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FOEEST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2017 with funding from 
 
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 https://archive.org/details/forestlifeinacadOOhard 
 
THE AMERICAN BROOK TROUT. FonJunwii'S 
 
FOREST LIFE LN ACABIE, 
 
 SKETCHES OF SPORT AND NATURAL HISTORY 
 IN THE LOWER PROVINCES OF THE 
 CANADIAN DOMINION. 
 
 P.Y CAPTAIN CAAIPBI’ILL HARDY, 
 
 ROT.tt AKTILLEBY. 
 
 At’THOR OF “SPORTING ADVENTURES IN THE NEAV WORLD.” 
 
 View on Gold River, N S. 
 
 NEW YORK : 
 
 D. APPLETON & CO., GRAND STREET. 
 
 18C9. 
 
 I 'l'h( ll'Kjhf of Ti'<t II elation is Rcscn'cd.'\ 
 
'ini 
 
 H 
 
 i C) . 
 
 
 
 PKEFACE. 
 
 The Author having brought out several years since 
 a 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- 
 fion of any English publication of a similar kind. 
 
 . . . 
 
 ^ Many inquiries concerning the sports and physical 
 ^ features of the British Provinces borderino; on the 
 ^ Atlantic, evidently made by those who meditate seeking 
 ,2^ a transatlantic home, appear from time to time in the 
 columns of sporting periodicals, and elicit various and 
 uncertain replies. 
 
 The Authors sojourn in the Acadian Provinces having 
 extended over a period of fifteen years, he trusts that the 
 information here afibrded will prove useful to such querists. 
 
 It wiU 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 
 r- of forest life are exaggerated in his descriptions of a 
 i country possessing neither grandeur of landscape nor 
 '^inducements to the “ sensational sportsman. There is, 
 however, a quiet, ever-growing charm to be found in tlie 
 
 
VI 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 woodlands or on the waters of Acadie, which those who 
 have resided there will readily admit. Many who 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 
 Hunter,” 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. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE MARITIME PROVINCES 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE FORESTS OF ACADIE 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 
 
 104 
 
CONTEXTS. 
 
 viii 
 
 CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CAVE LODGERS 194 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ACADIAN FISH AND FISHING 211 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 NOTES ON NEYTFOUNDLAND 261 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 CAMPING OUT 283 
 
 CHAPTER XIL 
 
 THE PROGRESS OF THE SEASONS 307 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 NOCTURNAL LIFE OF ANIMALS IN THE FOREST . . .336 
 
 ACCLIMATISATION IN ACADIE 344 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS NOTES AND ANECDOTES ON NATLTIAL HISTORY . 355 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 SALMO FONTINALIS (COLOURED). 
 
 Frontis 2 ncce. 
 
 VIEW ON GOLD RIVER, N.S. 
 
 Vignette for Title 
 
 Page. 
 
 THE lumberer’s CAJVIP IN WINTER . 
 
 . To face Page 
 
 28 
 
 ELMS IN AN INTERVALE . . . . 
 
 • ?) 
 
 44 
 
 MOOSE RIDING-DOWN A TREE 
 
 • 5? 
 
 72 
 
 MOOSE-CALLING BY NIGHT . . . . 
 
 • 
 
 105 
 
 HORNS OP THE CARIBOO .... 
 
 • 
 
 128 
 
 ON THE BARRENS 
 
 
 155 
 
 BEAVER-DAM ON THE TOBIADUC , 
 
 • 5? 
 
 173 
 
 MUSQUODOBOIT HARBOUR . . . . 
 
 • ?? 
 
 227 
 
 THE PABINEAU FALLS, RIVER NEPISIGUIT . 
 
 • 
 
 244 
 
 THE GRAND FALLS, NEPISIGUIT 
 
 • 5? 
 
 254 
 

FOEEST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 OHAPTEK I. 
 
 THE MARITIME PROVINCES. 
 
 Paddling down a picturesque Nova-Scotian stream 
 called the Shubenacadie some ten years since in an 
 Indian canoe, it occurred to me to ask the steersman 
 the proper Micmac pronunciation of the name. He re- 
 plied, We call 'em ^ Segeebenacadie.' Plenty wild 
 potatoes — segeeben- — once grew here.” ^‘Well, ‘acadie,’ 
 Paul, what does that mean ? " I inquired. “ Means — 
 where you find 'em,'’ said the Indian. 
 
 The termination, therefore, of acadie, signifying a 
 place where this or that is found, being of frequent 
 occurrence in the old Indian names of places, seems 
 to have been readily adopted by the first permanent 
 settlers in Nova Scotia to designate an extensive dis- 
 trict, though one with uncertain limits — -tlie Acadie 
 of the followers of Mons. He Monts in the first 
 decade of the seventeenth century comprising the pre- 
 sent provinces of Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, and 
 Prince Edward Island, witli a portion of the State of 
 
2 
 
 FOEEST LIFE IX ACADIE. 
 
 Maine.*''* The peninsula of Xova Scotia was, however, 
 Acadie 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 
 
 * Ha^Tiig had access since these Enes were written to Dr, Dawson’s 
 second edition of ‘‘Acadian Geology,” recently pubEshed by MacnEEan 
 and Co., I was at once struck with the authors account of the derivation 
 of the term “ Acadie,” which he has given in language so sinular 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 wiE also Cjuote a few passages in further exempEfication of the 
 subject. 
 
 The author is informed by the Eev. Mr. Eand, the zealous Indian Mis- 
 sionary^ of the Acadian Indians, who has made their ways and language his 
 whole study for a long period of years, and translated into them tongue the 
 greater portion of Scripture, that “ the word in its original form is Kad^ 
 or Cadie, and that it is eqiuvalent to region, field, ground, land, or place, 
 but that when joined to an adjective, or to a noim 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 by suffixing ‘a’ or ‘wa’ to 
 the noun. Thus Segubbun is a groimd-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 abundance.” 
 
 As further examples of this common termination of the old Indian 
 names of places. Dr. Dawson gives the foUovdng : — 
 
 Soona-Kaddy (Sunacadie). Place of cranberries. 
 
 Kata-Kaddy. Eel-ground. 
 
 Tulluk-Kaddy (Tracadie). Probably place of residence ; dwelling place. 
 
 Buna-Kaddy (Bunacadie, or Benacadie). Is the place of bringing forth ; 
 a place resorted to by the moose at the cahdng-time. 
 
 Segoonuma-Kaddy. Place of Gaspereaux ; Gaspereaux or Alewife river. 
 
 Again, “ Quodiah or Codiah is merely a modification of Kaddy in the 
 language of the MaEceets ” (a neighbouring tribe dwelEng in New Bruns- 
 wick, principally on the banks of the St. J ohn), “ 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-himting. Pestumoo-Kwoddy (Passamaquoddy), Pollock-ground, &c. 
 &c.” 
 
THE MARITIME PROVINCES. 
 
 3 
 
 step, from tlieir unceasing plottings with the Indians 
 against British dominancy, receiving, of course, strong 
 support from the French, who still held Louishurg 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 256 miles in length, and 
 about 100 in breadth ; a low plateau, sixteen miles wide, 
 connects it with the continental province of New Bruns- 
 wick. The greatest extension of the peninsula, like that 
 
4 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 of similar geographical conformations 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 
 Gaspe. 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. 
 
THE MARITIME PROVINCES. 
 
 5 
 
 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 Eoyal, 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 Pre of 
 the French Acadians. 
 
 The whole surface 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 1865, 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, the 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 the 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 conifers. From the forests in its northern 
 part arise sugar-loaf mountains with naked summits — 
 outlying peaks of the Alleghanies — which occur also in 
 Maine, more frequently, and on a still larger scale. The 
 mountain scenery where the Eestigonche divides the 
 Gaspe chain from the high lands of northern New Bruns- 
 wick is magnificent ; and the aspects of Sussex Yale, and 
 of the long valley of the Miramichi, are as charming as 
 those of the 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, GOO square miles ; of 
 New Brunswick, 27,100 square miles; and of Prince 
 
THE MARITIME PROVINCES. 
 
 Edward Island, 2137 square miles. Their population, 
 respectively, being nearly 332,000, 252,000, and 
 
 81,000. 
 
 To the Geologist, the most interesting feature of modern 
 disco very in a country long famous for its mineral wealth, 
 is the wide dissemination of gold in the quartz veins of 
 the metamorphic rocks, which occur on the Atlantic 
 shore of Nova Scotia, stretching from Cape Sable to the 
 Gut of Canseau, and extending to a great distance across 
 the province. Its first discovery is currently supposed to 
 hav^e 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 long 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 L^niacke, and in the most 
 northern extension of the granitic metamorphic 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 
 unaided 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 was seldom disclosed in nuggets of great value, 
 and the operation of cinshing alone (extracting the gold 
 
THE MARITIME PROVINCES. 
 
 9 
 
 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 visited 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 over 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 
 cpartz 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 exj^osed 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 
 
 FOEEST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 pany establislied here has succeeded in obtaining large 
 profits, working the quartz veins by shafts sunk to a great 
 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 quartz 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 tlie 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 
 
 needy settler returning from market to kis 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 bound- 
 less resources as coal-producing 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 well-established 
 commercial 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 j^recious mineral 
 both to England and the colonists themselves, whilst 
 
1*2 
 
 FOREST LIFE IX ACADIE. 
 
 singularly enough, on the Pacific side of the continent, 
 and in British possession, occur the prolific coal-fields of 
 Vancouver’s Island. “ That the eastern and western 
 portals of British America,” says Mr. E. G. Haliburton,'"' 
 “ should be so favoured by nature, augurs weU for the 
 New Dominion, which, possessing a vast tract of magni- 
 ficent agricultural country between these extreme limits, 
 only requires an energetic, self-reliant people, worthy of 
 such a home, to raise it to a high position amongst 
 nations.” 
 
 The grand coal column from the main seam 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 Eepublic are 
 rapidly becoming possessed of the mineral wealth of the 
 country, almost unchallenged by pro^fincial 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.X.A. : from “ Proceedings of the X.S. Institute of Xat. Science.” 
 
THE MARITIME PROVINCES. 
 
 13 
 
 of tlie warm waters of the great Atlantic current with 
 the colder stream which courses down the eastern coast 
 of Newfoundland from the Polar regions, carrying with 
 it troops of icebergs, is almost 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 
 inland the west wind generally prevails ; indeed it is 
 often astonishing with what 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 Eace — 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. Johns. St. John, New Brunswick, seems to be espe- 
 cially visited, though it has no footing in the interior of 
 that province. 
 
 Insidiously drawing around the mariner in these 
 w^aters 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 vessehs 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 ACADIE. 
 
 In winter time the propinquity of the Gulf Stream pro- 
 duces frequent moderations of temperature. Deep falls 
 of snow are perpetually melting under its warm currents 
 of air when borne inland, though such phases are quickly 
 succeeded by a reassertion of true North American cold, 
 with a return of the north-west wind, arresting the thaw, 
 and encasing the steaming snow with a film of glace ice. 
 
 During the spring months again, the Arctic currents, 
 accompanied by easterly or north-easterly winds, exercise 
 a chilling influence on the climate of the Atlantic coast 
 of the Lower Provinces. Immense areas of field ice float 
 past the Nova-Scotian shores from the mouth of the St. 
 La^vrence and harbours of the Gulf, often working round 
 into Halifax harbour and obstructing navigation, whilst 
 vegetation is thereby greatly retarded. 
 
 The mirage observed on approaching 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. ]\I. 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 MARITIME PROVINCES. 
 
 15 
 
 well-known inhabitant of the tropics, the latter a true 
 boreal form. Tropical forms of fish are of frequent oc- 
 currence in the Halifax market, and shoals of flying 
 fish have been observed by Admiral Sir Alexander Milne 
 in the Gulf Stream as far as 37 deg. 50 min. N. 
 
 A sketch, however slight, of the physical geography of 
 the Acadian Provinces 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 valuable 
 scientific work termed Acadian Geology.’’ On the 
 Atlantic seaboard 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 province, 
 the portals of the bay may be said to 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 Eiver 
 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 advantage 
 
16 
 
 FOREST 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 na\dgation 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 summer 
 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 marsli 
 land& which constitute the wealth of the d^vellers by the 
 bay sliores — 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 modern times, and 
 
THE MARITIME PROVINCES. 
 
 17 
 
 the frequent footprints of birds and animals on the suc- 
 cessive depositions of mud, dried by the sun, and easily 
 detached with the layers on which 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 kingdom further inland and on receding 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 coniferm, 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 former province. 
 
 The Canadian deer (Cervus virginianus), common 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 Waffus, 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 that 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 bora, 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 
 
 the new clearings, where crops are growing rankly amongst 
 the stumps, roots, and rock boulders which still strew 
 the ground, and the wild tangiement 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 tlTe dandelion; 
 the thistle and many a well known weed are recognised 
 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 are as numerous, indeed 
 more so ; the tit-mouse, the wren, 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 have 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 w^hen compared with those of Europe; and 
 the appropriateness of calling the American species the 
 same common names as are applied to the gosliawk, 
 sparrowhawk, or osprey, is at once admitted. The was[), 
 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. 
 
20 
 
 FOEEST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 The seafaring man arriving from Europe will find even 
 less of divergence 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 fight 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 perfectly well established in 
 such instances as those of the arctic fox, the white bear, and 
 of many of the Cetacese and Phocidae amongst mammals ; 
 of the eiders, common and king, the pintail and others of 
 the Anatidae, 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 cii'cumpolar zone, or 
 even in that of the migratoiy species which afiect polar 
 regions for a season, and thence regailarly 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 knovTi) geographically isolated. 
 With regard to the arctic deer the author s considerations 
 will be found given at some length, but there are many 
 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. 
 
 Buffons idea that many of the animals of the New 
 World were the descendants of Old World stock would 
 
THE MARITIME PROVINCES. 
 
 21 
 
 seem not only to be set aside but reversed in argument 
 by a new and growing belief that transmission of species 
 has extensively occurred 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 to geological type, and it is the so-called old 
 world that is in reality the new one. Sir Charles Lyell, 
 in the “ Antiquity of Man,” states that “ Professors 
 Unger 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 be 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 America 
 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 
 Tchuktchi 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 well-established discovery 
 of heather (Calluna vulgaris) as indigenous to the 
 Acadian provinces, observes, “ The occurrence of this 
 common European plant in such small quantities in 
 isolated localities on the American continent is very in- 
 structive, and obviously points to a period when the heath 
 was a widely-spread social plant in North America, as it is 
 
22 
 
 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, while maintaining a vigorous and abundant 
 growth in Europe. If so, may not Europe be indebted 
 to America for Calluna, and not America to Europe 
 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. 
 
CHAPTEK IL 
 
 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 the 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 
 Hudsons 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. 
 
24 
 
 FOREST LIFE IX ACADIE. 
 
 The oak, beech, and maple groves of the Canadas are 
 equally characteristic of the forest scenery of these 
 regions, with the white pine or the hemlock spruce. 
 
 On approaching the Atlantic seaboard, the forest is 
 again somewhat impoverished by the absence 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 influence on the general 
 features of the country, such as the hickory and the 
 butternut. In Nova Scotia,'’ says Professor Lawson, 
 ‘'the preponderance of northern species is much greater 
 than in corresjionding latitudes in Canada, and many of 
 our common plants 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 
 species.” 
 
 Though certain soils and physical conformations of the 
 country occasionally favour exclusive groviihs of either, 
 the woods of the Lower Provinces display a pleasing 
 mixture of what are locally termed hard and soft wood 
 trees — in other 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 forest still obtains over lars^e sections 
 of the country, notwithstanding continued and often 
 wanton 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 
 
THE FORESTS OF ACADIE. 
 
 25 
 
 be studied from the 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 the settlers axe and the tinkling of his cattle-bells. 
 The strange feelings of pleasure 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 afforded 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 that 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 clean straight stems, 
 though somewhat slender withal, eno’endering 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 stems (especially of the 
 spruces) throw out a profusion of spikes and dead 
 branchlets from the base upwards. Unhealthy situa- 
 tions, such as cold swamps, are marked by the utmost 
 confusion. Everywhere, and at every variety of angle, 
 trees lean and creak against their comrades, drawing a 
 few more years of existence through their support. The 
 foot is being perpetually lifted to stride over dead stems, 
 
FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 sometimes so intricately interwoven that the traveller 
 becomes fairly pounded for the nonce. 
 
 This tangled appearance, however, is an attribute of 
 the spruce woods ; there is a much more orderly arrange- 
 ment under the hemlocks. These grand old trees seem 
 to bury their dead decently, and long hillocks in the 
 mossy carpet alone mark their ancestors’ graves, 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 available 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 spring, 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 g]*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). 
 Eocks in woods are always topped with pol}^odium, 
 whilst the delicate fronds of tlie 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 diflerences to their European repre- 
 sentatives. 
 
 There is a beauty peculiar to this interesting order 
 
THE FORESTS OF ACADIE. 
 
 27 
 
 especially pleasing to the eye when studying details of 
 a landscape in which the various forms of vegetation 
 form the leading features. The luxuriant mosses and 
 great lichens which cover or cling to everything in the 
 forest act a similar part. Even the dismal black swamps 
 are somewhat enlivened by the long beards of the Usnea; 
 fallen trees are often made quite brilliant by 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, perhaps, 
 to stumble upon what is called, in woodsman’s parlance, 
 a ‘‘ blazed line ” — a broad chip has been cut from the side 
 of a tree, and 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 marked 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- 
 rally found growing in family groups), and having taken 
 its bearings with a compass, descends, and with liis com- 
 rades proceeds on his errand of destruction. In the 
 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 
 
28 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 tower to the height of some 120 feet, two or three mas- 
 sive branches being thrown out in twisted and fantastic 
 attitudes. As if aware of its proud position as monarch 
 of the forest, it is often found on the summit of a preci- 
 pice ; and these conspicuous positions, which it seems to 
 prefer, have doomed this noble specimen of the cone- 
 bearing evergreens to ultimate extermination as certain 
 as that of the red man or the larger game of this conti- 
 nent. Some half-century since, the pine was found on 
 the margins of all the large lakes and streams, but of late 
 the axe and devastating fires have, as it were, driven the 
 tree far back into the remoter solitudes of the forest, and 
 long and expensive expeditions must be undertaken ere 
 the head-quarters of a gang of lumber-men can be fixed 
 upon for a winter employment. At the head waters of 
 some insignificant brook, and in the neighbourhood of 
 good timber, these hardy sons of the forest fell the trees, 
 and cut and square them into logs, dragging them to the 
 edge of the stream, into whose swollen waters they are 
 rolled at the breaking up of winter and melting of the 
 snow, to find their way through almost endless difficulties 
 to the sea. That most useful animal in the woods, the 
 ox, accompanies the lumberers 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 
 
TFIE LUMRERKR’S CAMP IN’ WINTER 
 
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, Finns 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 subdued 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. Kichardson, ranges 
 as far to the north ward as the south shore of Lake Wini- 
 peg. “ 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 moist 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 
 
30 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 trunk throws off its first branches 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- 
 trude the bare twisted limbs which abruptly terminate 
 the column. 
 
 Perched high up in its branches may be often seen in 
 winter the sluggish porcupine, Avhose 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 afibrding 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. Lavished 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 
 
THE FORESTS OF ACADIE. 
 
 31 
 
 passed through them, but it was at no time a tolerable 
 road ; trees fell across it, mud and limbs choked it up, 
 till finally travellers took the hint and 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. Plere 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 
 going on so silently about me. 
 
 “No hostile forms with axe or spud now visit these 
 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 the authorship of this passage from the note- 
 books of Nathaniel Hawthorne. It is not embodied in the recently 
 published 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. 
 
