  even  i.i  these 
day.s  eonniionly  weigh  thirty  pouiulB. 

Ciiniplx'lltown,  a  neat  litth)  village  at  the  lu^ad  of  the 
tide,  twenty  miles  from  the  sea,  is  to  Ix;  reached  from 
J*)Mthurst  by  eoach  ;  and  here  the  traveller  or  sportsman 
intending  to  ascend  the  Kestigoudu^  or  its  before-men- 
tioned tributaries,  will  find  a  large  settlement  of  Indians 
uf  tlu!  iMiemac  tribe.  They  all  have  canoes,  and  many 
of  them  are  good  guides,  and  trustworthy.  There  is  a 
good  store  at  which  to  purchase  provisions,  and  a  very 
comfortable  little  hotel  kept  by  a  Mr.  M'Leod. 

We  now  leave  the  rivers  of  New  Brunswick :  the 
Restio-ouche  beinu'  the  dividing  line  between  the  two 
provinces,  the  rivei'S  of  the  north  shore  of  Chaleurs  Ray 
arc  Canadian.  About  thirty  miles  from  the  head  of  the 
bay  we  come  to  the  Cascapediae,  a  large  river  running  in 
a  deep  chjiam  through  the  mountains  of  Ronaventure. 
It  is  frequented  by  salmon  of  large  size,  and  1  have  been 
told  by  Mr.  R.  H.  Montgomery,  who  resides  near  its 
mouth,  that  the  average  weight  is  betwc^en  thirty  and 
forty  pounds.  He  offered  to  procure  me  good  Indians 
and  canoes  for  ascending  to  the  first  rapids,  which  are 
some  distance  up  the  river.  The  whole  district  of  Gasp^ 
is  intersected  by  numerous  and  splendid  rivers,  abound- 
ing in  salmon  and  sea  trout,  the  latter  of  four  i)ounds 
to  seven  pounds  in  weight.  The  mountain  sceneiy  through 
which  they  fiow  is  magnificent,  and  many  of  them  have 
never  been  thrown  over  with  a  fly  rod.  Amongst  the 
hiro-est  may  be  noticed  the  Ronaventure,  the  Malbaie,  and 
the  Magdeleine. 

On  the  south  shore  of  the  St.  T.awrence,  from  Gaspd 
to    Quebec,  there   are    several    streams  which   formerly 


ACADIAN   FISII  AND  FISIIINO.  263 

ubouiulcd  ill  HaliiKJii,  but  of  lute  years  have  been  so  iiu- 
]>i'oductive  that  attention  need  not  be  direeted  to  them. 
From  the  Jac(|iies  Cartier,  a  few  mih'.s  above  Quebec,  to 
the  Labrador,  the  north  shore  of  the  8t.  Lawrence  is 
intersected  by  innumerable  rivers  ;  in  many  of  these  the 
salmon  fishery  has  been  nearly  destroyed,  but  the  energy 
of  the  Canadian  Government  is  fast  remedying  the  evil. 
The  process  of  reproduction  by  artiiieial  propagation 
under  an  able  superintendent,  and  the  preservation  of 
the  rivers,  arc  bringing  l)ack  tlie  salmon  to  comparative 
plenty  in  many  a  worn-out  stream  ;  and  the  visitor  to 
Quebec  will  soon  be  enabled  to  obtain  sport  on  the  l)eau- 
tiful  Jac(|ues  Cartier  and  other  rivers  in  the  neiglil)our- 
liood,  without  having  to  seek  the  distant  fishing  stations 
of  the  Laljrador.  The  Saguenay,  too,  with  its  thirty 
tributaries,  is  improving ;  for  many  years  past  this 
iKjble  river  has  scarcely  proved  worth  a  visit,  except 
for  its  wonderful  scenery.  In  fact,  the  legislature,  aided 
by  an  excellently  constituted  clulj  for  the  protection 
offish  and  game,  have  taken  the  matter  up  in  earnest; 
fish-ways  are  placed  on  those  rivers  which  have  dams  or 
slides  upon  them ;  netting  and  spearing  in  the  fresh 
water  is  prevented  ;  an  able  superintendent  of  fisheries, 
and  several  overseers,  have  been  appointed  ;  and,  finally, 
an  excellent  measure  has  been  adopted — the  annual 
leasing  of  salmon  rivers  to  gentlemen  for  fly-fishing,  for 
small  rents — on  condition  of  their  aiding  and  carrying 
out  the  proper  preservation  of  the  fisheries. 

Amongst  the  largest  and  most  notable  salmon  rivers 
which  are  passed  in  proceeding  from  the  Saguenay  along 
the  northern  shore  are  the  Escoumins,  Portneuf,  Bersia- 
mits,  Outardes,  Manacouagan,  Godbout,  Trinity,  St.  Mar- 


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264  FOREST  LIFE   IN  ACADIE. 

garet,  Moisie,  St.  John,  Mingan,  Natasliquan,  and  Esqui- 
maux. Salmon  ascend  all  these  rivers,  and  take  the  fly 
readily.  Whether  they  will  rise  in  the  rivers  of  the 
north-eastern  coast,  past  the  straits  of  Belle-Isle,  remains 
to  be  proved.  It  has  been  .affirmed  that  they  will  not 
do  so  in  the  Labrador  rivers  of  high  northern  latitude, 
thus  evincing  the  same  peculiarity  which  has  been 
obsei"ved  on  the  part  of  the  true  sea  salmon  of  Siberian 
rivers  flowing  into  the  Arctic  Ocean.  I  have  heard, 
however,  that  they  will  rise  at  a  piece  of  red  cloth 
trailed  on  a  hook  over  the  water  from  the  stem  of 
a  boat. 

In  conclusion,  the  salmon  rivers  of  the  Gulf  of  St. 
Lawrence,  though  they  ofiier  no  extraordinary  sport, 
possess  the  charms  of  wild  and  often  noble  scenery ;  life 
in  the  woods,  in  a  summer  camp,  will  agreeably  sur- 
prise those  who  hold  back  for  fear  of  hard  work,  and  the 
discomforts  of  "  roughing  it."  Any  point,  excepting  the 
extremes  of  Labrador,  may  be  reached  with  ease  from 
either  Quebec  or  Halifax  ;  whilst  the  economy  which 
may  be  practised  by  a  party  of  two  or  three,  will  be  found 
to  be  within  the  means  of  most  sportsmen.  At  the  ter- 
mination of  the  fishing  season  a  few  weeks  may  be  spent 
in  tourising  through  the  Canadas  or  the  States ;  and  in 
the  month  of  September  the  glowing  forests  of  Nova 
Scotia  or  New  Brunswick  may  be  traversed  in  search  of 
moose,  cariboo,  or  bear.  Between  the  Ottawa  and  the 
great  lakes  there  is  excellent  duck-shooting,  and  the  woods 
abound  in  deer  (Cervus  Virginianus),  whilst  the  vast  ex- 
panses of  wilderness  in  Newfoundland  teem  with  cariboo, 
ptarmigan,  and  wild  fowl ;  the  former  so  aljundant  as 
sometimes  to  tempt  the  sportsman  (?)  to  kill  more  than 


THE   GIIAND    FALLS,    NKPISIGUIT. 


h 


■ 


S:) 


ACADIAN  FISH  AND  FISHING.  255 

he  can  carry  away  or  dispose  of,  leaving  the  meat  rotting 
in  the  woods.  To  all  such,  Avaunt !  say  we  ;  wholesale 
and  thoughtless  slaughter,  except  on  the  fiercer  species 
■ — the  natural  enemies  of  man — is  always  to  be  depre- 
cated ;  but  the  true  sportsman  we  confidently  invite  to 
the  forests  and  rivers  of  British  North  America,  believ- 
ing that  his  example  in  carrying  out  the  fair  English 
principles  of  sport,  will  tend  much  to  the  preservation 
of  game. 


GLOVER'S  SALMON. 

;Si.  Gloverii  (Girard.) 

My  first  acquaintance  with  this  handsome  salmonoid 
began  many  years  since,  when  I  would  take  basketsfuU 
in  the  month  of  April  in  the  runs  connecting  the  upper 
lakes  of  the  Shuber.'.cadie  river  in  Nova  Scotia.  At  first 
I  took  them  to  be  young  salmon,  both  from  their  jump- 
ing propensities  when  hooked  and  the  resemblance  they 
bore  to  the  parr  on  scraping  away  the  scales  from  the 
sides.  Yet  their  rich  olive  black  backs  and  beautiful 
bronze  spots  on  the  head  and  gill  covers  made  them 
appear  dissimilar,  and  I  could  no  longer  doubt  them 
distinct  from  salmon,  M^hen  I  had  succeeded  in  taking 
them  of  one,  two,  and  three  pounds  weight,  and  still 
spotted,  in  the  early  summer,  quite  dissimilar  in  colour 
from  grilse,  and  far  exceeding  the  size  of  smolts,  which 
the  smaller  individuals  somewhat  resembled.  Finding  out 
their  haunts,  and  seasons  for  changing  thek  abode,  we 
were  content  to  take  them  iji  the  spring  and  late  in  the 
autumn,  in  the  runs  and  streams  lying  between  their 
spawning  grounds  and  the   deep  waters   of  large  lake 


256  FOREST  LIFE  IN  ACA.DIE. 

basJDS  (where  they  spent  the  hot  season  and  could  only 
be  tempted  by  bait),  under  the  common  local  misnomer 
of  Grayling.  And  glorious  sport  we  fount'  it ;  the 
dash  with  which  this  game  fish  seizes  the  fly,  its 
surprising  jumps  to  the  level  of  one's  shoulder,  and  its 
beautiful  metallic  hues,  particularly  in  the  spring,  in- 
vested it  with  an  interest  far  exceeding  that  of  fishing 
for  S.  Fontinalis. 

At  length,  however,  on  referring  several  specimens 
to  Dr.  Gilpin,  they  were  identified  by  him  in  the 
"  Proceedings  of  the  Nova  Scotian  Institute "  as  S. 
Gloverii,  or  Glover's  Salmon  of  Girard,  better  known 
in  New  Brunswick  as  the  Silvery  Salmon  Trout  of  the 
Scoodic  Lakes,  where  its  abundance  in  the  rapid  waters 
connecting  the  upper  lakes  of  the  St.  Croix  river,  render 
this  locality  one  of  the  most  famed  fishing  stations  of  the 
Lower  Provinces.  The  following  is  Dr.  Gilpin's  descrip- 
tion taken  from  specimens  forwarded  by  myself  and 
others  : — 

"  Length,  about  seventeen  inches  ;  breadth  of  widest 
part  from  first  dorsal,  two  and  a  half  inches ;  length  of 
head  nearly  two  and  a  half  inches ,  the  shape  of  the 
head  fine  and  small,  the  back  rising  rather  suddenly, 
from  posterior  to  head,  sloping  very  gradually  upward 
to  insertion  of  dorsal,  thence  downward  to  insertion  of 
tail,  lower  line  corresponding  with  line  of  back  ;  a  long 
elegant  shaped  fish  with  a  strong  base  to  a  powerful  tail ; 
eye  large,  nearly  half  an  inch  in  diameter  and  two 
diameters  from  end  of  nose  ;  operclcf.  rounded,  and  with 
the  pre-opercles  marked  with  numerous  concentric 
streaks ;  the  lower  line  of  inter-opercle  parallel  with 
line  of  the  body,  labials,  both  upper  and  lower,  arched, 


1^ 


'  \\ 


ACADIAN  FI-H   AND  FISHING. 


257 


line  of  pre-opercle  not  so  rounded  as  opcrclc ;  the 
pectoral  fins  com'ng  cat  very  far  forward,  almost 
touching  the  gill  rays,  dorsal  commencing  about  two 
lengths  of  head  from  tip  of  nose,  sub-quadrangular, 
free  edge  concave ;  ventral  about  opposite  sixth  ray  of 
dorsal ;  adipose  fm  opposite  posterior  edge  of  anal ; 
caudal  deeply  cleft,  and  very  nearly  the  length  of  head 
in  depth.  In  one  instance  th(5  tail  was  square.  Inter- 
maxillaries,  maxillaries,  palatines,  vomer  and  tongue 
armed  with  sharp  and  recurved  teeth,  the  teeth  on  the 
vomer  extending  half  an  inch  down  the  roof  of  mouth,  a 
fleshy  line  extending  from  them  to  the  gullet,  the  upper 
jaw  notched  to  receive  the  lower.  In  two  specimens  a 
prolonged  hook  in  lower  jaw  advancing  beyond  the 
teeth.  Girard  says  the  male  fish  has  adipose  fins  oppo- 
site anterior  edge  of  anal,  the  female  opposite  posterior 
edge.  Whilst  in  the  following  description,  taken  from  a 
female  fish,  I  ha\e  verified  his  remarks,  I  have  added,  that 
in  the  male  the  adipose  fin  is  very  much  larger,  which  is 
almost  the  same  thing.  Colour  black  above,  shading 
down  to  sepia  brown  at  the  lateral  line,  the  brown  being 
the  back  ground  to  numerous  black  spots,  some  round, 
some  lunated  extending  from  opercles  to  tail.  The  opercles 
partake  of  the  same  general  colour  with  yellow  reflections 
and  blue  tints,  but  also  marked  with  spots  extending  to 
the  pre-opercles,  beautifully  round  and  distinct ;  sides 
yellowish,  and  belly  white  with  pearly  tints,  the  whole 
covered  with  bright  scales  larger  about  the  sides  than 
beneath.  The  colours  vary  much  by  the  reflected  lights 
made  in  turning  the  fish.  The  colour  of  the  fins  when  fresh 
out  of  water, — caudal  brown,  dorsal  brow^nish  black,  and 
spotted,  lower   fins   dark   brown,  edges  and  tips  dark, 


] 


258  FOREST  LIFE  IN  ACADIE. 

a  very  fleeting  lavender  wash  on  dorsal.  Sides  yellowish. 
In  one  adult  specimen  I  noticed  a  few  red  spots  on  sides, 
but  in  the  young  fish  they  are  very  marked  and  beauti- 
ful. Some  seen  by  myself  in  July  had  vertical  bars, 
red  spots,  very  silvery  on  sides,  and  all,  even  the 
smallest,  had  the  typical  opercular  spots  very  distinct. 
They  were  exceedingly  beautiful  and  might  have  readily 
been  taken  for  a  different  species.  On  opening  the  fish 
from  gills  to  tail,  the  heart  with  its  single  auricle  and 
ventricle  first  presented,  the  liver  overlapping  the 
stomach  and  pale  yellow ;  the  stomach  descended  about 
one-half  the  length  of  the  fish,  was  then  reflected  sud- 
denly upon  itself  where  it  was  covered  by  numerous 
cwca  (about  thirty) ;  these  are  the  pyloric  cceca  of 
authors.  It  then  turned  down  again,  and  soon  was  lost 
in  small  intestine  ending  at  the  vent.  The  spawn  were 
each  of  the  size  of  currants  and  bright  scarlet,  about  a 
thousand  in  number,  and  encased  in  a  very  thin  bilo- 
bular  ovary,  the  left  lobe  occupying  the  left  side,  being 
a  little  over  three  inches,  and  only  one  half  the  length 
of  right  lobe  occupying  right  side ;  a  second  fish  gave  the 
same  placing  of  ovary.  Both  these  fish  were  taken  on 
the  2nd  and  4th  November  at  Grand  Lake,  Halifax,  and 
evidently  near  spawning.  Fins,  D.  12  or  13,  P.  14,  V.  9, 
A.  9,  C.  20.  AxiUary  scale  small.  The  first  dorsal  ray 
in  some  instances  contains  two,  in  other  tliree  small  rays. 
Typical  marks,  spots  on  opercles." 

In  its  general  a^^pearance,  markings,  and  delicate 
primrose  tint  on  the  belly,  the  fish  is  not  unlike  the 
trout  of  gravelly  streams  in  England. 

In  former  years,  before  the  construction  of  the  Shube- 
nacadie  Canal,  it  was  found  in  that  river  during  the 


ACADIAN   FISH   AND  FISHING.  2r)9 

summer  months  far  below  the  lakes.  A  place  called 
the  "  Black  Rock,"  just  above  the  head  of  the  tide, 
was  a  famous  stand  for  grayling  fishing;  and  five 
and  six  pound  fish  were  not  unfrequent.  Now  cut 
off"  from  salt  water  by  the  locks,  their  migrations 
are  restricted  between  the  deep  basin  of  the  Grand 
Lake  and  the  numerous  chains  of  lakes  which  give 
rise  to  its  affluents ;  and  the  fish,  whilst  they  seldom 
attain  a  greater  weight  than  three  pounds,  are  not  so 
silvery  in  the  spring  as  formerly.  The  same  fish  taken 
at  Loch  Lomond,  near  Saint  John's,  New  Brunswick,  are 
much  smaller,  browner,  and  paler  in  flesh  than  the  St. 
Croix  trout,  and  apparently  from  the  same  cause. 

In  Nova  Scotia  this  trout  will  take  the  fly  as  readily 
late  in  the  fall  (even  to  first  week  in  November)  as  in 
the  spring,  and  long  after  the  common  brook-trout  ceases 
to  rise.  As  it  is  then,  however,  immediately  proceeding  to 
the  spawning  grounds,  and  with  fully  developed  ova,  this 
sport  should  be  rendered  illegal  after  October. 

Two  groat  lake  trout  inhabit  the  deep  lakes  of  the 
Provinces — Salmo  confinis  and  S.  Amethystus — the  former 
being  abundant,  and  sometimes  attaining  a  weight  of 
twenty  pounds.  They  may  be  taken  in  deep  holes  with 
bait  or  spoon-hook  trolled  and  well  sunk.  Their  flavour 
i3  insipid,  and  they  are  unentitled  to  more  than  a  passing- 
notice  in  a  description  of  the  game  fish  of  Acadie. 

The  yellow  perch  (Perca  flavcscens)  is  exceedingly  nu- 
merous in  lakes  and  rivers.  Though  seldom  exceeding 
half  a  pound  in  weight,  heavy  baskets  may  be  taken  in  a 
day's  fishing  on  some  lakes  (where  they  seem  to  affect 
particular  localities)  by  those  who  care  for  such  sport. 
It  is  a  handsome  fish,  of  a  bright  golden  yellow  colour, 

s  2 


2G0  FOREST  LIFE  IN   ACADIE. 

striped  with  dusky  perpendicular  bands.  Its  fins  are  vermi- 
lion ;  and  altogether  it  is  a  decided  analogue  to  the  English 
river  perch.  It  may  be  taken  on  either  a  fly  or  bait. 
When  properly  cooked  it  is  very  palatable.  The  so-called 
white  perch,  also  vciy  abundant  in  fresh  waters,  is  in 
reality  a  bass  (Labrax  pallidus),  and  a  worthless  fish. 
The  common  sucker  (Catostomus)  will  sometimes  rise  at 
the  fly,  as  also  will  the  cat-fish,  whose  enormous  mouth, 
surrounded  by  long  fleshy  feelers,  gives  it  a  hideous 
appearance.     It  will  seize  a  trout  of  half  its  own  size. 


CHAPTER  X. 

NOTES   ON   NEWFOUNDLAND. 

I  KNOW  of  no  country  so  near  England  wliicli  offora 
the  same  amount  of  inducement  to  the  explorer,  natu- 
ralist, or  S2)ortsman  as  Newfoundhmd.  To  one  who 
combines  the  advantages  of  a  good  practical  knowledge 
of  geology  with  the  love  of  sport  the  interior  of  this 
great  island,  much  of  which  is  quite  unknown,  may 
indeed  prove  a  field  of  valuable  and  remunerative 
discovery,  for  its  mineral  resources,  now  under  the 
examination  of  a  Government  geological  survey,  are 
unquestionably  of  vast  importance,  and  quite  unde- 
veloped. Numerous  discoveries  of  copper  have  been 
made  at  various  points,  particularly  on  the  western  side, 
and  coal  and  petroleum  have  been  found  in  the  interior. 
So  completely,  however,  is  the  population  devoted  to 
the  prosecution  of  the  fisheries,  that  even  agriculture  is 
unheeded,  though  there  is  plenty  of  good  land  close  to 
the  harbours.  Between  these,  with  the  exception  of  a 
few  roads  in  the  province  of  Avalon  (the  peninsula 
which  contains  the  capital  of  the  colony,  St.  John's), 
there  is  no  communication  except  by  water. 

As  a  field  for  sport,  likewise,  Newfoundland  is  but 
little  known.  Some  half-dozen  or  so  of  regular  visitors 
from  the  continent,  one  or  two  resident  sportsmen,  and 


2G2  FOREST   LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 

the  same  number  from  England,  comprise  the  list  of 
those  who  have  encamped  in  its  vast  solitudes  in  quest 
of  its  princi})al  large  game — the  cariboo — which  is  scat- 
tered more  or  less  abundantly  over  an  area  of  some  twenty- 
five  thousand  square  miles  of  unbroken  wilderness. 

Like  Nova  Scotia,  the  face  of  the  country  is  dotted 
with  lakes  innumerable,  son^e  of  which,  as  the  Grand 
Lake  (fifty  miles  in  length)  and  the  Red  Indian  Pond, 
are  of  much  larger  dimensions  than  any  found  in  the 
former  province.  These  waters  all  abound  with  trout ; 
and  beaver,"''  otter,  and  musk-rats,  being  subject  to  less 
persecution,  are  much  more  numerous  than  on  the  con- 
tinent. The  willow  grouse  (Lagopus  albus)  is  the  com- 
mon resident  game  bird  of  the  country,  and  is  exceedingly 
abundant ;  and  the  migratory  fowl  pursued  for  sport 
include  the  Canada  goose,  that  excellent  bird  the  black 
duck  (Anas  obscura),  curlew,  and  snipe.  The  black  bear 
and  the  wolf  are  of  frequent  occurrence  in  the  interior, 
and  add  a  flavour  of  excitement  to  the  varied  catalogue 
of  sport. 

The  following  observations  and  scraps  of  information 
collected  on  several  occasions  of  visits  of  inspection  to 
the  garrison  town  of  St.  John's  are  here  presented  with 
a  view  to  their  proving  of  use  to  the  intending  visitor  in 
search  of  sport,  or  as  interesting  to  the  nntiiralist. 

The  route  from  Halifax  to  St.  John's  is  traversed  fort- 
nightly in  summer,  and  monthly  in  the  winter  months, 
by  small  screw  steamers  subsidied  for  the  mail  service, 
and  is  as  uncomfortable  a  voyage  as  may  well  be  imagined 
at  times,  the  direction  being  that  of  the  northern  line  of  the 
fog,  which  sometimes  envelopes  the  steamer  throughout, 

*  The  beaver  is  not  now  found  on  the  peninsula  of  Avalon. 


NOTES  ON   NEWFOUNDLAND.  263 

or,  at  all  events,  until  the  vessel  rounds  Cape  Race — 
nearly  at  the  end  of  the  journey.  Near  the  Cape  icebergs 
are  frequent  during  the  summer  months,  and  it  is  not  an 
uncommon  circumstance  to  hear  the  dull  roar  of  the  surf 
upon  their  precipitous  sides  as  one  passes  in  uncomfortable 
proximity  in  a  dense  fog.  Field  ice,  too,  is  another 
drawback  in  tlic  spiing ;  enormous  areas  come  down 
from  the  Gulf,  and  more  than  once  the  little  steamer  has 
spent  a  fortnight  or  so  enclosed,  drifting  into  one  of  the 
v/ild,  inhospitable  harbours  of  the  southern  coast.  The 
duration  of  the  voyage  from  Haliftix  to  St.  John's  is 
from  three  to  five  days — a  little  longer  when,  as  is 
generally  the  case,  Sydney,  Cape  Breton,  is  touched  at. 
In  fine  summer  weather  coasting  along  the  shores  of 
Nova  Scotia  and  Cape  Breton  is  pleasant  enough,  par- 
ticularly in  the  evenings,  when  the  heated  atmosphere, 
blown  off  from  the  fir  woods,  is  charged  with  delicious 
fragrance.  The  scenery,  viewed  froi-i  the  deck  of  a 
vessel  passing  at  some  two  or  three  leagues  distance,  has 
nothing  of  especial  interest,  as  might  be  inferred  ;  the 
numerous  indentations  of  the  harbours  are  hardly  per- 
ceptible, and  the  wooded  countiy  behind  rises  but  a  few 
hundred  feet  or  so  in  a  continuous  undulating  line  of  hills. 
A  noticeable  rock,  which  may  be  seen  at  a  considerable 
distance  out  to  sea,  termed  "  The  Ship,"  terminates  a 
headland  on  the  western  side  of  the  harljour  of  that 
name.  It  looks  just  like  a  schooner,  or  rather  brigantine, 
under  full  sail. 

This  part  of  the  North  American  coast  is  marked  by 
the  presence  of  multitudes  of  sea  birds,  which,  at  the 
periods  of  their  annual  migrations,  afford  abundant  and 
exciting  sport.     Formerly  they  resorted  to  the  numerous 


2(!4  FOREST  LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 

islands  of  Nova  Scotia  and  Cape  Breton  to  breed.  Now, 
driven  away  by  persecution,  the  bulk  of  them  go  .lUcli 
further  to  the  north-,  ast. 

Every  fisherman  along  shore  has  a  fowling-piece,  and 
shoots  "  sea-ducks,"  as  he  indiscrimiuately  alls  a  variety 
of  species — eiders,  pintails,  mergansers,  loons,  and  coots — 
and  when  we  consider  the  wholesale  destruction  caused 
by  the  eggers  at  their  breeding-grounds  in  the  Gulf,  it  is 
surprising  that  the  birds  have  not  more  quickly  followed 
the  great  auk  in  progress  towards  extinction.  As  has 
been  stated  before,  there  is  no  record  of  the  latter  bird 
affecting  these  shores  \v^ithin  the  memory  of  those  living, 
though  the  Penguin  Islands  (the  bird  had  much  re- 
semblance to  the  true  penguin  of  the  Southern  Ocean) 
certainly  derived  their  name  from  its  former  abundance. 