32 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 entirely superseding that of the oak. Its surface is very 
 rough Avith deep grooves betAveen the scales. Of a light 
 pearly gray outside, it shoAvs a madder broAvn tint Avhen 
 chipped. The sojourner in the Avoods seeks the dry and 
 easily detached bark AAdiich 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 AAugAvams, 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, Avhen each 
 spray is tipped Avith the neAV seasons shoot of the 
 brightest sea-green imaginable, the appearance is very 
 beautiful. The young cones are likeAvise of a delicate 
 green. 
 
 This tree has a AAude range in the coniferous AAmod- 
 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 Alleoha- 
 nian range, AAdiich, commencing in our oAAm province of 
 A^egetation, carries its flora as far south as 35 degrees 
 north latitude, elevation affording the same conditions of 
 groAvth as distance from the equator. 
 
 It AA^ould appear that this giant spruce has no analo- 
 gous form in the Old World as have others of the genus 
 Abies found in the NeAv. All the genera of conifers. 
 
THE FORESTS OF ACADIE. 
 
 33 
 
 however, here contain a larger number of trees, which 
 though they are 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 difference 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 new species to the 
 list. 
 
 The Black Spruce is one of the most conspicuous and 
 characteristic forest trees of North-Eastern America, 
 forming a large portion of the coniferous forest growth, 
 and found in almost every variety of circumstance. 
 Sometimes it appears in mixed woods, of beautiful 
 growth and of great height, its numerous branclu',s 
 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 summit 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 grows the black spruce, scarcely higher than a cab- 
 
34 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 bage sprout * — the light olive-green 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 deuse mass of innumerable 
 branchlets of a rounded contour like a beehive, display- 
 ing short, thick, light green foliage. The summit of 
 the tree generally terminates in another bunch. The 
 stem and arms are profusely covered with hchens 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 these miniature trees in hogs where the sphagnum perpetually 
 hathes their roots with chilling moisture, have a very similar appearance to 
 Brussels sjuouts 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 hogs, often 
 called cariboo hogs hy reason of this deer frequenting them in search of 
 the lichen, Cladonia rangiferinus, is generally quite hare of spruce clumps, 
 which fringe the edge of the surrounding forest, the trees increasing in 
 height as they recede from the open hog. 
 
THE FORESTS OF ACADIE. 
 
 35 
 
 fermented with molasses, the celebrated spruce beer of the 
 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 
 the 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 exj)osed 
 and brine-washed sands where no other vegetation ap- 
 
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 growing 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 hiUs 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 Avind, give the tree its name. We find it in moist 
 woods — growing occasionally 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 remarkable for the horizontal regularity 
 
THE FORESTS OF ACADIE. 
 
 37 
 
 of its brandies, 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 multi- 
 tude of interlaced sprays which are, every summer, 
 clothed with very delicate, flaccid, light- green leaves, 
 forming a beehive shape like that of the sjiruce. It may 
 be noticed, however, that whilst this bunch foliage is 
 perennial in the case of the latter tree, that of the fir is 
 annually deciduous. Up to a certain age the silver fir in 
 the forest is a graceful shrub. Its flat delicate sprays 
 form the best bedding for the woodman's couch ; the 
 fragrance of its branches, when long cut or exposed to 
 the sun, is delicious, and their soft elasticity is most 
 grateful to the limbs 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 
 
38 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 abundant. They are crowded together in bushels, and 
 often kill the upper part of the tree and its leading, shoot, 
 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 about the same chance of fulfilment. 
 
 No less majestic than the coniferm are many of the 
 species of deciduous trees, or ''hard woods,'' which, inter- 
 mingled with the former, impart such a pleasing 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 (B(tula papyracea) against the spruce boughs ; and, 
 as these are generally open woods, the latter come sweep- 
 ing down to the ground. The young stems of the yellow 
 bfich (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. 
 
 39 
 
 particularly tlie canoe or paper birch, so called from the 
 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 affords 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 poor 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 important 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 69 degrees N. lat. 
 
 In travelliug the forest in summer it is quite refreshing 
 to enter the bright sheen of a birch-covered hill, exchanof- 
 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 
 
4 ( 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 stems with their light canopy of sunlit leaves, through 
 the breaks in which the blue sky shows quite dark as a 
 Imckground, the innumerable lights falling on the light 
 green undergrowth of plants and shrubs beneath, and the 
 general absence of appreciable lines of shadow every- 
 where, stamp these hard- wood hills with an almost fairy- 
 land appearance. 
 
 If at all near the l)orders of civilisation, we soon strike 
 a hauling road,^^ leading from such localities into the 
 settlements — a track broad enough for a sled and pair of 
 oxen to pass over when the farmer comes in winter to 
 transport his firewood over the snow. And a goodly 
 stock indeed he requires to battle with the cold of a 
 Korth American winter in the backwoods ; logs, such as 
 it would take two men to lift, of birch, beech or maple, 
 are piled on his ample hearth ; the abundance of fuel 
 and the readiness with which he can bring it from the 
 neighbouring bush, is one of his greatest blessings. He 
 deserves a few comforts, for perhaps his lifetime, and that 
 of his father, has been spent in redeeming the few acres 
 round the dwelling from the fangs of gigantic stumps 
 and boulders of rock. A patch of potatoes, an acre or 
 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, 
 ard the whirr of whose circular saw disturbs only the 
 wild animals of the surrounding woods. 
 
 How vividly is recalled to my memory the delight 
 ex})erienced on many occasions by our tired, belated 
 2)arty, returning from a hunting camp through unknown 
 woods, on finding one of these logging roads, anticipating 
 ir advance the kindly welcome of the invariably hospit- 
 
THE FORESTS OF ACADIE. 
 
 41 
 
 able backwoods farmer, towards whose clearings it was 
 sure to trend. Perhaps for hours before we had almost 
 despaired of quitting the forest by nightfall. On sending 
 the Indians into tree-tops to reconnoitre, the disheartening 
 cry would be, “ Woods all round as far as we can see.’' 
 Further on, perhaps, Ave should hear that there were 
 ‘‘Lakes all round I” Worse again, for then a wearisome 
 detour must be made. But at last some one finds signs 
 of chopping, then a stack of cord-Avood, and then we 
 strike a regular blazed line. Now the spirits of every 
 one revive, and we soon emerge on the forest road AAuth 
 its clean-cut track, corduroy platforms through swamps, 
 and rude log bridges over the brooks, which brings us 
 within the welcome sound of cattle bells, and at length 
 to the broad glare of the clearings. 
 
 o o 
 
 Before leaving the woods, however, we may not omit 
 to notice those characteristic trees of the American forest, 
 the maples, particularly that most important member of 
 the family, the rock or sugar maple — Acer saccharinum. 
 Found generally interspersed with other hard- wood trees, 
 this tree is seen of largest and most frequent- growth in 
 the Acadian forests on the slopes of the Cobequid hills, 
 and other similar ranges in Nova Scotia, often growing 
 together in large clumps. 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 Avood, and from which 
 the maple sugar is extracted. Towards the end of 
 March, wheu winter is relaxing its hold, and the hitherto 
 frozen trees begin to feel the influence of the sun, the 
 settlers, old and young, turn into the woods with their 
 axes, sap-troughs, and boilers, and commence the opera- 
 
42 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 tion of sugar-making. A fine young maple is selected ; 
 an oblique incision made by two strokes of the axe at a 
 few feet from the ground, and the pent-up sap im- 
 mediately begins to trickle 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 evaporated 
 until it attains the consistency of syrujD. 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,” wdiich 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 Aceraceae are noted for breadth of 
 leaf, and, being even more abundant than the birches in 
 
THE FORESTS OF ACADIE. 
 
 43 
 
 the forests of Acadie, the solid appearance of the rolling 
 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 
 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, rendering 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 
 
44 
 
 FOREST LIFE IX ACADIE. 
 
 Acadie is so famous. Many of the rivers, coursing 
 smoothly through long tracts of 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 uplands, shaded by clumps of elm (Ulmus 
 americana). 
 
 Almost the whole charm of these inteiA^ales (in an 
 artistic point of \dew) is due to the groups of this 
 graceful tree, by which they are adorned. Its stem, 
 soon forkinof and diversfino: like that of the Encrlish horn- 
 beam, nevertheless carries the main bulk of the foliage 
 to a good elevation, the ends of the middle and lower 
 branches bending gracefully dovmwards. 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 taU 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 
 cojises of alders, dogwood, and willows — favourite haunts 
 of the American woodcock, which here alone finds 
 subsistence, the earth-wonn being never met with in the 
 forest. 
 
ELMS IN AN INTERVALE. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE ALCINE DEER OF THE OLD AND THE NEW WORLDS. 
 
 THE MOOSE. 
 
 {Alee, Hamilton Smith ; Alee Americanus, Jardine.) 
 
 Muzzle very broad, produced, covered with hair, except a small, moist, 
 naked spot in front of the nostrils. Neck short and thick ; hair thick 
 and brittle ; throat rather maned in both 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 inter- 
 maxillaries are very long, but do not reach to the nasal. The nasals 
 a re very short. 
 
 In the foregoing diagnosis, taken from ‘^Gray sKnowsley 
 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 
 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 hnally, towards the roots, dull white — the diffe- 
 rence of colour in the hair of the two varieties thus 
 
46 
 
 FOREST LIFE IX ACADIE. 
 
 being quite superficial. The males have a fleshy appen- 
 dage to the throat, termed the bell, from which 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 wav}q 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 manner of birds of the 
 grallae 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 “ Anatomical Descriptions of Several Creatures Dissected "by the 
 Royal Academy of Sciences at Paris, by Alexander Pitfield, F.R.S., 1688,” 
 the above peculiarity is thus described : — “ The hair was three inches long, 
 and its bigness equalled that of the coarsest horsehair ; this bigness grew 
 lesser towards the extremity, which was pointed aU 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 ver}^ 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. 17 
 
 great length of the head and ear, and the muscular 
 development of the upper lip ; 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 
 the 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 fatigue to the 
 owner, is much developed. The enamel on the molar 
 teeth forms islands with the dentine somewhat like tlie 
 pattern of the tooth of the common cow.” 
 
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 rear so often misrepresented in drawings of 
 the animal. The appearance of extra height forwards is 
 given by the mane, which stands out from the ridge of 
 the neck, something like the bristles of an inverted 
 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-yeUow 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 upper 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 
 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. 
 
 THE PAST HISTORY OF THE ELK. 
 
 The study of northern zoology ]3resents a variety of 
 considerations interesting both to the student of recent 
 nature and to the pala3ontologist. Taking as well known 
 
THE ALCINE DEEE OF THE OLD AND NEW WORLDS. 49 
 
 instances the reindeer and musk-ox”, there are forms yet 
 inhabiting the 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 already named, occupied a 
 far greater southerly extent of each 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 parts the 
 soil seems altogether composed of them, the Khinoceros 
 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 species of European pliocene 
 bovidse came down to the historical period,'' states Pro- 
 fessor Owen in his British Fossil Mammals," 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 
 Alces, 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. 
 
 under notice of tlie classic pens of Coesar, Pausanias, and 
 Pliny. And there is a something in common to both of 
 these sino-ular deer T\diich would seem to connect them 
 
 O 
 
 equally with the period when they and the gigantic 
 contemporary genera now extinct roamed over so large 
 a 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. 
 
 The presence of the remains of Cervus Alces in associa- 
 tion with those of the mammoth, the great fossil musk-ox 
 (Ovibos), the fossil reindeer, and two forms of bison in 
 the fossiliferous ice-cliffs of Eschscholtz Bay, as described 
 by Sir John Eichardson, would seem to be an almost 
 decisive proof of its existence at a time Avhen the tempe- 
 rature on the shores of the Polar Sea was sufficiently 
 genial to allow of a vegetation affording browse and 
 cover to the great herds of mammals which have left 
 their 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 considerable distance to the south. The elk of the 
 present day, as we 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 afford a sufficient sustenance, is almost 
 exclusively a wood- eater, and could not have lived at 
 the locality aljove 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 AVrangell as 
 having been found in the greatest profusion in the 
 interior of the islands of Xevf Siberia, associated witli 
 
THE ALCINE DEER OF THE OLD AND NEW WORLDS. 51 
 
 mammoth bones, could now exist in that icy wilderness. 
 On these grounds a high antiquity is claimed for the 
 sub-genus Alces, probably as great as that of the rein- 
 deer. 
 
 As a British fossil mammal, the true elk has not yet 
 been described, though for a long time the remains of 
 the now well-defined sub-genus Megaceros were ascribed 
 to the former animal. There is a statement, however, in 
 a recent volume of the Zoologist to the effect that the 
 painting of a deer s head and horns, which were dug out 
 of a marl pit in Forfarshire, and presented to the Koyal 
 Society of Edinburgh, is referable to neither the fallow, 
 red, nor extinct Irish deer, but to the elk, which may be 
 therefore regarded as having once inhabited Scotland. 
 The only recorded instance of its occurrence in England 
 is the discovery, a few years since, of a single horn at the 
 bottom of a bog on the Tyne. It was found lying on, 
 not in, the drift, and therefore can be only regarded as 
 recent. 
 
 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 age ; whilst 
 in a recent work on travel in Palestine by the Pev. H. 
 B. Tristram, we have evidence of the great and ancient 
 fauna which then overspread temperate Europe and Asia 
 having 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 debris of 
 the feasts of prehistoric man — flint chippings, evidently 
 used as knives, mixed with bones in fragments and teeth, 
 
52 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 assignable to red or reindeer, a bison, and an elk. If,’^ 
 says the author, as Mr. Dawkins considers, these teeth 
 are referable to those now exclusively northern quadrupeds, 
 we have evidence of the reindeer and elk having been 
 the food of man in the Lebanon not long before the 
 historic period ; for there is no necessity to put back to 
 any date of immeasurable antiquity the deposition of 
 these remains in a limestone cavern. And,’^ he adds, 
 with significant reference to the great extension of the 
 ancient zoological province of which we are speaking, 
 there is nothing more extraordinary in this occurrence 
 than in the discovery 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 Caesar in the sixth book ‘‘ De Bello Gallico " — 
 '‘sunt item quce a'p'pellantiiv Alces” etc. etc., a descrip- 
 tion of an animal inhabiting the great Hercynian forest 
 of ancient Germany, in common with some other remark- 
 able ferae, 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 speaks of the forest as commencing near the 
 territories of the Helvetii, and extendinof eastward aloim 
 the Danube to the country inhabited by the Dacians. 
 
 Under this general name," says Dr. Smith, “ Caesar 
 appears to have included all the mountains and forests 
 in the south and centre of Germany, the Black Forest, 
 Odenwald, Thllringenwald, the Hartz, the Erzgebirge, the 
 Riesengebirge, 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 range of mountains between the Thtlruigenwald and 
 
THE ALCINE DEER OF THE OLD AND NEW WORLDS. 53 
 
 the Carpathians. The name is still preserved in the 
 modern Harz and Erz.^^ Gronovius states that the 
 German word was Hirtsenwald, or forest of stags. In 
 an old translation of the Commentaries I find the word 
 “alces^' rendered ‘^a kind. of wild asses/ ^ and really a 
 better term could hardly be applied, had the writer, 
 unacquainted with the animal, caught a passing glimpse 
 of an elk, especially of a young one without horns. But 
 it is evident that Cmsar alludes to a large species of deer, 
 and, although he compares them to goats (it is nearly 
 certain that the original word was. ‘‘ capreis,’' caprea 
 being a kind of wild goat or roebuck), and received from 
 his informants the story of their being jointless — an 
 attribute, in those days of popular errors and super- 
 stitions, ascribed to other animals as well — the very fact 
 of their being hunted, in the manner described, by 
 weakening trees, so that the animal leaning against them 
 would break them down, involving his own fall, proves 
 that the alee 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 stiffly as he 
 endeavours to cull the morsel with his long, prehensile 
 upper lip, might impart to the ignorant observer the idea 
 that the stilt-like legs were jointless. 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. Alutilceque sunt cornibus’^ may imply that 
 Cmsar, or more likely some of his men, had either seen a 
 
54 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 female elk, or — as miglit be more acceptably inferred — a 
 male whicli had lost one horn, and consequently late in 
 the autumn, as it is well known that the horns 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 distingmishing the odour 
 of a human being at a great distance, taken by hunters 
 in the same manner as is now pursued in the “skalP^ of 
 north Europe, and as being indigenous to the country of 
 the Celtae ; Avhilst Pliny declares it to be a native of 
 Scandinavia, and states that at his time it had not been 
 exhibited at the Eoman games. At a later period the 
 animal became better Imown, for Julius Capitolinus 
 speaks of elks being shown by Gordian, and Vopiscus 
 mentions that Aurelian exhibited the rare spectacle of the 
 elk, the tiger, and the giraffe, when he triumphed over 
 Zenobia. 
 
 In these few notices is summed up aU that has been 
 preserved of what may be termed the ancient history of 
 the European elk. An interesting reflection is suggested 
 as to what were 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 the 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 som’ces of the Ehine to .an eastern 
 boundary indicated by the Carpathian mountains, and 
 embraced, as far as its northern extension was known, 
 the plateau of Bohemia. Strange and fierce animals, 
 hitherto unknown to the Eomans — accustomed as they 
 
THE ALCINE DEER OF THE OLD AND NEW WORLDS. 55 
 
 liad been to seeing menageries of creatures brought from 
 other climes, dragged in processions and into the arena 
 — were found in these forests. The urus or wild bull, 
 now long extinct, “ in size,^^ says Csesar, ‘‘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 
 to have been 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 
 Niebelungen poem, where the hero, Sifrid, slays some of 
 the great herbivorse — the bison, the elk, and the urus — 
 as well as “ einen grimmen Schelch,” about the identity 
 of which so much doubt has arisen, though the conjecture 
 has been offered by Goldfuss, Major Hamilton Smith, 
 and others, that the name refers to no other than the 
 great Irish elk or megaceros. 
 
 The recent notices of the elk contained in some curious 
 old works on the countries of northern Europe and their 
 natural history are valuable merely as indicating the 
 presence and range of the animal in certain regions. The 
 errors and extravagances 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 by St. Hilaire and Cuvier. A confused 
 account of the animal is given by Scaliger, and it is 
 mentioned by Gmelin in his Asiatic travels. Glaus 
 Magnus, the Swedish bishop, says, “ The elks come from 
 the north, where the inhabitants call them elg or elges.” 
 
56 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 Scheffer, in his histoiy of Lapland, published in 1701, 
 speaks of that conntiy '' as not containing many elks, but 
 that they rather pass thither out of Lithuania.” Other 
 craters mention it, but, whenever 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 like^vise, 
 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 against falhng sickness : and its being obliged to 
 browse backwards through the upper lip becoming en- 
 tangled with the teeth. ^ There are also ample notices 
 of the elk in the works of Pontoppidan and Nilsson ; 
 Albertus 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 165 he treats of the elk : “ They are not found 
 but in the colder northern regions, as Eussia, Prussia, 
 Hungaria, and Illpia, in the wood ; Hercynia, and 
 among the Borussian Scythians, but most plentiful in 
 Scandina\fia, which Pausanias calleth the Celtes.” 
 
 • Mr. Buckland, referring to tlie above statement in “ Land and "Water,” 
 says : — “ Of course some 2)art of the elk was used medicinally. Our 
 ancestors managed to get a ‘ihll et liaustus’ out of all things, from 
 vipers up to the moss in human skulls. The Phanuacoixeia of the day 
 prescribes a j^ortion of the hoof worn in a ring ; ‘ it resisteth and freeth 
 from the falling evil, the cramp, and cureth the tits or jiangs.’ Fancy an 
 hysterical lady being told to take ‘elk’s hoof’ for a week, 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 V 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 
 are excusable enough. From the writings of Josselyn,'''' 
 Denys, Charlevoix, Le 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 browsing on the foliage at an astonishing 
 elevation. It was consequently long believed that the 
 American animal was much larger fhan his European 
 congener ; and when the gigantic horns of the Megaceros 
 were first ascribed to an elk, it was to the former that 
 they were referred by Dr. Molyneux. 
 
 DECENT NATUDAL HISTORY OF THE SPECIES. 
 
 Commencing its modern history, let us now briefly 
 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 ; their horns, as I have said elsewhere, very big and brancht out into 
 palms, the tops whereof are sometimes found to Ijc two fathoms asunder 
 (a fathom is six feet from the tip of one finger to the tip of tlie other, that 
 is four cubits), and in height from the toe of the fore feet to the 2)itch of 
 the shoulder twelve foot, both of which hath been taken by some of my 
 sceiitique readers to be monstrous lies.” — Josselyn’s Voifarjes to New Enrjlaml, 
 pub. 1674. 
 
58 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 have receutly written on the field sports of the Scandina- 
 vian Peninsula that we are indebted for nearly all onr 
 information on the natural history of this animal, and its 
 geographical distribution in northern Europe. The works 
 of ^lessrs. Lloyd and Barnard contain ample notices. 
 
 At the present day,'' says the latter author, '' it is found 
 in Sweden, south of the pro^dnce of East Gothland. 
 Angermannland is its northernmost houndaiy." 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 Scandina^da 
 between 58° North lat. and 64°. Mr. Barnard states that 
 “ it likewise inhabits Finland, Lithuania, and Eussia, 
 from the White Sea to the Caucasus. It is also found m 
 the forests of Siberia to the Elver Lena, and in the neigh- 
 bourhood’ of the Altai mountains." Yon YYangel met 
 with the elk — thouMi becomino’ scarce, throuMi excessive 
 hunting and the desolation of the forest by fire — in the 
 Kolymsk district, in the almost extreme north-east of 
 Siberia. Erman, another eminent scientific traveller in 
 Siberia, describes it as abundant 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 mammalia 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 tlie 
 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 
 
THE ALCTNE DEER OF THE OLD AND NEVv^ WORLDS. 59 
 
 greater civilisation in the western portion of the Eussian 
 empire, it recedes towards the sixtieth. 
 
 In the New World, it would appear from old narra- 
 tives that the moose (as we must unfortunately continue 
 to call the elk, whose proper title lias 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 of Maine — appear to be the most favourite 
 abode of the moose ; for nowhere in the nortliern and 
 western extension of the North American forest do we 
 find this animal so numerous 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. Lawrence, 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 
 of the moose in Newfoundland appears unaccountable ; 
 for, although a large portion of this great island is com- 
 j)osed 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 afford an 
 ample subsistence to the former animal, which is stated 
 by Sir J. Eichardson to ascend the rivers in the north- 
 west of America nearly to the Arctic Circle — as far, in 
 fact, as the wdllows grow on the banks. 
 
 Assuming that the moose is still found in New Hamp- 
 shire and Vermont, where it exists, according to Audubon 
 
60 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 and Baclimaii, at long intervals, ^ve liiay therefore define 
 its limits on the eastern coasts of North America as lying 
 Ijetween 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 vegetation. As regards the general 
 features of the forests which the moose affects, we find 
 them principally characterised by the presence of the fir 
 tribe and their associations of damp swamps and soft 
 open bogs, provided that they are sufficiently removed 
 from the region of perpetual ground-frost to allow of the 
 requisite growth of deciduous shrubs and trees on which 
 the animal subsists. The best indication, therefore, of 
 the dispersion of the moose through the interior of the 
 continent is afforded by tracing the development of the 
 forest southwards from the northern limit of the growth 
 of trees. 
 
 The North American forest has its most arctic exten- 
 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, appears 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 69°. Further to the east- 
 ward Richardson assigns 65° as the highest 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 oft' a large section of Labra- 
 
THE ALCINE DEER OF THE OLD AND NEW WORLDS. G1 
 
 dor. To the northward of this line are the treeless wastes, 
 termed barren-grounds, the territory of the small arctic 
 cariboo. 
 
 The monotonous character and paucity of species of 
 the everofreen forest in its southern extension continues 
 until the valley of the Saskatchewan is reached, where 
 some new ty23es 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 Eocky Mountains, whilst the other edges the plains 
 to the south of Winipeg and the Canadian lakes. In the 
 former district, and west of the mountains, the Columbia 
 river is assio'ned as the limit of the moose. On the other 
 
 O 
 
 course the animal appears to be co-occupant with the 
 wapiti, or prairie 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, which, 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 
 
62 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 cliaracterisecl by the predominance of evergreen coniferae. 
 It was all at one time plentifully occupied by the moose, 
 which is now but just frequent enough in its almost 
 inaccessible retreats in the Adirondack hiUs to be classed 
 amongst the quadrupeds of the State of New York. 
 The rang;e of the animal across the continent is thus 
 indicated, and its association with the physical features 
 of the American forest. As before remarked, the 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 innumerable 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 habits of the American nioose~the result 
 of a long period of personal observation in the localities 
 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 
 me hear if my female moose '' (one that he had inspected 
 at Goodwood, and belonging to the Duke of Kichmond) 
 “ corresponds with that you saw ; and whether you still 
 think that the American moose and European elk are the 
 same creature ? ” In reference to this interesting ques- 
 tion, my own recent careful observations and measure- 
 ments of the Swedish elks at Sandringham compared 
 Avith living specimens of moose of the same age examined 
 in America, convince me of their identity; whilst the 
 late lamented i\tr. Wheelwright, with Avhom I have had 
 an interesting correspondence on the subject, states in 
 “ Ten Years in Sweden “ The habits, size, colour, and 
 
THE ALCINE DEER OF THE OLD AND NEW WORLDS. C3 
 
 form of our Swedish elk so precisely agree with those of 
 the North American moose in every respect, that unless 
 some minute osteological difference can be found to exist 
 (as in the case of the beavers of the two countries), I 
 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 Eoyal College of Sur- 
 
 * The following corroborative statement has appeared in “Land and 
 Water,” from the pen of a correspondent whose initials are appended : — • 
 “ I beg to state my opinion that the elk of North America and of Northern 
 Europe are identical. Having lived four years in New Brunswick and 
 Nova Scotia, and having had the opportunity since I have been living in 
 Prussia of seeing the interesting paintings of the elk of East Prussia, 
 executed by Count Oscar Krochow, I have very little doubt on the subject ; 
 indeed, the differences are so trifling and so manifestly the result of climatic 
 influences, that as a sportsman I have no doubts whatever. The elk (Elend 
 thier, Elenii thier, Elech or Elk in German) is still found in the forest 
 lying between the Russian frontier and the Curische Huff, in the govern- 
 mental district of Gumbinnen, where it is strictly preserved, 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 recommendation to high authorities 
 in Berlin. The best German sporting authorities and sporting naturalists 
 consider the moose deer of North America and the elk of Northern Europe 
 to be identical. The elk was not extinct in Saxony till after the year 1746, 
 and is still found in Prussia, Livonia, Finland, Courland (where it is called 
 Halang), in the Ural, and in Siberia. Perhaps the greatest numbers are 
 found 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) Hhemooflie,’ 
 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 
 duration of life is from sixteen to eighteen years.” — B. W. (Berlin). 
 
64 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 geons, in wliicli no grounds of distinction whatever are 
 evidenced. 
 
 I consider that this and the other arctic deer — the 
 rangifers (excepting, perhaps, in the latter instance the 
 small barren-ground cariboo, which is probably a distinct 
 species) — owe any differences of colour or size, or even 
 shape of the antler, to local variation, influenced by the 
 physical featimes of the country they inhabit. There is 
 more variation in the woodland cariboo of America in its 
 distribution across the continent than I am. able to perceive 
 between the elks of the Old and New AVorkl. 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 be 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 swamps, where the animal treads deeply and 
 noiselessly on a soft cushion of sphagnum. These svramps 
 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 usnea. 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. 
 
THE ALCTNE DEER OF THE OLD AND NEW WORLDS. 65 
 
 A few swamp-maple saplings, witlirod bushes (viburnum), 
 and mountain-ash, occur at intervals near the edge of 
 the swamp, where the ground is drier, and offer a 
 mouthful of browse to the moose, who, however, mostly 
 frequenting these localities in the rutting season, seldom 
 partake of food. Here, accompanied by his consort, 
 the bull remains, if undisturbed, for weeks together ; 
 and, if a large animal, will claim to be the monarch of 
 the swamp, crashing with his antlers against the tree 
 stems should he hear a distant rival approaching, and 
 making sudden mad rushes through the trees that can 
 be heard at a long distance. At frequent intervals the 
 moss is torn up in a large area, and the black mud 
 scooped out by the bull pawing with the fore-foot- 
 Eound these holes he continually resorts. The strong 
 musky effluvia evolved by them is exceedingly offensive, 
 and can be perceived at a considerable distance. They 
 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, 
 “ grop '' being 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 further 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 
 
06 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 fact in the natural history of the Cervinse that such an 
 instance must be regarded as exceptional. The first two 
 or three days of September over, and the moose has 
 worked off the last ragged strip of the deciduous skin 
 against his favourite rubbing-posts — the stems of young 
 hacmatack (larch) and alder bushes, 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 admiration, calculated, indeed, on first being 
 confronted with the forest giant, to produce a feeling of 
 awe on the part of the young hunter. To hear his dis- 
 tant crashings through the woods, now and then drawing 
 his horns across the brittle branches of dead timber as if 
 to intimidate the supposed rival, and 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 honis are of a licrlit 
 yellowish white stained with chestnut patches ; the tines 
 rather darker ; and the base of the horn, with the lowest 
 
THE ALCINE DEER OF THE OLD AND NEW WORLDS. 67 
 
 group of prongs projecting forwards, of a dark reddish 
 brown. 
 
 At this season the bulls fight desperately. Backed 
 by the immense and compact neck, the collision of the 
 antlers of two large rivals is heard on a still autumnal 
 
 O 
 
 night, like the report of a gun. If the season is young, 
 the palm of the horn is often pierced by the tines of the 
 adversary, and I have picked up broken fragments of 
 tines where a fight has occurred. Though at other 
 seasons they rarely utter a sound, where moose are plen- 
 tiful they may be heard all day and night. The cows 
 utter a prolonged and strangely-wild call, which is imi- 
 tated by the Indian hunter through a trumpet of rolled- 
 up birch-bark to allure the male. The bull emits several 
 sounds. Travelling through the woods in quest of a 
 mate, he is constantly '' talking,'' as the Indians say, 
 giving out a suppressed guttural sound — quoh ! quoh ! 
 — which becomes much sharper and more like a bellow 
 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 dHoiir 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 of 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 spot without hesitation. 
 The suspicious and angry bull will often go into a thick 
 
68 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 swamp and lay about bim amongst the spruce stems right 
 and left, now and then making short rushes — the dead 
 sticks flpng 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-knovm in Kova 
 Scotia as Joe Cope — to be regretted as one of the last 
 examples of a thorough Indian, and gifted with extra- 
 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 night in October, and he was alone, 
 calling, on an elevated ridge which overlooked a great 
 extent of forest land. “ I call,” said he, “ and in all my 
 life I never hear so many moose answer. Why, the place 
 was bihn with moose. By-and-by I hear two coming 
 just from opposite ways — proper big bulls I knew from 
 the way they talked They come right ou, and both 
 come on the little hill at same time — pretty hard place, 
 too, to chmb up, 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’heve what a 
 noise — ^just the same as if gam gone off'. AVeU, 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 
 
THE ALCINE DEER OF THE OLD AND NEW WORLDS. 60 
 
 the gun one bit — ^no more noise than what he been 
 makin’, and he thought he killed the moose ; so I just 
 loaded quick, and I shot him too. What fine moose 
 them was — both layin' together on the rocks I No moose 
 like them now-a-days, Capten.^^ 
 
 It is not long since that an animated controversy ap- 
 peared 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 the Scottish 
 hills, by the testimony of many sportsmen. I can testify 
 that such is also a habit of the moose, arid many will 
 corroborate this statement. On two occasions in the fall 
 I have heard the strange and, until acquainted with its 
 origin, almost appalling sound emitted by the moose. It 
 is a deep, hoarse, 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, had 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 are later 
 in their season than the old bulls. Before the end of 
 October, when their elders have retired, though they will 
 generally readily answer the Indians’ call from a dis- 
 tance, they show great caution in approaching — stealthily 
 hovering round, seldom answering, and creeping along 
 the edges of the barren or lake so as to get to leeward of 
 the caller, making no crashing with their horns against 
 the trees as do the older bulls, and always adopting the 
 moose-paths. In consequence they are seldom called up. 
 
VO FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 When the 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 right 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 afibrd 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 
 edges of barrens, skirting lakes and swamps. I have 
 often observed that moose, chased from a distance into a 
 strange district, will at once and intuitively take to one 
 of these moose-paths. 
 
 With the exception of the 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 following 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. Eed 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 off from the opposite side, leaving a rough pro- 
 jection surmounting a clean-cut edge, by which the 
 position of the passing animal is indicated. The wild 
 
72 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 meadow hay stacked by the settlers back in the woods is 
 never touched by moose, though I have seen them eat 
 hay when taken young and brought up in captivity. A 
 young one in my possession would also graze on grass, 
 which, vainly endeavouring to crop by widely straddling 
 with the forelegs he would finally drop on his knees to 
 eat, and thus would advance a step or two to reach 
 further, and in a most ludicrous manner. 
 
 To get at the foliage 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 jaw contain mg 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 
 sapless branches on which it is sometimes compelled to 
 subsist in winter, when accumulated snows shut it out 
 from seeking more favourable feeding grounds. 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 
 nucleus was plainly a portion of a broken molar tooth 
 which the animal had swallowed. A short time after- 
 wards I obtained another bezoar taken from a moose. 
 The rings were fewer in number than in the preceding 
 case, but the nucleus was a very nearly perfect and entire 
 molar. 
 
MOOSE RIDING DOWN A TREE. 
 
THE ALCINE DEER OF THE OLD AND NEW WORLDS. 73 
 
 The young bull moose grows his first horn (a little 
 dag), of a cylindrical form, in his second summer, ^.e., 
 when one year old. Both these and the next years 
 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 impression that when 
 moose are much disturbed, and are not allowed to “ breed” 
 their horns in quiet, contorted and undersized horns 
 most frequently occur. Double and even treble jDalms, 
 
 * Old Winckell, perhaps the best authority among the Germans on 
 sporting zoology, says on this point : — “ In the first year of life, and indeed 
 earlier than the red deer, the elk calf shows knobby projections on that 
 part of the head where the horns grow, which by September attain an inch 
 in height. In the spring of the second year the true knobs appear, forming 
 single points seven 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 are cast, and are replaced either by longer single 
 points or by forked antlers, according to which the young elk is called 
 either ‘ spiesser ’ or ‘ gabler.^ These again are cast early in April, and are 
 replaced 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 should 
 have previously remarked that they had already developed 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 30 to 40 lb., not being completed 
 till June. The antlers of the young are light, those of the full-grown elk 
 are dark brown.”— 11. W, 
 
74 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 folded back one layer upon the other, are not uncommon ; 
 and sometimes an almost entire absence of palmation 
 occurs, in which case I have seen a pair of moose horns 
 ascribed to the cariboo. 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 possessor of which he 
 had shot a few falls previous. They were of a dead- 
 white colour, without palmation, 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 had 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 season. 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 Avounded moose Avhich turned on him. For 
 safety, there being no tree near, he jammed himself in 
 between two large granite boulders which Avere 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 ALCINE DEER OF THE OLD AND NEW WORLDS. 
 
 75 
 
 Whatever may be said about the mild eyes of the 
 dying moose, a wounded animal, unable to get away, 
 assumes a very ugly ” expression. The little hazel eye 
 and constricted muscles of the mouffle speak volumes of 
 concentrated hate. Such scenes I have lost no time in 
 terminating by a quick coicp de grdce. 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 lingering and 
 terrible death, to which may be applied the well-known 
 lines of Byron in illustration — the contest, indeed, being 
 prolonged beyond the original intention : — 
 
 “ Friends meet to part : love laughs at faith ; 
 
 True foes, once met, are joined till death ! ” 
 
 A Splendid pair of locked horns of the American 
 moose now adorn the Museum of the Eoyal 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 aj)proach of a storm. 
 
76 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 Except in the height of the rutting season, the great 
 ear of the moose is ever on the alert to detect danger ; 
 the • slightest snap of a dead bough trodden on by the 
 advancing hunter, and he is off in a long swinging trot 
 for many a mile. He readily perceives the difference of 
 sounds occasioned by the presence of his human foe to 
 those produced by the animals or bffds of the forest, or 
 by the approach of his ovm 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 difficult to detect, 
 except by tracks and signs of browsing, that habitual 
 silence and caution in walkino^ throuo'h the forest be- 
 comes a leading trait in the moose hunter, whose eyes 
 are ever glancing 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 
 ,.o easy and gTateful to the moccasined foot. Xot a word 
 had been spoken save in cautious undertones, and de- 
 bouching on the bog, we walked up to a little pile of 
 rocks and dead trees near the centre, where we were to 
 try our luck with 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 tlie woods. It was per- 
 fectly calm ; not a sound except the cry of the jay or the 
 woodpecker’s tap. Presently tlie Indian, who lay in the 
 
THE ALCINE DEER OF THE OLD AND NEW WORLDS. 77 
 
 bushes close hj, gave a little warning hist ; ” and, look- 
 ing up, I saw a fine moose standing about eighty yards 
 off, and slowly looking about him. He had come out of 
 the woods close to our point of exit, and we must have 
 been passed by him quite handy. I was capped ; and 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 the 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 take 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 affect open 
 barrens and hill sides, where there is a plentiful supply 
 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 
 
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 most inaccessible districts, on hill sides strewn in 
 the wildest confusion with bleached granite boulders, and 
 vdndfalls 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 {jyoudre) 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 end, 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 othervfise 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 settlers farm, which are borne 
 
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 in 
 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 
 then quietly and meditatively resumed the process of 
 rumination. 
 
 In April, about the time of the sap ascending in trees, 
 the moose horns begin to sprout, the old pair having 
 fallen two months previously. The latest date that I 
 have ever seen a bull wearing both horns was on the 
 29th of January. The cylindrical dag of the moose in 
 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 
 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 
 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 
 
80 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 sliore, or swimming from point to point. Besides the 
 clonds 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 know 
 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 was 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 mornintr’s date on 
 proceeding to our hunting grounds on the Cumberland 
 
THE ALCINE DEER OF THE OLD AND NEW WORLDS. 81 
 
 hills in search of cariboo. Not caring to kill moose we 
 left it ; but shortly after the track was taken up and 
 followed on light new-fallen snow by a settler. Having 
 started the animal once or twice without getting a shot, 
 he followed its track to the edge of a little round pond 
 in the woods whence he could not find an exit of the 
 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 animaks head appear above 
 the surface in the middle of the pond. On jumping up, 
 the moose quickly made for the opposite shore, and, 
 emermno^ from the water, reo^ained 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 father 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 considerably over a mile from the mainland. 
 Such tales are evidently intimately connected with the 
 powers of the animal in the water, in which, as has been 
 previously stated, it passes much of its existence during 
 the liot weather. A similar hunters story to the one 
 related above is quoted by Mr. Gosse iu the “ Canadian 
 Naturalist.” 
 
 o 
 
82 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 In conclusion, it is with regret 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 who hunted the all-pervading 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 — loenju-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 tlie 
 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 nomad e tribes of savages who 
 
 O 
 
 live entirely apart from civilisation. Being an inhabitant 
 of more temperate regions, it is brought more constantly 
 within the influences of the permanent neiglibourliood of 
 man, and tlius, whilst its extinction is threatened by 
 slauoliter, a sure l)ut certain alteration is beinof effected 
 in the physical fcatui-es of its native forest regions. The 
 
THE ALCINE DEEK OF THE OLD AND NEW WORLDS. 83 
 
 ofteD purposeless destruction of woods by the axe, and 
 the constant devastation of large areas of forest by fires, 
 too frequently the result of carelessness, are reducing the 
 moisture of the American wilderness, removing the 
 sponge-like carpet of mosses by which the water was 
 retained, and rendering the latter a less fitting abode for 
 the moose. Eestriction of his domains and constant dis- 
 turbance are undoubtedly slowly dwarfing the species. 
 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 diminution 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 Eussian 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 drained, and 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 bones 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 the ken of the scientific record of modern natural 
 
CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 MOOSE HUNTING. 
 