The  Canadian  Government  have  lately  terminated  the 
wholesale  destruction  of  sea-birds'  eggs  in  the  Gulf  by 
stringent  enactments,  and  the  egging  trade  is  virtually 
abolished.  The  wanton  destruction  which  accompanied 
the  arrival  of  an  egging  vessel  at  the  breeding-grounds 
was  most  disgraceful.  Armed  with  sticks,  the  crew  first 
broke  every  egg  on  the  island  (tens  of  thousands.)  A 
partial  re-commencement  of  laying  ensued,  and  the 
harvest  was  immediately  gleaned  with  the  assurance 
that  the  cargo  on  reaching  port  would  consist  of  none 
but  fresh  eggs.  The  bulk  of  the  spoil  consisted  of  the 
eggs  of  the  guillemots,  and  were  sold  at  about  three 
cents  apiece.  I  have  frequently  eaten  them  and  found 
them  exceedingly  palatable  ;  the  white  somewhat  re- 
sembles that  of  a  plover's  egg  in  appearance  and 
flavour. 

The  local  names  of  the  sea-l)irds  are  singular.     The 


NOTES  ON   NP:WF0UNDLAND.  865 

beautiful  and  quite  common  harlequin  duck  (Anas  hia- 
trionica)  is  called  "  a  lord : "  the  long-tailed  duck  (A. 
glacialis)  rejoices  in  the  name  of  "  cockawee,"  from  its 
note,  and  sometimes  the  "  old  squaw,"  "  from  the  lu- 
dicrous similarity  between  the  gabbling  of  a  flock  of 
these  birds  and  an  animated  discussion  of  a  piece  of 
scandal  in  the  Micmac  lanfjuanje  between  a  numl)er  of 
antiquated  ladies  of  that  interesting  tribe."*  The  puffin 
is  termed  a  parrot,  and  the  little  auk,  the  bull-bird. 
The  name  of  shell-ducks  or  shell-drakes,  applied  to  th(i 
mergansers  (more  especially  to  the  goosander),  is  a 
misnomer  prevalent  along  the  whole  coast  and  in 
Labrador :  no  true  tadorna  is  found  in  North  America. 

In  several  of  the  harbours  on  the  Nova  Scotian  coast 
excellent  sport  may  be  obtained  in  winter,  shooting  wild- 
fowl on  the  ice,  for  many  of  these  birds  remain  all 
winter.  Canada  geese  and  brant  are  shot  only  during 
migration.  Scatterie,  a  desolate  island  lying  off  the 
eastern  end  of  Cape  Breton,  is  a  great  resort  of  sea-birds 

*  The  Rev.  J.  Amlirose,  on  "  Birds  frequenting  St.  Margaret's  Bay,  N.  S.," 
from  "  Proceedings  of  N.  S.  Inst.  Nat.  Science."  Tlie  writer  further 
observes  : — "  Tlie  shooting  of  sea-hirds  is  not  only  a  source  of  jjrotit  to  our 
fishermen,  and  a  means  of  providing  them  with  an  agreeable  variety  at 
their  frugal  board,  but  it  also  relieves  a  great  deal  of  the  tedium  of  their 
winter  season  of  inactivity.  It  is  sur])i-ising,  however,  that  accidents  do 
not  more  freciuently  happen  from  their  mode  of  charging  their  guns.  Three 
fingers  of  powder  and  two  of  shot  is  the  smallest  load  for  tludr  old  militia 
muskets — the  approved  gun  here — and  in  the  hurry  of  loading  in  a  boat 
much  more  powder  is  frequently  poured  in.  Black  eyes  and  bloody  noses 
are  the  not  uncommon  penalties  of  a  morning's  sport,  and  I  know  one 
fisherman  whose  nose  has  been  knocked  permanently  out  of  shape  by  the 
frequent  kicking  of  his  gun.  In  several  instances  the  gun  ha.s  gone  clean 
overboard  out  of  the  fowler's  hands,  by  the  recoil.  But  nothing  can  daunt 
these  men,  or  induce  them  to  load  with  a  lighter  hand.  There  is  one  living 
at  Nor'-West  Cove,  who  has  had  his  right  eye  destroyed  by  his  gun,  but 
who  is  now  as  great  a  duck-shooter  aa  ever,  firing,  however,  from  the  left 
shoulder." 


266  FOREST  LIFE  IN   ACADIE. 

of  all  descriptions,  as  is  also  Sydney  harbour.  Prince 
Edward  Island  and  the  Gulf  shore  of  New  Brunswick 
afford  wonderful  sport  during  the  passage  of  the  geese. 

To  return,  however,  to  the  subject  before  us — New- 
foundland, its  characteristic  features  and  wild  sports. 

A  marked  difference  of  outline  to  those  of  the  shores 
of  Acadie  is  readily  perceived  on  approaching  its 
southern  coast.  The  cliffs  rise  from  the  sea  to  the  height 
of  some  five  hundred  feet,  with  a  precipitous  face  and 
comparatively  level  summits,  forming  long  stretches  of 
table  land.  Then  the  tall  arrow-headed  pines  are  missed, 
and  on  passing  quite  close,  the  vegetation  with  which 
the  country  is  clothed  appears  singularly  colourless  as 
well  as  stunted.  A  chilling  melancholy  aspect  pervades 
the  face  of  nature ;  except  for  the  number  of  little 
fishino;  smacks  with  which  the  coast  is  dotted,  we  might 
seem  to  be  passing  the  shores  of  Greenland.  A  few 
hours  before,  perhaps,  we  were  in  the  warm  atmosphere, 
blown  with  us  l)y  a  balmy  west  wind  from  the  fir-covered 
hills  of  Cape  Breton ;  now  we  are  faced  by  a  biting 
north-east  breeze  which  at  once  reminds  us  of  the  chills 
of  early  spring  on  the  Atlantic  coast.  Rounding  Cape 
Race,  and  we  are  fairly  in  the  great  Arctic  current, 
and  most  probably  within  view  of  icebergs — at  least  up 
to  the  end  of  August.  The  water  in  the  early  summer 
is  strewn  through  large  areas  with  floating  pieces  of 
field  ice,  detachments  from  the  great  fields  which  float 
down  the  coast  in  spring,  sometimes,  indeed,  entering 
and  blocking  up  the  harbours  for  miles  out  to  sea.  St. 
John's  harbour  has  thus  been  blockaded  even  in  the 
month  of  June,  whilst  the  sea  to  the  distance  of  twenty 
miles  from  the  shore  has  been  frozen  so  that  a  traveller 


NOTES  ON   NEWFOUNDLAND.  267 

miglit  visit  on  foot  any  post  along  shore  within  seventy 
miles  to  the  north-east. 

The  chilling  effect  of  this  proximity  to  the  southern 
passage  of  ice  through  so  large  a  portion  of  the  year 
is  readily  perceptible  on  the  vegetation  in  this  part  of 
the  island.  The  stunted  character  of  the  deciduous 
trees  (of  few  species  compared  with  their  representatives 
on  the  eastern  shores  of  the  mainland)  and  of  the  spruces, 
the  absence  of  the  broad-leaved  maple,  with  which  the 
continental  forests  are  enriched,  and  the  nakedness  of 
the  dull  grey  rocks,  give  an  air  of  dreariness  to  the 
country,  which  it  seems  at  first  to  the  stranger  im- 
possible to  shake  off. 

From  comparative  observations  I  should  assign  a 
fortnight  as  the  difference  in  the  progress  of  vegetation 
between  Nova  Scotia  and  the  country  round  St.  John's. 
On  July  14  th,  the  common  lilac,  long  since  faded  in  the 
gardens  at  Halifax,  was  here  found  in  full  bloom.  On 
the  18th  I  observed  various  Vaccinese,  the  purple  iris,  the 
pigeon-berry,  and  Smilacina  bifolia  in  flower,  and  the 
kalmia  just  coming  out,  indicating  fully  the  difference  of 
season  already  stated. 

Although  in  the  interior,  and  especially  on  the  western 
side  of  the  island,  Newfoundland  can  boast  of  forests, 
but  little  wood  deserving  that  name  appears  in  the  vicinity 
of  St.  John's.  The  wilderness  is  generally  covered  with 
low  alder  bushes  and  thickets  of  white  sprace  (Abies  alba), 
with  a  scanty  mixture  of  balsam  fii\  A  few  small  white 
birch,  willows  of  several  species,  and  one  description  of 
maple  (Acer  montanum),  with  the  Amelanchier,  or  Indian 
pear,  and  wild  cherry,  constitute  the  bulk  of  the  deci- 
duous  vegetation.      The  swamps   (of  great  extent  and 


268  .    FOREST   LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 

constant  occurrence)  are  covered  .with  cotton  grass,  and 
Indian  cups  (Sarracenia),  and  the  sphagnum  with  creep- 
ing tendrils  of  the  cranberry.  Dry  elevated  bogs  have 
thick  growths  of  huckle  and  blueberries  (Gaylussacia 
resinosa  and  Vaccinium  Canadense),  with  the  common 
partridge  berry,  Labrador  tea  (Ledum),  and  sweet-scented 
myrica,  and  open  spots  are  carpeted  with  reindeer  lichen. 
Empetrum  nigrum  (locally  misnamed  heather),  on  the 
numerous  black  berries  of  which  the  curlew  and  wild 
goose  feed,  is  a  very  abundant  shrub,  growing  in  the 
open,  with  patches  of  ground  juniper. 

It  was  probably  to  the  profusion  of  berries  (Vaccineoe) 
that  the  original  name  of  Newfoundland,  given  by  its 
early  Norwegian  visitors — Winland — was  due,  a  country 
frequently  alluded  to  in  Norwegian  and  Icelandic  his- 
torical records.  The  huckle-berries,  especially,  are  so 
large  and  juicy  that  they  might  naturally  have  passed 
for  the  wild  grapes  for  which  the  island  was  said  to  be 
famous,  and  which,  it  is  almost  needless  to  state,  do  not 
therein  exist.* 

The  birches  appear  to  be  the  only  deciduous  timber  trees 
in  Newfoundland,  for,  with  the  exception  of  the  species 
already  mentioned  and  moose  wood  (Abies  striatum) 
— both  mere  shrubs — neither  maple  nor  beech  arc  to  be 
found.  On  the  western  side  of  the  island,  where  the  soil 
and  climate  approximate  to  those  of  the  adjacent  coasts 
of  the  mainland,  the  hard-wood  forests  attain  a  fine 
development,  affording  a  plentiful  supply  of  fuel,  and 
wood  for  manufacture.     The  yellow  birch  (Betula  excelsa) 


*  A  tolerably  palatable  reel  wiue  is  commonly  made  in  Nova  Scotia,  by 
the  settlers,  from  blueberries. 


NOTES   ON   NEWFOUNDLAND.  269 

grows  here  with  a  diameter  of  nearly  three  feet,  aud 
pine,  spruce,  and  larch  are  abundant.  The  scenery  of 
the  western  coast  differs  greatly  from  that  of  the  southern 
and  eastern.  St.  George's  Bay  and  the  Bay  pf  Islands 
are  surrounded  by  rolling  forest-covered  hills,  and  fine 
woods  skirt  the  Humber  river  which  enters  the  latter 
basin,  and  the  great  lakes  in  the  interior  whence  it  flows. 
With  a  soil  quite  capable  of  yielding  abundantly  to  the 
agriculturist,  the  presence  of  coal-fields,  vast  mineral 
wealth,  and  extensive  forests  verging  on  the  harbours 
and  rivers,  it  is  surprising  that  this  part  of  the  island  is 
not  more  thickly  settled.  The  fog,  constantly  shrouding 
the  southern  shores,  and  often  extending  for  some  dis- 
tance up  the  eastern,  is  here  of  quite  unfrequent  occur- 
rence, and  the  easterly  winds  which  chill  the  soil  and 
retard  vegetation  round  St.  John's,  are  divested  of  their 
bitterness  on  crossing  the  island. 

Much  light  is  thrown  upon  the  interior  features  of  the 
main  island  to  the  southward  of  the  great  lakes  by  the 
curious  narrative  of  his  journey  across  from  Trinity  Bay 
on  the  east  coast  to  St.  George's  on  the  west,  published 
as  a  pamphlet  many  years  since  by  Mr.  W.  E.  Cormack. 
His  account  is  still  regarded  as  the  best  description  of 
the  interior,  of  which  but  little  more  is  known  at  the 
present  day  than  at  the  time  of  his  visit.  The  journey 
across  the  island  was  undertaken  on  foot,  of  course;  a 
single  Indian  accompanied  him,  and  aU  the  necessaries 
of  life  were  carried  in  knapsacks.  After  difficult  progress 
of  some  days'  duration  through  scanty  spruce  forests,  he 
thus  describes  his  first  view  of  the  interior  : — 

"  We  soon  found  that  we  were  on  a  great  granitic 
ridge,   covered,   not  as   the    lower    grounds   are,    with 


270  FOREST  LIFE   IN  ACADIE. 

crowded  pines  and  green  moss,  but  with  scattered  trees  ; 
and  a  variety  of  beautiful  lichens,  or  reindeer  moss, 
partridge-berries,  and  whortle-berries,  loaded  the  ground. 
The  Xylosteum  villosum,  a  pretty,  erect  shrub,  was  in 
full  fruit  by  the  sides  of  the  rocks  ;  grouse,  Tetrao  albus, 
the  indigenous  game-bird  of  the  country,  rose  in  coveys 
in  every  direction,  and  snipes  from  every  marsh.  The 
birds  of  passage,  ducks  and  geese,  were  living  over  us  to 
and  fro  from  their  breeding  places  in  the  interior  and  the 
sea  coast ;  tracks  of  deer,  of  wolves  fearfully  large,  of 
bears,  foxes,  and  martens  were  seen  everywhere. 

"  On  looking  back  towards  the  sea  coast,  the  scene  was 
magnificent.  We  discovered  that  under  cover  of  the 
forest  we  had  be^n  uniformly  ascending  ever  since  we 
left  the  salt  water  at  Eandom  Bar,  and  then  soon  arrived 
at  the  summit  of  what  we  saw  to  be  a  great  mountain 
ridge  that  seems  to  serve  as  a  barrier  between  the  sea 
and  the  interior.  The  dense  black  forest,  through  which 
we  had  pilgrimaged,  presented  a  novel  feature,  appear- 
ing spotted  with  bright  yellow  marshes  and  a  few  glossy 
lakes  in  its  bosom,  some  of  which  we  had  passed  close  by 
without  seeing  tlieisu 

"  In  the  westward,  to  our  inexpressible  delight,  the  in- 
terior broke  in  sublimi!}  before  us.  What  a  contrast  did 
this  present  to  the  conjectures  entertained  of  Newfound- 
land !  The  hitherto  mysterious  interior  lay  unfolded 
before  us — a  boundless  scene,  emerald  surface,  a  vast 
basin.  The  eye  strides  again  and  ag^in  over  a  succes- 
sion of  northerly  and  southerly  ranges  of  green  plains, 
marbled  with  woods  and  lakes  of  every  form  and  extent. 
The  imagination  hovers  in  the  distance,  and  clings  invo- 
luntarily to  the  undulating  horizon  of  vapours  frr  into 


NOTES  ON   NEWFOUNDLAND.  271 

the  west,  until  it  is  lost.  A  new  world  seemed  to  invite 
us  onward,  or  rather  we  claimed  the  dominion,  and  were 
impatient  to  take  possession.  Our  view  extended  for 
more  than  forty  miles  in  all  directions,  and  the  great 
exterior  features  of  the  eastern  portion  of  the  main  body 
of  the  island  are  seen  perfectly  from  these  commanding 
heights. 

"September  11. — We  descended  into  the  bosom  of  the 
interior. 

"  The  plains  which  shone  so  brilHantly  pxe  steppes,  or 
savannas,  composed  of  fine  black  compact  peat  mould, 
formed  by  the  growth  and  decay  of  mosses  (principally 
the  Sphagnum  capillifolium),  and  covered  uniformly  with 
wiry  grass,  the  Euphrasia  officinalis  being  in  some  places 
intermixed.  They  are  in  the  form  of  extensive  gently 
undulating  beds,  stretching  northwards  ar"'  southwards, 
with  running  waters  and  lakes,  skirted  with  woods,  lying 
between  them.  Their  yellow-green  surfaces  are  some- 
times uninterrupted  by  either  tree,  shrub,  rock,  or  any 
inequality  for  more  than  ten  miles.  They  are  chequered 
everywhere  upon  the  surface  by  deep-beaten  deer  paths, 
and  are  in  reality  magnificent  deer-parks,  adorned  by 
woods  and  water.  The  trees  here  sometimes  grow  to  a 
considerable  size,  particularly  the  larch ;  birch  is  also 
common.  *  The  deer  herd  upon  them  to  graze.  It  is 
impossible  to  describe  the  grandeur  and  richness  of  the 
scenery,  which  will  probably  remain  long  undefined  by 
the  hand  of  man,  in  search  of  whose  associations  the 
eye  vainly  wandered. 

"  Our  progress  over  the  savanna  country  was  attended 
with  great  labour,  and  consequently  slow,  being  only  at 
a  rate  of  five  to  seven  miles  a  day  to  the  westward, 


272  FOREST  LIFE  IN   ACADIE. 

whilst  tho  distance  walked  was  equivalent  to  three  or 
four  times  as  much.  Always  inclining  in  our  course  to 
the  westward,  we  traversed  in  every  direction,  partly 
from  choice,  in  order  to  view  and  examine  the  country, 
and  partly  from  the  necessity  to  get  round  the  extre- 
mities of  lakes  and  woods,  and  to  look  for  game  for 
subsistence. 

"  It  was  impossible  to  ascertain  the  depths  of  these 
savannas,  but  judging  from  the  great  expanse  of  the 
undulations,  and  the  total  absence  of  inequalities  on  the 
surfaces,  it  must  often  be  many  fathoms.  Portions  of 
some  of  the  marshes,  from  some  cause  under  the  surface, 
are  broken  up  and  sunk  below  the  level,  forming  gullies 
and  pools.  The  peat  is  there  exposed  sometimes  to  a 
depth  of  ten  feet  and  more  without  any  rock  or  soil 
underneath  ;  and  the  process  of  its  formation  is  distinctly 
exhibited  from  the  dying  and  dead  roots  of  the  green 
surface  moss  descending  linearly  into  gradual  decay, 
until  perfected  into  a  fine  black  compact  peat,  in  which 
the  original  organic  structure  of  the  parent  is  lost.  The 
savanna  peat  immediately  under  the  roots  of  the  grass 
on  the  surface  is  very  similar  to  the  perfected  peat  of  the 
marshes.  The  savannas  are  continually  moist  or  wet  on 
the  surface,  even  in  the  middle  of  summer,  but  hard 
underneath.  Eoots  of  trees,  apparently  where  Ihey  grew, 
are  to  be  found  by  digging  the  surfaces  of  some  of  them, 
and  probably  of  all.  From  what  was  seen  of  their  edges 
at  the  water-courses,  they  lie  on  the  solid  rock,  without 
the  intervention  of  any  soil.  The  rocks  exhibited  were 
transition  clay  slate,  mica  slate,  and  granitic. 

"  One  of  the  most  striking  features  of  the  interior  is 
the  innumerable  deer  paths  on  the  savannas.     They  are 


NOTES  ON   NEWFOUNDLAND.  273 

narrow,  and  take  directions  as  various  as  the  winds, 
giving  the  whole  country  a  chequered  appearance.  Of 
the  millions  of  acres  here,  there  is  no  one  spot  exceeding 
a  few  superficial  yards  that  is  not  bounded  on  all  sides 
by  deer  paths.  We,  however,  met  some  small  herds 
only  of  these  animals,  the  savannas  and  plains  being  in 
the  summer  season  deserted  by  them  for  the  mountains 
in  the  west  part  of  the  island.  The  Newfoundland  deer, 
and  there  is  only  one  species  in  the  island,  is  a  variety  of 
the  reindeer  (Cervus  tarandus,  or  cariboo) ;  and,  like  that 
animal  in  every  other  country,  it  is  migratory,  always 
changing  place  with  the  seasons,  for  sake  of  its  favourite 
kinds  of  food.  Although  they  migrate  in  herds,  they 
travel  in  files,  with  their  heads  in  some  degree  to  wind- 
ward, in  order  that  they  may,  by  the  scent,  discover 
their  enemies  the  wolves ;  their  senses  of  smelling  and 
hearing  are  very  acute,  but  they  do  not  trust  much  to 
their  sight.  This  is  the  reason  of  their  paths  taking  so 
many  directions  in  straight  lines  ;  they  become  in  con- 
sequence an  easy  prey  to  the  hunter  by  stratagem.  The 
paths  tend  from  park  to  park  through  the  intervening 
woods,  in  lines  as  established  and  deep  beaten  as  cattle- 
paths  on  an  old  grazing  farm." 

Occupying  nearly  a  month  in  toiling  through  the 
savanna  country,  the  latter  portion  of  his  journey  being 
impeded  by  deep  snow,  and  living  in  an  uncertain 
manner  on  deer's  meat,  beaver,  geese,  and  duckh,  Mr. 
Cormack  further  writes  on  approaching  the  western  coast 
at  the  end  of  October  : — 

"  We  met  many  thousand  of  the  deer,  all  hastening  to 
the  eastward,  on  their  periodical  migration.  They  had 
been  dispersed  since  the  spring,  on  the  mountains  and 


874  FOREST   LIFE  IN   ACADIE. 

barren  tracks,  in  the  west  and  north-west  division  of  the 
interior,  to  bring  forth  and  rear  their  young  amidst  the 
profusion  of  lichens  and  mountain  herbage,  and  where 
they  were,  comparatively  with  the  mountain  lowlands, 
free  from  the  persecution  of  flies.  When  the  first  frosts, 
as  now  in  October,  nip  vegetation,  the  deer  immediately 
turn  towards  the  south  and  east,  and  the  first  fall  of 
snow  quickens  their  pace  in  those  directions,  as  we  now 
met  them,  towards  the  low  grounds  where  browse  is  to 
be  got,  and  the  snow  not  so  deep  over  the  lichens.  In 
travelling,  herd  follow  herd  in  rapid  succession  over  the 
whole  surface  of  the  country,  all  bending  their  course 
the  same  way  in  parallel  lines.  The  herds  consist  of 
from  twenty  to  two  hundred  each,  connected  by  stragglers 
or  piquets,  the  animals  following  each  other  in  single 
files,  a  few  yards  or  feet  apart,  as  their  paths  show;  were 
they  to  be  in  close  bodies,  they  could  not  graze  freely. 
They  continue  to  travel  south-eastward  until  February 
or  March,  by  which  time  the  returning  sun  has  power  to 
soften  the  snow,  and  permit  of  their  scraping  it  off  to 
obtain  the  lichens  underneath.  They  then  turn  round 
towards  the  west,  and  in  April  are  again  on  the  rocky 
barrens  and  mountains  where  their  favourite  mossy  food 
abounds  the  most,  and  where  in  June  they  bring  forth 
their  young.  In  October  the  frosty  warning  to  travel 
returns.  They  generally  follow  the  same  routes  year  after 
year,  but  these  sometimes  vary,  owing  to  irregularities 
in  the  seasons,  and  interruptions  by  the  Indians.  Such 
are,  in  a  general  view,  the  courses  and  causes  of  the 
migrations  of  the  deer,  and  these  seem  to  be  the  chief 
design  of  animated  nature  in  this  portion  of  the  earth. 
Lakes  and  mountains  intervening^,  cause  the  lines  of  the 


NOTES   ON  NEWFOUNDLAND.  876 

migration  paths  to  deviate  from  tlie  parallel ;  and  at 'the 
necks  of  land  that  separate  large  lakes,  at  the  extremity 
of  lakes,  and  at  the  straits  and  i-unning  waters  which 
unite  lakes,  the  deer  unavoidably  concentrate  in  travel- 
ling. At  those  passes  the  Indians  encamp  in  parties, 
and  stay  for  considerable  interval  of  time,  because  they 
can  there  procure  the  deer  with  comparatively  little 
trouble." 

The  Indians  here  alluded  to,  whom  Mr.  Cormack 
believed  to  be  still  inhabiting  the  shores  of  the  large 
lakes  to  the  northward  of  his  course  through  the  island, 
and  the  remains  of  whose  fences  or  j)ounds  for  snaring 
deer  may  be  seen  at  the  present  day  by  the  banks  of  the 
Exploits  river,  were  the  Red  Indians,  or  Bceothics — a 
tribe  long  since  extinct.  The  last  of  her  race,  a  Ked 
Indian  woman,  named  Shanaandithith,  called  Mary 
March  by  her  captors,  who  brought  her  in  to  St.  John's, 
died  there  of  consumption  in  1829.  As  far  as  was 
known  of  them,  this  tribe  lived  entirely  in  the  wilder 
portions  of  the  interior,  probably  from  distrust  of  the 
whites,  who  had  ruthlessly  attacked  and  slain  them 
whenever  met  with,  as  also  on  account  of  the  harassing 
invasions  of  the  Micmacs,  who  frequently  crossed  from 
Acadia  in  fleets  of  canoes  for  that  purpose.  Smallpox 
has  been  assigned  as  the  cause  of  their  extinction,  and  it 
has  been  likewise  supposed  that  the  remnant  of  the  tribe 
migrated  into  the  interior  of  Labrador,  where  strange 
Indians  are  reported  to  have  been  seen  from  time  to  time, 
not  agreeing  in  type  with  any  of  the  known  resident 
tribes. 

The  Bceothics  have  been  described  as  a  fine  athletic 
race,  and,  until  the  latter  obtained  possession  of  firearms, 

T   2 


;i 


I 


27(5  FOREST   LIFE   IN   ACAUIE. 