 Successful in the chase, 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 country, strewed 
 with rocks and fallen trees, and covered with tangled 
 vegetation, with the 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 purpose, 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 tlie 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 scenery ; is charmed with tlie ready resources 
 and wild freedom of camp life, and, instead of listlessly 
 following in the tracks of his Indian guides in a state of 
 
MOOSE HUNTING. 
 
 85 
 
 semi-disgust, derives the greatest pleasure in watching 
 their wonderful powers of tracking, their sagacity in 
 finding the game, and general display of woodcraft. 
 
 It is, perhaps, to this art of tracking or creeping ” 
 that the sport itself owes all its excitement ; and it is in 
 the lower provinces (Nova Scotia especially) that it is 
 carried out to perfection by the Indian hunters ; a race, 
 however, which, it must be regrettingly stated, is fast 
 disappearing from the country. 
 
 In Nova Scotia the moose may not be 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 frequent occur- 
 rence in New Brunswick and Lower Canada. Moose 
 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 are huddled together, spiritless, and 
 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 ground just sufficiently to bring out 
 the art of creeping to its perfection, whilst the moose 
 cannot be run down, and snow shoos are never required. 
 The dense deciduous foliage of the hard woods is now all 
 removed, and the woods afford clear open vistas in which 
 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 be the 
 
86 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 slightest excuse for leaving in the woods the spoils which 
 it becomes the imperative duty of the hunter, for many 
 reasons, to remove. 
 
 At the same time fall-hunting has likewise its ad- 
 vantages. There is a double chance of sport now pre- 
 sented, as creeping may be pursued by day, whilst at 
 sunrise and sunset, and, indeed, throughout the night 
 when the moon is round, the call” may be resorted to. 
 Much, too, in the way of camp equipage may be dispensed 
 with at this season. One may travel till sundown and 
 camp in one’s tracks amongst the rank ferns and bushes 
 of the upland barrens with but one rug or blanket for 
 cover, and sleep soundly and comfortably in the open, 
 though a rime frost sparkles on every spray next morn- 
 ing. And if, perhaps, the supply of firewood has been 
 somewhat short towards dawn, the excitement of hearinof 
 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 
 fife, and you are ready for the “ morning call.” 
 
 And then, when the sun dispels the va] 30 urs, raises the 
 thin misty lines which mark the water coimses 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, when 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 ^lay. 
 
 Perhaps one of the most singular of the experiences 
 
MOOSE HUNTING. 
 
 87 
 
 wliicli the new hand meets with in moose hunting, and 
 the one which teaches him to lean entirely for assistance 
 upon his Indian guide, is the extreme unfrequency with 
 which an accidental sight 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, or amongst 
 ferns, but how seldom do we see the animals, themselves by 
 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 
 quest of a moving form, but meets with continual disap- 
 pointment. Not a sign of life, perha23s, but the glancing 
 flight of a woodpecker or the croak of a raven. One is 
 prone to believe that the country is deserted by large 
 game. Presently, however, your Indian, who, leaving 
 you to rest on a fallen tree and enjoy a few whiffs of the 
 hunter s solace, makes a cast round for his own satisfac- 
 tion, returns to tell 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 stiU eddying in a little pool in 
 which the animal has stepped. You may listen, too, by 
 the liour too^ether for some token of their Avhereabouts, 
 but hear no sounds but those of the birds or squirrels. 
 
 If there is daylight, and the wind propitious, your 
 guide will probably in half an hour or so point to a 
 black j)atch seen between tree stems, indicatiDg a portion 
 of the huge body of a moose, unless you have bungled 
 
88 
 
 FOEEST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 the whole affair by an unlucky stumble over a brittle 
 windfall, or clanked your gun-stock against a tree-stem. 
 It Ycill thus be readily seen that success in moose hunt- 
 ing entirely depends upon the excellence of the Indian 
 hunter Avho accompanies 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 which he has 
 inherited from his forefathers, who before the advent of 
 Eastern civilisation, regularly “ followed the wmods — as 
 is tlie high state of perfection to which the various breeds 
 of sporting dogs have been brought by artificial means. 
 
 Soon confused in the maze of woods through which 
 your Indian leads you after moose, you chance to ask 
 him at length where camp lies. He will tell you within 
 half a point of the compass, and without hesitation, 
 though miles away from the spot. The slightest dis- 
 arrangement of moss or foliage, a piece of broken fern, 
 or a scratch on the lichens of a granite plateau, are to 
 him the sign-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 will 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 summer. He is the closest 
 observer of nature, and can tell you the times and 
 seasons of eveiything ; and there is not an animal, bird, 
 or reptile whose voice he cannot imitate with marvellous 
 exactness. 
 
 A faithful companion, and always ready to provide 
 beforehand for your slightest necessities, the Micmac 
 
MOOSE HUNTING. 
 
 89 
 
 hunter will never leave you in the woods in distress ; 
 and should you cut yourself with an axe, meet with a 
 gun accident, or he taken otherAvise sick, will carry you 
 himself out of the woods. Under his guidance Ave Avill 
 now introduce the reader to the sport of moose hunting. 
 
 Old Joe Cope, the Indian hunter, is still to the fore ;f 
 his little legs, in shape resembling the curved handle of 
 pliers, carry him after the moose nearly as trustily as 
 ever. Perhaps his sight and hearing are failing him, and 
 he generally hunts in company Avith his son Jem as an 
 assistant ; and Jem, being a lusty young Indian, does 
 most of the Avork in “ backino: out’’ the moose-meat 
 from the Avoods. 
 
 Joe,” said I, on meeting the pair one morning late 
 in September, a feAV falls ago, at the country-market at 
 Plalifax, AAdiere they Avere selling a large quantity of 
 moose-meat, Joe’s eyes beaming Avith ferocious satisfaction 
 
 * The following anecdote — a scrap from the note-hook of an old comrade 
 in the woods — is an interesting example of the Indian’s reflective powers ; — 
 “ At length Paul, who is leading, stops, and, turning towards us, points 
 towards a cleared line through the forest. ^ A road, a road ! ’ and we give 
 three such cheers. It is a logging-road, leading from the settlements into 
 the forest ; hut which is the way to the clearings ! If Ave turn in the wrong 
 direction it will delay us another day, and we have only a little tea left and 
 six small hiscuits. It is soon settled ; we turn to the left, and presently 
 lind a wisp of hay dropped close to a tree. Now comes out a piece of 
 Indian ‘ ’cuteness.’ Paul has observed that when a tree knocks off a hand- 
 ful of hay from a load, it falls on that side of the tree to Avhich the cart is 
 going : the hay is on our side of the tree, so we are going in the direction 
 Avhence the cart came. But it might he wild hay, hrought in from a 
 natural meadow. They taste and smell it ; it is salt (in this country the 
 farmers salt the meadow hay to keep it, hut not the wild hay) : hence this 
 Avas hay carted from the settlements for the use of oxen employed in haul- 
 ing out lumher. AA^e are, therefore, going in the direction Avhence the cart 
 came, and toAvards the settlements^” 
 
 t Since this Avas Avritten, poor Joe has for ever left the hunting grounds 
 of Acadie, having shot his last moose hut a few Aveeks before he rested 
 from a life of singular adventure and toil. Requiescat in imce. 
 
90 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 as he pocketed the dollars by a ready sale. J oe, I think 
 I must come and look at your castle, at Indian Lake ; they 
 say you have exchanged your camp for a two-storey 
 frame-house, and are the squire of the settlement. Do 
 you think you have left a moose or two in your pre- 
 serves ? 
 
 “Well, Capten, I very glad to see 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 
 woods 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, has succumbed to 
 the iron-horse, and the discordant sounds of passing 
 trains re-echo througli the neighbouring woods, to the no 
 
MOOSE HUNTING. 
 
 91 
 
 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 
 mind 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 
 off 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 neighbourhood, 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 inhabitants 
 seemed to be in making barrels for the fishery trade. 
 They make them very compact, as they are intended for 
 herring or mackerel in pickle. The staves are spruce, 
 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 1815. Their wretchedness 
 in winter is extreme, and in the summer they earn a hand- 
 to-mouth livelihood by bringing in to the Halifax market 
 a few vegetables grown in the small cleared patches 
 round their dwellings, bunches of trout from the brooks, 
 and the various berries which grow plentifully in the 
 wild waste lands round their settlement. 
 
 Presently the canoe was signalled, and, going down to 
 the water’s edge, I embarked, and in a few minutes stood 
 
92 
 
 FOEEST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 before Joes 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 ail sizes, ages, and in all stages of 
 decomposition ; horns, legs, and hoofs ; porcupines de- 
 prived of their quids, 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 
 the door as Joe opened it to welcome me. “Walk in, 
 Capten — ah, you brute of dog, Koogimooh! Mrs. Cope 
 from home, visiting his friends at Windsor. Perhaps you 
 take some dinner 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, Capten ; 
 everything in woods so wet — can’t hardly make fire ; but 
 grand time for creeping — oh, grand ! Everything, you 
 see, so soft, don’t make no noise. What sort of moccasin 
 you got ? ” 
 
 “ A good pair of the moose-shanks you sold me, last 
 winter, eloe ; they are the best sort for keeping out the 
 wet, and they are so thick and warm.” 
 
 The moose-shank moccasin is cut from the hind leg of 
 the moose, above and below the hock ; it is in shape like 
 
MOOSE HUNTING. 
 
 93 
 
 an ankle-boot, and is sewn up tightly at the toe, and, 
 with this exception, being without seam, is nearly water- 
 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 
 nothing seemed to have any certain place of rest allotted 
 to it. Smoke-dried eels were suspended from the rafters, 
 in company 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 Neivs 
 and Punch divided the walls v/ith a number of gaudy 
 pictures of saints and martyrs. 
 
 The repast being over, the Indians strided out, replete, 
 with lighted pipes, and paddles in hand, to the beach. 
 Some fresh moose-meat was placed in the canoe, with a 
 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 s]3read over the rolls 
 of blankets, guns, camp-kettles, and bags containing the 
 grub, which were stowed at the bottom ; and, having 
 seated myself beside them, the Indians stejoped lightly 
 into the canoe and pushed her off, when, propelled 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, prdj^ortionally, very narrow — j)er- 
 haps half a mile in its general breadth. Rolling hills, 
 steep, and covered with heavy fir and hemlock wood, 
 bounded its western shore ; those on the opposite side 
 showing large openings of dreary burnt country. Tlie 
 
94 
 
 FOEEST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 maple-buslies, skirting the water, 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 comfortaldy 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 alongside 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 something, or we have no luck.” 
 
 To the rocks in question are attached a superstitious 
 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 offering 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 another 
 threw a small piece of biscuit or a potato on to the rock. 
 “ Now you wouldn’t b’lieve, Capten, that when you come 
 back you find that all gone. T give you my word that’s 
 true ; we always find what we leave gone.” Whereupon 
 
MOOSE HUNTING. 
 
 95 
 
 Joe commenced a series of illustrative yarns, showing the 
 dangers of omitting to visit “ the Grandmother/’ and hoAV 
 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 presents, had imme- 
 diately recovered. 
 
 “It looks 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 
 boss which run back into the woods on the western 
 side, look likely resorts for moose.” 
 
 “Noplace handy for camp on that side,” said Joe; 
 “ grand place for moose, though — guess if no luck to- 
 morrow morniiT, we cross there. I got notion of trying 
 this 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 
 by the rapidly closing shades of evening. In a very 
 short time the dripping branches, discharging their heavy 
 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 
 w^as ended, and a faint light through the trees in the 
 front showed that we had arrived at the edge of the 
 
 O 
 
 barrens. “ It’s no use trying to make call to-night, that 
 sartin,” said Joe ; “ couldn’t sec moose if he came. Oh, 
 
96 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 dear me, I sorry for this weather ! Come, Jem, we try 
 make camp right away/^ It was a cheerless prospect, as 
 we threw off our bundles on the wet ground ; it was 
 quite dark, and, though nearly calm, the drizzling rain 
 still fell and pattered in large drops, falling heavily from 
 the tree-tops to the ground beneath. First we must 
 get up a good fire — 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- 
 haps, find some dry stuff in the heart. Joe has found 
 one, and, with two or three efforts, 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 
 anxious 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 we 
 have a rousing 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 ])rimitive frame, and our 
 camp has started into existence. The branches of the 
 young balsam firs, which form its poles, are Avell shaken 
 over the fh-e, and disposed in layers beneath, to form the 
 
MOOSE HUNTING. 
 
 97 
 
 bed ; blankets are unrolled and stretched over the boughs, 
 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 hissing sounds drown the pattering of the rain- 
 drops. 
 
 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 great 
 extent, and of a very bad nature for travelling, the ground 
 being most intricately strewed with the dead trees of the 
 forest which once covered it, and the briars and bushes 
 overgromng and concealing their sharp broken limbs and 
 rough granite rocks, often cause a severe bruise or fall to 
 the hunter. It was, as Joe said, a grand place” for 
 calling the moose, as in some spots the country could be 
 scanned for miles around, whilst the numerous small 
 bushes and rock boulders would afford a ready conceal- 
 ment from the quick sight of this animal. However, 
 time would show. If calling could not be attempted next 
 morning, it would most likely be suitable for creeping ; 
 so, hoping for a calm morning and a clear sky, or, at all 
 events, for a cessation of the rain, we stretched ourselves 
 for repose ; and the pattering drops, the crackings and 
 snappings of the logs on the fire, and the hootings of the 
 owls in the distant forest, became less and less heeded or 
 heard, till sleep translated us to the land of di'cams. 
 
98 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 To oLir disgust it still rained when we awoke next 
 morning ; tlie 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 barren by himself to take a survey 
 of the country whilst the breakfast was preparing, and I 
 gloomily threw myself back on the blanket for another 
 snooze. After an hour or so’s absence, Joe returned, and 
 sat dovTi to his breakfast (we had finished ours, and were 
 smoking), looking very wet and excited. Two moose 
 pass round close to camp last night, said he ; ‘'I find 
 their tracks on barren. They gone down the little valley 
 towards the lake, and I see their tracks again in the 
 woods quite fresh. You get ready, Capten; I have notion 
 Ave see moose to-day. I see some more tracks on the 
 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 vfith 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 CA^en dead sticks bent with- 
 out snapping, and Ave progressed rapidly and noiselessly 
 as cats toAvards the lake. Preseutly Ave came on the 
 tracks, here and there deeply impressed m a bare spot of 
 soil, but on the moss hardly discernible except to the 
 Indian’s keen Ausion. They Avere going doAvn the A^alley; 
 a little brook coursed through it toAwards the lake, and 
 from the mossy banks sprung graceful bushes of moose- 
 AA^ood and maple, on the young shoots of AAdiich the moose 
 had l)een feeding as they passed. The tracks shoAved that 
 
MOOSE HUNTING. 
 
 99 
 
 they were a young bull and a cow, those of the latter being 
 much longer and more pointed. 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 J em 
 was making the breakfast.” Long striding tracks, deeply 
 ploughing up the moss, showed that they had gone off in 
 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 climbing 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 
 
100 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 Indian proclaimed the unwelcome fact. At length we 
 reached the most elevated part of the barren. We could 
 see the wooded hills of the opposite shore of the lake 
 looming darklj through the mist, and here and there a 
 portion of its dark waters. The country was very open; 
 nothing but moss and stunted huckleberry bushes, about 
 a foot and a half in height, covered it, save here and 
 there a bunch of dwarf maples, with a few scarlet leaves 
 still clinging to them. The forms of prostrate trunks, 
 blackened by fire, lying across the bleached rocks, often 
 gave me a start, as, seen at a distance through the dark 
 misty air, they resembled the forms of our long-sought 
 game — particularly so when surmounted by twisted roots 
 upheaved in their fall, which appeared to crown them 
 with antlers. 
 
 ‘‘ Stop, Capten ! not a move ! suddenly whispered old 
 J oe, who was crossing the barren a few yards to my left ; 
 
 don't move one bit ! " he half hissed and half said 
 through his teeth. Down — sink down — slow — like 
 
 me ! " and we all gradually subsided in the wet bushes. 
 
 I had not seen him ; I knew it was a moose, though I 
 dared not ask Joe, but quietly awaited further directions. 
 Presently, on Joe's invitation, I slowly dragged my body 
 through the bushes to him. “ Now you see him, Capten — 
 there — there ! My sakes, what fine bull ! What pity 
 we not a little nearer — such open country ! " 
 
 There he stood — a gifrantic fellow — black as niMit, 
 moving his head, which was surmounted by massive 
 white-looking horns, slowly from side to side, as he 
 scanned the country around. He evidently had not seen 
 us, and was not alarmed, so we all breathed freely. This 
 success on our })art was partly attributable to the sudden- 
 
MOOSE HUNTING. 
 
 101 
 
 ness and caution with which we stopped and dropped when 
 the quick eye of the Indian detected him, and partly to 
 the haziness of the atmosphere. His distance was about 
 five hundred yards, and he was standing directly facing 
 us, the wind blowing from him to us. After a little de- 
 liberation, Joe applied the call to his lips, and gave out a 
 most masterly imitation of the lowing of a cow-moose, to 
 aUure 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 J oe 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 approach him ? ” 
 The moose lay facing us, partially concealed in bushes, 
 and a long swampy gully, filled up with alders, crossed 
 the country obliquely between us and the game. We 
 have lots of time, as the moose generally rests for a 
 couple of hours at a time. Slowly we worm along to- 
 wards the edge of the alder swamp ; the bushes are pro- 
 vokingly short, but the mist and the dull grey of our 
 homespun favour us. Gently lowering ourselves down 
 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 
 is off. 
 
 “ Must go back,” whispered Joe, close in my ear ; 
 can't get near enough this side — too open and the 
 difficult task is again undertaken and performed without 
 disturbing the moose. What a relief, on regaining our 
 old ground, to see his great ears flapping backwards and 
 
102 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACAOIE. 
 
 forwards above the bushes ! Another half-hour passes in 
 creeping like snakes through the wet bushes, which 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. I am ahead, and at length, judging 
 one hundred and twenty yards to be the distance, I can 
 stand it no longer, but resolve to decide matters by a 
 shot, and fire through an opening in the bushes of the 
 swamp. Joe 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 upon me for a moment ; a headlong stagger 
 follows the report, and he wheels round behind a clump 
 of bushes. 
 
 ‘‘ Bravo ! you hit him, you hit sure enough,’’ shouts 
 Joe, levelling and firing at a large cow-moose which had, 
 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 
 huckleberry-bushes. A few paces on the other side, and 
 the great bull suddenly rose in front of us, aud 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. 
 
 103 
 
 this time, anyhow ; very much we thank you, Grand- 
 mother/’ 
 
 “ It’s a pity, Joe,” I observed, that we have not time 
 to see whether our offerings of yesterday are gone or not ; 
 but mind, when you go up the lake 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.” 
 
 MOOSE-CALLING. 
 