Huporior  in  war  to  the  Indians  of  tliu  mainland.  Tlu'ir 
language  was  quite  distinct  from  that  of  any  of  the  sur- 
rounding tribes. 

in  a  pamphlet  puhlished  in  London  in   IG'22,  by  one 
Richard  Whitburne,  who  had  had  much  experience  in  the 
great  bank  fisheries,  and  was  sent  out  to  institute  a  com- 
mission to  inquire  into  some  abuses  which  were  con- 
nected   with    the   latter,   are   to   be   found   some   very 
interesting  accounts  of  Newfoundland  at  that  very  early 
date  of  its  history.     Of  the  Red  Indians,  he  says  : — "  It 
is  well  known  that  the  natives  of  those  parts  have  great 
stores  of  red  ochre  wherewith  they  use  to  colour  their 
bodies,  bowes,  arrows,  and  cainiows  in  a  painting  manner, 
which  cannows  are  their  boats  that  they  used  to  go  to  sea 
in,  which  are   built  in  shape  like  the  wherries  on  the 
River   of  Thames,   with   small  timbers  no  thicker  nor 
broader  than  hoopes,  and  instead  of  boards  they  use  the 
barkes  ofbirche  trees,  which  they  sew  very  artificially  and 
close  together,  and  then  overlay  the  seams  with  turpen- 
tine, as  pitch  is  used  on  the  seames  of  ships  and  boats ; 
and  in  like  manner  they  use  to  sew  the  barkes  of  spruce 
and  firre  trees  round  and  deep  in  proportion  like  a  brasse 
kettle  to  boil  their  meet  in,  as  it  hath  been   well  ap- 
proved by  divers  men,  but  most  es})ecially  to  my  certain 
knowledge  by  three  mariners  of  a  ship  of  Tapson,  in  the 
County  of  Devon,   which  ship  riding   there  at   anchor 
neere  by  me  at  the  Harbor  called  Hearts  Ease  on  the 
North    side    of  Trinity  Bay,   and  being  robbed  in  the 
night  by  the  savages  of  their  apparell  and  divers  other 
provisions  did  the  next  day  seeke  after  them,  and  hap- 
pened to  come  suddenly  where  they  had  set  up  three 
tents  and  were  feasting,  having  three  such  cannows  by 


NOTES  ON   NEWFOUNDLAND.  277 

them,  ami  threes  pots  madt!  of  hucIi  rinds  of  trccH,  stand- 
ing each  of  them  on  three  stoiioH,  l)oyliiig,  with  twelve 
fowk'H  in  each  of  them,  every  fowde  as  big  as  a  widgeon 
and  some  so  big  as  a  ducke  ;  they  had  also  many  siKih 
j)ots  so  served  and  fashioned,  Hke  leatlier  buekets  that 
are  used  for  (jueiiehing  of  fire,  and  those  were  full  of 
the  yolks  of  eggs  that  they  had  taken  and  boyled  hard 
and  80  dried  small  as  it  had  been  powder  sugar,  which 
the  savages  used  in  their  broth  as  sugar  is  often  used  in 
some  meates  ;  they  had  great  store  of  the  skins  of  deere, 
beavers,  bearea,  seals,  otters  and  divers  other  fine  skins 
which  were  excellent  well  dresscnl,  as  also  gre.'it  store  of 
severall  sorts  of  flesh  dryed,  and  by  shooting  off  a  musket 
towards  them  they  all  ran  awny,  naked,  without  any 
a])parall  but  only  some  of  them  hiid  their  hats  on  their 
heads,  which  were  made  of  scale  skins,  in  fashion  like 
our  lints  sewed  handsomely  with  narrow  bands  about 
them  set  round  with  finv  wliiti;  shels.  All  their  three 
cannows,  their  flesh,  skins,  yolks  of  eggs,  targets,  bows 
and  arrows,  and  much  fine  okar,  and  divers  others  things 
they  tookc  and  brought  away  and  shared  it  among  those 
that  tooko  it,  and  they  brought  to  me  the  best  cannow, 
bows,  and  arrows  and  divers  of  their  skins  and  many 
other  artificial  things  worth  the  noting  which  may  seeme 
much  to  invite  ns  to  endeavour  to  fiiide  out  some  other 
good  trades  with  them." 

The  zoology  of  Newfoundland  is  of  a  more  Arctic  type 
than  that  of  the  neighbouring  Acadian  Provinces,  being 
characterised  by  the  presence  of  the  ptarmigan,  and  Arctic 
hare,  and  showing  a  remarkable  falling  oif  in  the  number 
of  species  of  the  continental  fauna.  Thus  there  is  not  a 
squirrel  on  the  island,  and  neither  porcupine,  racoon,  or 


278  FOREST  LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 

mink.  The  presence  of  the  wild  cat  is  uncertain.  Fewer 
species  of  the  ordinary  mi<2;i-atory  birds,  visitors  of  the 
Lower  Provinces,  are  found  here.  At  midsummer,  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  St.  John's,  I  have  noticed  tlie  absence 
of  tlie  nioht-liawk,  so  common  a  bird  on  the  Continent. 
Neither  were  fire-flies,  wliich  were  scintillating  in  myriads 
over  the  swamps  in  Nova  Scotia  at  the  time,  to  be  seen. 
]\Iany  birds,  however,  passing  over,  or  merely  resting  for 
a  week  or  two  on  their  way,  on  the  eastern  shores  of 
Acadie,  visit  Newfoundland  to  breed,  such  as  the 
Canada  goose,  fox-coloured  sparrow  (F.  iliaca),  snipe,  and 
others,  whilst  migration  of  American  species  has  a  still 
further  range  to  the  north-east,  and  American  birds  form 
a  large  proportion  of  the  avi-fauna  of  Greenland,  accord- 
ing to  Dr.  Roinhardt.  The  woodcock  is  not  indigenous 
to  Newfoundland  ;  and,  strange  to  say,  the  only  specimen 
shot  quite  recently  near  St.  John's  was  a  Euro})ean 
bird. 

Considering  the  immense  portion  of  this  island  which 
is  claimed  by  water,  bogs,  and  swamps,  the  well- ascer- 
tained absence  of  reptilia  is  singular.  In  the  peninsula 
of  Aval(3n  I  have  plodded  frequently  along  the  edges  of 
ponds  and  swani})s,  hoping  to  see  some  little  croaker  take 
a  header  from  the  bank,  or  in  search  of  snakes  by  sunny 
Avoodland  slopes — situations  where  they  might  be  found 
at  every  few  paces  on  the  mainland — but  all  in  vain. 
Indeed,  more  than  once  has  the  experiment  been  tried  of 
turning  out  some  of  the  large  green-headed  frogs  (R. 
clamitans),  to  end  in  failure:  in  a  few  days  they  would 
all  be  found  stift*  on  their  backs.  Cormack  met  with 
neither  frog,  snake,  nor  toad,  on  his  journey  across  the 
main  island,  and  observes  that  his  Indians  had  never 


NOTES  ON   NEWFOUNDLAND.  279 

seen  or  heard  of  one.  *  The  ishiiid  of  Anticost'  is  said  to 
])e  similarly  deficient  in  representatives  of  this  class.  As 
has  been  written  of  Ireland  in  an  ancient  poem,  composed 
by  a  St.  Douatus,  and  dating  as  far  back  as  the  ninth 
century : — 

"  Nulla  veiiotia  nocent,  nuc  serpens  serpit  in  lierba, 
Nee  conquesta  canit  garrula  rana  lucu," 

From  foregoing  remarks,  it  will  be  readily  seen  that 
the  interior  of  Newfoundland  is  a  vast  field  of  discovery, 
especially  interesting  to  the  enterprising  sportsman.  In 
August  and  September,  when  the  berries  are  ripe, 
animal  life  is  wonderfully  abundant  (for  America)  on  the 
open  barrens.  The  deer  begin  their  descent  from  the 
hills  ;  willow  grouse,  now  well  grown,  associate  in  large 
coveys ;  wild  geese  and  curlew  are  found  feeding  on  the 
upland  barrens,  and  snipe  are  plentiful  in  the  marshes. 
Bears  are  reported  very  numerous  in  the  interior,  where 
their  well-beaten  paths,  traversed  for  ages,  afford  good 
walking  to  the  traveller.  When  discovered  at  a  distance, 
revelling  amongst  thickets  of  berry-bearing  bushes,  they 
may  be  easily  approached  under  cover  of  ridges  or  rock 
boulders.     Furs  of  many  sorts  would  repay  the  trapper ; 

*  Wliitburne  appears  to  have  been  aware  of  tlii«  circumstance,  foi-  he  writes : 
"  Neither  are  there  any  Snakes,  Toads,  Seri)i"iis,  or  any  other  venomous 
Wormesthat  ever  were  kuowue  to  hurt  any  uian  in  that  countiy,  but  only  a 
very  little  nimble  l\\  (the  least  of  all  other  Hies)  \vhich  is  called  a  Miskieto, 
those  flies  seem  to  have  a  j,'reat  jiower  and  authority  upon  all  loyterinji;  and 
idle  people  that  come  to  the  Newfoundland  :  for  they  have  this  jiroperty 
t)iat  when  they  finde  any  such  lyinj;  lazily,  or  slccpinj,'  in  the  woods,  they 
will  presently  bee  more  niml)le  to  seize  on  them  than  any  Sarj,'ent  will  be 
to  arrest  a  man  for  debt.  Neither  will  they  leave  stiii},'inj,'  or  suckin;,' out 
the  blood  of  such  slu<(gards,  until  like  a  Beadel  they  brinj,'  him  to  liis 
master,  where  he  should  hibour,  in  which  time  of  loytering,  those  flii's  will 
80  brand  such  idle  persons  in  their  faces,  that  they  may  be  kuowiic  from 
others  as  the  Turks  do  their  slaves." 


280  FOREST  LIFE  IN   ACADIE. 

foxes,  marten,  otter,  ])eaver,  or  musk-rat.     That  of  the 
Arctic  hare  (Lepus  Arcticus)  is  a  handsome,  though  not 
a  very  valuable  skin  ;  the  ears  are  tipped  with  black,  the 
rest  of  its  winter  dress  being  pure  white.     This  animal 
will  attain  a  weight  of  fourteen  pounds  in  Newfound- 
land :  it  appears  to  present  no  appreciable  ditiV'rence  to 
L,  variabilis  of  Europe.     It  is  said  that  there  are  two 
species  of  ptarmigan  on  the  island.     If  so,  the  other  and 
less    common    description    is    probably   the    somewhat 
smaller  and  more  slenderly-billed  bird — Lagopus  rupestris, 
or  rock  ptarmigan.     In  its  summer  plumage,  the  former 
species  is  one  of  the  handsomest  game  birds  the  world 
can  produce.     At  this  season,  the  wings  only  are  white, 
all  the  rest  being  a  rich  mottled  chesnut ;   an  arch  of 
scarlet  fringe  over  the  eye.     Grouse  shooting  (these  birds 
are  called  grouse  on   the  island,  or   sometimes  by  the 
fishermen  and  settlers — '^  imttermeyans")  begins  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  St.  John's,  where  they  are  protected, 
and  the  law  receives  the  assistance  of  a  game  society,  on 
the  25th  August      The  game  laws  arc  strictly  observed  in 
the  vicinity  of  the  capital ;  snipe  are  included  in  the  Act. 
Although  the  caril)oo  is  generally  dispersed  through 
the  interior,  it  will  have  been  seen  that  the  great  bulk 
of  these   animals   shift   from   the    low-lying    lake   and 
savanna  country  to  the  hills,  jind  vice  versa,  in  the  spring 
and  fall.     To  reach  the  interior  from  their  great  strong- 
hold in  the  high  lands  which  form  the  extension  of  the 
island  towards  the  Straits  of  Belle-Isle,  they  must  cross 
the  two  chains  of  lakes  and  rivers  which,  overlapping 
each  other  near  the  centre  of  the  island,  discharge  their 
waters  respectively  into  the   Bay  of  Islands  and  Notre 
Dame. 


NOTES   ON    NEWFOUNDLAND.  281 

Into  the  latter  great  bnsiii,  and  a  little  to  the  north  of 
Exploits  River,  empties  a  stream  called  the  Hall's  Bay 
River.  It  flows  from  a  chain  of  small  lakes  running 
nearly  east  and  west  at  the  south-eastern  termination  of 
the  mountain  range  Lefore  mentioned ;  and  here  the 
great  body  of  the  cariboo  pass,  commencing  their 
southerly  migration  about  the  end  of  August.  Hall's 
Bay  is  to  be  reached  only  by  sailing-vessel  from  St. 
John's,  but  the  hunting  grounds  may  also  be  attained  by 
ascending  the  magnificent  river  Humber  from  the  Bay  of 
Islands  on  the  western  side  of  the  island — a  course  on 
w.bicli  much  grand  scenery  is  to  be  viewed. 

The  north-eastern  extremity  of  the  Grand  Pond,  some 
fifty  miles  in  length,  with  which  it  communicates,  ap- 
proaches the  Hall's  Bay  chain  with  easy  access.  Cariboo 
hunting  may,  however,  be  obtained  by  entering  the 
interior  from  the  heads  of  any  of  the  great  bays  which 
so  deeply  indent  the  coast  line  of  Newfoundland, 

Although  the  Indian  race,  which  once  wholly  subsisted 
on  their  flesh,  is  long  since  extinct,  and  there  are  but  few 
resident  Micmac  hunters,  the  cariboo  are  much  kept 
down  by  their  bitter  persecutors  in  every  part  of  the 
globe  where  the  reindeer  is  found — the  wolves.  "The 
Old  Hunter,"  whose  camp  has  been  frequently  pitched 
in  the  proximity  of  the  famous  deer  passes  just  men- 
tioned, tells  me  of  the  great  destruction  caused  amongst 
the  deer  by  this  fleet  and  wily  brute,  which  he  has  often 
seen  and  shot  in  the  act  of  pursuit.  The  splendid 
head  of  a  Newfoundland  cariboo,  figured  No.  2  in  the 
engraving  of  horns,  was  obtained  from  an  animal  shot  at 
Deer  Harbour,  Trinity  Bay,  by  Mr.  F.  N.  Gisborne  (who 
has  kindly  allowed  me  to  copy  it),  when  nearly  run  into 


282  FOREST  LIFE  IN  ACADIE. 

by  a  wolf.  It  would  appear  singular  that  these  magnifi- 
cent Newfoundland  bucks,  which  will  attain  the  weiirht 
of  five  or  even  six  hundred  j^ounds,  witli  ponderous 
antlers,  should  fly  from  the  wolf,  considering  the  tremen- 
dous power  of  a  blow  from  their  hoofs.  The  specimen 
last  mentioned  weighed  428  pounds  after  being  cleaned. 

With  regard  to  the  sport  which  may  be  expected  by 
the  angler  on  this  island,  it  may  be  briefly  stated  that 
every  lake  abounds  with  the  ordinary  trout  of  Eastern 
America — S.  fontinalis :  sea-trout  ascend  all  the  rivers 
in  July  in  astonishing  abundance,  taking  anything  in  the 
shape  of  l)ait  or  fly  readily  and  indiscriminately,  Salmon 
fishing,  however,  appears  to  be  uncertain  ;  and  a  general 
belief  obtains  that,  on  the  larger  rivers  of  the  north-east 
coast,  they  are  shy  of  taking  the  fly.  I  am,  however, 
informed  by  my  friend  Mr.  Gisborue,*  to  whom  I  am 
indebted  for  much  information  on  the  sports  of  New- 
foundland, and  who  has  hunted  and  explored  the  country 
in  every  direction,  that  Gander  Bay  Eiver,  an  important 
stream  affbrdinor  excellent  canoeinoj  on  its  course  to  its 
large  parent  lake  in  the  interior,  and  flowing  into  the 
southern  end  of  Notre  Dame  Bay,  is  believed  by  him  to 
be  as  fine  a  river  for  salmon-fishing  as  any  in  North 
America. 

*  Frederic  Newton  Gisborne,  to  whose  skill  as  an  electrician,  and  thr 
energy  which  he  displayed  in  exploring  and  completing  a  line  of  telegraph 
across  the  wild  southern  interior  of  Newfoundland,  from  the  east  coast  to 
the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence,  and  further  uniting  that  island  with  the  continent 
by  a  submarine  cable,  testimony  has  Ijeen  borne  not  only  by  the  conmiunity 
of  Newfoundland,  but  by  the  inhabitants  of  all  the  British  North  American 
provinces  bordering  on  the  Atlantic.  Whatever  praise  may  be  accorded  to 
another  great  name  in  completing  and  successfully  carrying  out  the  gigantic 
scheme  which  followed — the  connexion  of  the  two  hemispheres  by  the 
Atlantic  cable — Mr.  Gisborne  is  rightly  accredited  in  British  North  America 
with  being  its  original  projector.     Palmam  qui  meruit  ferat. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

CAMPING  OUT. 

The  nccessitiers  and  shifts  of  a  life  in  the  woods  are 
described  in  so  many  works  on  North  American  travel, 
with  exhaustive  t.'eatises  on  materiel  and  outfits,  that  it 
becomes  unnecessary  to  dilate  on  this  topic.  Indeed 
there  is  not  much  to  be  said  with  regard  to  camping  in 
these  >.■  astern  woodlands.  Our  expeditions  never  extend 
very  far  from  the  ]jase  of  supply,  nor  have  we  to  contend 
with  such  dangers  as  those  incident  on  prairie  travel. 

Everything  necessary  for  the  woods  is  to  be  got  in  the 
stores  of  all  the  large  provincial  towns,  and  almost  every 
storekeeper  will  be  able  to  inform  J.lie  traveller  of  what  he 
wants  in  the  way  of  tin  ware  and  provisions,  and  how  the 
outfit  should  be  packed. 

Bringing  with  him  his  particular  fancies  in  the  way  of 
breechloaders  or  the  old  style,  he  can  get  fair  rods,  quite 
good  enough  for  the  rough  work  on  American  forest 
streams,  and  good  tackle  and  flies  in  either  Halifax  or  St. 
John's,  where  also  a  first-rate  American  click  reel  may  be 
got  of  German  silver  or  bronzed  aluminum. 

An  elaborate  canteen,  with  all  its  nicely-fitting  arrange- 
ments, got  up  for  a  Crimean  or  Abyssinian  cam})aign,  is 
all  v"ry  well,  perhaps,  for  such  purposes ;  but  where  tin- 
smiths' shops  are  frequent  at  the  starting  point,  no  good 


284  FOREST  LIFE   IN  ACADIE. 

is  to  be  got  by  bringing  such  traps  across  the  Atlantic. 
To  save  trouble  and  room  I  have  frequently  purchased 
my  bunch  of  tins  at  the  very  last  settlement  where  a 
store  existed,  before  turning  into  the  woods.  It  is  well 
to  remember,  however,  to  get  the  handle  of  the  frying- 
pan  "fixed"  so  as  to  double  back,  and  so  pack  with  the 
plates,  mugs,  &c.,  into  the  big  outside  tin  can,  which  holds 
the  entire  camp  service ;  otherwise  the  Indian  who 
carries  it  through  the  woods  will  probably  grumble  all  tlie 
way,  az  "[.he  stem  is  constantly  catching  in  the  bushes. 

Except  in  winter,  when  opportunities  occur  of  getting 
one's  traps  hauled  in  on  a  sled  over  some  logging  road, 

\  everything  has  to  be  "  backed  "  through  the  woods,  to 

!  the   hunting   camp,    and,  consequently,  anything    pro- 

('  trading  from  the  loads  is  liable  to  impede  one's  progress. 

I  Hence  the  bundles   should  be  as  near  as   possible  the 

breadth  of  the  back,  all  loads  being  thus  carried,  with  a 

'i  strap  (the  broader  the  better)  encircling  the  chest  and 

I  shoulders. 

The  Indian,  used  to  the  work  from  infancy,  will  often 

■;  carry  a  hundred  weight  by  a  withy  of  birch  or  withered 

bush,  which  seems  as  though  it  would  cut  to  the  bone  ; 
but  to  the  white  man,  unaccustomed  to  carrying  a  load 
thus,  a  well-l)alanccd  bundle  and  broad  carrying- strap  are 
of  the  first  importance,  particularly  as  long  journeys  are 
often  thus  made,  and  every  true  sportsman  likes  to  do  a 
fair  share  of  the  work. 

A  hint  may  be  inserted  here  that  one  of  the  greatest 
drawbacks  to  progress  under  such  unavoidable  circum- 
stances is  to  lose  one's  temper,  and  a  firm  determination 
should  be  made  at  starting  to  avoid  doing  so.  I  grant  it 
is  often  hard  of  prevention  when  two  or  three  consecutive 


CAMPING  OUT.  285 

stumbles  over  windfalls  or  painful  collision  of  tlir  shins 
with  sharp  stumps  are  followed  by  suddenly  sinking  on 
one  leg  up  to  the  knee  in  a  black  mud  hole,  and  the  load, 
slewing  round,  brings  you  over  altogether  into  wet  moss, 
or  still  worse,  when  the  unpractised  hand  nervously 
attempts  the  often  necessary  passage  of  a  deep  brook  or 
still-water  streiun  (the  latter  is  a  frequent  feature  in  the 
forest),  and  the  uncertain  foot  glides  from  the  slippery 
bridge — a  fallen  tree — followed  by  a  tremendous  s^jlash, 
and  one  or  two  expletives  as  a  matter  of  course ;  but 
depend  upon  it,  the  less  you  fret  under  such  circum- 
stances the  better  you  will  come  in  to  camp  by  a  deal. 
The  Indians  generally  carry  50  lb.  to  70  lb.  weight, 
including  gun  (71b.  or  811).) ;  yours  would  be  20  lb.  to 
30  lb.,  and  this  you  ought  to  carry  if  you  are  fit  to  enter 
the  woods  at  all.  To  let  you  know,  however,  what  is 
often  before  you,  here  is  a  description  of  a  very  common 
feature  in  the  woods — an  alder  swamp  : — 

Take  a  substratum  of  black  mud,  into  which  you  will 
sink  at  least  up  to  your  knees,  perhaps  up  to  your  hips  ; 
cover  this  over  with  a  treacherous  crust  of  peat,  turf,  and 
moss  ;  over  this  strew  windfalls,  i.e.,  dead,  fallen  trees, 
with  the  branches  broken  oft'  close  to  the  trunks,  leaving 
sharp  spikes ;  form  an  interlaced  network  of  these, 
sprinkling  in  a  few  granite  rocks  ;  and  cover  all  this  over 
with  a  thick  growth  of  alder  bushes  about  five  feet  high, 
so  that  you  cannot  possibly  see  where  you  are  putting 
your  feet ;  vary  the  ground  with  a  few  boggy  streams 
and  "  honey  pots  "  or  mud  holes.  Then  walk  across  this 
with  a  good  load  on  your  back,  and  your  gun  under  your 
arm,  without  losing  your  temper ! 

For  either  winter  or  summer  work  the  common  gray 


il; 


286  FOREST   LIFE   IN  ACADIE. 

homespun  of  the  country  is  the  best  material  for  the 
woods.  It  is  very  strong,  almost  impossible  to  tear  by 
catching  against  the  trees,  and  porous,  which  is  also  a 
great  advantage,  as  it  dries  so  quickly.  Its  colour,  too,  is 
[If  in    its  favour,  being  so  like  that  of  rocks  or  tree  stems. 

I  i  An  almost  colourless  material  is  as  necessary  for  moose 

I  hunting  as  it  is  for  fishing,  though  I  have  seen  a  good 

I  New  York  sportsman  flinging  over  a  clean  pool  on  the 

'i  brightest  of  days  with  a  scarlet  flannel  shirt  and  black 

i  continuations,  and  get  fish  withal. 

I  The  Canadian  smock,  known  in  England  as  the  Norfolk 

I  blouse,  is  a  capital  style  of  coat  for  hunting.     Pockets 

I  according  to  taste,  and    a   piece   of  leather  on   either 

l  shoulder  and  another  on  the  inside  of  the  right  arm  to 

I  ease  the  pressure  of  the  gun. 

The  camp  generally  taken  into  the  woods  is  a  spread 
!J  of  strong  cotton  cloth  soaked  with  boiled  oil  and  well 

J  dried  in  the  sun.     Its  shape  is  best  understood  by  de- 

scribing the  framework  of  the  camp  as  follows : — Two 
i  uprights  with  forks  at  the  end  stuck  into  the  ground  some 

I  eight  or  ten  feet  apart,  the  '^rutches  about  six  feet  from  the 

I  base ;  a  cross  piece  between  these  well  lashed  on,  on 

I  which  rest  the  tops  of  some  half-dozen  long  slanting  poles 

'  — fir  or  larch  saplings.     The  canvas  is  spread  over  and 

tied ;  two  wings  (triangular  pieces)  form  the  sides,  and 
are  tied  to  the  uprights.  This  is  the  usual  form  of  open 
camp  for  summer  or  the  fall.  The  fire  is  arranged  in 
front.  You  sleep  on  an  elastic  bed  of  silver-fir  boughs 
(not  spruce,  mind,  or  you  would  be  most  uncomfortably 
pricked),  artistically  spread  by  the  Indians  underneath  ; 
they  rough  it  in  the  open,  and  coil  up  under  their  blankets 
at  the  foot  of  a  tree  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  fire.     If 


CAMPING  OUT.  287 

you  are  on  a  fishing  excursion,  encamped  by  the  water- 
side and  it  rains,  they  turn  the  canoes,  bottom  up,  over 
themselves. 

In  winter  they  make  a  leaning  cover  for  themselves  of 
boughs  and  birch  bark  nearly  joining  yours  (room  being 
left  above  for  the  ascent  of  the  smoke),  and  fill  in  the  sides 
with  the  bushes  and  slabs  of  split  fir,  the  doorway  being 
covered  by  a  suspended  rug.  With  plenty  of  firewood  at 
hand,  no  one  who  had  not  been  in  the  woods  in  winter 
would  credit  the  comfort  and  cosiness  found  in  these 
hunting  camps.  In  fact,  the  ease  with  which  the  wilder- 
ness can  be  made  a  home  with  so  little  labour,  and  the 
entire  independence  of  the  sojourner  in  the  woods  who  has 
set  up  a  good  camp  well  stocked  with  provision  for  a  foi't- 
night's  campaign,  and  a  few  changes  of  flannels  and 
stockings,  contribute  principally  to  the  charms  of  forest 
life.  We  are  seldom  storm  staid  or  lose  a  day  by  remain- 
ing within. 

"  The  frost  might  glitter,  it  would  blight  no  crop, 
The  falling  rain  will  spoil  no  holiday. 
We  were  made  freemen  of  the  forest  laws, 
All  dressed,  like  Nature,  fit  for  her  own  ends, 
Essaying  nothing  she  cannot  perform." 

writes  one  of  America's  poets  ;*  and  when  the  snow-storm 
is  driving  or  the  rain  drops  patter  on  the  autumnal 
leaves  strewn  on  the  ground,  it  is  often  seasonable 
weather  to  the  hunter ;  and  the  evening  closes  over 
many  an  exciting  tale  of  what  has  been  seen  or  done  in 
the  chase  on  such  days. 

As  a  summer  residence  I  have  used  a  very  portable 
little  square  camp,  opening  at  one  end.     The  top  was 

*  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson. 