 Few white hunters have succeeded in obtaining the 
 amount of skill requisite in palming off this strange 
 deceit upon an animal so cautious and possessing such 
 exquisite 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 moose-calling, the season lasting for some six weeks. 
 I have seen one brought up as late as the 23rd of 
 October. 
 
 The moose is now in his prime ; the great palmated 
 horns, which have been growing rapidly during the 
 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, leaving 
 the tines smooth, sharp, and ready for the combat. 
 
 The bracing, frosty air of the autumnal nights makes 
 the moose a great rambler, and in a short time dis- 
 tricts, which before would only give evidence of his 
 presence by an occasional track, now show countless 
 impressions in the swamps, by the sides of lakes, and 
 
104 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 on the mossy bogs. He has found his voice, too, and, 
 where moose are numerous, the hitherto silent woods 
 resound with the plaintive 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 
 monarch of the forest to his destruction. The startling 
 and strange sound reverberates through the country ; and 
 as its echoes die away, and everything resumes the won- 
 derful silence of the woods on a calm frosty night in the 
 fall, he drops his birchen trumpet in the bushes, and 
 assumes the attitude of intense listening. Perhaps there 
 is no response ; when, after an interval of about fifteen 
 minutes, he 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 gTunt, quickly 
 repeated, comes from over some distant hill, and snappings 
 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 careful, 
 knowing that his voice is criticised by the exquisite ear 
 of the bull, kneels down, and, thrusting the mouth of his 
 
MOOSE-CALLING BY NIGHT. 
 
MOOSE-CALLING. 
 
 105 
 
 “ call ” into the bushes close to the ground, gives vent to 
 a lower and more plaintive sound, intended to convey the 
 idea of impatience and reproach. It has probably the 
 desired effect ; an answer is given, the snappings of 
 branches are resumed, 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 behind the little clump of concealing 
 bushes, and the great carcass sinks into the laurels and 
 mosses which carpet the plains. 
 
 Whatever may be adduced in disfavour of moose- 
 calling on the score of taking the animal at a disadvan- 
 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 
 to the sport, and the intense feeling of sudden excitement 
 when the first distant answer comes to the wild ringing 
 call, are passages of forest life acknowledged by all who 
 have experienced them as producing a most powerful 
 effect on the imagination, both when experienced and in 
 memory. 
 
 But few moose are shot in this manner — very few in 
 comparison with the numbers tracked or crept upon — for 
 the per centage of animals that are thus brought up, even 
 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. 
 
106 
 
 FOREST LIFE IX ACADIE. 
 
 Another method of calling which has fallen into disuse 
 was formerly practised by the Indians of the Lower Pro- 
 vinces in the faU. 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 caU far more readily than when the hunter 
 is on the open barren or bog, and, when within distance, 
 the match is apphed 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 ofiers 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 show when 
 the barrel is levelled. A highly-pohshed 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 ” recommended for shooting large game at night a 
 V-shaped forked stick to he hound on the muzzle, stating that he found it 
 of great ser\*ice. Get the object in the field of ^’iew between the horns of 
 the V and you are pretty sure to hit. 
 
MOOSE-CALLING. 
 
 107 
 
 stiff with 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 
 always take advantage of it in coming up to the caller, 
 and endeavour to get his scent. The capacious nostrils 
 of the moose, up which a man can thrust his arm, show 
 the fine powers of that organ ; and should the hunter 
 have crossed the barren or the forest intervening betwixt 
 him and the approaching bull at any time during the 
 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 f they fear one another; and, 
 unless one of them is a real old 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, 
 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 
 
108 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 flight ; the imitation of a rival bull has brought the 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 
 by roads and settlements, but very accessible from 
 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 baggage ; the 
 nature of our movements prevented our taking much 
 into the wood beyond the actual necessaries, i.e., a small 
 blanket apiece, which, rolled into a bundle, Indian fashion, 
 and carried across the back by a strap passing over the 
 chest and shoulders, contained the ammunition, a couple 
 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 dozen pounds of 
 fat pork, about twice that amount of hard pilot bread, 
 the small kettle with a couple of tin pint cups thrust 
 inside, they in their 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 leatlier, 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. 
 
 109 
 
 otter or mink-skin. 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 valuable 
 to the hunter as a universal cloth for every garment. 
 
 Thus accoutred, we marched through the forest in file, 
 laying down our bundles now and then to follow recent 
 moose-tracks which might cross our path, and to ascertain 
 the whereabouts of the game with regard to the barrens 
 towards which we were wending our way with the object 
 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 beat 
 in our faces as we emerged from the forest on a grassy 
 meadow, 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 afford the settler 
 such plentiful supplies for feeding his stock in winter, and 
 which are the result of the labours 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 : the 
 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. 
 
110 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 plentifully strewed with moose hair, showing how the 
 moose had struggled with the bear towards the woods, 
 where no doubt the affair was ended, and the bear dined. 
 The full-grown moose is far too powerful 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 right glad when a roaring fire 
 rose up in front of the little gipsy-like camp, partly 
 of cut bushes and partly of birch 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 neighbourhood ; 
 the wind was rising and chasing away the murky 
 clouds from the northward, and there was no chance of 
 calling that night, 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 were to proceed in the morning, in 
 search of more distant huntinof-PTounds. 
 
 o o 
 
 The prospect from our little grotto of bushes, as we 
 breakfasted next morning, was charming ; the tops of the 
 maple-covered hills, which sloped down towards the 
 barren on either side, were delicately tinged with warm 
 brownish-red, deepened by the frost of the previous night; 
 
MOOSE-CALLING. 
 
 Ill 
 
 and the bushes which skirted a little lake in front of us, 
 over which hung a stationary line of mist, were painted 
 with every hue, warmed and gilded at their summits by 
 the slanting sun-rays. There was the delicate rose-colour 
 varying to blood-red and deep scarlet, of the smaller 
 maples, which are always brightest in swampy low situa- 
 tions, and the bright golden of the birches, poplars, and 
 beeches. Sometimes a maple was wholly painted with 
 the darkest claret, 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 light 
 pinkish tint, a pretty contrast to the rich shining green 
 leaves of the myrica growing with the former shrub in 
 damp spots. The flora of the fall, comprising asters, 
 golden rods and wild-everlastings were all out, encircling 
 the pearly grey rocks which strewed the barren, and 
 every bush was wreathed with lines and webs of little 
 spiders, marked by the myriads of minute dew-drops 
 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 
 would 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 more pellucid ; when the sky has a greater 
 softness and depth than commonly, and one’s own 
 feelings are in unison with all around. 
 
112 
 
 FOEEST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 On such a morning the clear, affecting notes of the 
 hermit thrush seem more joyous than at his spring 
 advent, and other 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 recent, 
 showed that the moose had 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 refreshing after 
 the painful morning s trudge over rocks and wind-falls. 
 The ground was gently descending ; and in the valley 
 were little circular swamps and bogs where the firs 
 showed e^ddences 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 
 amono'st the colourless stems of rotted trees. 
 
 o 
 
 In situations like this the moose likes to dwell in the 
 fall, and frequent tracks attested the very recent presence 
 of these animals in the vaUey 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 ofiensive odour as we passed ; 
 in fact, the moose had, as AVilliams told us, only that 
 
MOOSE-CALLING. 
 
 113 
 
 morning passed, and we might come on them at any 
 moment. We now travelled with great caution ; any 
 little blunder committed, such as a slight snap caused 
 by stepping on a rotten stick, or grazing a gun-barrel 
 against a tree-stem, was invested with a plausible ap- 
 pearance by the Indian, who would immediately apply 
 the call to his lips, and utter a low grunt, as it were a 
 moose walking through the woods. At last the forest 
 opened ahead, the gloom of the pines gave place to 
 brighter light, and we stood on the edge 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. They had just crossed it before us, 
 and taken to the barren. 
 
 The barren, which was at some elevation above 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 themselves like 
 ghosts in the fast 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 mellow the twilight. 
 
 Everything was perfectly still, except the occasional 
 tap of the woodpecker on the decayed trunk of some 
 distant rampike. As the sun sank below the horizon, 
 the gentle breeze gradually diminished, and now not a 
 leaf on the poplar and maple bushes around us flutters. 
 
 “ Now, John,” I whispered to the Indian, “it is almost 
 time to try your voice. We will make the moose hear 
 
 I 
 
114 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 US to-night, if there are any in these woods. Ah ! did 
 you hear that ? Listen.’’ 
 
 We all heard it plainly — a heavy crash of branches 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 the young moon, nearly 
 half grown, shed an uncertain light over the gray rocks 
 and bare 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- 
 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 swampy hollow in the barren, 
 not more than 500 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 hesitatingly ; so much would depend upon 
 the skilfulness 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, apparently from the 
 
MOOSE-CALLING. 
 
 115 
 
 lowest parts of his throat, checked in the middle, then 
 again resumed, and its prolonged cadences allowed gra- 
 dually to die away. It was a masterly performance ; and 
 our pulses beat high as the echoes returned from the 
 sides of the thick forest which skirted the barren, and we 
 listened for some reply from the moose. 
 
 Then followed a prolonged crashing, as if a whole 
 army of giants was forcing its way through the brittle 
 rampikes ; it seemed impossible that a moose could have 
 caused such a tremendous uproar — then a pause, and the 
 moose answered the call — Quoh ! quofh ! He was 
 evidently close at hand, though still concealed by the 
 closeness of the covert ; and we were, moreover, lying 
 crouched as flatly as possible on the ground, and behind 
 a little rise in the barren, which 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 the 
 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 
 
116 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 with his hand for us to remain quiet, and I at once 
 divined his object; he was making for the edge of the 
 woods, some 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 followed by the weU-coun- 
 terfeited call. The ruse succeeded ; the suspicions of 
 the bull were allayed, and the horns were again dashed 
 against the 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 hearts beat so, that it 
 becomes a wonder they do not scare the moose, and we 
 grasp the stocks of our rifles tightly as we wait for his 
 appearance. Here he comes ! The moonlight just catches 
 the polished surfaces of his great spreading horns ; a black 
 mountain seems to grow out of the barren in front, and 
 the bull stands immediately before us, his gigantic pro- 
 portions standing out in bold relief against the sky, and 
 clouds of hot vapour circling from his expansive nostrils, 
 as he pauses for a moment to gaze forward from the 
 acquired 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 retreat ; the sharp cracks of the two 
 rifles proclaim his doom, and as they are lowered the 
 great moose falls heavily over, without a pace 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 
 
MOOSE-CALLING. 
 
 117 
 
 marks the flight of the startled moose, the late comrades 
 of our noble bull. 
 
 Pretty handy on to five feet,'’^ said John, as he with 
 difficulty raised the ponderous head from the bushes, to 
 display the breadth of the antlers ; that s a great moose, 
 old feller, that ; hind-quarters weigh goin’ on for a hun- 
 dred and fifty weight each ; we have to get two or three 
 smart hands to back him out.^’ 
 
 The night was now far advanced, and it was with 
 well-earned satisfaction that 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 John dragged up log after log of 
 the dead dry timber, which was strewed in plentiful 
 confusion over the barren, until we had a fire large 
 enough to have roasted our moose whole. The kettle, 
 filled from the brook below in the swamp, soon boiled, 
 and after a refreshing cup and a biscuit a-piece, we finally 
 tightened our blankets round our forms, and, with pipes 
 in our mouths, gradually dozed off. 
 
 Towards the morning^ is the coldest time of the nig^ht? 
 and I more than once awoke from the cold, and went on 
 the barren for fresh fuel to supply the quickly-decaying 
 embers. There was the same solemn stillness over the 
 face of that wild scene : the moon was down long since, 
 but a few brilliant streamers of the aurora played in the 
 clear sky in the north, and by their light I could just 
 discern the great dark form of the moose in the bushes, 
 all covered with the thick 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 deep-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 nio^ht scene. 
 
 The sun w^as 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 
 carcase. 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 homeward^ 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. J ohn, however, knew a lumberer’s path, 
 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, lopping off' the inter- 
 posing branches as he proceeded, to prepare it for our 
 passage. Poor Williams ! no assistance could be procured 
 at the settlement ; and, as we left him and started home- 
 
MOOSE-CALLING. 
 
 119 
 
 wards with our trophy, he 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 his 
 task and the long trudge in the lonely forest. 
 
CHAPTEE V. 
 
 THE AMERICAN REINDEER. 
 
 THE CAEIBOO. 
 
 (Eangifer, Hamilton Smith ; Rangifer Caribou, Auduhon and Bachman.) 
 
 Muzzle entirely covered with hair ; the tear bag small, covered with a 
 pencil of hairs. The fur is brittle ; in summer, short ; in vinter 
 longer, whiter ; of the throat longer. The hoofs are broad, depressed, 
 and bent in at the tip. The external metatarsal gland is above the 
 middle of the leg. Horns, in both sexes, elongate, subcylindric, with 
 the basal branches and tip dilated and palmated ; of the females 
 smaller. Skull with rather large nose ca^dty ; about half as long as 
 the distance to the first grinder ; the intermaxillary moderate, nearly 
 reaching to the nasal ; a small, very shallow, suborbital pit. 
 
 The above diagnosis, taken from Dr. Gray’s article on 
 the Euminantia in the Knowsley menagerie, seems to 
 embrace the chief characteristics of the reindeer of the 
 sub-arctic regions. The colour, habits, &c., of the variety 
 designated 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 Linnaeus, rangifer of Hamilton Smith, in- 
 habits both the old and the 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 circumpolar 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 
 exclusively constitute its food — the Cladonia rangiferina 
 or reindeer lichen, with two or three species of Cornicu- 
 laria and Cetraria. 
 
 When we consider the great antiquity of the reindeer, 
 and its occurrence as a true fossil mammal coeval with 
 the mammoth and other gigantic animals now extinct, 
 in connection with its singular adaptation to feed on 
 lichens — those representatives of a primitive vegetation 
 which are still engaged in preparing a soil for higher 
 forms in northern latitudes — we cannot fail in recog- 
 nising 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 Caesars 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 long since disappeared from Great 
 
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 than 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 Europe 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 Keview, 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 (pika) a polar resident, 
 sometimes wanders south to lat. 48° where the tiger 
 abounds.^ 
 
 Following an ascending isotherm through Siberia and 
 Northern Kussia, the reindeer comes down on the elevated 
 table-lands of Scandinavia to latitude 60°, ‘‘ 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 has 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 Siberian travels, speaking of the fanna of Irkutsk, in 
 the trans-Bakalian districts, says : — “ We see the Tunguze, mounted on his 
 reindeer, passing the Buraet with his camel, and discover the tigers of China 
 in the forests where the bear is taking its winter sleep.” 
 
THE AMERICAN REINDEER. 
 
 123 
 
 damage it does to the grasses and Iceland moss on the 
 plains. According to Professor Paijkull, author of 
 Summer in Iceland/' 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 V) R. 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 
 Pace. 
 
 The most southerly range attained by the species on 
 the Atlantic seaboard of North America is determined at 
 Cape Sable in Nova Scotia, in lat. 43° 30', or about that 
 of Marseilles. 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. 
 
 Tolerably 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 
 Maine, 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 isotherm into 
 the Valley of the Mackenzie, and thence crossing the 
 
124 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 Kocky Mountains, passes into the American territory 
 of Alaska. 
 
 Accordino^ to Mr. Lord"' it inhabits the hi^h rido-es of 
 the Cascade Mountains, the Galton range and western 
 slope of the Eocky 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 Kamschatka by the Aleutian 
 islands. 
 
 Closely associated with 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 has 
 been made to convert the cariboo into a beast 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 Eocky Mountains, 
 and its skin their principal resource for clothing. In its 
 distribution across the American continent, indicated 
 above, it is pursued in the chase by the Montagnais 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 Micmacs, Mahcites 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 white 
 man, who completely possesses their hunting-grounds, 
 and with whose mode of life they partially comply ; but 
 to the wilder races designated above, its gradual dis- 
 * The Naturalist in British Columhia. 
 
THE AMERICAN REINDEER. 
 
 125 
 
 appearance must bring starvation and a corresponding 
 progress towards extinction. 
 
 With regard to the barren ground cariboo (R. 
 Groenlandicus) being distinct from the larger animal of 
 the forests, the separation of the two as species by 
 Professor Baird of the Smithsonian Institution at 
 Washington 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 John Richardson in his “Journal of a 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 M'Clintock’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 spurs of the Rocky Mountains, 
 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 woods that grow on the skirts of 
 the barren grounds, making excursions into the latter in 
 fine 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 
 
126 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 of Hudsons Bay, above the northern limit of forest 
 growth ; it inhabits Melville and other islands of the 
 Arctic archipelago, and is found in Greenland. 
 
 The cariboo 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 CerHdse), yet far 
 from being as ungainly and slouching as the Norwegian 
 reindeer is commonly depicted in drawings, though 
 these are probably generally taken from domesticated 
 specimens, which they resemble much more closely than 
 they do the wild deer of the mountains. A very large 
 buck in NevToundland will exceed four hundred pounds 
 in weight, and measure over four feet in height at the 
 shoulder. I 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. 
 
 Eeindeer of a similar development, and in colour 
 closely resembling the cariboo of Eastern America, were 
 met with by Erman in Eastern Asia, where they are used 
 for the saddle (placed on the shoulder — the only part of 
 the back where the deer can support a load) by the 
 Tunguzes. He states that the Lapland reindeer of 
 menageries and museums appeared to him but dwarfs in 
 comparison with those of Northern Asia, and vfith their 
 size and strength seemed also to have lost much of their 
 beauty of form."" Certainly the cariboo of Nova 
 
 * Speaking of the Tunguzes, Erman says : — “ Tlie charm of their look 
 lies in their slim and active figure, as also in their constant connection with 
 
THE AMERICAN REINDEER. 
 
 127 
 
 Scotia or New Brunswick, as I have seen them, grace- 
 fully trotting over the plains on light snow, and in Indian 
 file, or, when alarmed, circling round the hunter with 
 neck and head braced up and scut erect, stepping with 
 an astonishing elasticity and spring, is a noble creature 
 in comparison with the specimens of the reindeer of 
 Northern Europe that have appeared in the Society’s 
 gardens at Regent’s Park : they are, nevertheless, in- 
 dubitably the same species and simply local varia- 
 tions. 
 
 The colour of the American cariboo, as described by 
 Audubon and Bachman, is as follows : — ■ 
 
 “Tips of hairs light dun gray, whiter on the neck than 
 elsewhere ; nose, ears, outer surface of legs and shoulders 
 brownish. Neck and throat dull white ; a faint whitish 
 patch on the side of shoulders. Belly and tail white ; a 
 band of white around all the 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 dark 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 seen in a herd with coats 
 of the palest fawn colour, almost white. Young deer are 
 dappled 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 
 
 one of the handsomest of animals ; for wlien one sees a Tungu/e sit, with 
 the proudest deportment, on his reindeer, they both seem made for eacli 
 other, and it is hard to decide whether the reindeer lends grace to the rider 
 or borrows it from him .” — Travels in Siberia, by Adolph Erman. 
 
128 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 curve to the front, is one of the most noticeable and 
 ornamental attributes of the species. 
 
 The horns of different specimens vary greatly in form 
 both as regards the development of palmation and the 
 position of the principal branches. As a general rule, 
 the horns of the Norwegian reindeer are (according to 
 my impression) less subject to palmation of the main 
 shaft, which is longer, and broadens only at the top 
 where the principal tines are thrown 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 jirongs interweaving 
 like the fingers of joined hands. 
 
 Except in the case of the does and young bucks, 
 which retain theirs tiU 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 prongs of the doe would prove anything but an 
 efficient shovel. The latter and true mode of proceeding 
 1 have often watched when wonninor throuffii the bushes 
 
 O O 
 
HORNS OF THE CARIROO. 
 