SSe  FOREST  LIFE  IN  ACADIK. 

suspended  on  a  ridge  pole  bound  to  two  uprights,  and  tlio 
sloping  sides  stretched  and  fastened  to  pegs ;  it  had  a 

l\  valence  all  round  ahout  two  feet  high.     The  area  of  the 

surface  it  covered  was  some  eight  feet  by  ten.  Not  being 
oiled,  it  weighed  only  a  dozen  pounds  or  so,  and  when 

'1  well  stretched  was  quite  rain-proof,  unless  the  sides  were 

touched  by  a  gun  or  anything  leaning  against  them,  when 

1 1  it  would  drip. 

(  Never  encamp  in  a  low  site  at  the  foot  of  a  hill ;   for 

it  is  not  pleasant,  however  well  you  may  be  protected 
from  the  falling  Avaters,  to  find  yourself  becoming  sud- 

j  denly  soaked  by  the  rising  flood,  in  the  nice  comfortable 

hollow  which  your  form  has  made  in  your  bed  of  boughs. 
We  never  expect,  and  rarely  find,  any  unpleasant  results 
in  the  way  of  a  severe  cold  from  these  little  disagreeables 
of  camping  out ;  living  constantly  in  the  open  air  steels 
the  sensibility  of  the  system  to  catarrhal  affections,  and 

^  the  Indians  aver  that  they  are  more  apt  to  take  cold  by 

going  into  a  house  than  we  are  by  going  into  the  open 
air.  And  so  we  take  things  very  philosophically ;  so 
much  so,  sometimes,  that  a  friend  of  mine,  on  being 
roused  from  his  slumbers,  on  the  plea  that  he  was  lying 
in  three  inches  of  water,  immediately  lay  down  again  in 

'^  the  old  spot,  averring  that  "  the  water  there  was  warmer 

than  anywhere  else  in  the  camp."  In  this  country, 
storms  of  this  description  never  last  very  long,  twelve  to 

I  twenty-four   hours   from   the  commencement  being  the 

general  duration,  when  the  wind  veering  round  to  the 
west  (our  fine-weather  quarter),  soon  clears  off  the  rolling 
cloud  masses  from  the  sky,  and  a  glorious  sun  and  cool 
zephyr  quickly  dry  the  dripping  forest. 

I  like  to  have  the  sound  of  a  bubbling  brook  for  a 


CAMIMNCi   OUT.  289 

lullaby  when  camped  in  the  woods ;  one's  somniferous 
tendencies  are  greatly  assisted  l)y  the  curious  ehatterings 
and  tiiiislings  of  its  little  fiills  and  rapids.  As  sleep  draws 
nigh,  the  multitudinous  sounds  in  turn  resemlde,  almost 
to  reality,  those  produced  by  far  difft^rent  causes — now  it 
is  men  talking  in  low  tones  close  at  hand  ;  tlicn  a  di>stant 
shout  or  despairing  shriek ;  and  now  the  impression  is 
that  a  herd  of  cattle  are  crossing  the  brook,  splashing  the 
water  ;  the  deception  being  aided  by  the  resemblance  to 
the  sound  of  cattle-bells  often  made  by  the  miniature 
cascades. 

Such  streams  are  sure  to  occur  not  far  from  one's  camp 
by  the  lake  or  river  side.  They  come  dancing  down 
from  the  lakes  back  in  the  woods  to  join  the  river,  shaded 
by  dark  firs  and  hemlocks,  full  of  little  falls,  eddying 
round  great  rocks,  which  stand  out  from  the  stream 
capped  with,  ferns  and  lichens,  and  at  whose  base  are 
little  gravelly  pools — the  very  counterpart  in  miniature 
of  some  of  our  grander  salmon  rivers.  Had  Tennyson 
ever  seen  an  American  forest  brook  when  he  wrote  his 
charming  little  idyll,  "  The  Brook  ? "  I  must  insert  one 
verse : — 

"  And  here  aiid  there  a  foamy  flake 
Upon  me,  as  I  travel, 
With  many  a  silvery  water-break 
Above  the  golden  gravel." 

To  return,  however,  to  the  sol)er  description  of  practical 
experience.  Never  trust  to  finding  a  camp,  of  the  exist- 
ence of  which  you  may  have  heard,  standing,  and  ready 
for  habitation ;  and  always  allow  plenty  of  daylight  to 
make  a  new  one,  in  case  the  old  is  non  est,  or  gone  to 
pieces.  I  remember  one  blazing  hot  summer's  afternoon 
going  up  the  banks  of  Gold  River,  Nova  Scotia,  to  try 

V 


200  FOREST   LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 

some  salmiin  pools  at  the  Grand  Falls  on  the  next  morn- 
ing— a  twelve  miles'  walk.  There  was  a  nice  camp  (so 
reported)  all  ready  to  receive  us.  Feverish  from  the  heat 
of  the  woods,  and  the  severe  biting  we  had  received  from 
the  huge  moose  flies  and  clouds  of  mosquitoes  on  the 
way,  we  reached  the  spot  long  after  sundown,  in  hopes 
of  finding  slielter  and  a  good  night's  repose,  for  we  were 
fatigued.  An  old  camp  of  the  meaixv.st  construction  was 
found,  after  consideraljle  search  with  birch-bark  torches, 
and  under  its  very  questionable  shelter  we  extended  our- 
selves in  front  of  a  meagre  fire  which  had  been  kindled 
with  difficulty,  there  being  nothing  but  fir  woods  around. 
Presently  we  found  that  the  whole  of  the  ancient  bedding 
of  diy  fir  boughs  was  overrun  by  large  black  ants.  Now, 
I  had  rather  be  coursed  over  by  rats  than  by  ants  at 
night,  as  the  former  veraiin  seldom  act  on  the  offensive 
towards  a  sleeping  human  being  ;  and  so,  sleep  was  out 
of  the  question  till  the  enemy  was  exterminated.  To 
effect  this,  we  arose  and  parted  with  our  beds — to  wit, 
the  brown  spruce  boughs,  which  we  committed  to  the 
flames.  We  then  again  tried  to  rest,  lying  down  in  the 
ashes  round  the  fire,  but  no — on  they  came  again  in 
battalion.  With  one  consent  we  arose,  and  rushed  up 
the  hill-side  into  the  dark  woods,  depositing  ourselves  in 
the  soft  moss  under  the  hemlocks.  Presently  down  came 
a  new  enemy — pattering  drops  of  rain,  precursors  of  a 
heavy  summer  shower.  Back  to  camp ;  but  the  ants 
had  not  retii'cd  for  the  night ;  so,  peeling  off"  the  sheets 
of  bark  from  the  poles,  we  finally  sought  a  hard  bed  on 
the  naked  rocks  by  the  water's  edge,  shielding  ourselves 
from  the  rain  with  our  birchen  waterproofs.  Next  morn- 
ing it  was  discovered  that  our  little  packet  of  tea,  care- 


CAMPING   OUT.  291 

los-sly  pitched  into  the  back  part  of  the  camp,  liad  been 
burned  witli  the  fir  bou<,di8  ;  so  our  lieveragc  that  morn- 
ing was  an  infusion  of  hemlock  boughs,  a  few  sprays  of 
Avhich  were  boiled  in  water — one  of  the  many  devices 
adopted  in  the  woods  as  substitutes  for  tea.  Morning 
disclosed,  moreover,  a  patch  of  the  broad,  sickly-looking 
green  leaves  of  the  poison-ivy  (Rhus  toxicodendron), 
growing  hard  by  where  we  had  reposed,  contact  with 
whi(!h  would  have  driven  us  wild  with  dangerous  irrita- 
tion. On  returning  to  the  sea-pools,  however,  our  miseries 
were  somewhat  compensated  by  killing  five  dozen  newly 
run  sea  trout  at  a  pretty  st'ind  in  a  wild  meadow,  where 
a  cool  brook  joined  the  river. 

Apropos  of  the  flics  whicdi  have  been  just  alluded  to, 
none  of  his  relations  could  have  identified  my  companion 
(a  novice  in  the  woods)  next  morning.  So  swollen  was 
his  whole  countenance  that  features  were  obliterated,  and 
for  nearly  the  whole  day  he  was  helplessly  blind.  Many 
people  suffer  similarly  ;  others  enjoy  comparative  immu- 
nity from  swelling,  though  copiously  bled.  On  landing 
from  a  canoe,  the  only  plan  is  to  light  a  fire,  and  make 
as  dense  a  smoke  as  possible.  Lime  juice,  petroleum, 
pork  fat,  or  tar  are  used,  according  to  fancy,  to  smear 
the  face  and  hands  as  preventives,  but  the  flies  will 
scarcely  be  denied  by  such  appliances.  On  salmon- 
fishing  excursions  of  extended  duration  on  the  Nepisiquit 
and  elsewhere,  I  have  generally  taken  mosquito  curtains 
to  cover  one's  body  at  night.  By  day  I  and  the  insects 
fight  it  out  in  a  continuous  tussle.  In  a  recent  number 
of  Ij:t7id  and  Water,  however,  I  find  a  receipt  given  by 
my  friend  "  Ubique,"  an  old  hand  at  "  campmg  out," 
which,  though  I  have  not  had  an  opportunity  of  tiying 

u  2 


292  FOREST   LIFE  IN   ACADIE. 

for  myself  is  worthy  of  note.  "In  nearly  all  timber 
lands,"  he  says,  speaking  of  this  part  of  North  America, 
"  large  fungi  will  be  found  growing  on  the  sides  of  semi- 
decayed  trees ;  this  gather,  and  dry  thoroughly  in  the 
sun,  when  it  will  smoulder  if  lighted,  like  a  joss-stick. 
The  smoke  is  not  disagreeable  to  man,  and  two  or  three 
pieces  kept  frequently  at  work  will  soon  drive  all  the 
winged  pests  to  other  quarters.  A  piece  about  the  size 
of  a  walnut  will  burn  for  over  a  quarter  of  an  hour." 

Overtaken  by  nightfall,  one  is  sometimes  compelled  to 
camp  in  low-lying  swampy  ground,  when  it  becomes 
exceedingly  hard  to  light  a  fire,  owing  to  the  steam 
rising  from  the  damp,  peaty  soil  beneath.  In  this  case 
we  resort  to  the  following  expedient — an  excellent  plan, 
worth  remembering — namely,  to  cut  down  two  or  three 
small  firs  and  chop  them  into  lengths  of  four  or  five  feet, 
placing  them  side  l)y  side ;  this  forms  a  platform,  and 
the  fire  kindles  readily  upon  it,  and  the  platform  itself 
burns  with  the  rest.  Another  plan  for  establishing  a 
good  fire  when  there  are  plenty  of  rocks  to  be  obtained 
near  the  camp,  is  to  make  a  good  broad  hearth  with  flat 
slabs ;  the  stones  will  themselves  emit  mi.  oh  heat  when 
the  fii'e  is  established,  and  it  will  burn  better  and  clearer, 
and  may  always  be  relighted  with  very  little  trouble  ; 
and,  moreover,  the  great  hole  which  the  fire  soon  burns 
in  the  ground  beneath,  and  into  which  it  sinks,  will  thus 
be  avoided. 

And  now  for  a  few  remarks  on  tiie  interior  economy 
of  a  camp.  A  small  amount  of  light  literature  will  while 
away  idle  hours  spent  within — magazines  or  reviews  are 
the  best  generally.  For  a  fishing  camp  there  are  several 
excellent  American  publications  on  the  sport  of  the  British 


CAMPIXO   OUT.  £93 

provinces,  entertainingly  descriptive,  and  sound  in  advice, 
which  woidd  prove  highly  useful.  They  include  "  Game 
Fish  of  the  North,"  by  Roosevelt ;  Norris's  "  American 
Angler,"  and  Frank  Forester's  "Fish  and  Fishing."  In 
the  former  work  some  excellent  receipts  will  be  found 
for  the  camp  cuisine.  I  confess  to  being  somewhat  of  a 
Spartan  as  manager  of  this  department,  and,  ])efore  the 
invention  of  the  really  invaluable  meat  essences,  if  moose 
meat,  porcupine,  or  salmon  were  not  in  the  larder,  would 
fall  back  upon  the  staples  of  a  woodman's  diet — navy 
pork  and  pilot  bread,  from  day  to  day,  unvaryingly.  A 
Sunday  dinner,  however,  would  always  com[)rise  a  boil- 
ing of  pea-soup — one  of  the  best  descriptions  of  camp 
messes — made  of  split  peas,  pork  bones,  lots  of  sliced 
onions,  potatoes,  and  pounded  biscuit,  the  latter  being 
added  with  the  seasoninoj  at  the  last.  The  utmost  vigi- 
lance  is  required  towards  the;  close  of  the  performance  to 
prevent  any  solid  crust  or  deposit  adhering  to  the  bottom 
of  the  pot,  as  it  would  then  immediately  burn,  and  burnt 
pea-soup  is  altogether  uneatable.  AVe  write  and  read  in 
the  camp,  as  we  lie  on  our  blankets  extended  over  the 
comfortable  bedding  of  fir-boughs,  by  the  light  of  a  little 
lamp  filled  with  the  American  burning-fiuid ;  it  is  one 
of  the  best  and  most  portable  means  of  lighting  a  camp 
that  can  be  taken.  A  wax  candle  stuck  in  a  noose  of 
birch-bark  di'awn  tightly  round,  and  held  in  a  split 
stick  sharpened  at  the  end,  which  is  planted  in  the 
ground  under  the  name  of  the  Indian  candlestick,  is 
another  and  more  common  means  of  illumination ;  and, 
should  cjindles  or  fluid  have  been  foro-otten,  the  follow injj 
will  do  as  a  dernier  ressort : — A  common  tin  box  (as  a 
percussion-cap  box),  with  a  wick  passed  through  a  hole 


294  FOREST  LIFE  IN   ACADIE. 

in  the  lid,  and  fed  with  lumps  of  fat ;  the  tin,  becoming 
warm,  will  keep  the  fat  in  the  proper  state  of  liquefaction 
for  feeding  the  wick. 

The  death  of  a  moose  or  cariboo  is  of  course  an  event 
of  great  importance  in  the  hunter's  camp,  and  is  duly 
celebrated.  What  gorging,  however,  on  the  part  of  the 
Indians — they  will  broil  tit  bits  through  half  the  night. 
Moose  meat  is  very  digestible  ;  cariboo  (of  a  closer  fibre) 
somewhat  less  so ;  bear  most  easily  assimilated  of  all, 
and  "grand  to  travel  on"  says  the  Indian,  who  never 
knows  when  to  stop.  Failing  this,  or  venison,  the  por- 
cupine is  the  great  resource  of  the  hunting  camp  through- 
out the  provinces,  with  the  exception  of  Cape  Breton  and 
Newfoundland,  where  it  is  not  found.  Scalded,  scraped, 
and  singed,  its  bare  body  expanded  on  a  cross  to  roast, 
it  looks  anything  but  enticing  to  a  novice.  But  the 
appetite  of  the  woods  prevails,  and  overcomes  all  scru- 
ples. It  has,  at  the  same  time,  a  drawback  in  the  fre- 
quent occurrence  of  large  quantities  of  entozoa  (Taenia 
pectinata) — no  drawback  to  the  Indian,  however ;  some- 
times rather  the  contrary.  An  Indian  told  me,  "  my 
grandfather,  he  like  'em  ;  taste  hard  though — 'most 
like  mustard." 

The  hare,  and  the  two  sorts  of  tree  grouse,  locally 
known  as  the  birch  and  spruce  partridges  (T.  umbellus 
and  T.  canadensis)  also  contribute  to  the  camp  larder. 
Two  or  three  hanks  of  brass  wire  for  snaring  the  former 
animal  should  not  be  omitted  in  the  outfit.  Of  the  two 
partridges,  the  birch  (the  ruffed  grouse)  is  by  far  the 
best.  It  is  white-fieshed  and  delicate  eating  :  the  spnice 
bird  has  very  dark  meat,  and  tastes  like  an  old  pine 
board. 


CAMPING  OUT.  295 

The  universal  charge  made  by  the  ludian  hunters  or 
canoe  men,  is  one  dollar  per  diem,  though  possibly  the 
camp-keeper  who  stays  at  home,  cooks,  cuts  firewood, 
and  sets  rabbit  snares,  &c.,  may  be  hired  for  two-thirds  of 
that  amount.  They  also  charge  so  much  a  day,  say  half 
a  dollar,  for  canoe  hire,  unless  you  buy  the  canoe  out- 
right for  from  eight  to  twenty  dollars,  according  to  her 
age  and  size.  Bark  is  getting  so  iscarce  in  many  parts 
that  their  charge  in  this  respect  is  not  unreasonable,  for 
in  taking  a  party  up  a  river  or  through  lakes  with  heavy 
loads  there  is  considerable  wear  and  tear.  To  see  their 
faces  of  anxiety  on  shooting  shoal  rapids !  not  from 
physical  fear,  but  for  the  canoe  ;  and  the  agonised  look 
when  a  long  grating  rub  proclaims  contact  with  the 
rocks,  and  how  eagerly  on  reaching  shore  they  turn  her 
over  to  inspect  the  bottom  bark  and  ascertain  if  the  cut 
is  deep  or  not !  The  canoe  is  their  pride  ;  and  to  many 
the  loss  of  their  little  craft  would  brino;  the  greatest 
temporary  distress.  These  beautiful  adaptations  for 
water  transport  in  the  wilderness  are  fjir  from  being  so 
frail  as  would  be  imagined  at  first  sight.  Though  they 
can  be  made  scarcely  exceeding  sixty  pounds  weight, 
and  at  the  same  time  sufficiently  capacious  to  carry  four 
persons  and  luggage,  they  are  models  of  strength  in  the 
framework.  The  strips  of  ash  which  form  the  gunwale, 
and  the  delicate  hooped  ribs  of  fir  which  almost  touch 
each  other  throughout  the  length,  are  most  carefully 
selected.  The  thwarts  are  of  thin  ash,  one  is  placed  at 
either  extremity,  on  which  sit  the  paddlers  (kneeling, 
however,  in  the  bottom  in  case  of  rapid  water,  or  a  heavy 
sea  on  a  lake),  the  other  two  crossing  amidships  as  sup- 
ports.    I  know  of  no  more  dehghtful  life  than  a  canoe 


296  FOREST  LIFE  IN  ACADIE. 

expedition  through  the  forest.  So  nicany  luxuries  may 
be  taken ;  and  the  position  in  which  one  reclines,  legs 
stretched  at  full  length  in  the  bottom,  with  the  back 
propped  up  against  the  blankets  and  loads,  is  just  the 
one  in  which  to  enjoy  the  ever  changing  scenery;  and 
whilst  on  the  water  you  are  blessed  by  a  perfect  immu- 
nity from  the  flies. 

Though  of  course  each  fresh  abrasion  of  the  outside 
bark  takes  off  from  the  value  of  the  canoe,  injuries  to  the 
bottom  or  sides  are  generally  mended  with  great  ease 
and  celerity.  The  sligiitest  puncture  is  soon  detected  by 
the  Indian,  on  turning  her  over,  by  suction,  the  mouth 
being  applied  to  doubtful  looking  spots.  Eents  or  gashes 
of  considerable  extent  are  "  fixed "  by  a  piece  of  rag 
dipped  in  melted  resin  softened  somewhat  by  tallow  : 
the  forest  remedy  is  the  hard  gum  which  plentifully 
exudes  from  the  black  spruce — "  chewing  gum,"  as  it  is 
called,  being  the  favourite  sweetmeat  of  the  backwoods- 
man. The  bark,  however,  must  be  quite  dry  before  the 
application  is  made. 

In  smooth  water  two  vigorous  Indians  will  paddle  the 
canoe,  well  loaded,  about  six  miles  an  hour.  In  a  spurt, 
however,  when  they  strain  to  pass  another  canoe,  or  to 
avoid  some  rapid  or  rock  towards  which  they  are  drifting, 
or  to  overtake  wounded  game  in  the  water,  they  can  nearly 
double  this  speed.  It  is  a  charming  sight  to  watch  the 
passing  canoe  thus  powerfully  impelled,  from  the  shore. 
With  its  exquisitely  symmetrical  lines  and  fragile  appear- 
ance, as  it  glides  noiselessly  yet  swiftly  through  the 
water,  one  is  strongly  impressed  with  the  poet's  fancy 
that  "  the  forest's  life  was  in  it,  all  its  mystery  and  its 
magic."     Kcclining  by  the  river  side  in  the  vicinity  of 


CAMPING  OUT.  297 

tl  e  fisliing  camp,  to  see  a  handsome  Indian  youth  bring 
up  his  canoe  to  the  shallow  landing-place  in  a  graceful 
sweep,  without  the  slightest  concussion,  and,  lightly 
stepping  out,  draw  her  head  up  into  the  bushes,  is  to 
recall  a  just  image  of  a  Hiawatha. 

"  Then  once  more  Cheemaiin  he  patted, 
To  his  birch  canoe  said  '  Onward  ! ' 
And  it  stirred  in  all  its  fibres, 
And  with  one  great  bound  of  triunijjh 
Leaped  across  the  water-lilies, 
Leaped  through  tangled  tiags  and  rushes, 
And  upon  the  beach  beyond  them 
Dry-shod  landed  Hiawatha." 

As  it  may  be  inferred  that  every  sportsman  who  visits 
the  woodlands  or  streams  of  Acadie  would  wish  to  be 
acquainted  with  the  existing  local  regulations  for  the 
protection  of  game  and  fish,  a  summary  of  the  laws 
framed  for  this  purpose  is  here  introduced. 

In  Nova  Scotia,  with  regard  to  fish,  it  is  enacted  that, — 

"  Any  person  taking  salmon  in  fresh  water  westward 
of  Halifax  Harbour  between  the  31st  day  of  July  and 
the  1st  of  March,  or  in  fresh  water  eastward  of  Halifax 
Harbour  between  the  15th  day  of  August  and  the  1st  of 
March,  is  liable  to  a  penalty  of  forty  dollars." 

"  Bag  nets  shall  not  be  used  in  any  river  or  harbour 
nor  within  a  mile  from  the  mouth  of  any  river  under  a 
penalty  of  forty  dollars."    • 

"  No  nets  shall  be  set  or  allowed  to  remain  set  be- 
tween an  hour  before  sunset  on  Saturday,  and  an  hour 
after  sunrise  on  JMonday,  under  a  penalty  of  forty 
dollars." 

"  Any  person  spearing  salmon  or  sweeping  with  a  net 
therefor  in  fresh  water  is  liable  to  a  penalty  of  forty 
dollars." 


298  FOREST  LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 

"  Nets  shall  only  be  placed  on  one  side  of  a  river,  shall 
not  extend  more  than  one-third  across  the  same,  shall  not 
be  placed  nearer  than  an  eighth  of  a  mile  to  each  other, 
nor  nearer  than  an  eighth  of  a  mile  to  any  dam." 

**  Every  dam  shall  have  a  sufficient  fish  way,  which 
shall  be  kept  open  during  the  months  of  March,  May, 
June,  and  July.  The  owner  or  occupier  is  liable  to  a 
penalty  of  forty  dollars  for  every  time  he  shall  close 
such  passage." 

"  The  owner  of  a  mill  who,  after  being  duly  notified, 
shall  neglect  or  refuse  to  construct  a  sufficient  fish  way 
is  liable  to  a  penalty  of  one  hundred  dollars,  and  if 
within  ten  days  after  such  penalty  has  been  inflicted  he 
does  not  construct  such  fish  way  he  is  liable  to  have  his 
dam  wholly  prostrated." 

In  resj)ect  of  the  large  game,  the  law  stands, — 

"  No  person  shall  kill,  or  pursue  with  intent  to  kill, 
any  moose,  save  only  during  the  months  of  September, 
October,  November,  and  December,  or  shall  expose  for 
sale,  or  have  in  his  or  her  possession,  any  green  moose 
skin  or  fresh  moose  meat,  save  only  in  the  months  afore- 
said, and  the  first  five  days  in  the  month  of  January  ; 
and  no  person  shall  kill,  or  pursue  with  intent  to  kill, 
any  cariboo  between  the  first  days  of  March  and  Sep- 
tember inclusive  in  any  year." 

"No  person  shall  kill  more  than  five  moose  or  cari- 
boo, during  any  one  year  or  season,  under  a  penalty 
of  twenty  dollars  for  each  ofience  —  one-half  to  the 
informer." 

"  No  person  whatever  sludl  set  snares  or  traps,  for 
moose  or  cariboo,  under  a  penalty  of  twenty  dollars — 
one  half  to  the  informer." 


CAMPING   OUT.  299 

"  The  export  from  this  Province  of  moose  or  cariboo 
hides  is  hereby  prohibited  and  unlawful,  and  the  hides 
attempted  to  be  exported  shall  be  forfeited,  and  the 
owner  or  person  attempting  to  export  the  same  shall, 
on  conviction,  be  liable  to  pay  a  sum  not  to  exceed  five 
dollars  on  each  hide,  to  be  recovered  in  the  name  of  any 
prosecutor  in  a  summary  manner  before  two  justices  of 
the  peace,  and,  when  recovered,  to  go  to  the  prose- 
cutor." 

With  regard  to  smaller  game, — 

"  No  snares  shall  be  set  for  hares  Ijetween  the  first 
days  of  March  and  September  in  any  year,  under  a 
penalty  of  two  dollars  for  each  offence ;  and  all  snares 
shall  be  taken  up  during  the  aforesaid  close  season  under 
a  penalty  of  two  dollars  for  each  snare  not  removed  by 
the  parties  setting  the  same,  on  or  before  the  first  day  of 
March,  to  be  recovered  in  the  same  manner  as  in  the 
preceding  section." 

"  Partridges,  snipe,  and  woodcock,  are  protected  from 
1st  day  of  March  to  1st  of  September, — penalty,  ten 
shillings  for  every  bird  killed  out  of  season." 

"  No  person  is  permitted  to  have  any  of  the  above  in 
his  possession  in  the  close  season,  under  a  penalty  of  ten 
shillings  for  each." 

Exceptional  cases  to  all  the  game  laws  are  made  on 
behalf  of  the  Indians,  who  abuse  their  privilege,  however, 
most  shamefully,  and  to  the  detriment  of  those  for  whom 
the  preservation  of  the  animals  of  the  forest  is  yearly 
becoming  of  more  importance.  It  is  very  well  to  argue 
that  the  poor  Indian  has  a  right  to  shoot  a  moose  or 
spear  a  sahnon  for  his  own  use  at  any  time  of  the  year ; 
but  when  they  shoot  moose  wholesale  in  the  deep  snow 


300  FOREST  LIFE  IN  ACADIE. 

late  in  the  spring,  disturbing  the  cows  when  they  ought 
to  be  at  peace,  and  often  leaving  piles  of  meat  to  decay 
in  the  fast-melting  snow  of  April,  it  is  time  that  this 
wanton  mode  of  proceeding  should  l)e  put  an  end  to.  It 
is  hardly,  however,  at  their  doors  that  the  blame  is  to 
be  laid — it  is  the  ready  market  that  tempts  them ;  and 
although  a  question  would  be  raised  if  they  were  to 
bring  their  meat  into  the  larger  provincial  towns,  yet  the 
residents  at  the  smaller  settlements  will  always  purchase 
whenever  they  can  procure  it,  the  local  mtigistrates  them- 
selves sometimes  setting  the  example.  The  month  of 
April  is  an  idle  time  with  the  settlers,  and  they  often 
accompany  the  Indians,  who  may  be  located  in  their 
neighbourhood,  lor  a  "  spree  "  in  the  woods,  chasing  and 
scaring  the  moose  with  long-legged  noisy  curs,  on  the 
crusted  surface  of  the  old  snow.  Throughout  North 
America  there  seems  to  be  a  general  difficulty  and 
unwillingness,  on  the  part  of  the  local  authorities,  to 
maintain  the  dignity  of  the  game  laws — the  more  so  as 
the  locality  is  further  from  the  seat  of  government  wliere 
the  laws  are  framed.  And  until  the  government  can 
pay  overseers  who  shall  be  scrupulously  independent  of 
favour  or  partiality,  in  the  districts  to  which  they  are 
appointed,  and  whose  whole  care  shall  be  to  Ijring  to 
justice  every  case  in  which  the  law  is  transgressed,  we 
can  hope  for  no  satisfactory  and  impartial  protection  of 
game  or  salmon  in  those  districts  in  which  such  protec- 
tion is  most  required. 

The  author,  for  many  years  connected  with  the  Council 
of  the  Nova  Scotian  Inland  Fisheric^s  and  Game  Preser- 
vation Society  (latterly  as  Vice-President),  under  the 
continued  direction  of  his  esteemed  personal  friend,  fre- 


CAMPING   OUT.  301 

quently  mentioned  in  these  pages  as  "The  Old  Hunter,"* 
who  has  presided  over  it  since  its  inception,  has  had 
much  to  do  with  the  framing  of  the  present  laws  relating 
to  large  game. 

From  the  almost  incredible  slaughter  of  moose  in  the 
concluding  winter  months,  consequent,  in  some  seasons, 
on  a  continuance  of  deep  encrusted  snow  in  the  woods,  a 
restriction  of  the  season  in  which  these  animals  might 
formerly  be  killed  (lasting  until  the  last  day  of  February) 
appeared  a  most  necessary  step.  Though  as  trae  sport 
moose  hunting  is  seldom  pursued  in  the  latter  part  of  the 
winter,  yet  the  instincts  of  the  Indians,  and  of  the  set- 
tlers generally,  appear  so  ferocious  that  they  seek  the 
opportunity  of  the  animals'  most  prostrate  and  defence- 
less condition  to  inflict  a  slaughter  the  excitement  of 
which  apparently  temporarily  blinds  them  to  reason.  Of 
the  Indians  it  is  the  old  story,  corroborated  by  every 
traveller  from  Labrador  to  Vancouver,  from  the  Prairies 
to  the  Pole.  With  regard  to  the  latter  class,  it  is 
enough  to  say  that  the  time  when  the  crust  will  bear 
their  yelping  curs,  racing  the  plunging,  bleeding  moose 
through  the  forest,  is  looked  forward  to  wdtli  the  greatest 
anticipations  of  pleasure. 

In  view  of  amendment  of  this  lamentable  state  of 
affairs,  the  regulations  concerning  the  hunting  of  the  elk 
in  the  Scandinavian  peninsula  were  referred  to.  Once, 
the  elk,  unprotected,  and  regarded  as  a  noxious  animal, 
was  on  the  point  of  extinction  in  Norway.  Government 
thereupon  enacted  a  stringent  law  forbidding  these  animals 
being  shot  for  a  long  term  of  years.     This  was  afterwards 

*  Lieut.-Colonel  William   Chcamley,   commanding  Halifax  Volunteer 
Battalion,  late  Captain  H.M.  8tli  Reyt.  (King's  Own). 


I 


302  FOREST   LIFE  IN  ACADIE. 

modified,  and  the  shooting  season  as  regards  elk  is  now 
from  the  1st  of  August  to  the  hist  day  of  October, 

As,  however,  in  Nova  Scotia  our  best  hunting  season 
is  comprised  in  the  first  two  winter  months — the  snow 
being  light,  and  so  giving  the  moose  every  chance  of 
escape,  whilst  it  enables  the  carcass,  when  shot,  to  be 
taken  easily  out  of  the  woods — it  was  deemed  expedient 
to  terminate  moose  hunting  with  the  last  day  of  the  year ; 
and  so  the  case  now  stands. 

In  a  country  like  Nova  Scotia,  where  a  gun  is  kept  in 
almost  eveiy  homestead  bordering  on  the  forest,  or  where 
by  the  river  side  the  barns  are  constantly  occupied  by 
drying  nets,  whilst  the  placid  pools  are  nightly  enlivened 
by  burning  birch  bark,  that  its  fish  and  wild  unprotected 
game  of  all  descriptions  should  have  rapidly  declined  in 
abundance  within  the  memory  of  comparatively  young 
people,  is  not  much  to  be  wondered  at.  The  whole  con- 
tinent of  North  America,  not  only  within  its  settled 
districts  but  even  in  the  remotest  wilds  penetrated  by  the 
mercenary  hunter,  has  undergone  a  great  change  in  the 
relation  between  the  distribution  of  its  animal  life  and  the 
other  features  of  its  physical  geography  within  the  last 
quarter  of  a  century.  The  Anglo-Saxon  transplanted  has 
revelled  in  his  inherent  love  of  sport,  which  frequently 
turns  into  a  lust  of  slaughter,  until  the  game  of  North 
America  has  in  many  cases  altogether  disappeared  before 
the  cruel  tide  of  wanton  destruction  which  has  overtaken 
it.  T'his  decrease  is  yearly  accelerated  by  increasing 
demand  for  the  spoils  of  the  chase  or  the  products  of  the 
waters,  the  inevitable  result  being  extinction  of  species. 

And  now  our  neighbours  of  the  Northern  States,  who 
have  completely  lost  their  salmon  long  since,  and  can 


CAMPINQ  OUT.  303 

scarcely  boast  of  any  game  in  their  wild  lands  east  of  the 
prairies,  are  calling  loudly  for  restocking  their  rivers  arti- 
ficially in  the  one  case,  and,  in  the  other,  have  enacted 
stringent  laws  to  preserve  the  scanty  remnant  of  their 
deer  and  grouse. 

However  inexpedient  or  impracticable  it  may  have 
been  in  the  earlier  history  of  the  country  to  stem  the 
torrent  of  wasteful  destruction  which  has  swept  over  this 
continent,  there  is  no  doubt  that  here,  as  in  every  other 
part  of  the  world,  increasing  civilisation  would  at  length 
call  for  protection  of  game.  Game,  both  as  a  luxury  and 
as  a  means  of  recreation,  is  a  necessary  adjunct  to  the 
establishment  of  a  country  tenanted  by  Anglo-Saxons. 
Witness  the  anxiety  with  which  our  antipodal  colonists 
are  watching  their  attempts  to  introduce  deer,  game 
birds,  and  salmon  into  Australia,  Tasmania,  and  New 
Zealand  ;  and  the  eagerness  with  which  the  young  sports- 
men of  the  great  cities  of  the  States  disperse  themselves 
throughout  the  land  in  search  of  recreation  from  the 
prairies  to  the  rivers  of  Labrador.  This  demand  will 
eventually  in  this  country  ensure  protection.  Nature's 
great  stock-farm,  though  nearly  worn  out  by  the  reck- 
lessness of  the  first-comers,  will  yet  repay  careful 
husbandry ;  and  where  so  large  a  portion,  of  British 
North  America  especially,  is  destined  for  ever  to  remain 
in  a  state  of  nature,  it  is  the  duty  of  the  people  to  pre- 
vent it  from  becoming  an  unprofitable,  repulsive  wilder- 
ness ;  and  how  much  better  to  take  vigorous  measures  to 
preserve  the  remnant  of  the  former  stock  than  at  length 
be  compelled  to  have  recourse  to  the  tedious  process  of 
acclimatisation  or  of  artificial  propagation. 

It  is  perhaps  within  the  last  fifteen  years  that  the  mcjst 


304  FOREST  LIFE  IN   ACADIE. 

startling  dccrcnsc  has  taken  place,  both  in  the  salmon 
fislieri(>s  and  game  of  I^ritish  North  America,  and  has 
enfjam'd  the  attention  of  the  various  colonial  ffovern- 
mcnta.  Laws  to  protect  the  wild  animals  at  certain  times 
called  close  seasons,  jmd  stringent  regulations  to  ensure 
fair  play  to  the  salmon,  have  been  passed  throughout  our 
Atlantic  colonics  within  this  period.  As  regards  legisla- 
tion, nothing  seems  neglected,  and  still  the  game  and  fish 
arc  decreasing  as  heretofore.  We,  at  least  in  these  pro- 
vinces, never  hear  of  cases  of  game-law  breakers  in  the 
police  reports,  yet,  granted  that  the  law  is  sufficient  to 
protect,  it  must  be  through  its  violation  that  the  evil  is 
not  checked.  The  constant  cause  of  this  we  all  know  to 
be  the  defectiveness  of  administration,  and  in  this  part  of 
the  world,  where  there  is  no  such  thing  as  poaching  upon 
private  property,  which  in  England  would  lead  to  pro- 
secution through  the  injured  rights  of  an  individual,  we 
do  not  wonder  at  it.  In  the  old  country  the  game  is 
private  property,  to  protect  which  the  game-laws  are 
framed  ;  whilst  in  the  protection  of  the  salmon  there  are 
mixed  interests — the  great  value  of  the  fisheries  to  the 
country,  the  netting  interests  at  the  mouths,  and  those 
of  the  proprietors  of  the  inland  fisheries  on  the  rivers 
passing  through  their  estates  or  rented.  Consequently 
any  violation  of  either  game  or  fishery  law  is  there 
directly  injurious  to  a  proprietor,  and  so  meets  with  quick 
justice. 

In  Nova  Scotia,  New  Brunswick,  or  Canada,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  wild  denizens  of  the  forests,  commonly 
called  game,  are  public  property,  or  rather  the  property 
of  the  country.  No  private  rights  are  infringed  by  moose 
hunting  or  partridge  shooting  in  any  part  of  the  country 


4 


CAMPING  OUT.  :)06 


at  any  Hcason,  wliilst,  in  the  ahsoiice  of  proprietors  of 
inland  fislu^rii's,  tlio  netting  interests  become  so  over- 
wlutlminjif  that  it  is  not  surprising  that  tlie  Law  should  be 
boldly  challenged  to  prevent  the  salmon  being  apeansd 
and  netted  on  their  beds  to  the  very  end  of  the  spawning 
season.  It  is  to  assist  in  carrying  out  the  protection 
aftbrded  by  law  that  societies  hava^  sprunpj  np  in  various 
parts  of  British  Ameri.-a  witliin  the  al)ove-nienti»>ned 
period  of  time — pul)lic  associations  of  all  members  of  the 
comtiiunity  who  are  anxious  to  arrest  the  dcscline  of  tish 
and  game,  and  willing  to  pay  a  small  annual  subscription 
to  the  funds  of  the  society,  binding  themselves  to  [)ring 
to  its  notice  for  prosecution  all  cases  of  infringement  of 
the  law  coming  under  their  cognisance.  The  Canadian 
fish  and  game  clubs  radiating  through  the  country  from 
the  parent  society  at  Quebec,  where  the  system  com- 
menced in  1857,  have  met  with  marked  success,  from  the 
spirit  with  which  they  have  been  conduct(?d  ;  and  now 
the  tributaries  o{  the  Saint  Lawrence  in  the  vicinity  of 
Quebec  again  afford  excellent  sport,  and  jiromise  fairly  to 
return  to  tJieir  former  importance  as  sidmon  rivers,  where 
for  years  before  this  fish  had  all  but  become  extinct. 

The  Nova  Scotian  Association,  before  alluded  to  has 
likewise  similarly  striven,  and  succeeded  in  enlisting  a 
large  number  of  sympathising  contributors  to  its  support, 
not  only  from  the  sporting  community  but  amcjngst  some 
of  the  mill-owners  themselves.  To  the  willingness  of  this 
class  in  many  instances  to  open  up  the  rivers,  which  their 
mills  and  mill-dams  at  present  obstruct,  to  the  passage  of 
salmon  and  gaspereaux,  I  gladly  bear  witness.  The  one 
uncompromising  form  of  fish-ladder,  however,  which  it 
was  first  attempted  by  government  to  force  upon  them, 


306  FOREST  LIFE  IN  ACADIE. 

regardless  of  local  peculiarities  of  their  "water  privileges," 
proved  a  nauseating  dose,  and  no  wonder.  Every  mill- 
dam  lias  some  peculiar  features  as  regards  the  bed  of  the 
river.  In  many  cases  a  few  natural  steps  by  the  rocky 
sides  of  a  fall  will  answer  all  the  purposes  ;  in  others  a 
single  slanting  board  opposing  the  fall  over  a  small  dam 
will  give  all  the  water  n^^cessary  to  the  ascent  of  fish.  At 
all  events,  local  circumstances  are  so  various  that  no  one 
pattern  of  fish-ladder  can  be  authorised  for  aay  number 
of  streams.  A  government  officer — a  thorough  engineer, 
and  perfectly  acquainted  with  the  habits  and  necessities 
of  salmon  and  other  migratory  fish,  is  what  is  wanted  in 
Nova  Scotia  (in  Canada  the  want  is  supplied),  and  to  con- 
clude in  my  own  words  in  framing  a  report  on  this 
subject  two  years  since,  "Your  committee  beg  to  state 
their  conviction  that,  althougli  the  society  has  not  been 
idle,  hut  little  can  he  effected  in  ca>  /  (/iiig  out  a  proper 
supervision  of  the  inland  JisJieries,  unless  an  independent 
and  scdaried  officer  he  ap>pointed  by  the  Provincial 
Government. 

"  The  difficulties  of  prosecution,  owing  to  the  local 
partialities  of  both  witnesses  and  magistrates,  would  then 
be  removed,  whilst  the  judgment  and  advice  of  sucli  an 
executive,  with  regard  to  the  placing  of  eflicient  fish- 
ladders,  under  the  various  peculiarities  of  river  banks  and 
mill-dams,  would  be  considered  decisive  in  overcoming 
all  obstructions." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE   PROGRESS   OF   THE   SEASONS. 

The  parting  of  the  icy  chains  of  winter,  and  the  return 
of  spring,  is  the  most  acceptable  change  in  the  seasons  of 
the  year  in  North  America.  The  latter  part  of  the  winter 
is  most  tedious,  and  the  strong  links  with  which  it  binds 
the  face  of  nature  are  snapped  but  slowly — so  slowly  that 
one  is  apt  to  become  very  impatient — heartily  sick  of  the 
sight  of  snow  and  the  tinkling  sleigh-bells.  The  I7tli 
March,  as  a  general  rule,  is  about  the  time  of  the  first 
appreciable  change.  Warm  rains  and  reeking  fogs  cause 
the  snow  to  disappear  rapidly  ;  here  and  there  the  roads 
exhibit  patches  of  bare  ground  with  deep  mud,  and  the 
settler's  sled  has  to  seek  the  strips  of  snow  which  still 
fringe  the  edge  of  the  road,  or  often  altogether  to  turn 
into  the  woods.  Now  may  be  seen  the  wild  goose  wing- 
ing his  way  in  long  wedge-shaped  flights  to  his  distant 
breeding-grounds  in  Hudson's  Bay,  alighting  on  the  way 
in  the  various  large  harbours  which,  from  the  extent  of  the 
flats  left  uncovered  by  the  receding  tide,  offer  a  secure 
rest  and  an  abundant  supply  of  marine  grasses.  I  know 
of  no  more  pleasing  sight  at  this  season  than  the  passage 
of  a  phalanx  of  wild  geese  :  majestically  cleaving  the  air 
with  slow,  measured  strokes,  they  press  onwards  towards 
their  distant  resorts,  hundreds  of  feet  above  you,  now  and 

X  '2 


308  FOREST  LIFE   IN  ACADIE. 

again  uttering  their  wild  note  of  apparent  encouragement 
— "  honk  !  hawnk  !  " — a  sure  sign  of  the  Avintcr  breaking 
up  for  good. 

"  Hawnk  !  honk  !  and  for'ard  to  the  Nor'ard,  is  the  trumpet-tone, 
What  goose  can  lag,  or  feather  flag,  or  break  the  goodly  cone  ? 
Hawnk  !  onward  to  the  cool  blue  lakes  where  lie  our  safe  love-bowers  ; 
No  stop,  no  drop  of  ocean  brine,  near  stool  or  hassock  hoary, 
Our  travelling  watchword  is  "  Our  mates,  our  goslings,  and  our  glory  !  " 
Synisonia  and  Labrador  for  us  are  crowiiM  with  flowers, 
And  not  a  breast  on  wave  shall  rest  until  tliat  heaven  is  ours. 

Ha^vnk !  hawnk !  E-e  hawnk  ! 

Frank  Forester. 

Then  come  a  few  w?irm,  sunny  days,  and  the  expres- 
sion of  Nature's  features  appears  quite  altered,  and  our 
welcome  guests,  the  early  migratory  birds,  arrive  from 
the  more  genial  southern  climes,  filling  the  long-silent 
woods  with  animation  and  melody.  And,  first,  the  well- 
known  robin,  or  rather  red-breasted  thrush  (Turdus 
migratorius),  afiects  warm,  sunny  banks  in  open  woods, 
whence  he  springs  with  a  sudden  not<3  of  alarm  as  the 
murderous  boy,  bent  on  developing  his  sporting  pro- 
pensities, creeps  with  levelled  gun  over  the  hill's  brow, 
and  seeks  to  "fill  his  gaping  tuneful  bill  with  blood." 
Then  is  heard  the  whistle  of  the  rusty  grackle  (Q.  ferru- 
gineus),  and  the  cheerful  notes  of  the  song  sparrow 
(F.  melodia),  and  before  the  end  of  March  the  woodcock 
(M.  Americana)  may  be  seen,  in  the  evening,  running 
through  the  swamps  and  warm  springs  l)y  the  road-side, 
every  now  and  then  stopping  to  bore  for  worms,  and  from 
its  comparative  tameness  at  this  season,  becoming  an  easy 
prey  to  the  poacher  or  our  friend  (?)  the  robin-shooter. 
But,  alas !  all  these  pleasant  appearances  of  spring  are 
but  transient  charms ;  back  comes  the  frost,  and  the 
wintry  blast,  and  the  snow-storm  ;  the  gentle  advances 


THE  PROGRESS  OF  THE  SEASONS,  309 

of  spring  are  rudely  repelled,  and  the  rills  from  the 
melting  snow  again  arrested,  and — 

"  What  will  the  robin  do  then,  poor  thing  ? " 

However,  April  ushers  in  some  fine  days,  and  the  increas- 
ing power  of  the  sun  tells  upon  the  masses  of  snow  in 
the  fir-woods  and  the  rotting  ice  in  the  lakes  ;  and  at 
last  comes  a  fierce  storm  of  wind  and  rain,  with  a  warm, 
oppressive  atmosphere,  as  if  the  genial  breath  of  spring, 
tired  of  attempting  to  coax  away  the  departing  chills  of 
Avinter,  had  now  determined  to  exert  all  its  force,  and 
with  hot  gales  and  heavy  rains  ease  the  surface  of  the 
country  and  lakes  of  their  icy  garments.  Now  a  change 
is  indeed  evident ;  the  snow,  with  the  exception  of  a 
patch  or  two  in  hollows,  has  all  disappeared  from  the  face 
of  the  earth,  and  the  great  monotonous  fir-woods  them- 
selves lose  their  dark  wintry  aspect  and  blackness,  assuming 
a  lively  green  tint,  and  emitting,  as  one  wanders  through 
their  sunny  glades,  faint  odours  of  that  delicious  aroma 
which  pervades  the  atmosphere  in  the  heat  of  midsummer. 
How  great  a  relief  this  to  the  resident  in  these  climes, 
subject  so  long  to  the  stern  rule  of  winter  !  What  heart 
does  not  feel  forgotten  memories  recalled,  when,  wander- 
ing along  sunny  banks  in  the  fir- woods,  the  first  blossom 
of  the  fnigraut  jNIay-fiower  is  seen  and  culled  ?  "  We 
bloom  amid  the  snow,"  is  the  motto  of  our  province  ;  and 
the  ]\lay-flower  (Epiga3a  repens)  is  to  us  what  the  violet, 
sou«^lit  in  hediie-rows,  is  to  our  friends  at  home — entail- 
ino;  the  same  close  search  for  its  retirinof  blossoms,  and 
evoking  the  same  feelings  of  gladness  and  hope.  And 
we  cling  to  these  balmy  spring  days  all  the  more  closely 
as  we  dread  the  chill  easterly  wind,  and  the  dark  sea-fog 


I 


310  FOREST  LIFE  IN  ACADIE. 

which  may  cover  us  with  its  gloom  on  the  morrow ;  for 
we  live  on  the  shores  of  the  "  mournful  and  misty  Atlan- 
tic," and  many  a  spring  day  must  yet  be  darkened  by  fog 
and  chilled  by  gales  from  the  floating  ice-fields  drifting 
down  the  coast,  before  the  tardy  green  leaves  of  the  hard- 
woods fully  appear. 

About  the  20th  of  May  the  presence  of  spring  is  per- 
ceptible in  the  sprouting  of  little  leaves  on  almost  all  the 
smaller  deciduous  shrubs,  simultaneously  with  the  light 
green  sprays  of  the  larch.  From  this  time  vegetation 
progresses  with  extraordinary  rapidity  ;  a  delightful 
change  in  the  atmosphere  almost  invariably  occurs ;  the 
cold  easterly  winds  cease  ;  balmy  airs  from  the  westward 
succeed,  and  assist  in  developing  the  tender  buds  and 
blossoms,  and  in  a  few  days  the  face  of  the  country, 
lately  so  bare  and  dreary,  glows  with  warmth  and  beauty. 
All  nature  rejoices  in  this  pleasant  season  ;  the  songs  of 
the  hermit-thrush  (T.  solitarius),  robin,  and  of  a  host  of 
warblers,  the  cheerful  piping  of  the  frogs  throup-hout  the 
warm  night,  and  the  soft  west  wind,  which  lo  rrows  an 
indescribable  fragrance  from  the  blossoms  of  inaumerable 
shrubs  and  plants  now  flowering  in  the  woods  and  on  the 
barrens,  afford  charms  which  more  than  repay  for  the 
gloom  of  the  long  and  trying  winter. 

The  red  blossoming  maple  (Acer  rubrum)  now  exhibits 
crimson  flower-clusters  topping  each  spray,  almost  vicing 
in  colour  with  the  glories  of  its  autumnal  foliage  :  the 
Indian  pear  (Amelanchier)  and  wild  cherry  (C.  Pennsyl- 
vanica),  growing  in  great  abundance  throughout  the 
countiy,  seem  overburdened  with  their  masses  of  delicate 
white  blossoms,  and  impart  a  fragrance  to  the  air,  in 
which  are  mingled  a  thousand  other  scents ;  for  in  this 


THE  PROGRESS  OF  THE  SEASONS.  311 

land  nearly  every  shrub  and  plant  bears  sweet-smelling 
flowers.  The  blueberry,  huckleberry,  and  other  Vaccinise 
now  show  their  pretty  heath-like  blossoms  in  promise  of 
the  abundant  harvest  of  delicious  fruit  which  is  so  ac- 
ceptable to  birds,  bears,  and  bipeds  throughout  the  fall ; 
the  rich  carpet  of  mosses  in  the  fir-woods  is  adorned 
with  a  great  variety  of  flowers,  the  most  frequent  being 
the  common  pigeon-bei-ry  (Cornus  Canadensis),  whose 
bright  scarlet  clusters  of  berries  look  so  pretty  in  the  fall 
in  contrast  with  the  green  moss ;  and  large  tracts  of 
country  are  tinted  by  the  rich  lilac  flower-masses  of  the 
wild  azalea  (Rhodora  Canadensis),  which  blossoms  even 
before  its  leaves  have  sprouted  from  their  buds.  Many 
of  thf^  young  leaves  of  the  poplars,  willows,  and  others 
are  coated  with  a  canescent  down,  and,  as  they  tremble 
in  the  sunlight,  with  waving  masses  of  white  blossoms, 
give  {I  sparkling  and  silvery  appearance  to  the  country, 
which  is  very  beautiful  and  attractive. 