 1. The ordinary Canadian type. 
 
 2. Cariboo horns from Newfoundland. 
 
 3. Horns from Labrador. 
 
THE AMERICAN REINDEER. 
 
 129 
 
 round tlie edge of a barren to get a shot. Both Mr. Bar- 
 nard, and the author of “ Ten Years in Sweden,’' allude 
 to the female reindeer using her horns in winter to pro- 
 tect the fawns from the males, thus rightly accounting 
 for this singular provision of nature in the case of a 
 gregarious species in which the males, females, and 
 young herd together at all seasons. 
 
 Another misrepresentation has appeared 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 existence 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 entirely ab- 
 sorbed, and the edges of the hoof, now quite concave, 
 grow out in thin sharp ridges ; each division on the 
 under surface presenting the appearance of a huge 
 mussel-shell. Accordino: to “ The Old Hunter,” who has 
 kindly forwarded to me some specimens shot by himself 
 in Newfoundland in the fall of 1867 for comparison with 
 examples of my own shot in winter, the frog is absorbed 
 by the latter end of November, 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 
 afibrded in maintaining a foot-hold on slippery surfaces 
 
130 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 by the long stiff bristles which grow downwards at 
 the fetlock, curving forwards underneath between 
 the dmsions, the cariboo is enabled to proceed over 
 crusted snow, to cross frozen lakes, or ascend icy pre- 
 cipices with an ease which places him, when in flight, 
 beyond the reach of all enemies, except perhaps the 
 nimble and untiring wolf. 
 
 The j)ace 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, '\\dien thoroughly 
 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 probably get 
 several chances again the same day. Such is seldom the 
 case in cariboo hunting, even in districts where the 
 animals are rarely distm^bed. Once ofi*, 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 appears to 
 grow more luxuriantly in the subarctic regions than in 
 more temperate latitudes. Mr. Hind, in “Explorations 
 in Labrador,’' describes the beauty and luxuriance of this 
 moss in the Laurentian country, “ with admiration 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 l)y a French chemist 
 who has succeeded in extracting alcohol in large quanti- 
 
THE AMERICAN REINDEER. 
 
 131 
 
 ties 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-producing food. Besides the above, which appears 
 to be its staple food, the cariboo partakes of the tripe de 
 rocJie (Sticla pulmonaria) and other parasitic lichens 
 growing on the bark of trees, and is exceedingly fond 
 of the Usnea, which grows on the boughs (especially 
 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 
 feed on the old maAs beards in the tops of the spruces 
 felled by the lumberers on the day previous. In the 
 same locality I have observed such frequent scratchings 
 in the first light snow of the season at the foot of the 
 trees in beech groves, that I am convinced that the 
 animal, like the bear, is partial to the rich food afforded 
 by the mast. 
 
 I am not aware that a favourite item of the diet of the 
 Norwegian reindeer— Eanunculus glacialis — is found in 
 America, and the woodland cariboo has no chance of ex- 
 hibiting the strange but weU-authenticated taste of the 
 former animal by devouring the lemming ; otherwise the 
 habits of the two varieties are perfectly similar as regards 
 food. 
 
 The woodland cariboo, like the Laplander s reindeer, 
 is essentially a migratory animal. There are two well- 
 defined periods of migration — in the spring and autumn — 
 whilst throughout the winter it appears constantly seized 
 with an unconquerable desire to change its residence. 
 
132 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 The great periodic movements seem to result from an 
 instinctive impulse of the reindeer throughout its whole 
 circumpolar range. Sir J. Eichardson, in America, Erman 
 and Von Wrangell, in Northern Europe and Asia — the 
 three distinguished savants who have contributed so 
 largely to the natural history of the northern regions — 
 all affirm the regularity of its migrations to the open 
 steppes, barren grounds, and bare mountains, and point 
 to the chief cause — a desire to escape the insupportable 
 torments of the flies which swarm in the forest. In 
 Newfoundland the cariboo acts in a manner precisely 
 similar to that described by Wrangell, in speaking of the 
 reindeer of the Aniui. They leave the lake country and 
 broad savannahs of the interior for the mountain range 
 which covers the long promontory terminating at the 
 Straits of Belleisle, at the commencement of summer, 
 and return when warned by the frosts of September to 
 seek the lowlands. 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 Bed 
 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 parlies 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 far less migratory in its habits than the larger 
 species, and with the musk-sheep (ovibos) remains in the 
 same localities throughout the year. 
 
 In forest districts, in many parts of its range over the 
 Northern American continent, the cariboo is found to- 
 gether with the moose in the same woodlands. They 
 appear, however, to avoid each other s company ; and I 
 have observed in following the tracks of a travelling band 
 of cariboo, that, on passing a fresh moose-yard, they have 
 broken into a trot — a sure sign of alarm. In many 
 districts, especially those in which the existing southern 
 limits of the cariboo are marked, this animal is gradually 
 disappearing, whilst the moose is taking its- place. To a 
 great extent this is the result of an increasing settlement 
 of the country by man. The moose is a much more 
 domestic animal in its habits, and will remain and 
 multiply in any small forest district, however the latter 
 may be surrounded by roads or settlements ; whereas the 
 cariboo is a great wanderer, and requires long and 
 unbroken ranges of wild country in which he can 
 uninterruptedly indulge his vagrant habits. Being more- 
 over more jealous of the advance of civilisation than the 
 moose, he is surely disappearing as his old lines of 
 periodic migration are encroached upon and broken by 
 new settlements and their connecting roads. 
 
 In winters of great severity the cariboo always travel 
 to the southernmost limits of their haunts, which 
 they occasionally exceed and enter the settlements. 
 Some years ago, during an unusually cold winter, the 
 deer crossed in large bands from Lalnador into New- 
 foundland over the frozen straits. As assumed by Dr. 
 Gray, a variety appears to be established in the case of 
 
134 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 tlie NewfoundlaiLcI cariboo. These deer certainly attain 
 a greater development than the generality of the speci- 
 mens shot on the continent : I have heard of bucks 
 weighing six hundred pounds, and even over. The 
 general colour of the former animals is lighter — to be 
 accounted for, perhaps, 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 greatest profusion. I have seen the fat taken off the 
 loins of a Newfoundland deer o the depth of two inches. 
 Further particulars concerning the cariboo on this island 
 and its migrations will be found in a chapter on New- 
 foundland. 
 
CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 CARIBOO HUNTING. 
 
 The cariboo of the British provinces is only to be 
 approached by the sportsman with the assistance of a 
 regular Indian hunter. In old times the Indians pos- 
 sessed and practised the art of calling the buck in Sep- 
 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 
 “ creeping as it is locally termed, that is, advancing 
 stealthily and in the footsteps of the Indian, bearing in mind 
 the hopelessness of success should sound, sight or scent 
 give warning of approaching danger. As with the moose, 
 the latter faculty seems to impress the cariboo 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 indispensable in a forest 
 country, where the game cannot 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 carilioo-plains of Nova 
 Scotia and New Brunswick, less Indian craft is brought 
 
136 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 into play, and tlie sport becomes assimilated to that of 
 deer-stalkino^. 
 
 It is almost liopeless to attempt an explanation of tlie 
 Indian’s art of bunting in the woods — stalking an 
 invisible quarry ever on tbe watcb and constantly on the 
 move, through an ever-varying succession of swamps, 
 burnt country, or thick forest. A review of all the 
 shifts and expedients practised in creeping, from the first 
 findino; of recent tracks to the exciting moment when the 
 Indian whispers “ Quite fresh; put on cap,” would be im- 
 practicable. I confess that like many other young hunters 
 or like the conceited blundering settlers, who are for 
 ever cruising through the woods, and doing little else 
 (save by a chcance shot) than scaring the country, I once 
 fondly hoped to be able to master the art, and to hunt on 
 my own account. Fifteen years’ experience has unde- 
 ceived me, and compels me to acknowledge the superiority 
 of the red man in all matters relating to the art of 
 venerie ” in the American woodlands. 
 
 When brought up to the game in the forest, tliere is 
 also some difficulty in realising the presence of the 
 cariboo. 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- 
 dappled 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 liunting ground. 
 
 The first light snow had just fallen after two or three 
 
CAEIBOO HUNTING. 
 
 137 
 
 piercingly cold and frosty days towards the close of 
 November, when our party, consisting of ns two and our 
 attendant Indian, the faithful John Williams, (than 
 whom a more artful hunter or more agreeable companion 
 in camp never stepped in mocassin) arrived at the little 
 town of Windsor, at the head of the basin of Minas, 
 whence embarking in a small schooner, we were to cross 
 to the opposite side to hunt the cariboo in the neighbour- 
 hood of Parsboro’. The distance across was but a matter 
 of thirty miles or so, and with light hearts we stepped on 
 board, and stowed our camping apparatus, bags of pro- 
 visions, blankets and rifles in the hold of the “ Jack 
 Easy,’' when presently the rapidly ebbing tide bore us 
 swiftly down the course of the Avon into the dark- 
 coloured waters of the arm of the Bay of Fundy. 
 
 The first part of the voyage was pleasant enough ; a 
 liofht thouo’h freshenino' breeze from the eastward filled 
 
 o o o 
 
 the sails ; and we swept on with the surging tide of red 
 mud and water past the great dark headland of Blomidon 
 with its snow-streaked furrows and crown of evergreen 
 forest, enjoying both our pipes and the prospect, and 
 recalling the various interesting traditions of this famed 
 location of the old Acadian s whose memory has been so 
 beautifully perpetuated by Longfellow. But on leaving 
 the cape and standing across the open bay, we soon 
 encountered a rougher state of affairs. The dark murky 
 clouds now commenced discharging a heavy fall of damp 
 snow, which froze upon everything as soon as it fell, 
 rendering the process of reefing, which had become neces- 
 sary from the increasing breeze, very difficult of accom- 
 plishment. The sheets were coated witli a film of ice, 
 and frozen stiffly in the Ijlocks, and the deck liccame so 
 
138 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 wet and slippery tliat we were glad to retire below into 
 the close little cabin. We had embarked 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 
 bay sweeps up, and, rising to the height of forty feet, 
 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 three vivid flashes 
 of lightning, followed by increased violence of the wind 
 and dense driving hail, and the little schooner lay heavily 
 over. We, the passengers, were huddled together in a 
 cabin so small that it was with difficulty we could keep 
 our knees from touching the stove round which we 
 crowded. Everyone smoked, of course, and the strong 
 black tobacco of the settlers vied with the rushes 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 grojDe our way 
 into the dark hold and seek an asylum amongst the tubs, 
 barrels, and potato sacks Avhich were rolling about in 
 great uneasiness. At last it was over : a quieter state of 
 affairs, a great deal of stamping and slipping on deck, 
 and, finally, the long rattle of the cable, told us we were 
 anchored off Parsboro’ — a fact which was corroborated 
 by the captain opening the hatch 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 
 
CARIBOO HUNTING. 
 
 139 
 
 the night was still stormy, so we again sought soft spots 
 on the inexorable benches around the stove in our den. 
 
 “ Hurrah, John ! '' said I, as we followed the Indian 
 up the ladder, and emerged into the cold morning air ; 
 “here’s snow enough in all conscience — just the thing for 
 our hunting — step out now for the village, and let’s try 
 and scare up a breakfast somewhere.” 
 
 It was still snowing heavily, and the country looked 
 as wintry as it could dp even in North America. In the 
 distance appeared the little white wooden houses and 
 church of the village, and behind them rose up the great 
 grey form of the Cobequid 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 pota- 
 toes, pickles and cheese, cold squash-pie, and strong black 
 tea, was arranged before us. 
 
 “ Will the Indian make out with you, gents ? ” asked 
 the exceedingly pretty innkeeper’s daughter. We all 
 glanced at John, who laughed as he anticipated our 
 reply. 
 
 “ Oh, of course, yes ; we are all on the same footing 
 this morning, we guess. Come on, John, sit up and give 
 us some ham.” 
 
 The landlord — who affected 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 be the 
 great object of our hunting; for, in this part of Nova 
 Scotia, the moose has only recently made his appearance, 
 and the settlers look upon him as far nobler game tlian 
 the common cariboo. Presently a sleigh with a stout 
 pony appeared for us at the door, and, loading it with 
 
140 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 our baggage, we left to tlie tune of a peal of merry bells 
 wliicli the pony carried attached to different parts of the 
 harness. 
 
 Our road lay through a valley, skirted by the lofty 
 wooded slopes of the Cobequids. These hills are the 
 great stronghold of the cariboo, and his last resort in 
 Nova Scotia ; they extend through the isthmus which 
 connects the province with that of New Brunswick, and 
 are covered Avith laro^e hard-Avood forests of suQ:ar and 
 Avhite maple, birch, and beech. On their broad tops and 
 sides the cariboo has an unbroken range of more than a 
 hundred miles, and their eastern spurs, descending into 
 a flat district of dense fir forests, Avith numerous chains 
 of lakes, offer secure retreats in the breeding season. 
 
 The country AA-as ncAv to us, and its features novel : 
 the evergreen forest, so characteristic of the greater por- 
 tion of the province, here almost entirely gave way to 
 hard-AAmods, narroAv lines of hemlock or spruce springing 
 up from some deep gorge on the mountain side, here and 
 there shoAvino; their dark summits, and coursing like 
 veins through the great rolling sea of maples. The latter 
 part of the storm had been unaccompanied by Avind, and 
 the snoAv lay in heaA^y masses on the trees, ghung the 
 forest a most beautiful aspect ; it covered eA^ery branch 
 and every tAvig, and AA^as thickly spattered against the 
 stems, and all the complicated tracery of the denuded 
 l)ranches Avas brought to notice, even in the deepest 
 recesses, by the AAdiite pencil of the siioaa"- storm. In the 
 fir forest the effect of ncAAdy- fallen snoAV is A^ery fine also, 
 but the A^ery masses AAdiich coA-er the broad and retentiA^e 
 branches of the evergreens and clog the younger trees 
 until they seem like solid cones of snow, hinder and 
 
CARIBOO HUNTING. 
 
 141 
 
 choke the view ; Avhereas in these lofty hard- woods, 
 under which grows nothing but slender saplings, a most 
 extensive glimpse of their furthest depths is obtained, 
 and thousands of delicate little ramifications, before un- 
 noticed, now stand out in bold relief in the grey gloom 
 of the distance. And then, when the storm has passed 
 by, and that beautiful blue tint of a wintry sky, coursed 
 by light fleecy scud, succeeds the heavily laden cloud, 
 how exquisitely the scene lights up 1 what a soft warm 
 tint is thrown upon the light-coloured bark of the maples 
 and birches, and upon the prominent dottings and lines 
 of snow which mark their forms, and how lovely is that 
 light purple shade which continually crosses the road, 
 marking the shadows ! As the sun increases in warmth, 
 or a passing gust of wind courses through the trees, 
 avalanches of snow fall in sparkling spray, and the new 
 snow glitters in myriads of little scintillations, so that 
 the eye becomes pained by the intensity of brilliancy 
 pervading the face of nature. 
 
 We stopped the sleigh opposite a group of Indian bark 
 wigwams, which stood a short distance from the road ; 
 the noise of voices and curling wreaths of smoke from 
 their tops proved them to be occupied, and, as we re- 
 quired a second Indian hunter, particularly one who was 
 well acquainted with the neighbourhood, we followed the 
 track which led up to them, and entered the largest. 
 The head of the family, 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 development 
 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 LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 witli little to mark liis age save the grizzly hue pervading 
 the long hair which streamed over his broad shoulders, 
 and half concealed the faded epaulettes of red scalloped 
 cloth and bead-work. A necklace of beads hunsf 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 furthest from the door, though soft and melo- 
 dious, was deep-toned and most im]3ressive. 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 doUars a-piece for the red foxes, 
 and five or six for the silver or cross-fox, of which there 
 were three very good specimens in the camp. The skin 
 of the fox is used for sleigh robes, caps, and trimmings. 
 The valuable black fox is occasionally shot or trapped by 
 the Indians, and the skin sold, according to condition 
 and season, from ten, even as high 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 ruffies the 
 long hair, it gleams like burnished silver. It appears that 
 the whole of the black fox-skins are exported to Eussia, 
 and are there worn by the nobility round the neck, or as 
 
CARIBOO HUNTING. 
 
 143 
 
 collars for tlieir cloaks ; tlie nose is fastened by a clasp 
 to tlie top of the tail, the rest of which hangs down in 
 front. 
 
 The old man told us of the curious method he used in 
 obtaining his fox-skins. He would go off alone into the 
 moonlit forest, to the edge of some little barren, which 
 the foxes often cross, or hunt round its edges at night. 
 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 fox 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 drew 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 those 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 carry 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. 
 
 him for the loan of his sleigh and trusty yoke of oxen, 
 and drew large supplies of fine mealy potatoes from his 
 cellar ; great luxuries they are, too, and Taluahle addi- 
 tions to the camp fare, though they often have to be 
 omitted, when the distance of the hunting country from 
 the settler s house precludes any extra weight in the 
 apportioned loads. 
 
 Xoel Bonus, the owner of the camp, was at home, just 
 returned from his hunting, for an early dinner, and to 
 him we ajiplied 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 tojiped 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 om^selves. 
 
 AVe did not urge the point, for we had a first-rate 
 hunter, John AVilfiams, with us, and though he did not 
 know the country, he would soon master that ditficulty ; 
 and, as to a camp, we had all the requisite appliances for 
 quickly setting up on our own account. This became 
 gradually evident to Alaster Noel, who at last motioned 
 us to take off our loads and come in — a proceeding 
 which we politely declined doing until a tliorough 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 replaced by fresh. It was a capital camp, strongly 
 built, and quite rain-proof, standing on a well-timbered 
 hard-wood hill, the stems of the smaller trees afibrding 
 
CARIBOO HUNTING. 
 
 145 
 
 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. We 
 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 every 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. 
 
146 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 lichens growing on the stems of the hard-wood trees, of 
 which they had taken a passing mouthful. Who but an 
 Indian could have detected such minute evidences of theh 
 actions ? There was no doubt but that they were making 
 for the barrens, or they would have stopped at these 
 tempting morsels longer, 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 
 with the snow dislodged plentifully over us en j)ctssant, 
 and stood on the edge of a most extensive barren. 
 
 Such a scene of desolation is seldom witnessed, except 
 in these great burnt and denuded wastes of the North 
 American forest. As far as the eye could reach was a 
 wild undulating wilderness of rocks and stumps ; a deep 
 indigo-coloured hill showed the limits of the barren, and 
 where the heavy fir forest again resumed its sway. It 
 appeared to be some ten miles or so ' in length, and to 
 slope from us in a gentle declivity toAvards the Avest- 
 Avard. The average breadth might be four or five miles. 
 Little thickets and groves of Avood dotted it in all direc- 
 tions ; sometimes a clump of spruce, against Avhich the 
 Avhite stem of the birch stood out in bold relief ; or, at 
 others, a patch of ghost-like rampikes ; Avhilst the brooks 
 in the valleys Avere 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 other 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 crossing 
 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 
 I followed, without question as to the cause or necessity. 
 
 “What is it, Noel V’ said I, gaining his side by slowly 
 worming along in the snow, with difficulty keeping the 
 muzzle of my rifle above the surface. 
 
 “ Caliboo 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 exceedingly 
 similar in colour to the rocks and general features of the 
 barren, that only the eye of the Indian can readily detect 
 them when lying down. Noel had at once seen the herd ; 
 and here was I, unable to perceive them amongst the 
 
148 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 rocks and bushes, though pointed to the 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 was in a hollow, deeply bedded in the snow, so 
 that very little of the back could be seen, and I aimed 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 off 
 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 ; ‘At 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. 
 