This  delightful  season  is,  however,  of  short  duration — 
imperceptibly  losing  itself  in  the  increasing  heat  and 
development  of  summer.  A  few  days  change  the  aspect 
of  the  country  marvellously,  and  the  broadly-expanding 
leaves  of  the  maples  produce  a  dense  canopy  of  shade 
in  the  forest,  hiding  the  granite  boulders  and  prostrate 
rampikes  on  the  barren  by  covering  the  buslics  with  a 
drapery  of  lovely  green.  Nothing  can  be  l)rigliter  than 
American  spring  verdure,  nor  does  it  degenerate  into 
the  dull  heavy  green  of  English  summer  foliage — the 
leaves  maintaininsj  their  vernal  hue  on  the  same  branch, 
side  by  side  with  tlie  brilliant  orange  scarlet  of  their 
dying  fellows,  at  that  beautiful  season  the  fall  of  the 
leaf 


312  FOREST  LIFE   IN  ACADIE. 

The  advent  of  summer  is  characterized  by  the  waning 
of  the  flower-masses  of  the  Rhodora,  and  the  succession 
of  the  crimson  whorls  of  the  Kalmias  (K.  angustifolia 
and  K.  ghiuca)  as  prominent  species.  The  Kahnia, 
locally  termed  laurel,  enlivens  large  tracts  of  forest,  as 
does  the  last-named  shrub  earlier,  and  forms  a  pleasing 
contrast  to  the  new  green  shoots  of  the  young  coniferse. 
The  moss  in  the  greenwoods  is  now  covered  with  the 
nodding  bells  of  the  twin  flower  (Linncea  borejdis)  which, 
in  imparting  frjigrance  to  the  atmosphere,  takes  the  place 
of  two  pretty  little  sj^ring  flowers,  the  star-shaped  Tri- 
cntalis,  and  the  (locally  so  called)  lily  of  the  valley 
(Smilacini.  bifolia).  The  swamp  vegetation,  headed  by 
the  Indian  cup  (Sarracenia  purpurea)  and  blue  flag  (Iris 
versicolor),  flowers  abundantly  in  ponds  and  moist  hollows 
in  the  woods,  the  dark-red  drooping  petals  of  the  former 
prettily  contrasting  with  the  blue  of  the  iris.  The  large, 
yellow-throated  frog  (Rana  fontinalis)  here  rules  the 
world  of  reptile  life  ;  his  solemn  ejaculation — "  glum  I 
glumpk  !  "  is  heard  in  every  direction  and  at  regular 
intervals,  mingled  with  the  long  trilling  love-note  of 
Bufo  Americanus — the  common  toad — and  the  shai-p  and 
ceaseless  cries  of  the  little  Hylodes  (H.  Pickeringii).  The 
deciduous  foliage  attains  its  full  development ;  ferns  are 
strong  and  their  spores  beginning  to  ripen.  The  whip- 
poor-will  (Caprinmlgus  vociferus),  and  the  night  hawk 
(C.  Virginianus) — reading  representatives  of  summer 
birds — arrive ;  and  the  plaintive  song  of  the  former — 
"  Wyp-6-il  "■ — repeated  in  fast  succession  and  at  frequent 
intervals,  is  now  heard  in  the  maple-bush  copses  by  lake 
or  river-side  throughout  the  night,  with  the  shriU  scream 
of  the  night  hawk,  and  the  strange  booming  sound  which 


\ 


THE  niOGRESS  OF  THE  SEASONS.  313 

is  produced  by  the  latter  bird  in  rushing  perpendicularly 
downwards  on  its  prey. 

The  fir  forest  at  this  season  becomes  intensely  heated, 
and  emits  a  strong  aromatic  odour.  Where  a  tree  has 
fallen  its  withering  branches  fill  the  air  for  some 
distance  around  with  a  most  delightfully  fragrant  scent 
of  strawberries.  To  the  sojourner  or  traveller  in 
the  woods,  the  shelter  and  cool  air  under  deciduous 
trees,  in  groves  of  maple  or  birches,  is  an  appreciable 
relief. 

Lastly  comes  the  flora  of  autumn,  with  its  asters  and 
golden-rods;  and  these,  choosing  open  barrens  and  fields 
as  their  residence,  leave  the  woodlands  almost  Avithout  a 
flower. 

Towards  the  end  of  August  some  of  the  features  of 
the  fall  are  developed.  Maple  leaves  turn  colour  in 
unhealthy  situations  —  as  where  the  trees  have  been 
subjected  to  inundation  during  the  summer,  and  have 
consequently  lost  the  vigour  necessary  to  resist  the  frosty 
air  of  the  nights. 

The  plovers  arrive,  and  the  wild  pigeon  is  found  in 
large  flocks  on  the  ground  feeding  on  the  ripe  pigeon- 
berries.  The  barrens  now  afford  astonishing  supplies  of 
berries  of  many  sorts  of  Ericaceae,  and  an  unpremeditated 
meeting  not  unfrequently  occurs  between  the  bear  and 
the  biped,  both  intent  on  culling  a  portion  of  the  luscious 
harvest. 

In  September  the  full  brightness  of  the  fall  colour  is 
brought  out  on  deciduous  foliage  ;  fast  fading,  however, 
towards  the  close  of  the  month,  and  altogether  disappear- 
ing by  the  end  of  October — the  last  lingering  phases  of 
autumnal  gloiy  being  the  rich  golden-yellow  hue  assumed 


1 


314  FOREST  LIFE  IN  ACADIE. 

by  the  larch,  and  the  dark  Indian-red  of  the  leaves  of 
the  oak  and  whortleberry. 

Then  comes  the  Indian  summer — a  season  of  dreamy 
delight,  when  a  warm,  hazy  atmosphere  mellows  the 
rich  brown  foreground  and  distant  blue  hills  of  the 
woodlnnd  picture,  and  all  nature  seems  to  bask  in  a  calm 
serenity.  The  hermit  thrush  now  warl)les  forth  his  fare- 
well from  the  spmce  groves ;  the  robins  congregate  on 
the  barrens,  busily  picking  the  remains  of  the  berry-har- 
vest ere  their  departure  for  the  suutli ;  and  the  squirrels 
and  wood-maiTOots  hasten  into  their  granaries  their 
winter  supplies  of  acorns  and  beech-mast. 

November  is  not  far  advanced  before  cold  northerly 
winds  and  black  frosts  remove  all  traces  of  the  beautiful 
fall.  The  boar  and  the  marmot  hybernate  ;  the  moose 
select  their  winter  yards ;  the  last  detachments  of 
lingering  robins  depart,  and  the  retreating  columns  of 
wild  geese  are  soon  followed  by  the  fierce  driving  storm, 
which  buries  the  hard-frozen  ground  under  the  first  snows 
of  the  long  American  winter.  Varying  in  intensity  of  cold 
and  general  chanfjeableness  of  climate,  according  to  dis- 
tance  from  the  sea  and  the  influence  of  the  gulf  stream, 
the  winter  drags  on  with  but  little  to  mark  the  monotony 
of  its  course.  On  the  sea-board  of  the  maritime  pro- 
vinces snow  and  rain  constantly  succeed  each  other,  and 
fields  and  clearings  are  often  buried  and  as  often  bared ; 
but  back  in  the  woods  even  the  long  January  thaw, 
which  is  of  regular  occurrence  in  these  regions,  makes 
but  little  impression  on  the  steadily  accumulating  snow. 

The  summer  birds  have  all  left,  and  the  frogs  are  deeply 
buried  beneath  the  mud  at  the  bottom  of  ponds.  On 
the  smooth  white  surface,  which  is  spread  over  his  former 


THE  PROGRESS  OF  THE  SEASONS,  815 

hidiug-pLaccs  in  the  forest,  the  little  Amcriciin  bare 
(Lepus  Araericanus)  has  assumed  his  winter  coat,  assimi- 
lated in  colour  to  the  face  of  nature,  and  affordinsr 
somewhat  of  protection  from  the  numerous  enemies 
which  hunt  him  on  the  snow  so  unrelentingly — the  two 
lynxes,  the  foxes,  the  great  fisher-marten,  and  the  tree- 
marten,  and  lastly,  and  most  perseveringly  of  all,  the 
little  ermine  weasel.  But  he  has  feathered  enemies 
besides — the  horned  and  snowy  owls,  as  well  as  one  or 
two  of  the  larger  hawks.  Considering  the  abundance 
in  which  the  former  bird  occurs  in  the  forest,  and 
the  lengthy  list  of  his  foes,  it  appears  marvellous  'that 
the  little  rabbit,  as  he  is  locally  called,  is  able,  with 
his  family  increasing  only  in  the  summer  months, 
not  merely  to  exist  as  a  species,  but  to  contribute  so 
largely  as  he  does  to  the  winter  food  of  the  human 
population. 

Undeniably  gloomy  as  is  the  general  character  of  the 
American  winter,  apart  from  the  vigorous  bustle  of 
civilization,  there  are  days  when  even  the  forest  affords 
sensations  of  pleasure  to  the  observer  of  nature.  What 
can  be  more  beautiful  than  early  morning,  after  a  long- 
continued  snow-storm,  when  the  sun  rises  in  a  sky  of 
purest  blue,  speckled,  perhaps,  with  light  fleecy  cirrlii,  and 
looking  almost  as  the  sky  of  a  summer  day  ?  Every 
branch  and  bough  is  covered  with  radiant  crystals  of  the 
new  snow,  and  the  air  holds  a  delicious  freshness. 

Rising  from  his  soft  bed  of  silver-fir  boughs  before 
the  embers  of  the  great  logs  which  have  warmed  the 
camp  throughout  the  night,  the  hunter  steps  forth  into 
the  briglit  morning  with  feelings  of  the  highest  exhilara- 
tion.     Not  a  branch  stii's,  save  where  the  busy  little 


Iri- 


31G  FOREST  LIFE   IN  ACADIE. 

titmice  or  gold-crests,  sporting  amongst  the  foliage,  dis- 
lodge u  shower  of  S2)arkling  crystals — 

"  Myriads  of  f,'eins  tliiit  in  tlie  waving  gleam 
Guy-twiuklt!  as  they  scatter," 

when  the  disencumbered  Loiio-h  flies  back  to  its  original 
position.  The  faintest  sound  finds  an  echo  amongst  the 
stems  of  the  forest  trees ;  the  chopjjing  of  an  axe  is 
borne  through  the  still  rarified  air  for  many  a  mile. 
Bii'd-life  is  in  full  activity.  The  Corvidte,  the  raven, 
crow,  blue-jay,  and  moose-bird  are  hunting  round  for 
their  morning  meal  of  carrion.  The  grosbeaks  and 
crossbills,  busily  engaged  on  the  fir-cones,  frequently 
rest  to  deliver  their  low  but  melodious  song  from  the 
topmost  sprays  of  the  pines.  The  taps  of  the  wood- 
peckers resound  from  the  hard  surftice  of  barked  trees, 
and  the  sharp,  wrathful  chirrup  of  the  common  red 
squirrel  (Sciurus  Hudsonius)  is  heard  in  every  direction. 
The  very  flight  of  birds  may  be  heard  at  a  considerable 
distance,  as  may  also  the  scratching  of  a  squirrel  against 
the  bark  as  he  races  up  a  trunk  some  two  hundred  yards 
away,  or  the  shuffling  of  the  porcupine  in  the  top 
branches  of  a  hemlock,  his  favourite  retreat  on  a  fine 
Avinter's  day. 

Short-lived,  however,  are  such  pleasant  breaks  in  the 
winter  weather.  The  short  day,  commencing  so  bril- 
liantly, more  frequently  closes  with  a  prevailing  leaden 
gloom  portending  more  snow,  or,  if  near  the  sea-coast,  a 
fierce  southerly  gale  and  rain. 

In  a  damp  atmosphere,  or  with  gentle  rain,  the  stratum 
of  air  nearest  the  ground  being  of  a  temperatm-e  below 
freezing  point,  every  spray  in  the  forest  becomes  coated 


THE   PROGRESS  OF  THE  SEASONS.  317 

with  ice.  Thus  originates  the  hciiutiful  phcnomoiion 
calk'd  a  silver  thtiw.  Seen  in  sunlight,  when  the  mists 
have  disjjersed,  the  forest  presents  a  wonderful  and  magic 
appearance  under  such  circumstances.  The  network  of 
the  smallest  bushes  is  brought  out  to  prominent  notice 
by  the  spai'kling  casing  of  ice,  and  the  surface  of  the 
snow  gleams  like  a  mirror.  Such  a  scene  as  I  once 
beheld  it  at  night  by  the  light  of  a  full  moon  was  most 
impressively  beautiful,  and,  I  would  almost  say,  unreal. 

Should  a  wind  arise  before  the  ice  has  melted,  much 
mischief  is  caused  amongst  the  heavily-laden  branches, 
which  make  the  wood  resound  with  their  snajipings. 

The  close  of  the  winter  is  the  most  disagreeable  season 
of  the  year,  and  the  discoloured  snow,  assuming  a  round 
granular  shape,  resists  the  sun  with  wonderful  tenacity. 
Night  frosts  consolidate  the  surface,  so  that  small 
animals,  and  man  himself,  are  carried  on  the  snow,  and 
leave  no  track.  The  bulky  moose  sinks  through  ;  flying 
from  his  pursuers  with  laborious  and  painful  strides,  and 
leaving  a  trail  of  blood  along  his  tracks  from  the  sharp 
edge  of  the  incrustation  cutting  his  legs,  he  soon 
succumbs  an  easy  prey  to  the  wanton  poacher.  The 
settlers'  sleds  and  ox-teams  are  now  in  full  activity, 
di'awing  out  the  logs  felled  during  the  winter  through 
the  woods  and  over  the  lakes  to  the  river-side  ;  and  the 
farmers  hasten  their  remaining  stock  of  produce  to  the 
market  and  purchase  their  seeds,  striving  to  return  before 
the  final  breaking  up  of  the  snow  leaves  the  roadway 
an  impassable  sea  of  mud. 


r<i 


31H  FOREST   LIFE  IN   ACADIE. 


NOTES  ON  rERIODIC  HIENOMENA. 

The  following  ol).scr\\itioiis  of  periodic  phenomena 
were  made  in  Halifax,  Nova  Scotia,  an  excellent  and 
central  station  for  observing  the  natural  features  of  the 
seasons  in  the  lower  provinces,  being  on  the  line  of 
migration  of  water  birds  as  well  as  of  such  land  birds 
as  pass  over  farther  to  the  north  or  eastward,  to  New- 
foundland or  Labrador.  Some  allowantic  must  be  made 
with  regard  to  locality  in  different  parts  of  the  provinces 
— as,  for  instance,  in  the  case  of  Montreal,  where  the 
advent  of  winter  and  of  spring  phenomena  is  rather  earlier 
than  at  Halifax,  or  of  Quebec,  where  the  latter  season  is 
more  backward,  and  a  lower  degree  of  mean  winter 
temperature  prevails  —  yet,  excepting  that  a  larger 
number  of  species  is  comprised  in  the  fauna  and  flora 
of  the  Canadas,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  in  Newfound- 
land, a  great  reduction  occurs  in  the  representation  of 
both  kingdoms  with  an  entire  absence  of  the  class 
Rc2:)tilia,  it  may  be  said  that  the  phenomena  of  the 
seasons  in  Nova  Scotia  afford  a  fair  index  to  such  occur- 
rences throughout  the  British  j)rovinces  of  North 
America  bordering  on  the  Atlantic* 

*  Mean  temperature  and  otmosplieric  pressure  for  four  years,  from  1863 
to  18G()  inclusive  : — 

Thermometer.  Barometer. 

Winter 24°  29-(J6° 

Spiing 39°  29-62° 

Summer 61°  29-68° 

Autumn 48°  29-67° 


Mean 43°  29-66° 

From  Proceedings  of  N.S.  Institute  of  Natural  Science, 


TIIK   PROORESS  OF  Till':  SEASONS.  319 


NOTES  OF  THE  YEAR   18()  . 

January  O.  Snow  falls  at  night  to  (l(>ptli  of  four 
inrhcH,  quite  level,  with  a  cold  N.E.  wind. 

G.  First  good  sleighing  of  the  year  in  Halifax  ;  ther- 
mometer ranges  about  12°  Fahr.  throughout  the  day. 

7.  Clear  and  cokl ;  thermometer,  —  5°.  A  dense  pall 
of  vapour  on  the  harbour,  obscuring  all  but  the  tops 
of  vessels,  and  coating  the  sides  and  rigging  with 
iee.  Large  numbere  of  smelts  and  frost-fish  (Morrliua 
pruinosa)  brought  to  nuirket ;  the  former  taken  with  bait 
through  holes  cut  in  the  ice  in  upper  harbours  or  large 
lakes  freely  communicating  with  the  sea  ;  the  latter  by 
bag-nets  in  rivers  at  the  head  of  the  tide,  where  they  are 
now  engaged  in  spawning.  They  are  only  taken  at  night, 
returning  at  daybreak  to  deep  water.  Trout,  taken 
through  the  ice,  and  brought  to  market,  dark  and  tlabby, 
and  quite  worthless. 

1 0.  The  north-west  arm  of  the  sea  in  rear  of  the  city 
of  Halifax  frozen  from  head  to  the  Chain  Battery,  two 
miles,  and  covered  with  light  snow.  Sleighing  on  roads 
excellent. 

10 — 21.  Mild,  close  weather,  with  southerly  winds 
and  occasional  lieavy  rains  ;  snow  nearly  disappears,  even 
in  the  woods  to  the  eastward.  This  is  an  instance  of  the 
usual  January  thaw. 

22.  Ice  on  the  lake  twelve  inches  thick.  Many  moose 
killed  during  the  thaw  brought  to  market ;  the  bulls  still 
retain  theii'  horns.  Eels  taken  in  harbours  by  spearing 
through  holes  in  the  ice  on  muddy  bottoms,  where  the_y 
lie  in  a  state  of  torpidity. 


320  FOREST  LIFE  IN  ACADIE. 

2G.  Four  inches  of  snow  full  during  day. 

27.  Calm,  clear  weather  ;  excellent  sleighing. 

28 — 31.  Very  variable  ;  soft  and  mild,  with  rain  from 
southward,  changing  to  hard  frost  with  N.W.  wind ;  three 
inches  of  snow  from  N.E.  on  31st. 

February  1.  Thermometer,  0°,  in  the  morning. 

2 — 7.  Very  oppressive,  unhealthy  weather  :  dense 
fogs  and  occasional  rains  ;  snow  disappearing,  except  in 
the  woods.  The  sap  is  commencing  to  flow  in  deciduous 
trees,  owing  to  the  mildness  of  the  weather  ;  buds  appear 
on  maples  and  currant  bushes. 

8.  Distant  thunder  heard. 

10 — 13,  Light  frosts  recommence.  Ground  bare  of 
snow  on  roads  ;  good  skating  on  lakes  and  arms  of  the 
sea,  all  the  snow  having  been  melted  off  the  surface. 

1 4.  Wind  shifts  to  N.,  with  gale  ;  mercury  falls  at 
night  to  0°. 

18.  Cold  weather  continues  ;  mercury,  —  2°,  at  eight 
A.M.  Good  sleighing,  considerable  snow  having  fallen 
since  the  change. 

22 — 24.  A  thaw ;  rain,  with  thick  sea  fogs ;  roads 
and  streets  deep  with  mud. 

26 — 27.  A  little  snow  falls,  succeeded  by  mild 
weather. 

March  2.  A  heavy  snow-storm  from  N.E.  ;  five  inches 
fall ;  the  sleighing  good.  Smelts,  caught  through  the 
ice,  still  brought  to  market,  but  becoming  more  scarce. 
The  song  sparrow  (F.  melodia),  a  few  of  which  stay  all 
winter,  singing  in  gardens. 

4.  Snow  disappearing  under  the  sun. 


THE  PROGRESS   OF  THE  SEASONS.  321 

5 — 10.  Very  variable  ;  much  rain. 

11.  First  salmon  brought  to  market  from  the  sea  at 
Margaret's  Bay.  Several  flocks  of  wild  geese  pass  over 
to  the  eastward.  A  few  robins  (Turdus  migratorius) 
seen.  It  is  uncertain  whether  these  are  new  comers,  as 
many  have  remained  aU  winter  around  the  Halifax 
peninsula. 

14.  The  fine,  warm  weather  of  past  few  days  dis- 
pelled by  a  northerly  snow-storm^,  with  14°  of  frost  at 
night.  Western  salmon  become  more  plentiful  in  the 
market.  The  fur  of  the  hare  assuming  its  summer  colour, 
showing  patches  of  light  brown  interspersed  with  the 
white. 

•  19.  Mild  and  clear,  after  rains.  Ice  on  the  lakes 
becomes  very  rotten,  and  unsafe  for  travelling.  The  rusty 
grakle  (Quiscalus  ferrugineus),  locally  termed  blackbird, 
arrives.  Immense  quantities  of  sea-fish,  comprising  cod, 
haddock,  and  halibut,  brought  to  market.  Woodcock 
arrives.  Robins  frequently  seen  in  open  spots  in  the 
woods  near  the  sea.  Snowbird  (Fringilla  nivalis)  arrives. 
A  few  have  remained  all  winter. 

23,  24.  Easterly  wind,  with  snow.  Sleighs  out  again 
in  the  streets. 

26.  Fine  and  mild. 

27.  Very  fine  and  pleasant.  The  song  sparrow  (F. 
melodia)  is  heard  frequently.  Grass  on  sloping  banks 
becoming  green.  Robins  find  worms  at  the  surface. 
Maple-trees  (Acer  saccharinum)  tapped  by  sugar  makers. 

30 — 31.  Cold  rains,  with  N.E.  wind.  Many  moose 
killed  by  settlers  in  woods  near  Annapolis,  where  the 
snow  still  continues  deep. 


322  FOREST   LIFE   IN   ACADIE. 

REMARKS    ON   THE   ABOVE   QUARTER. 

The  weather  during  the  foregoing  winter  months 
was  exceedingly  unsettled.  The  mean  temperatures  of 
January,  February,  and  March  were  23°,  26°  and  28°, 
respectively ;  the  minimum  of  cold  in  January,  —  5°, 
being  unusually  small.  There  are  few  instances  of  the 
two  coldest  mouths,  January  and  February,  passing  over 
without  --10°  to  —15°  being  registered.  Even  in  the 
beginning  of  March,  in  some  winters,  the  climate  is  still 
subject  to  the  occurrence  of  one  of  those  sudden  passages 
of  extreme  cold,  with  strong  N.  and  N.W.  winds,  which 
sweep  uniformly  over  the  continent  from  high  latitudes, 
and  form  the  most  dreaded  feature  of  the  North  Ame- 
rican winter.  On  these  occasions,  and  in  severe  visita- 
tions, the  mercury  will  fall  to  —  1 5°,  and  sometimes, 
though  very  rarely,  to  —20°,  at  Halifax,  Nova  Scotia ; 
the  minimum  contemporary  cold  indicated  at  Sydney, 
(Cape  Breton),  Frederictown  (New  Brunswick),  Bangor 
(Maine),  and  Kingston  (Upper  Canada),  being  —30°  to 
—40°  In  the  beginning  of  March,  1863,  a  heavy  snow- 
storm was  followed  by  severe  cold,  the  thermometer 
registering  —6°  at  Halifax,  and  —30°  at  Sydney,  Cape 
Breton.  A  similar  late  visitation  of  cold  weather  follow- 
ing a  deep  fall  of  snow  occurred  in  March,  1859,  when 
the  mercury  fell  to  — 3°  and  — 5°  during  the  nights  of 
the  first  three  days  of  the  month.  The  heaviest  falls  of 
snow  occur  in  February  and  early  in  March,  when 
sometimes  nearly  three  feet  of  fresh  snow  is  deposited, 
accumulating  by  road  sides  in  immense  drifts  which 
almost  hide  small  dwellings.  On  the  8tli  February, 
1866,  Halifax  harbour  was  entirely  frozen  over,  and  bore 


THE  PROGRESS  OF  THE  SEASONS.  323 

large  numbers  of  persons  securely.  The  thermometer 
iudicated  only  —7°  when  this  occurred,  but  the  cold  was 
of  some  days'  continuance,  and  favoured  by  a  perfect 
calm.  This  harbour  rarely  freezes  to  impede  navigation, 
as  do  those  further  to  the  eastward. 

The  roseate  hue  cast  over  the  snow-covered  surface  of 
the  country  by  the  sun's  rays  on  a  fine  March  afternoon 
in  the  fine  weather  succeeding  a  storm  imparts  a  beau- 
tiful effect  to  the  wintry  landscape  ;  in  a  steady  winter 
this  is  the  most  busy  time  for  sleds,  snow-shoes,  and  the 
youthful  sports  of  "  trabogining  "  and  coasting  down  the 
ice-clad  hillocks  and  drifts  of  snow  by  the  roadside. 

As  has  been  before  observed,  St.  Patrick's  Day  (March 
1 7)  is  looked  upon  generally  as  indicating  the  breaking- 
up  of  the  winter  at  Halifax,  Nova  Scotia,  when  the  wild 
geese  pass  over  in  large  flights ;  southerly  weather,  with 
soft  rains  and  fogs,  fast  dissolving  the  snow,  and  rotting 
the  ice  on  the  lakes,  which  lingers  a  few  days  longer  in 
dark,  discoloured,  and  honeycombed  patches,  and  finally 
sinks  below  the  surface. 

April  1.  Cold  N.E.  wind,  with  rain  ;  large  fields  of 
ice  drifting  past  the  entrance  of  the  harbour. 

2 — 10.  Fine,  but  with  cold  easterly  winds.  Common 
crow  (C.  Americanus)  mated  and  building  in  tall  spruces. 
Also  ravens  (C.  corax)  in  tops  of  lofty  pines  and  rocky 
precij'ces.  Fox-coloured  sparrow  (F.  iliaca)  arrives. 
Trout  take  the  fly  in  open  water  found  in  runs  between 
lakes. 

15.  Wind  veers  to  the  westward  after  rain,  with 
fine  spring  weather.  Mayflowers  (Epigsea  repcns)  in 
flower  abundantly  ;  occasional  blossoms  have  been  picked 

T    2 


324  FOREST  LIFE  IN   ACAD  IE. 

during  the  last  fortnight.  The  small  marsh  frog 
(Hy lodes)  is  heard.  Robins  and  song-sparrow  sing  fre- 
quently. Camberwell  beauty  (Vanessa  antiopa)  about. 
Ice  disappeared  from  lakes. 

20.  Fine  weather  succeeded  by  cold  N.E.  wind  and 
heavy  snowstorm. 

21.  A  few  sleighs  out  in  the  streets  in  the  morning; 
snow  disappears  at  noon,  leaving  a  sea  of  mud  on  the 
roads. 

22 — 30.  Fine  clear  weather  ;  dust  in  the  streets 
towards  close  of  month.  White-bellied  martin  (H. 
bicolse)  arrives  on  23rd  ;  the  gold-winged  woodpecker 
(Picus  auratus)  on  same  date.  Wood  frog  (R.  sylvatica) 
and  common  spring  frog  (R.  fontinalis)  are  heard  to 
croak ;  both  are  spawning.  Trout  take  the  artificial 
fly  readily  in  lakes.  Smelts  ascend  brooks  to  spawn, 
and  are  taken  in  great  numbers  by  scoop  nets.  Dan- 
delions picked  in  fields  and  sold  as  a  vegetable. 

May  1 — 3.  Chilly,  with  rain  ;  all  vegetation  back- 
ward, owing  to  cold  easterly  weather  till  now  prevailing. 
Wild  gooseberry  in  leaf.  Scarlet  buds  developing  on 
maple.     The  Hylodes  chirp  in  the  evenings. 

4.  Bright  and  warm,  with  westerly  wind.  The  king- 
fisher (Alcedo  alcyon)  arrives  ;  also  the  white-throated 
sparrow  (F.  Pennsylvanica),  commonly  called  in  Nova 
Scotia  the  "  poor  Kennedy  bird."  The  hermit  tlirush 
(T.  solitarius)  is  heard.  The  trilling  note  of  the  common 
toad  is  heard  in  the  evening  swelling  the  chorus  of  the 
frogs. 

7 — 11.  Cold  easterly  weather  ;  much  ice  off  the 
coast.     Green  snake  (Coluber  vernalis)  observed  sunning 


THE  PROGRESS  OF  THE  SEASONS.        32.-) 

on  bank.  Ferns  (Lastrese)  sprouting.  Blue  wood-violet 
flowers,  also  white  variety. 

12.  Clears  up  from  westward  for  fine  weather.  Frogs 
and  toads  very  noisy  in  the  evening.  Robins,  white- 
throated  sparrow,  and  hermit  thrush  sing  till  8  p.m. 
The  toad  trills  all  day.  May  and  stone  flies  (Ephemerge 
and  Phryganese)  issue  from  the  water,  and  are  greedily 
devoured  by  trout.  Black  flies  (Simulium  molestum) 
make  their  appearance.  The  light  green  blossoms  of  the 
willow  contrast  prettily  with  the  red  bloom  on  maples  (A. 
rubrum).  Grass  four  or  five  inches  high.  Larches  showing 
light  green  leaves  and  crimson  blossoms.  Waterlilies 
commencing  to  grow  upwards  from  the  bottom  of  ponds. 

13 — 15.  Fine  weather  continues.  Gasper  -i^ux  (Alosa 
tyrannus)  ascending  stream  to  spawn  in  lake;?.  Ruffed 
and  Canada  grouse  (Tetrao  umbellus  and  T.  Canadensis) 
incubating.     Frog  spawn  hatching. 

18.  Fine  weather  continues.  Trout  gorged  with 
Ephemerae  and  refuse  bait.  Gold  thread  (Coptis  trifolia) 
flowering.  Ferns  unfolding.  Fir  cones  of  A.  picea  of  a 
delicate  sea-green  colour. 

20.  Atmosphere  hazy  from  fires  in  the  forest.  Herons 
(Ardea  Herodias)  arriving  in  flights.  Young  leaves 
tipping  the  blossoms  of  the  red-flowering  maple.  Poplar 
(P.  tremuloides)  in  leaf. 

21.  The  whip-poor-will  (C.  vocifenis)  is  heard  in 
copses  on  the  banks  of  the  north-west  arm  of  the 
harbour ;  the  night  hawk  (C.  Virginianus)  on  same 
evening.     Rain  at  night. 

22.  Shad  (Alosa  sapidissima)  ascends  rivers  to  spawn, 
and  will  sometimes  take  the  artificial  fly.  The  moose- 
bush   (Viburnum   lantanoides)  in   flower ;    also   Indian 


326  FOREST  LIFE  IN   ACADIE. 

pear  (Amelancliier) ;  the  young  leave  i  of  the  latter  of 
a  rich  bronze  tmt.  Light  green  leaves  of  birches  un- 
f(3lding.  Pigeon  berry  (Cornus  Canadensis)  in  flower  ; 
also  wild  Azalea  (Rhodora  Canadensis). 

23 — 27.  Variable  weather,  with  rains.  Blueberry 
and  whortleberry  (Vaccinise)  in  flower  on  open  barrens. 
Smilacina  bifolia  and  S.  boreahs  in  flower  in  fir  Avoods, 
with  Star  of  Bethlehem  (Trientalis  Americana).  Profuse 
blossoms  on  Indian  pear  and  wild  cherry  (Cerasus  Penn- 
sylvanica). 

28 — 31.  Occasional  showers,  with  thunder  on  the 
31st.  Leaves  and  seed-keys  developed  on  maples.  The 
white  death  flower  (Trillium  pictum)  in  bloom.  The 
flower  of  the  Rhodora  now  imparts  a  roseate  hue  to  open 
spots  in  the  woods  and  by  the  roadside,  contrasting  most 
pleasingly  with  the  light  green  of  birch  and  larch  leaves 
and  young  fern  fronds. 

June  1.  Warm,  pleasant  weather.  Blossoms  of  service 
tree  and  wild  cherry  fading.  Royal  fern  (Osmunda  rcgalis) 
in  flower ;  also  0.  cinnamomea  and  0.  interrupta.  Yellow- 
throated  frog  assumes  bright  colour,  and  croaks  all  day. 
Young  hares  (first  brood)  about.  Labrador  tea  (Ledum 
latifolium)  and  lady's  slipper  (Cypripedium)  in  flower. 

2 — 6.  Fine  weather  continues  ;  high  winds  from 
westward.     Leaves  of  trees  nearly  developed. 

7.  A  splendid  aurora  at  night.  A  corona  formed  a 
little  south  of  the  zenith,  to  which  streamers  ascend 
from  all  points  of  the  compass,  though  their  bases  did 
not  approach  the  horizon  to  the  southward.  Hy lodes, 
frogs,  and  toads  very  noisy  at  nights.  Young  robins 
leaving  the  nest. 


THE  PROGRESS  OF  THE  SEASONS.  327 

11.  Fine  weather,  l)ut  cold  for  time  of  year.  The 
Bob  o'  Lincoln  (Emberiza  oryzivora)  in  full  song  in 
pasture  fields. 

1 5.  Weather  has  become  very  fine  and  warm ;  this 
r  y  the  thermometer  indicates  87°  in  shade.  Linnea 
borcalis,  the  twin  flower,  out,  and  imparts  much  fra- 
grance to  the  atmosphere  under  green  woods.  Pollack 
(Merlangu.s)  arrive  in  bays  and  harbours,  and  take 
artificial  fly  on  the  surface  greedily.  Kalmia  angusti- 
folia  coming  into  bloom  ;  the  Rhodora  fading  off. 

IG — 20.  Warm  sultry  weather,  with  thunder  showers 
on  20th.  Indian  cup  (Sarracenia  purpurea)  flowers  with 
iris,  cranberry,  and  sundew  in  swamps.  Abundance  of 
salmon  exposed  for  sale  in  the  markets. 

22.  Fireflies  (Lampyris  corusca)  are  seen. 

23 — 30.  Variable  weather  :  frequent  incursions  of 
fog  from  the  sea,  extending  many  miles  inland.  Wild 
strawberries  ripen  and  are  brought  to  market  in  gi-eat 
abundance.     Withrod  in  flower. 

July  5.  Heavy  rain  succeeds  fogs.  The  wood-sorrel 
(Oxalis  acetosella)  in  flower.  AVild  roses  (R.  parviflora) 
out. 

6 — 10.  Very  fine  and  warm  ;  atmosphere  hazy,  with 
stronoj  smell  of  burninsj  woods.  Grilse  numerous  in  the 
rivers.     Haymaking  commences. 

12.  Fireflies  very  numerous  in  evenings.  Water- 
lilies,  white  and  yellow,  flowering ;  also  arrowhead 
(Sagittaria).  Robins  sitting  on  eggs  of  second  brood. 
Balsam  poplars  (balsamifera)  shedding  their  cotton. 

13 — 21.  Very  fine  and  dry.  Vegetation  suffering 
from   drought;    grass   withering.      Humming-birds  nu- 


tiB  FOREST   LIFE   IN  ACADIE. 

merous.  Summer  flowers  going  off.  Orange  lily  (L. 
Canadense)  flowering  in  intervale  meadows,  and  fire- 
weed  (Epilobium)  in  burnt  woods. 

24.  Still  fine,  with  high  winds.  Extensive  fires  in 
the  woods  fill  the  air  with  smoke  and  obscure  the  sun. 
Grasshoppers  very  numerous.  Wild  cui-rants  ripen. 
Young  woodcock,  partridge,  and  flappers  of  duck 
well  grown.  AVild  cherries  ripening  ;  also  blueberries 
(Vaccinium)  on  the  barrens,  with  wild  raspberries 
(Rubus  idseus).  Cargoer.  of  sea-birds'  eggs  brought 
to  market  from  the  Gulf  and  sold  for  food.  Garden 
cherries  rijje  and  much  visited  by  wax  wings  (Ampelis 
Americma). 

25 — 31.  Uninterruptedly  fine  weather.  Albicore 
(Thynnus  vulgaris)  strike  the  N.W.  arm,  feeding  on 
herring.  House-flies  become  troublesome.  The  cicada 
sings  continually  in  the  woods. 


August  1.  Fine  weather  continues.  Bemes  of  Cornus 
Canadensis  ripe  and  very  plentiful ;  do.  of  blueberries 
and  Indian  pear.  Great  quantities  of  wild  raspberries 
brought  to  market. 

2 — 10.  Weather  changes  to  wet,  commencing  with 
thunder.  The  rivers,  hitherto  almost  diy,  swell,  and 
salmon,  delayed  by  drought,  ascend. 

11 — 17.  Fine  weather,  with  occasional  showers.  Pas- 
Wf  senger  pigeons  (Ectopistes  migratorius)  neen  on  barrens 

feeding  on  berries  ;  these  birds  are  more  numerous  west- 
ward from  the  coast.  Cariboo  (Cervus  tarandus)  com- 
mence to  rut. 

18.  Golden  plover  (Charadrius  marmoratus)  arrives. 
Nights  become  cooler,  and  houseflies  sluggish. 


■^1 


THE  PROGRESS  OF  THE  SEASONS.  320 

'  19 — 31.  Fine  weather.  Tree  frog  (Hyla  sqiiirrella) 
pipes.  Moose  have  their  horns  developed,  and  rub  off 
deciduous  skin.  Trout  recover  from  their  summer  kissi- 
tude,  and  again  take  the  fly.  Fungi  very  numerous  in 
damp  woods,  with  common  mushroom  (Agaricus  cam- 
pestris)  on  grass  plots.  Golden  rods  (Solidago),  Michael- 
mas daisies,  and  spieries  flowering  in  fields  and  barrens  ; 
also  the  ground-nut  (Apios  tuberosa)  in  damp  localities 
by  margins  of  lakes  and  brooks.  Blackberries  (Rubus 
hispidus)  ripen,  and  are  brought  to  market.  Maples  and 
birches  in  damp  spots  arc  tinged  with  fall  colours. 

REMARKS   ON   THE   FOREGOING   MONTHS. 

The  spring,  comprising  the  months  of  April  and  May 
and  part  of  June,  was  generally  fine,  though  the  long- 
continued  easterly  winds,  coming  over  the  ice-fields  off 
the  coast,  greatly  retarded  vegetation.  This  feature  was 
followed  by  a  most  unusual  drought  which  prevailed 
through  the  summer  over  the  whole  continent.  The 
prairies  presented  the  appearance  of  an  arid  desert,  and 
the  large  game  suffered  severely.  On  the  Atlantic  coast 
rivers  and  lakes  were  nearly  dried  up,  and  multitudes  of 
eels  and  other  fish  were  left  dead  on  the  banks.  A  larire 
proportion  of  the  migratory  fish  spawning  in  summer 
were  prevented  from  reaching  their  grounds. 

The  mean  temperature  of  April  was  3G°;  of  May  48°; 
of  June  57°;  of  July  62°  ;  and  of  August  64°. 

The  summer  in  Canada,  the  Lower  Provinces,  and 
New  England  is  characterised  by  the  remarkaljle  energy 
of  growth  of  all  vegetation  and  rapidity  of  maturing. 
Garden  operations,  begun  late  in  May,  will  produce  in  a 


330 


FOREST  LIFE  IN  ACADIE. 


if  I 


few  weeks  the  same  results  as  if  the  seed  had  been  sown 
in  Enghind  a  montli  earUcr ;  and  the  same  rule  applies 
to  general  agriculture.  The  suitableness  of  tlie  climate 
to  the  growth  of  maize,  tobacco,  and  the  gourd  family 
attests  its  value  in  an  agricultural  light.  The  Jerusalem 
artichoke  flowers,  and  tomatoes  and  peppers  produce 
abundantly;  and  in  Nova  Scotia  the  vine  succeeds  so 
well,  that  black  Hamburg  grapes  will  ripen  in  the 
open  air. 


September  1 — 10.  Fine  autumnal  weather.  Apples 
and  fall  fruits  fast  ripening.  Berries  of  mountain  ash 
(Pyrus  Americana)  reddening.  Rutting  season  of  Cervus 
Alces  commences.  Woodcock  and  snipe,  partridges 
(Tetrao),  and  hares  brought  to  market,  the  latter  being 
principally  snared.  The  whip-poor-will  and  night-hawk 
leave.  Gold- winged  woodjDeckers  congregate  before  de- 
parture. 

11 — 13.  Heavy  rain-storm,  lasting  two  days,  and 
accompanied  by  thunder-storms. 

14.  Leaves  of  maples  and  other  bushes  resplendent, 
with  orange  and  scarlet  appearing  in  splashes  on  the 
green  leaf  Brooks  full  and  low  lands  inundated. 
Porcupines'  rutting  season  commences.  Moose  travelling 
and  calling.  Scarlet  berries  of  Trillium  pictum  and 
blue  of  Smilacina  borealis  are  very  conspicuous  in  the 
green  woods.  Large  stops  of  fall  mackarel  made  along 
the  coast.  Apples  and  plums  brought  to  market 
abundantly. 

20 — 30.  Dull  weather,  but  generally  fine.  Osmunda 
cinnamomea  assuming  a  beautiful  golden-brown  hue. 
Willows  turning  yellow  ;  also  young  poplars  and  birches. 


THE  PROGRESS  OF  THE  SEASONS.  8S1 

Wild  cherry  leaves  partially  tinted  with  crimaon.  Sumach 
leaves  parti- coloured :  green  and  vivid  oranjre-scarlet. 
Leaves  of  Vaccincie  becoming  tinted,  especially  those  of 
the  whortleberry.  Slight  frosts  at  night.  The  young 
of  the  Gaspcreau  descend  from  the  lakes  (observed  on 
22nd).  Largo  deciduous  forest  trees  assume  fall  tints. 
The  hill  sides  are  now  resplendent  with  colour. 

October  3.  Vegetable  decay  in  the  forest  proceeding 
rapidly.  Ferns  withering.  The  leaves  of  young  oaks 
turn  dark  brick  red. 

10.  Fall  colours  ftiding.  Distant  woods  appear  of  a 
dull  brownish  red.  Fir  cones  rii)e.  Eobins  and  hermit 
thrush  sing  at  sunrise,  the  former  feeding  on  berries  in 
flocks,  and  preparing  to  depart. 

1.9.  Leaves  of  most  deciduous  trees  falling.  Poplars 
nearly  bare.  The  huckleberry  is  now  brilliant  scarlet, 
and  the  larch  turning  golden. 

31.  Migratory  birds  depart. 


November  1.  A  beautiful  day,  of  the  same  character 
as  the  last  of  October :  a  soft  west  wind  and  hazy 
atmosphere,  quite  Indian  summer  weather.  The  tints 
on  the  landscape  arc  charming  ;  the  distant  hills  show 
a  light  plum  bloom  ;  the  sky  and  water  light  apple 
green. 

5 — 8.  Cold  rains.  Leaves  all  fallen  from  deciduous 
trees,  excepting  the  beech,  to  which  many  cling  all 
winter. 

11.  Quantities  of  salmon  in  the  market  in  prime 
condition.  They  continue  to  be  brought  in  till 
the  20th. 


332  FOREyT  LIFE  IN  ACADIE. 

12 — 31.  Variable  weather,  with  rain,  sleet,  and  slight 
frosts.     Salmon  spawn.  : 

December'  1.  Snow  birds  (Emberiza  nivalis)  arrive. 
A  little  snow  falls  from  S.W. 

2.  Cold  and  wintry  ;  minimum  cold  at  night  being 
16°  of  frost.  Large  flights  of  wild  geese  passing  over 
to  the  S.W. 

5.  Skating  on  ponds. 

G — 17.  Damp,  close,  unseasonable  weather. 

1 9.  Clear.     Cold  weather  recommences. 

20.  The  "  Barber "  appears  on  the  harbour  in  the 
morning — a  dense  steam,  due  to  the  great  difference  of 
temperatures  of  air  and  water.  The  mercury  in  after- 
noon descends  to  5°  above  zero,  and  during  ensuing 
night  to  -10°. 

21 — 31.  Variable.  Good  skating  on  large  lakes,  and 
ice  making  on  north-west  arm  of  the  sea,  near  the  head. 

REMARKS   ON   THE   FALL   AND   FIRST   WINTER   MONTH. 

The  mean  temperature  of  September  was  56°,  of 
October  46°  of  November  39°,  and  of  December  27°. 
There  were  several  days  at  the  close  of  the  fall  vhen 
the  attributes  of  Indian  summer  weather  appeared  ;  but 
no  lengthened  season  of  this  delightful  feature  in  the 
American  autumn  occun-ed  in  Nova  Scotia.  Nor  is 
this  weather  ever  prolonged  here,  as  further  westward, 
where  (in  Canada)  a  week  or  ten  days  is  its  frequent 
duration. 

The  song  of  birds  in  the  early  morning  in  the  fall  of 
the  year  has  been  generally  ascribed  to  the  resemblance 


THE   PROGRESS  OF  THE  SEASONS. 


333 


of  tlio  temperature  to  that  of  spring.  Perhaps  from  a 
simihir  cause  is  the  occurrence  of  autumnal  hh)saom8  on 
spring-fiowcring  i)lants.  In  the  first  wei'k  of  October  I 
have  seen  the  wild  strawberry  in  blossom  in  large 
patches  in  the  woods,  and  also  blossoms  on  the  Kalmia 
and  blueberry. 


m 


Rl 


APPENDIX. 


The  following  papers  bearing  upon  the  natural  history 
of  the  Lower  Provinces  are  selected  from  several  read  by 
the  Author  before  the  Nova  Scotian  Institute  of  Natural 
Science.  The  Institution  referred  to,  of  which  the 
Author  has  had  the  honour  of  being  a  Member  since  its 
inauguration  in  1863  (latterly  a  Vice-President),  has 
done  much  in  exposition  of  the  resources  and  physical 
features  of  the  colonies  of  Nova  Scotia,  New  Bruns- 
wick, Newfoundland,  and  the  Bermudas  under  the  able 
management  of  the  President,  Mr.  John  M.  Jones,  F.L.S. 
The  contributions  of  this  careful  observer  to  the  natural 
history  of  tlie  latter  islands,  comprised  in  "  The  Naturalist 
in  Bermuda,"*  and  in  several  more  recent  notices,  have 
been  recognised  as  most  valuable,  both  as  a  compendium 
of  the  Bermudan  indigenous  and  permanent  Fauna 
and  Flora,  and  also  for  the  observations  therein  con- 
tained on  the  migration  of  North  American  birds,  and 
on  meteorological  subjects.  The  Society  owes  no  less 
of  its  success  to  the  indefatigable  labours  of  Dr.  J. 
Bernard  Gilpin,  M.R.O.S.,  Vice-President,  whose  papers 
on  the  food  fishes  of  Nova  Scotia  have  attracted  much 
attention  amongst  American  naturalists.  To  this  gentle- 
man I  am  indebted  for  the  scientific  descriptions  of  the 
game  fish  found  in  this  work. 

'     *  "  The  Naturalist  in  Bermuda,"  Reeves  k  Turner,  2J.«,  Strand,  1859. 


■  I 


336  APrENDIX. 

ON  THE  NOCTURNAL  LIFE  OF  ANIMALS  IN  THE 

FOREST. 

In  one  of  the  most  attractive  of  tlie  works  of  Humboldt,  entitled 
"  Views  of  Nature," — a  collection  of  thoughts  and  personal  observa- 
tions in  connection  with  some  of  the  grandest  objects  of  nature  in 
various  parts  of  the  world,  visited  by  the  great  naturalist — appears 
an  interesting  fragment,  called  "  The  Nocturnal  Life  of  Animals  in 
the  Primeval  Forest,"  suggesting  to  me  comparative  remarks  on 
animal  life  in  our  own  sombre  woodlands. 

The  great  writer,  in  the  commencement  of  this  chapter,  describes 
the  scene  of  his  observations,  coupled  with  some  decisive  remarks  of 
his  own  on  the  nature  of  a  primeval  forest,  which  I  think  it  well  to 
introduce  here.  The  scene  is  a  boundless  forest  district  which,  in 
the  torrid  zone  of  South  America,  connects  the  river  basins  of  the 
Orinoco  and  the  Amazon.  "  This  region,"  says  Humboldt,  "  deserves, 
in  the  strictest  sense  of  the  term,  to  be  called  a  primeval  forest — a 
term  that  in  recent  times  has  been  so  frequently  misapplied. 
Primeval  (or  primitive),  as  applied  to  a  forest,  a  nation,  or  a  p,.iod 
of  time,  is  a  word  of  rather  indefinite  signification,  and  generally  but 
of  relative  import.  If  every  wild  forest,  densely  covered  with  trees 
on  which  man  has  never  laid  his  destroying  hand,  is  to  be  regarded 
as  a  primitive  fo)  .st,  then  the  phenomenon  is  common  to  many  parts, 
both  of  the  temperate  and  the  frigid  zones.  If,  however,  tliis 
character  consists  in  impenetrability,  through  which  it  is  impossible 
to  clear  with  the  axe  between  trees  measuring  from  8  to  12  feet  in 
diameter,  a  path  of  any  length,  primitive  forests  belong  exclusively 
to  tropical  regions.  This  impenetrability  is  by  no  means,  as  is  often 
erroneously  supposed  in  Europe,  always  occasioned  by  the  interlaced 
climbing  '  lianes,'  or  creeping  plants,  for  these  often  constitute  but 
a  very  small  portion  of  the  underwood.  The  chief  obstacles  are  the 
shrub-like  plants  which  fill  up  every  space  between  the  trees  in 
a  zone  where  all  vegetable  forms  have  a  tendency  to  become 
arborescent." 

Now,  our  North  American  fir  forests — especially  in  districts  where 
woods  predominate,  and  the  growth  of  timber  is  large — have  so 
frequently  (generally)  been  termed  "  primeval,"  that  we  are  bound 
to  inquire  into  the  justice  of  Hur^boldt's  very  decisive  statement  of 
his  own  views  of  the  etymology  of  the  word.  He  claims  the  title  for 
the  South  American  forest  from  its  impenetrability,  and  not  from, 
what  would  seem  to  me  a  much  more  distinguishing  feature,  the 


I 


APPENDIX.  337 

enormous  diameter  and  age  of  its  mighty  trees.  lu  regard  to  the 
latter  attribute,  we  should  be  compelled  to  cede  the  appellation  as 
inapplicable  to  our  own  woods,  for,  from  the  natural  duration  of  life 
of  our  timber  trees— even  the  giant  "  Pinus  strobus  "  rarely  showing 
over  1000  annular  rings  in  section — the  oldest  members  of  the  family 
of  North  American  conifera)  cannot  look  back  with  those  ancient 
trees  which  by  some  have  been  placed  coeval  with  the  builders  of  the 
])yraraids.  Still,  as  it  is  evident  that  in  the  heart  of  the  great  fir 
forests  of  the  X(>rth,  even  in  many  wooded  portions  of  this  Province, 
the  hand  of  man  has  never  stirred  to  remove  the  existing  giants, 
whilst  the  bones  of  their  ancestors  lie  mouldering  and  moss-covered 
beneath,  I  cannot  see  why  they  do  not  merit  the  term  primeval — 
not  in  Von  Humboldt's  acceptation,  but  according  to  the  ordinary 
recognition  of  its  meaning,  and  as  "  original,  such  as  was  at  first," 
savs  Johnson. 

To  return  to  tlie  subject  more  immediately  before  us.  Humboldt 
next  introduces  a  beautiful  and  eloquent  description  of  the  night  life 
of  creatures  in  the  forest  by  the  Oriuoco — the  wild  cries  of  a  host  of 
apes  and  monkeys,  terrified  at  the  uproar  occasioned  by  the  jaguar 
l)ursuing  crowds  of  peccaries  and  tapirs,  which  burst  through  the 
dense  underwood  with  tremendous  crashing  ;  the  voices  of  com- 
munities of  birds,  aroused  by  the  long-continued  conflict  beneath, 
and  the  general  commotioo  produced  amongst  the  whole  animal 
world,  rendering  sle(;p  impossible  of  attainment  on  stormy  nights, 
on  which,  especially,  these  carnivals  appeared  to  be  most  fre(iuont. 

What  a  contrast  is  presented  on  entering  the  dreamy  solitudes  of 
the  Xorth  American  pine  forest — sombre  though  it  may  be,  but  yet 
most  attractive  to  the  lover  of  nature — in  the  perfect  harmony  of  its 
mysterious  gloom  and  silence  with  the  life  of  its  animal  tenants, 
their  retiring  and  lonely  habits,  and  their  often  plaintive  and 
mournful  voices  !  Our  perceptions  of  the  harmonies  of  nature  as 
inseparably  connect  the  mournful  hooting  of  the  great  owl  with  the 
glooms  of  the  black  spruce  swamp,  as  we  can  the  tangled  wildness 
and  tropical  vegetation  of  the  South  American  forest  with  the  dis- 
cordant notes  of  its  gaudy  parrots,  and  the  screams  of  its  monkeys. 
Although  almost  all  of  our  mammalia  are  nocturnal  in  their  habits, 
and  many  of  them  beasts  of  prey,  their  nightly  wanderings  and 
strife  with  their  victims  are  conducted  in  the  most  orderly  manner, 
compared  with  the  scenes  we  have  referred  to.  Quiet,  noiseless 
stealth  is  the  characteristic  feature  of  all  animal  life  in  the  forest ; 
mutual  distrust  of  the  s-ame  species,  and  ever-present  tendency  to 


338  APPENDIX. 

alarm  predominate  even  in  the  -wildest  districts,  where  the  sij2:ht  of 
man  is  unknown,  or  at  least  unremcnibered.  At  the  slightest  sound 
the  ruminants  and  rodents  cease  feeding,  remaining  motionless 
either  from  fear  or  instinct ;  tiie  rabbit  or  hare  thus  frequently 
avoiding  detection,  whilst  the  moose  can  so  silently  withdraw  if 
suspecting  an  enemy,  that  I  have  on  more  than  one  occasion 
remained  hours  together  on  the  stillest  night,  believing  the  animal 
to  be  standing  within  a  few  yards  in  a  neighbouring  thicket,  to 
which  he  had  advanced  in  answer  to  the  call,  and  found  at  length 
that  he  had  suspiciously  retreated.  The  great  creature  had  retired, 
worming  his  huge  bulk  and  ponderous  antlers  through  the  entangled 
swamp,  without  detection  of  the  straining  ear  to  which  the  nibbling 
of  a  porcupine  at  the  bark  of  a  tree  in  the  same  grove  was  plainly 
audible. 