 149 
 
 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 thinking 
 of,” thought I to myself, feeling as discontented and 
 generally uncharitable as possible. I hope sincerely 
 they have not, though ; ” and I trudged after the Indian 
 homewards in an unenviable mood. Fortunately there 
 was an old road leading 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, J ohn,” 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 fresh 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. 
 
150 
 
 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 circulates 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 robe early in the morning. 
 
 The Indians are afieady up, one cleaning the guns, or 
 ‘‘ fixing ” a moccasin, whilst the other is holding the long- 
 handled frying-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 unruffied. 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 ihorning after our unsuccessful cariboo 
 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. 
 
 151 
 
 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 we 
 have luck next day. I think it will be you ; me and the 
 other gentleman must go back and try to get the 
 wounded caliboo calf." 
 
 Very well, then : Noel 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 off for the barrens." 
 
 It was a lovely morning when we 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 sprinkled during the night with rime 
 frost. All nature seemed to rejoice at the warming 
 influence of the sun's rays. The squirrel raced up the 
 stems with more than usual activity, and the little chick- 
 adee birds darted about amongst the spruce boughs in 
 merry troops, dislodging showers of snow, and con- 
 tinuously uttering the cheerful cry which has given them 
 their local sobriquet. The tapping of the woodpecker 
 resounded through 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. Here and 
 there a ruffed grouse started with boisterous 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 ofl' at racing speed — a 
 
152 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 far handsomer animal than our English Eeynard, 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, w^e 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 Brunswuck, and their 
 nightly howlings 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 barren ; to get at which they had 
 scraped away the snow with their broad hoofs. It was 
 now a capital morning for creeping, as the surface 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. 
 
CARIBOO HUNTING. 
 
 153 
 
 and tlie 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 must 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, and 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 
 branches 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 
 
154 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 on seeing us approach. I would have spared the latter, 
 but the Indian brought it down at once by a good 
 shot at eighty 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 he could have eaten the whole cariboo 
 then and there. He 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 piece 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 
 which are invariably suspended from the hunters 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. I never saw fatter 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 
 
ON THE BARRENS. 
 
CARIBOO HUNTING. 
 
 155 
 
 briskly, and occasionally breaking into a trot. Most 
 probably they had been started by the rest of the party 
 in the woods to the southward. One of them was of a 
 very light colour — the lightest, I think, I ever saw — • 
 being of a pale, tawny hue all over; the others were, as 
 usual, dull grey, variegated with dingy white. Sport 
 must have fallen to the lot of anyone Avho had remained 
 concealed in some central thicket on the barren this 
 afternoon, from the number that must have passed at 
 different times, as appeared by their tracks. Though it 
 was still early in December we had only 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 
 her until the ensuing March. 
 
 On return to camp, I found that my friend had not 
 been so fortunate ; they had not been able to discover 
 the wounded cariboo, and had started two herds without 
 getting a shot. This was owing to the frozen state of 
 the snow in the woods. We had determined to exchange 
 Indians next morning ; but, in consequence of his not 
 yet having had success, I agreed to start again Avith the 
 second hunter, Noel, and leave to my friend the undis- 
 turbed possession of the barrens, my direction being the 
 Buctegun plains, which were distant some eight miles or 
 so to the westward. Noel, of course, ate until he could 
 eat no more that night — in fact, I never saw such 
 gluttony as was displayed by this Indian whenever he 
 got a chance. The settler s wife had told me, a few days 
 since, that he made a common practice of going into one 
 house after another along the road, and at each represent- 
 ing himself as starving. His appearance not generally 
 
15G 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 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 him out ; and he finds it rather hard 
 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 effect 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 tracks, 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 disagreeable 
 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 proposition to hunt 
 and uselessly disturb the country, and betaking them- 
 selves to cutting axe-handles, mending their moccasins, 
 
CARIBOO HUNTING. 
 
 157 
 
 or constructing a hand-sled perhaps, whilst you lazily fall 
 back amongst the blankets, and snooze away far into the 
 bright morning, till the noon-day sun strikes down on your 
 face through the aperture in the top of the camp. Then 
 you are told by the dusky cook and steward of the camp 
 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 Master Porcupine 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 
 fiasks, 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 
 
158 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 odour pervades the camp, whilst the hissing frying-pan 
 tops the logs. 
 
 The want of a fresh fall of snow had thus interrupted 
 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 softening the crust so that it again became practicable 
 to stalk the wary cariboo. IMany times had we started 
 small herds on the barren, and in the greenwoods, with- 
 out sighting them ; the first token of their proximity, 
 and 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 among the 
 deer. A mile or so from camp the snow was ploughed 
 up by a multitude of fresh tracks ; a herd of cariboo had 
 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 fast 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 ! 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. 
 Caliboo 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 which 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 offal, which had been left around. 
 Here we sat down on a log, after clearing off the snow, 
 to eat our biscuit and Imoach the flasks (for we had 
 trudged 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 
 
160 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN AGADIE. 
 
 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. 
 “ ril bet you what you like he comes back with some 
 news. IVe often seen him go off in this manner whilst 
 you are eating, or resting, or smoking, and uncertain 
 what to do, and come back in half an hour or so, appa- 
 rently having learnt more of the whereabouts of the game 
 than he had when in your company during the whole 
 morning’s hunt.” 
 
 We were not detained very long, however — indeed, 
 had hardly finished the biscuit — when, on looking to- 
 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 guess. Be easy, now ; lots of time.” And off we go 
 after John, as quietly as he would have us, and soon find 
 the track of the cariboo. John leads rapidly forward, 
 bending almost double 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 
 Ave sink up to our knees in the swamp, through the 
 wet surface-snow, withdraAving our feet and legs at each 
 step, Avith 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 
 
CARIBOO HUNTING. 
 
 161 
 
 until they come to a place where they have an inclination 
 to loiter and browse, are apt to lead one a dance for many 
 hours, particularly when they have taken a notion to 
 shift 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 another, 
 and another. Bang goes a barrel a-piece from each 
 of us (we are in echelon), 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 been 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. 
 We all agreed that no finer sport could be obtained 
 amongst the larger game than cariboo-shooting. This 
 deer is so wary, such a constant and fast traveller, and 
 so quick in getting up and bounding 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 plains, some ten miles distant from 
 our camp — great plains of miles and miles in extent, 
 
 M 
 
162 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 covered with little islands of dwarf spruces of a few feet 
 in height. This is a great place of resort for cariboo ; 
 they come out from the forest on to the plains on fine 
 sunny mornings, and scrape up the snow to get at the 
 moss. Having passed a night in a lumberer s camp, we 
 proceeded next morning to the plains, which the Indian 
 would scan from a tall spruce, to see if there were game 
 on them ; and ha\dng bagged my cariboo, and given 
 part of it to the lumberers, who seemed very thankful. 
 Vie made up the hind quarters and hide into two loads, 
 and arrived in camp the same evening. My companion, 
 whose shots I had heard the day previous, had had 
 excellent sport on the barrens, having killed four cariboo ; 
 and the following day I kiUed 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 perseverance. 
 
 Then comes the hauling out the meat. Old H , the 
 
 last settler, whose house is not far from our camp, is sent 
 for, and contracts for the 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, — 
 
 ‘‘ ^lorning, gents. Ah ! Ingines, how d ye make out — 
 most ready to start ? WeVe got a tidy spell to go for 
 the cariboo by all accounts, and my team aint noways 
 what you may caU strong. However, I suppose we must 
 
CARIBOO HUNTING. 
 
 163 
 
 manage it somehow, and accommodate a gentleman like 
 you appear to be.^^ 
 
 All right, my good man, we are ready ; and John 
 and Noel will go ahead and haul out the cariboo from 
 the barren to the road ; and off we go, a merry 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 V’ 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 en 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 fleld 
 of ice which nearly blocked up the basin of Minas, and 
 landed at Windsor, Nova Scotia, and so to Halifax. 
 
CHAPTEE VIL 
 
 LAKE DWELLERS. 
 
 THE BEAVER. 
 
 The number and extent of its lakes, scattered tlirougb- 
 out the extent of this picturesque province, invariably 
 surprise the visitor to Nova Scotia. Of every variety of 
 size and form, and generally containing groups of little 
 wooded islands, they occupy almost every 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 pass 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 communication, 
 almost crossing the province, the most secluded recesses 
 of the wild country can be reached by means of the 
 Indian canoe, an easy and delightful mode of 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 stretch 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 left in the province ; for though their works 
 and the fruit of their labours attest their presence 
 formerly in every direction, not a beaver exists from the 
 Port Medway Eiver — a few miles eastward of the 
 Eossignol 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 
 pro^dnces, 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 Man and 
 Nature,” involved possible alterations in the physical 
 features of a continent. Nova Scotia abounds in all the 
 conditions necessary to its existence — rivers, brooks and 
 swampy lakes — and its former abundance is attested by 
 the prevalence of such names as “ Beaverbank,” ‘‘ Beaver 
 Harbour,” and the numerous “ Beaver Lakes ” and 
 ‘'Beaver Eivers” scattered round the Province. The 
 market being 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,’' as 
 they are locally termed, which are of frequent occurrence 
 in the backwoods, and from which the settler draws 
 
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 destro}’nrs. 
 
 To return, however, to Lake Eossignol 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 toAvn 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 Eossignol 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 unsteadied the hand for 
 
LAKE DWELLERS. 
 
 167 
 
 writing up tlie notes. The scenery on the above-named 
 lakes 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 from 
 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 Tennysons 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 
 ephemerse 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 mucli same/ said Glode 
 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, alP 
 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 woods 
 and their forest fare for the neighbourhood of civihzation, 
 and adopted its food, clothing, and depraving associa- 
 tions: The flowers are like those of the sweet 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 Kossignol Chain, 
 which we quickly crossed to camp. 
 
 On the following afternoon we entered Kossignol after 
 
 O O 
 
 some rather stiff paddling. Two large lakes, affording 
 
LAKE DWELLERS. 
 
 1G9 
 
 no shelter of rocks or islands, were crossed in the teeth 
 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 which 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 
 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- 
 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 we 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 buckle 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 
 
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 
 fringed 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 
 all over the lake, and mergansers and black ducks 
 wheeled overhead as they left their feeding-gTounds for 
 their accustomed resting-places. Only one sight re- 
 minded us of civilization. On the crest of a distant 
 hiU, the rays of the setting sun lighted on a little patch of 
 cleared ground and glanced on the window of a solitary 
 dwellinof. Our Indians said it was a settler’s house in Hew 
 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 om’ first camp 
 fire on the shores of Lake Eossignol. 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, 
 we 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 DWELLEES. 
 
 171 
 
 berers, who were rafting their 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 swims across under the bows of tny canoe, its 
 head carried an inch above the surface. Passing 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 poking 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 under 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 
 how much further we had to trudge. The forest gloom 
 
172 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 at lengtli liglitens, and the gleam of water ahead brings 
 ns to the Tobiadnc lakes, where a couple of ruffed grouse, 
 shot en route, were cooked d la spatch-cock, and we 
 dined on a service of bu’ch-bark dishes. 
 
 ‘‘ Late in the afternoon, our canoes, leaving the lakes, 
 entered the Tobiadnc 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 waters edge, with 
 towering clumps of royal fern (Osmunda regalis) ; airy 
 groves of birches witli 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 poUypods and 
 oak-fern, overhang the water in stern and sohtary 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 fights up these 
 little groups produces most exquisite effects. This is the 
 home of the beaver and the kingfisher. The ferns and 
 grasses on the banks are trodden down by the former 
 in its paths, and the latter flits from bush to bush with 
 loud rattling screams as the canoe invades its piscatorial 
 domains. 
 
 “ At length there was an obstruction in the stream over 
 which the waters fell evenly. It was a beaver-dam — a 
 
BEAVER-DAM ON THE TOBIADUC. 
 
LAKE DWELLEES. 
 
 173 
 
 solid construction of interwoven bushes and poles, dam- 
 ming up the 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. We 
 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, >nd 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 supports 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 
 opportunity of observing, was built straight across the 
 stream, but it is a well authenticated fact that in larger 
 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 advantagfe 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 Kossignol, where the sticks used in its 
 
174 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 construction were often three indies in diameter, 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 
 durability. 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 
 dam in the vicinity of his dwelling, the reason of the 
 strong instinct implanted in this animal to produce these 
 marvellous constructions under other ch’cumstances be- 
 comes apparent. f Whenever, from the situation or nature 
 of the water, there is a probability 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 parts of 
 
 * Mr. Tliompson, whose writings are preserved in Canada as most valuable 
 and authentic, speaking of a heaver-dam which he saw, states : “ On a tine 
 afternoon in October, 1794, the leaves beginning to fall with every breeze, 
 my guide informed me that we should have to pass over a long beaver-dam. 
 I naturally expected that we should have to lead our horses carefully over it. 
 When we came to it, we found it a stripe of apparently old solid ground, 
 covered with 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 
 water from beneath it ; the side of the dam next the water was a gentle 
 slope. To the southward was a sheet of water of about one mile and a half 
 square, surrounded by low grassy banks. The forests were mostly of poplar 
 and aspen, with numerous stumps of the trees cut dovui, and partly carried 
 away by the beavers. In two places of tliis pond were a cluster of beaver- 
 houses like miniature villages.” 
 
 t I have, hoAvever, 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 DWELLEKS. 
 
 175 
 
 the Province, it is evident from the numerous beaver 
 meadows now left dry, that they took advantage not 
 only of valleys traversed by small brooks, but even of 
 swampy lands occasionally inundated by 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 mixed 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 birds 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 shown in all the 
 habitations which we examined in these waters : — 
 
 “Foot of Rossionol, September 4. 
 
 ‘‘ Camped on a beautiful spot, the effluence 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. We 
 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 sffes of the hlicmacs of this district ; it was 
 once a populous village, of which the only remaining 
 tokens are the swelling 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 here 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 would 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 see 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 surrounding 
 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 briers 
 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 
 interior arrangements. 
 
 The chamber — there was but 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 — the 
 one led into the water at the edge of the chamber and 
 
 N 
 
178 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 let in the light, the other went down at a deeper 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 the beaver 
 for so (apparently) small a purpose. My Indian, how- 
 ever, enlightened 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. Eeturning to camp by another 
 route throuo^h the woods, we had to cross a laro^e 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 tlie 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 thick 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 the 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 
 
180 
 
 FOKEST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 mirror-like surface showed the passage of otter or musk- 
 rats over the lake. Presently the water broke some sixty 
 yards from us, and the head and back of a beaver 
 showed above the surface, whilst another appeared almost 
 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 (Nuphar advena). 
 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 theliead reappeared, 
 we let fly with the rifle, but missed the game, the report 
 echoing from island to island, and evoking 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 saw none but isolated dwellings either on lake or 
 
LAKE DWELLERS. 
 
 181 
 
 river-shore, and these placed at several hundred yards 
 apart from each other. 
 
 With respect to the number of animals living together 
 in the same house, our Indians, who had lived in this 
 neighbourhood and hunted 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 eldest (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 returning 
 from the summer excursions u]3 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 brings 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 j)laster 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 likeAvise used as a vehicle for materials, may be 
 considered as exploded notions. 
 
 The food of the beaver consists of the bark of several 
 varieties of willow, of poplar, and birch ; they 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 
 lengths 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 lake or brook. In these are piled their 
 winter stock of food, short lengths of wdllow and poplar, 
 w^hich, if left sticking in the mud at the ordinary level of 
 the bottom below the surface, would become impacted in 
 the ice. The beaver travels a long 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 mile 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 rouud the 
 edge of the lake, to get at the houses of the beaver, which 
 were built in a swampy savannali otherwise inaccessible. 
 
LAKE DWELLERS. 
 
 183 
 
 it had been left in the evening moored at the 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 retreat in the winter, 
 should his house be broken into. In the neighbourhood 
 of the house long burrows, broad 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 
 
 • Erman thus notices it in his Siberian travels : — “ There is hardly any 
 drug which recommends 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 liere (Obdorsk) that they keep a 
 supply of it in every yurt, that the women may recover their strength more 
 quickly after child-birth. In like manner the Kosaks and Russian traders 
 have exalted 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 
 
184 
 
 FOEEST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 to be likewise efficacious in trapping tbe wild cat, which 
 is excessively fond of the odour. Mr. 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, which 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 aUure 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 length, beat and bruised 
 fine, was dipped in this mixture. It was placed 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 procined 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 neghgently fastened 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 liome or on his travels, and vdth the firmest faith, to two 
 medicines, and only two, viz., beaver-stone, or beaver efflux as it is here 
 called, and sal-ammoniac.” 
 
LAKE DWELLERS. 
 
 185 
 
 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 broken leg off, and went away. We concluded 
 that he would not come again ; 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 ACADIE. 
 
 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 Fiber (Yar. Ameri- 
 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 Linnaeus 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 mammal. 
 Both animals have the same lon^ 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, wlio has Avritten a most elaborate exposition on tlie differ- 
 ences of the beavers of the Old and New Worlds, states the castoreimi-bag 
 of the American to be more elongated 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 
 Baird’s Mammals 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 shallo w grassy ponds are sometimes seen 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 surface of the 
 water, and generally marked by a profusion of the shells 
 of the fresh-water mussel. They 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 musk rat, sailing round in 
 the calm water on the approach of sunset, when in fine 
 summer weather the balmy west wind almost invariably 
 dies away and leaves the surface with faithful reflections 
 of the beautiful marginal foliage of the woods, is one of 
 the most familiar 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 
 diving below the surface for a few seconds, and re- 
 appearing with that grace and freedom from splash, on 
 leaving and regaining the surface, which characterise the 
 movements both of this animal and of the beaver. 
 
 Travelling down the Shubenacadie and other gently- 
 
188 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 running forest-streams in day-time, I have often seen 
 them crossing and re-crossing the surface in the quiet 
 reaches through dark overhanging woods, carrying in 
 their mouths pieces of bracken, probably to feed on the 
 stem, though it seemed as if to shade themselves from 
 the sunbeams glancing through the foliage. 
 
 The Micmac 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 English 
 streams. 
 
 I have thus classed together as true lake dwellers these 
 
LAKE DWELLERS. 
 
 189 
 
 two first-cousins, as they appear to be, the beaver and 
 the musk rat,'''" yet, as the heading is somewhat fanciful, 
 and my object is to notice the water-frequenting mam- 
 malia of the woods, I will proceed to mention other 
 animals which prowl round the margins of lakes or 
 brooks, more or less taking to the water, under the sub- 
 divisional title of dwellers by lake shores.’' 
 
 THE OTTER of Eastern America (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 coloured, a 
 peculiarity attached to many North American mammals 
 when compared with their Old-World congeners. It is 
 also the largest. Taken jper 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 camp, and 
 the Indians frequently eall them up by successful imita- 
 tion of their note. The skin is valuable and much sought 
 
 * Tlie musk-rat is often found as an occupant of an old beaver-liouse 
 deserted by tlie latter animal. 
 
190 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 after in the manufacture of muffs, trimmings, and espe- 
 cially of the tall ornamental fur caps generally worn as 
 part of the winter costume in Canada. The price of the 
 skin varies according to season, good ones bringing from 
 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 Canada 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 have 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. 
 
 191 
 
 as if made by a cart-wheel, where the animal must have 
 thrown itself on its belly and slid along the surface for 
 several yards. 
 
 THE FISHER, Black Cat, or Pecan (Mustela Pen- 
 nantii), 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, shining hair reaching from the neck to the 
 extremity of the tail. The hair underneath is lighter, 
 with several patches of white. The eye is very large, 
 full and expressive. 
 