The  habits  and  sounds  of  animals  at  night  are  especially  familiar 
to  the  hunter  when  calling  the  moose  in  the  clear  moonlight  nights 
of  September  and  October, — the  season  when  this  animal,  forgetting 
his  usual  caution  and  taciturnity,  finds  a  voice  to  answer  the  plain- 
tive call  of  his  mate,  and  often  advances  to  sure  destruction,  within 
a  few  yards  of  his  concealed  foe.  As  the  sun  lowers  beneath  the 
horizon,  and  twilight  is  giving  place  to  the  uncertain  light  of  the 
moon,  we  listen  between  the  intervals  of  the  Indian's  calls  (about 
twenty  minutes  is  generally  allowed)  to  the  sounds  indicating  the 
movements  of  nocturnal  animals  and  birds.  The  squirrels  which 
have  raced  around  us  and  angrily  chivrui)ed  defiance  from  the  sur- 
rounding trees,  all  through  the  twilight,  have  at  last  scuttled,  one 
and  all,  into  their  holes  and  fastnesses,  and  the  small  birds  drop, 
one  by  one — the  latest  being  the  common  robin,  who  is  loth  to  leave 
his  rich  pickings  cf  ripe  berries  on  the  upland  barren,  on  which  ho 
revels  ere  taking  his  annual  departure — into  the  bushes.  No  longe.v 
annoyed  by  the  multitudinous  hum  and  bustle  of  diurnal  animal 
life,  the  ear  is  now^  relieved,  and  anxiously  criticises  the  nocturnal 
sounds  which  take  their  place.  A  little  pattering  amongst  the 
leaves,  and  cracking  of  small  sticks  (often  mistaken  by  the  ambushed 
hunter  when  listening  for  sounds  of  moose,  for  the  cautious  move- 
ments of  the  latter  animal),  attests  the  presence  abroad  of  the 
porcupine,  come  forth  from  rocky  cavern  or  hollow  tree  to  revel  on 
berries,  nuts,  and  the  rind  of  young  trees.  A  perfect  "monitor"  in 
his  coat  of  protecting  armour,  he  fears  neither  thQ!  tajons  of  the 
swooping  owl,  or  the  spring  of  the  wild  cat.  Woe  to  the  peace  of 
mind  and  bodily  comfort  of  his  adventurous  assailant,  for  the  bai'bed 


APPENDIX. 


330. 


quills,  once  entering  the  skin,  slowly  worm  their  way  through  the 
system,  and  produce  lingering  suffering,  if  not  death.  Even  the 
moose  is  lamed,  if  not  for  life,  for  a  tedious  time,  by  accidentally 
running  over  a  " mailuls"  as  the  Indian  calls  him.  The  iwrcupino 
is  essentially  nocturnal  in  its  habits,  retiring  at  sunrise  to  its  den  to 
sleep  off  its  midnight  revels,  till  the  "  knell  of  parting  day  "  is  again 
tolled  through  the  arches  of  the  forest  by  the  solemn  war-cry  of  the 
horned  owl. 

All  the  stri(jiihn  are  now  busily  engaged  in  hunting  mice,  shrews, 
and  even  hares,  through  the  darkest  swamps,  and  uttering  at  intervals 
their  melancholy  hootings.  The  call  of  the  cat-owl,  horned,  or  eagle- 
owl  of  America  (B.  Virginianus),  is  one  of  the  most  impressivo 
sounds  of  the  forest  at  night.  Coming  on  the  ear  of  the  sojourner 
in  the  woods,  most  frequently  just  before  daylight  appears,  and 
emanating  from  the  dark  recesses  of  a  grove  of  hemlock  spruce, 
from  whose  massive  stems  the  sound  re-echoes  through  the  forest, 
the  voice  of  this  bird  is  eminently  suggestive  of  most  melancholy 
solitude  and  ghostliness,  and  one  instinctively  awakens  the  dying 
embers  of  the  camp  fire.  Another  sound  uttered  by  this  bird  on.  its 
nocturnal  hunt  is  positively  startling— a  maniacal  yell,  terminating 
in  mocking  laughter,  which  it  is  hard  to  believe  can  proceed  from 
the  throat  of  a  bird. 

I  believe  there  is  nothing  of  its  own  size  that  this  fierce,  powerful 
bird  will  not  venture  to  attack  under  cover  of  the  night.  The  poor 
hare  constantly  falls  a  prey;  the  farmer  has  a  long  score  to  settle 
with  it,  frequently  losing  his  poultry — even  geese —through  its 
nocturnal  visits.  An  Indian  recently  told  me  that  the  owl  had 
carried  off  a  favourite  little  dog  that  was  of  great  value  in  hunting 
for  i)artridges.  "Whilst  in  confinement,  these  birds  will  prey  on  one 
another. 

The  great  horned  owl  is  not  so  exclusively  nocturnal  as  some 
of  the  other  members  of  the  family.  I  have  frequently  started 
them  sitting  on  a  branch  exposed  to  open  daylight,  and  noticed  that 
they  were  perfectly  sure  of  flight,  and  readily  found  their  way  to 
another  hiding  place.  Passing  the  dark  wooded  banks  of  the 
Shubenacadie  in  a  canoe,  I  have  seen  great  numbers  of  them  sitting 
in  the  overhanging  spruces  and  hemlocks. 

Sometimes  a  curious  whining  sound,  uttered  at  intervals,  is 
noticeable  at  night  in  the  woods.  It  is  the  note  of  the  "  ucl iwaelrh,'' 
as  the  Indian  calls  it — Tengmalm's  owl. 

The  answer  of  the  bull  moose  to  the  Indian's  plaintive  rmging 

z  2 


340 


Ari'ENDlX. 


call  on  his  cone  trumpet  of  birch  bark,  if  the  animal  is  distant,  is 
freely  and  quickly  returned.  Resembling,  at  first,  tlic  chopping  of 
an  axe  far  away  in  the  woods,  the  sound,  wlien  nearer,  becomes  more 
distinctly  guttural.  It  is  well  expressed  by  the  monosyllable  "  Quoh  ! " 
uttered  by  the  Indian  through  the  bark  cone. 

Under  the  most  favouring  circumstances  of  a  bright  moon,  and 
the  death-like  stillness  of  a  clear  frosty  atmosphere,  the  too  sanguine 
hunter  is  repeatedly  doomed  to  disappointment ;  tlie  animal's  appre- 
ciation of  his  own  language  frequently  proves  the  best  master  of  the 
craft  to  be  but  a  sorry  imitator.  The  moose  on  approaciiing  the 
ambush,  the  imagined  locality  of  his  hoped-for  mate,  at  length  comes 
to  a  dead  stand,  maintaining  the  same  attitude  for  sometimes  a 
couple  of  hours  without  an  audible  movement ;  when  the  impatient 
hunter  once  more  ventures  to  allure  hinx  by  another  call,  he  is  otf  in 
silent  though  hasty  retreat. 

As  an  instance,  however,  of  departure  from  their  usual  cautious 
and  quiet  comportment  at  night  on  tlie  part  of  these  animals,  I  will 
introduce  here  one  of  my  "  Sporting  Adventures,"  published  some 
years  since,  and  what  I  heard  one  cold  October  night  in  a  very  wild 
and  (then)  almost  unhunted  portion  of  the  country. 

"  Though  it  was  very  cold,  and  my  damped  limbs  were  stiffening 
under  me  from  crouching  so  long  in  the  same  posture,  I  could  not 
but  enjoy  the  calmness  and  beauty  of  the  night.  The  moon  was 
very  low,  but  the  columns  of  a  magnificent  aurora,  shooting  up  to 
the  zenith,  threw  a  mellow  light  on  the  barren,  which,  covered  by 
mist  as  by  a  sheet,  appeared  like  a  moonlit  lake,  and  the  numerous 
little  clusters  of  dwarfish  spruce  as  islands.  We  had  not  heard  a 
moose  answer  to  our  call  for  nearly  an  hour,  and  were  preparing  to 
move,  when  the  distant  sound  of  a  falling  tree  struck  our  ears.  It 
api)eared  to  come  from  the  dim  outline  of  forest  which  skirted  the 
barren  on  our  left,  and  at  a  great  distance. 

"  Down  we  all  drop  again  in  our  deeply  impressed  couches  to  listen. 
The  sounds  indicate  that  moose  are  travelling  through  the  woods 
and  close  to  the  edge  of  the  barren.  Presently  the  foremost  moose 
is  abreast  of  our  position,  and  gives  vent  to  a  wild  and  discordant 
cry.  This  is  the  signal  for  a  general  uproar  amongst  the  procession 
of  moose,  for  a  whole  troop  of  them  are  following  at  long  and 
cautious  intervals. 

*'  The  timber  is  crashing  loudly  opposite  to  our  position,  and  distant 
reports  show  that  more  arc  still  coming  on  from  the  same  direction. 
A  chorus  of  bellowings  respond  to  the  plaintive  wail  of  the  cow. 


APPENDIX.  341 

Tlic  branches  are  broken  more  fiercely,  and  liorns  are  rapidly  drawn 
across  stems  as  if  to  whet  them  for  the  combat.  Momentarily  I  expect 
to  hear  the  erashin<]f  of  rival  antlers.  One  by  one  the  bulls  pass  our 
position,  find  I  long  to  get  up  and  dash  into  the  dark  line  of  forest, 
and  with  a  chance  shot  scatter  the  procession  ;  but  to  do  so  would 
entail  wanton  disturbance  of  the  country  ;  so  we  patiently  wait  till 
the  last  moose  has  passed. 

"  Never  before  had  I  heard  the  calmness  of  the  night  in  the  Nova 
Scotia  forest  so  disturbed  ;  they  had  passed  as  a  storm  ;  and  now  the 
barren  and  the  surrounding  country  were  once  more  enveloped  in 
the  calm  repose  of  an  autumnal  night,  unbroken,  save  by  the  chirrup 
of  the  snake  in  the  swamp." 

Of  all  premonitors  of  the  approach  of  a  storm,  the  night  voices  of 
the  baiTed  owl  (Symium  nebulosum)  and  the  loon  are  the  surest. 
"  The  '  coogoffucslc '  is  noisy  again ;  more  rain  comin',"  says  the 
Indian,  and  whether  we  hear  the  unwonted  chorus  of  wild  hootings 
soon  after  sundo\vn  or  at  daybreak,  the  storm  will  surely  come  within 
twelve  hours.  Such  is  likewise  the  case  in  summer,  when  ft'om  our 
fishing  camps  we  hear  the  plaintive,  quavering  cry  of  the  great 
nortliern  diver  echoing  over  the  calm  surface,  and  amongst  the 
groups  of  islets  of  the  forest  lakes,  and  quickly  repeated  without 
intermission,  during  the  night.  In  the  autumn,  in  close  damp 
weather,  and  especially  before  rain,  the  little  tree  frog  (Hyla  squir- 
rellus),  rejoicing  in  the  prospect  of  a  relaxed  skin,  pipes  vigorously 
his  cheerful  note  throughout  the  night,  and  the  BroJc!  B-r-reIc!  of  the 
■wood-frog  (Rana  sylvatica)  is  hoard  ft-om  pools  of  water  standing  in 
hollows  in  the  forest.  A  sound  that  has  alw.ays  been  pleasant  to  my 
ears  when  lying  amongst  the  low  bushes  on  the  open  barren,  is  the 
Chink!  chinlc!  chink!  of  the  little  chain  mouse  as  he  gambols  around. 
It  is  a  faint  silvery  tinkling,  as  might  be  produced  by  shaking  the 
links  of  a  small  chain,  whence  his  common  name. 

The  little  Acadian  owl,  commonly  called  the  "saw-whet"  (Ulula 
Acadica),  is  not  uncommon  in  our  woods,  uttering  morning  and  even- 
ing its  peculiar  and  (until  known)  mysterious  tinkling  sound  from 
the  thickest  groves  of  spruces.  In  one  of  these  I  once  captured  a 
specimen  just  about  sundown,  when  proceeding  to  a  barren  to  call 
moose.  The  Indian  made  a  noose  on  the  to]i  of  a  long  wattle,  and 
after  a  little  manoeuvring,  during  which  the  bird  kept  hovering  round 
us,  hissing  and  setting  up  its  wings  and  feathers  in  great  anger,  he 
got  it  over  its  neck  and  secured  it  without  injmy.  This  little  owl, 
just  turning  the  scale  at  two  ounces,  will  actually  attack  and  kill  a  rat. 


."542  APPENDIX. 

Wherever  there  is  mystery  there  lies  a  cliiarm  ;  and  to  this 
cflect  expresses  himself  ]\Ir.  Gosse,  who  thus  speaks  of  liis  nc- 
<|nivintaiice  with  the  cry  of  the  saw-whet  iu  his  "liomancc  of 
Natural  History  : " 

"  In  the  forests  of  Lower  Canada  and  the  New  England  States,  I 
have  often  heard  in  spring  a  mysterious  sound,  of  whicli,  to  this  day, 
1  do  not  know  the  author.  Soon  after  night  sets  in,  a  metallic 
sound  is  heard  from  the  most  sombre  forest  swamps,  where  the  spruce 
and  the  liemlock  give  a  peculiar  density  to  the  wood,  known  as  the 
black  growth.  The  sound  comes  up  clear  and  regular,  like  the  mea- 
Bured  tinkle  of  a  cow  bell,  or  gentle  strokes  on  a  piece  of  metal,  or 
the  action  of  a  file  upon  a  saw.  It  goes  on,  with  intervals  of  inter- 
ruption, throughout  the  hours  of  darkness.  People  attribute  it  to  a 
bird  which  they  call  \hc  whetsaw,  but  nobody  pretends  to  have  seen 
it,  so  that  this  can  only  bo,  considered  conjecture,  though  a  highly 
probable  one.  Tlie  mor  j  ay  and  pertinacity  of  this  note  had  a 
strange  charm  for  mc,  increased,  doubtless,  by  the  uncertainty  of  its 
origin.  Night  after  night  it  would  be  heard  in  the  same  spot, 
invariably  the  most  sombre  and  gloomy  recesses  of  the  black  timbered 
woods.  I  occasionally  watched  for  it,  resorting  to  the  woods  before 
sunset,  and  waiting  till  darkness  ;  but,  strange  to  say,  it  refused  to 
perform  under  such  conditions.  The  shy  and  recluse  bird,  if  bird  it 
was,  was,  doubtless,  aware  of  the  intrusion,  and  on  its  guard.  Once 
I  heard  it  under  peculiarly  wild  circumstances.  T  was  riding  late  at 
night,  and,  just  at  midnight,  came  to  a  very  lonely  p.irt  of  the  road, 
■where  the  black  forest  rose  on  either  side.  Everything  was  pro- 
foundly still,  and  the  measured  tramp  of  my  horse's  feet  on  the 
frozen  road  was  felt  as  a  relief  to  the  deep  and  oppressive  silence  ; 
.when  suddenly,  from  the  sombre  woods,  rose  the  clear  metallic  tinkle 
of  the  whetsaw.  The  sound,  all  unexpected  as  it  was,  was  very 
striking,  and  though  it  was  bitterly  cold,  I  drew  up  for  some  time  to 
listen  to  it.  In  the  darkness  and  silence  of  the  hour,  that  regularly 
measured  sound,  proceeding,  too,  from  so  gloomy  a  spot,  had  an 
effect  on  my  mind  solemn  and  unearthly,  yet  rot  unmixed  with 
pleasure." 

There  is  a  bird  that,  long  after  sundown,  and  when  the  moose- 
caller  begins  to  feel  chilled  by  long  watching  on  the  frosty  barren, 
will  rush  past  him  with  such  velocity  as  to  leave  no  time  to  catch  a 
certain  view  of  its  size  or  form.  It  passes  close  to  the  ground,  and 
with  the  whizzing  sound  of  an  arrow.  Almost  every  night,  whilst 
thus  watching,  I  have  noticed  this  bird  ;  can  it  be  the  night  hawk  ? 


Al'lMCNDlX. 


:ji:j 


But  October  is  late  for  so  tender  a  bird  ;  the  Latest  dny  in  which  I 
huvo  observed  it  in  Novii  Scotia,  was  tlic  2.SLh  SL'[)tciuber. 

Another  mysterious  sound  which  many  of  the  Indian  hunters  con- 
nect witli  superstition,  and  attribute  to  spirits  of  the  Orplieonistic 
description,  is  that  curious,  rushin<?  sound  of  music — an  indescribable 
melodious  rustling  in  the  calm  atmosphere  of  a  still  October  night, 
with  which  the  ear  of  the  moose-hunter  becomes  so  well  acquainted. 
!Most  probably  the  cause  exists  in  the  tension  of  tlie  nerves  of  that 
oi'gan. 

The  fierce  yell  of  the  luclfee,  and  the  short  sharp  bark  of  the  fox, 
are  often  heard  in  wild  parts  of  the  country :  they  are  both  in 
])ur8uit  of  the  unfortunate  hare,  which  falls  a  frc(juent  prey  to  so 
many  of  the  caniivoriu  and  raptores.  I  once  heard  the  startling  cry 
of  the  former  close  to  my  head,  whilst  reposing  in  the  oinm,  after  a 
night's  moose-calling  away  from  camp.  Its  bounds  ui)on  its  prey, 
having  stealthily  crept  to  within  sight,  arc  prodigious  :  I  have  mea- 
sured them  as  over  twenty  feet  in  the  snow. 

I  have  always  noticed  that  in  the  small  hours  of  the  morning  there 
sippears  to  be  a  general  cessation  of  movement  of  every  living  crea- 
ture in  the  woods.  Often  as  I  have  strolled  from  camp  into  the 
moonlight  at  this  time,  I  never  could  detect  the  slightest  soimd — 
even  the  owls  seemed  to  have  retired.  The  approach  of  dawn,  how- 
ever, seems  to  call  forth  fresh  exertions  of  the  nocturnal  animals  in 
quest  of  food,  and  all  the  cries  and  calls  are  renewed — continuing  till 
the  lirst  signs  of  Aurora  send  the  owls  flitting  back  into  the  thick 
t(f[)s  of  the  spruces,  and  call  forth  the  busy  squirrels  and  small 
birds  to  their  daily  occu[uition. 

Once,  and  only  once,  did  I  hear  the  little  red  squirrel  utter  liis 
wrathful  chirrup  at  night — a  bad  sign,  say  the  Indians  ;  they  firmly 
believe  that  it  prognosticates  the  death  of  one  of  their  friends. 
Neither  docs  the  chip-munk  or  striped  ground  squirrel  come  out  at 
night ;  the  only  member  of  the  family  of  nocturnal  habits  is  the 
flying  s(iuirrel,  a  rare  but  most  beautiful  little  creature.  Lying  in 
an  o[)en  camj),  I  once  saw  its  form  sail  in  a  curved  line  from  tree  to 
tree  in  the  moonlight. 

Of  night  songsters  amongst  our  small  birds  we  have  few  examples. 
The  whi})-i)oor-wiIl  is  our  only  systematic  nightingale,  if  we  may 
call  him  so.  Arriving  in  June,  and  choosing  the  jileasantest  retreat, 
in  copses,  by  picturesque  intervales,  and  generally  preferring  the 
neighbourhood  of  man,  the  plaintive  song  of  this  bird  is  strongly 
associated  with  the  charms  of  a  summer's  evening  in  the  country. 


844  AITEXDIX. 

Occasionally,  liowcver,  the  wliitc-throated  sparrow,  or  the  common 
peabiddy  bird  (F.  Pennsylvanica)  strikes  up  his  jtipinf;  note  at 
various  times  of  the  ni^'lit,  and  is  often  heard  when  the  surrounding 
woods  are  suddenly  lijj^hted  up  by  the  application  of  fresh  fuel  to 
the  camp  fire.  The  Indians  say  that  lie  sings  every  hour.  The 
exquisite  flute-like  warblings  of  the  hermit  thrush  (T.  solitarius)  are 
often  prolonged  far  into  the  fine  nights  of  early  sunnncr.  As  a 
general  impression,  however,  the  pleasing  notes  of  song  birds  are 
foreign  to  the  interior  solitudes  of  the  great  fir  forest,  whose  gloom 
is  appropriately  enhanced  by  the  wilder  and  more  mournful  voices 
of  predatory  birds  and  animals.  With  these  imperfect  remarks,  I 
close  the  present  sketch  on  the  night  life  of  animals  in  the  woods. 


The  following  is  a  fragment  of  a  Paper  read  by  the 
Author  before  the  Nova  Scotian  Institute  of  Natural 
Science  on  Acclimatisation.  A  large  proportion  of  the 
matter  contained  therein  has  been  omitted  as  ii-relative 
to  the  objects  of  this  work. 

ACADIAN  ACCLIMATISATION. 

Having  thus  adverted  to  the  development  of  "Ai)plied  Natural 
History  "  in  other  parts  of  the  world  as  a  practical  science,  and  the 
satisfactory  results  which  have  already  attended  such  efforts,  we  nc/Nv 
come  to  consider  the  proper  subject  of  this  paper — the  question  of 
Acclimatisation  as  applicable  to  Nova  Scotia.  I  have  so  far  drawn 
attention  to  the  advances  made  by  the  antipodal  colonists  in  this 
direction,  to  show  how  the  objections  of  distance,  expense,  and  un- 
certainty of  results,  have  all  been  put  aside  for  ends  thought  worthy 
of  such  sacrifices.  But  Australia  was  a  country  craving  animal 
immigi'ation,  her  large  and  wealthy  population  demanding  m.any  of 
the  absent  table  luxuries  of  the  old  world,  and  her  youth  eager  for 
the  time  when  the  boundless  forests  and  grassy  plains  should  abound 
with  the  stag  or  roe,  in  place  of  the  monotonous  marsupials  which  as 
yet  had  afforded  the  only  material  for  the  chase.  In  Atlantic 
America,  on  the  contrary,  instead  of  having  to  supplant  the  in- 
digenous animals,  we  possess,  in  a  state  of  nature,  some  of  the  noblest 
forms  of  animal  life,  which,  no  longer  required  to  supply  the  abori- 
ginal Indians  with  their  sole  means  of  subsistence,  may  be  called  on, 


APrENDIX.  345 

with  tlmt  modomtion  wliich  should  ulwaya  chnrnctcrlso  n  civilised 
I)e(>j)lt',  to  iidbrd  both  tlie  invi<?oratin;j;  ploasuroH  of  sport  and  luxuries 
for  the  nuvrket.  Every  Ktreiim  and  lake  abounds  with  trout,  and 
there  arc  but  few  rivers  from  Cape  Sable  to  the  Labrador  which  the 
salmon  does  not  annually  attempt  to  ascend. 

What,  then,  is  to  be  desired  ?  Has  not  America,  receiving  from 
the  east  all  those  useful  aninuxls  which  accompany  num  in  his  mij^ra- 
tions,  and  whicli,  returning  to  a  state  of  nature  in  the  i)lains  of 
]\Ie.\ico  and  South  America,  have  multiplied  so  greatly  as  to  allbrd  a 
Btai)le  product  for  exportation,  giving  all  imaginable  luxuries  to  the 
new-coming  nations  in  the  produce  of  her  forests,  prairies,  rivers,  and 
sea  coasts  ?  Yes,  but  the  gift  has  been  abused.  It  is  sad  to  con- 
template the  wanton  destruction  of  game  and  game  hsh  throughout 
the  northern  continent  since  its  first  settlement  by  Europeans  :  numy 
animals,  now  on  the  verge  of  extinction,  driven  olf  their  still  large 
domains,  not  primarily  by  the  ai)proach  of  civilisation,  but  by  ruth- 
less, wholesale,  and  wanton  modes  of  destruction.  "  One  invariable 
jjcculiarity  of  the  American  pcoi)lc,"  says  the  author  of  "The  (lame 
Eish  of  the  North,"  "  is  that  they  attack,  overturn,  and  anuihihitc, 
and  then  laboriously  reconstruct.  Our  first  I'armers  clujpjtcd  down 
the  forests  and  shade  trees,  took  crop  after  crop  of  the  same  kind 
from  the  land,  exhausted  the  soil,  and  made  bare  the  country  ;  they 
lunitcd  and  fished,  destroying  first  the  wild  animals,  then  the  birds, 
and  finally  the  fish,  till  in  many  places  these  ceased  utterly  from  the 
face  of  the  earth  ;  and  then,  when  they  had  finished  their  work,  that 
race  of  gentlemen  moved  west  to  renew  the  same  course  of  destruc- 
tion. After  them  came  the  restorers  ;  they  manured  the  land,  left  it 
fallow,  put  in  practice  the  rotation  of  crops,  planted  shade  and  fruit 
trees,  discovered  that  birds  were  useful  in  destroying  insects  and 
■worms,  passed  laws  to  protect  them  where  they  were  not  uttei'ly 
extinct,  as  with  the  pinnated  grouse  of  Pennsylvania  and  Long 
Island,  and  will,  I  predict,  ere  long  re-stock  the  streams,  rivers,  and 
ptmds,  with  the  best  of  the  fish  that  once  inhabited  them." 

A  home  question  for  our  subject  would  be, — In  the  hands  of  which 
class  of  men  does  this  colony  now  find  itself?  And  I  fear  the  un- 
hesitating answer  of  the  impartial  stranger  and  visitor  would  be, 
that  in  all  regarding  the  preservation  of  our  living  natural  resources, 
we  were  in  the  hands  of  the  destroyers.  The  course  of  destruc- 
tion so  ably  depicted  by  the  author  quoted,  is  being  prosecuted 
throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  Nova  Scotia,  and  the  settlers 
of  this  province,  blind  to  their  own  interests,  careless  of  their  children's,