 The skin possesses about the same value as that of the 
 otter. Squirrels, birds and their eggs, rabbits and grouse, 
 contribute to its support. The Indians all agree 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 — very 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, mess, and quills, 
 denoting that Mr. F. had partaken of his victim's flesh. I 
 searched, but could not find any place where portions of 
 the animal 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 
 
192 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 small dog can neither crack 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 i\IINK (Putorius vison. And. 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 
 
LAKE DWELLERS. 
 
 193 
 
 Indians. Fish, flesh, or fowl alike may form the bait ; 
 a piece of gaspereau, or the liver of a rabbit or porcupine, 
 is very enticing. With its half- webbed feet and aquatic 
 habits, the American mink appears to have a well-marked 
 European representative in the lutreola of Finland. 
 
 o 
 
CHAPTEE VIIL 
 
 CAVE LODGERS. 
 
 THE BLACK BEAE. 
 
 (Ursus Americanus, Pallas.) 
 
 This species has a most extensive range in North 
 America, is common in all wooded districts from the 
 mouths of the Mississippi 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 re2[ions offer 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 might 
 warrant. 
 
 Compared with the U. Arctos — the common brown 
 bear of Europe — the black bear shows many well-marked 
 distinctions, the grizzly (U. horribilis) claiming a much 
 closer 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 regard 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 great 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 
 
196 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 have only noticed ti’acks of bears on the snow in winter, 
 when a sudden and violent rainstorm, or a prolonged 
 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 hke 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 himy, 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 apropos 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 
 
CAVE LODGERS, 
 
 ]97 
 
 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. 
 
 Haviim determined on his winters residence, and 
 cleaned it out before the commencement of winter (the 
 extra leaves and rubbish scraped out around the entrance 
 beino^ a sure sffin to the hunter that the den 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 — fat as a prize 
 pig from recent excessive gorging on the numerous berries 
 of the barren, or mast under the beech woods — 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 uninterruptedly 
 till the warm suns late in March influence his som- 
 niferous feelings, unless his sweet mid-winter repose 
 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 an 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 
 
19S 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 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 bffith to two cubs, of very small dimensions 
 — not much larger than good-sized rats — about the 
 middle of February, in the den; and here she subsists 
 them, without herself obtaining 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 disposition by 
 gambolling about the room, climbing the legs of tables, 
 
CAVE LODGERS. 
 
 199 
 
 hauling off the covers with superincumbent ornaments, 
 and tearing sofa covers, until 1 was fain to end the 
 scene by securing the 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 pig. I afterwards gave 
 him to a brother officer 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 den for hybernation 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 the 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 eight • 
 inches. It is by the absorption of this fat throughout 
 the long 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 
 
200 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 domesticated specimens by oatmeal feeding to over seven 
 hundred. 
 
 Having aAVoke at last, the genial warmth of a spring 
 day tempts him forth to try and find something to 
 appease the growing cravings of appetite. What is the 
 bill 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-clumps 
 and 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, tipping them out of the water on 
 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 alewives (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 
 
CAVE LODGERS. 
 
 201 
 
 history supply abundant evidence of his general confor- 
 mation as a member 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 claws fitted for digging, by 
 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 
 the flesh of an enemy or intended victim, whenever the 
 rascal takes a notion of laying aside his frugivorous 
 propensities to satisfy a thirst for stronger meat I 
 
 Having noticed his tastes as a herbivorous and pisci- 
 vorous animal, we have yet to mention this, in which, 
 though it has been but slightly 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 manoeuvring 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 bemired, it is then dragged back to 
 
FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 l>02 
 
 the dry slopes of the woods and devoured. The settlers 
 say that the bear, while killing his victim (which moans 
 and bellows piteously all the while he is beating it to 
 death in the swamp), will every now and then retire 
 to the woods behind and listen for any approaching 
 signs of rescue, prior to returning and finishing his 
 work. This wicked appetite 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 ambush near the spot, for the villain 
 always comes back on the watch, planting his feet 
 as cautiously as an Indian creeping on moose, with all 
 his senses on the qui vive. So the man, finding by 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 
 any ambuscade at this distance from the scene of his 
 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 
 and unmeaning eye is lighted up with the most wicked 
 
CAVE LODGERS. 
 
 203 
 
 expression imaginable, immediately 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 once proved by a tame 
 bear in this province hauling a barrel which had been 
 smeared with molasses, and contained a little oatmeal, 
 away from the united efforts of the number of men 
 mentioned, who held on to a rope passed round the 
 barrel. The bear walked away with it as easily as pos- 
 sible. The same bear, having nearly killed a horse, and 
 scalped a boy, was afterwards destroyed by his owner. 
 The way he tried to do for the animal was curious 
 enough; he approached the horse, which was loose in 
 the road, from behind ; on its attempting to kick, the 
 bear caught hold of its hind legs, just above the fetlocks, 
 with the quickness of lightning ; the horse tried to kick 
 again, and the bear, with the greatest apparent ease, 
 shoved its hind legs under till the horse was fairly 
 brought on its haunches, wdien 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 portage with his canoe. A 
 crashing of ])ranches proclaimed the rapid advance of a 
 large animal in flight. In a few moments a fine young 
 moose, about half grown, dashed from the forest into the 
 
204 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 lake, carrying a bear on its shoulders, and at once struck 
 out into deep water. The two were soon separated, and 
 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, accompanied by her 
 brace of little whining cubs, is almost sure to turn on a 
 human being if suddenly disturbed, though, if made aware 
 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, being chased out of 
 the woods and nearly run into, by the she bear in spring- 
 time. 
 
 In June, likewise, in the running season, it is not safe 
 to be back in the woods unarmed or alone. A whole 
 gang will go together, making the forest resound with 
 their hideous snarlino; and loud moanino: cries. Hearinsf 
 the approach of such a procession, the sojourner in camp 
 piles fuel on the fire, and keeps watch with loaded 
 gun. In old times, before they acquired the dread of 
 fire-arms, the Indians say these animals were much 
 bolder. 
 
 The bear is readily taken in a dead-faU trap with a bait 
 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 their roads, and many a rascal loses his jacket 
 to the settlers in summer time in return for his audacious 
 
CAVE LODGERS. 
 
 205 
 
 raids on the cattle, 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 during 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 the early morning by the observant hunter, 
 who knows his habits and meal times, and hunts round 
 the leeward edges of barrens. 
 
 Later still, in a good season for beechmast, he may be 
 hunted in hard- wood hills. A little light snow will not 
 send him home to bed, whilst 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. I 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 bear 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 
 wherewith to plug uj) the wound. 
 
 I but once surprised a bear in the wood in the act of 
 feeding, unconscious of my approach. My 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. 
 
208 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 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, but 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 apparently 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 placed under a ban. In Anticosti bears 
 are exceedingly numerous, and a well-organised bear 
 hunt on this island would doubtless show a wonderful 
 return of sport ; but then — the flies ! 
 
 THE CANADA POKCUPINE. 
 
 [Erethizon dorsatus, Cuvier.) 
 
 This species is common in the woodland districts of 
 Eastern North America, from Pennsylvania to the Arctic 
 Circle. 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 by 
 which the entrance is marked. From the den the paths 
 diverge to some favourite feeding ground — perhaps 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 
 brought to a stand, sets them up in a fan-like arc, and 
 presents a most formidable array of points always turned 
 towards its opponent. 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 points. 
 
 A porcupine can gallop or shuffie along at a good pace, 
 and often, when surprised in the open, makes good its 
 retreat to its rocky den, or gains a tree, up which it 
 scrambles rapidly out of reach. 
 
 The spines are of a dull white colour, with dusky tips. 
 
 To the forest Indians of Acadie the porcupine is an 
 
208 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 animal of considerable importance. It is a very common 
 article 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 
 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 
 greatly assist them in discovering the animal’s retreat ; 
 they will even draw them forth from their holes without 
 injury to themselves — a feat only to be accomplished by 
 Vetting hold of them underneath. 
 
 It is a curious fact that the settler’s dogs in general 
 evince a strong desire to hunt porcupine, notwithstanding 
 the woeful 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 
 occasion to extract a single quill. The Old Hunter ” 
 tells me as follows : — I once knew an instance of an 
 Indian’s dog, quite blind, that was particularly great on 
 j^orcujyines, so much so, that if they treed, the little 
 animal would sit down beneath, occasionally barking, to 
 inform its master where lodged the ‘ fretful ’ one. Another 
 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 strono’ enouok, the Indian would fasten his hand- 
 
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 frequently 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 only 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, thougli 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. 
 
210 
 
 FOKEST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 The marmot of the eastern woodlands (Arctomys 
 monax), and the striped ground-squirrel, or “ chipmunk 
 (Tamias striatus, Baird), are more properly burrowing 
 animals than cave-dwellers, under which heading we can 
 class only the bear and the porcupine. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ACADIAN FISH AND FISHING. 
 
 THE BROOK TROUT. 
 
 Salmo Fontinalis (Mitchell.) 
 
 The following description of this fish — and I believe 
 the latest — appears in the “Transactions of the Nova 
 Scotian Institute of Natural Science for 1866 ,” and is 
 due to Dr. J. Bernard Gilpin, M.D. : — 
 
 “ The trout, as usually seen in the lakes about Halifax, 
 are in length from ten to eighteen inches, and weight 
 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 strong 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-max- 
 illary very short, the maxillary long with the free end 
 sharp-pointed, the posterior end of the opercle is more 
 
212 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 angular than in the S. Salar, the lower jaw shorter than 
 upper when closed, appearing 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- 
 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 
 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 w^e find one tooth 
 behind the arch of the palate, where they are sometimes 
 irregularly bunched together. The colour varies ; but 
 through all the variations there are forms of colour that, 
 being always persistent, must be regarded as typical. 
 There are always vermilion spots on the sides ; there 
 are always other spots, sometimes decided in outhne, 
 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. 
 
 213 
 
 parts bright yellow; and, lastly, in the case of young 
 fish, with vertical bands of dusky black. The spots 
 are very bright and distinct when in high condition or 
 spawning ; faint, diffused, and running into dapples 
 when in poor condition. In the former case all the 
 hues are most vivid, and heightened by 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 brown vertical stripes 
 and bright scarlet fins and tail, already showing the 
 typical marks and spots, and also the vermilion specs. 
 Fin rays D. 13, P. 13, V. 8, A. 10 ; gill rays 12. Scales 
 very small ; the dorsal 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 nume- 
 rous yellow spots which prevail in every specimen of 
 S. Fontinalis vary from bright golden to pale primrose, 
 that the colour of the specs inclines more to carmine 
 than vermilion, and that in bright, well-conditioned fish, 
 the latter are surrounded 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. 
 
 golden liglit; and the gradations of the dark green back, 
 with its fantastic labyrinthine markings, to the soft 
 yellow beneath, are marked by a central roseate tinge 
 inclining to lavender or pale mauve. 
 
 This species abounds throughout the Northern States 
 and British provinces, showing a great variety as to 
 form and colour (both 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 spnitless 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 
 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 beaches 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- 
 summer. 
 
 Though more a lacustrine than a river fish, seldom 
 attaining any size if confined to running water between 
 
ACADIAN FISH AND FISHING. 
 
 215 
 
 the sea and impassable falls, the American tront is found 
 to most perfection and in greatest number in lakes wliich 
 communicate with the sea, and allow him to indulge 
 in his well ascertained predilection for salt, or rather 
 brackish tidal-water. A favourite spot is the debouchure 
 of a lake, where the narrowing water gradually acquires 
 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 ‘‘ Lduque’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 sporting 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- 
 cording to the nature of the soil at the bottom of his 
 domains. 
 
 In fishing for trout through 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 
 
216 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 to drop at the end of January, and all in firm condition. 
 This would seem a curious delay of the spa^Aming season : 
 my Indian stated that trout spawn in early spring as 
 well as in the fall. They congregate at the head of a 
 lake in large numbers in winter, and readily take bait, a 
 piece of pork, or a part of their own white throats, let 
 down on a hook throusfh the ice. In such localities thev 
 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 off the lakes — and then a 
 few days must be allowed for the ice-water to run off — 
 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 performed their mission, and the 
 soft west wind has coursed over the surface of the water, 
 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 
 a})petite, are congregated to seek for food. 
 
 “Now, when the first foul torrent of the brooks, 
 
 Swell’d wnth the vernal rains, is ebbed away. 
 
 And, whitening down their mossy-tinctur’d stream 
 Descends the billowy foam : now is the time. 
 
 While yet the dark-brown water aids the guile. 
 
 To tempt the trout.” 
 
ACADIAN FISH AND FISHING. 
 
 217 
 
 About the 10th of May in Nova Scotia, when warm 
 hazy weather occurs with westerly wind, the trout in all 
 the lakes and streams (an enumeration of which would 
 be impossible from their extraordinary frequency of 
 occurrence in this province) are in the best mood for 
 taking the fly ; and, moreover, full of the energy of new 
 found life, wdiich appears in these climates to influence 
 such animals as have been dormant durino; the lono; 
 
 o o 
 
 winter, equally wdth 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 
 their 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 disperse 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 benefit in flesh and flavour therefrom. The abun- 
 dance of fish w’ould 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 hime 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 wdnd blows the insects off the open 
 w^ater. Some anglers of the more patient type will take 
 fish at this time on the lake by sitting on rocks, and 
 
218 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 gently flipping out a very fine line with minute hooks, 
 to which the living May-fly is attached by means of a 
 little adhesive fir balsam, as far as they can on the 
 surface of the water, where they float till some passing 
 fish rises and sucks in the bait. However the best sport 
 is to be obtained on the lakes a few days after the 
 “ ]\Iay-fly glut,’’ as it is termed, is over. 
 
 The May and stone flies of America, which make their 
 appearance about the same time, much resemble the 
 ephemeral representatives of their order found in the old 
 country. The May-fly of the New World is, however, 
 different to the green 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 souo’ht 
 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. 
 
 219 
 
 sessed of a bunch of your flies and a small 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 palmer, 
 and a yellow-bodied fly of wool with mallard wings. The 
 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 
 are quite fanciful, and resemble nothing in nature. I 
 cannot recommend the artificial minnow for use in this 
 part of the world, though trout will take them. They 
 are always catching on submerged rocks, and are very 
 troublesome in many ways. The most successful minnow 
 1 ever used was one made on the spot by an Indian who 
 was with me after moose — a common large trout-hook 
 thickly bound round with white worsted, a piece 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, leaving 
 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 every 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. 
 
 soon comes on a sparkling forest brook overhung by 
 Avaving fern fronds, and little pools AAntli a bottom of 
 golden gravel. The trout is sure to be here, and on 
 your approach darts under the shelter of the projecting 
 roots of the mossy bank. A little further, and a AAunding 
 lane of still Avater skirted by graceful maples and birches, 
 leads to the open expanses of the lake, A\"here the gloom 
 of the heaAy Avoods is exchanged for the clear daylight. 
 This is the '‘run in,'’ in local phraseology, and here the 
 lake trout resort as a faA'ourite station at all times of the 
 year. A basket of two or three dozen of these speckled 
 beauties is your reward for haAung found your Avay to 
 these AA’ild but enchanting spots. 
 
 Though, as has been obseiwed, the trout of America is 
 more a lake than a rrter fish, yet the gently running Avater 
 at the foot of a lake just before the toss and tumble of a 
 rapid is reached is a faA'Ourite station for trout. Such 
 spots are excellent for fly-fishing ; I liaA^e frequently taken 
 fiA^e dozen fine fish in an hour, in the Liverpool, Tangier, 
 and other noble riA^ers in NoA^a Scotia, from rapid AA^ater, 
 Aveighing from one to three pounds. 
 
 ToAvards midsummer the fish begin to refuse fly or 
 bait, retiring to deep pools under the shade of high rocks, 
 sickened apparently by the Avarmth of the lake Avater. 
 As, however, the Avoods, especially in the neighbourhood 
 of Avater, are at this season infested Avith mosquitoes 
 and black flies, a day’s “outing” by the lake or rrter 
 side becomes anything but recreatAe, if not unbearable. 
 The tAAunge of the almost iiiAusible sand-fly adds, too, 
 to our torments. In Nova Scotia the saA^aixe black- 
 fly (Simulium molestum) disappears at the end of June, 
 though in NeAv BrunsAvick the piscator Avill find these 
 
ACADIAN FISH AND FISHING. 
 
 221 
 
 wretches lively the whole summer. They attack every- 
 thing of life moving in the woods, being dislodged from 
 every branch shaken by a passing object. No wonder 
 the poor moose rush into the lakes, and so bury them- 
 selves in the water that their ears and head are alone 
 seen above the surface. In Labrador the flies are yet 
 worse, and travelling in the interior becomes all but 
 impracticable during the summer. 
 
 In August the trout recover themselves under the 
 cooling influence of the frosty atmosphere which now 
 prevails at night, and will again take the fly readily, con- 
 tinuing to do so until quite late in the fall, and even in 
 the spawning season. 
 
 THE SEA TEOUT. 
 
 Salmo Canadensis (Hamilton Smith). 
 
 Closely approximating to the brook trout in shape 
 and colouring — especially after having been some time 
 in fresh water — the above named species has been pro- 
 nounced distinct. They have so near a resemblance that 
 until separated by the careful comparison of Dr. Gilpin, 
 I always believed them to be the same fish, especially 
 as the brook trout as aforesaid is known to frequent 
 tidal waters at the head of estuaries. The following 
 description of the sea trout is taken from Dr. Gilpin^s 
 article on the Salmonidse before alluded to, and is the 
 result of examination of several fish taken from fresh 
 water, and in the harbour : — 
 
 “ Of those from the tide-way, length from twelve to 
 fourteen inches ; deepest breadth, something more than 
 
222 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 one quarter from tip of nose to insertion of tail. The 
 outline rounds up rather suddenly from a small and 
 arched head to insertion of dorsal ; slopes quickly but 
 gently to adipose fin ; then runs straight to insertion 
 of caudal ; tail gently curved rather than cleft ; lower 
 line straight to anal, then falling rather rapidly to make 
 a very convex line for belly, and ending at the gills. 
 The body deeper and more compressed than in the 
 brook trout. The dorsal is quadrangular ; the free edge 
 convex ; the lower fins having the first rays in each 
 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 from the fresh 
 water was very much longer and thinner, with head 
 proportionally larger. The colour of those from the 
 tide- way was 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 
 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 
 
ACADIAN FISH AND FISHING. 
 
 223 
 
 reflections were all gone, the 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, Y. 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 
 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 
 green with more numerous vermilion specs, still more 
 closely. Whilst, on the other hand, we find it living 
 apart from Fontinalis, pursuing its own laws, attaining a 
 greater size, and returning year after year to the sea. 
 The Fontinalis is often found unchanged under the same 
 circumstances. The former fish always preserves its more 
 arched head, deeper and more compressed body, and 
 perhaps shorter fins. In giving it a specific name, there- 
 fore, and using the appropriate one given by Colonel 
 Hamilton Smith — so far as I can discover the first de- 
 scriber — 1 think I will be borne out by all naturalists.” 
 
224 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 The size attained by this fish along the Atlantic coasts 
 rarely exceeds five pounds : from one to three pounds 
 is the weight of the generality of specimens. The 
 favourite 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 
 entrance to the fresh water, they afford sport second 
 only to that of salmon-fishing. No more beautiful fish 
 ever reposed in an angler’s basket. The gameness with 
 which they prolong the contest — often flinging them- 
 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 
 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 
 months feeding on its favourite grounds, but in general 
 it returns to its native fresh water at distinctly marked 
 
ACADIAN FISH AND FISHING. 
 
 225 
 
 periods, and in large detachments. 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 logics, 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 spent 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 
 summer 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 entering river. The flies and 
 sea fog are the only drawbacks to the pleasant holiday 
 
226 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 of a tr outing cruise along^ 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 
 fog is driven away to the north-east, following the 
 coast line, several miles out to sea. 
 
 Nothing can exceed the beauty of scenery in some of 
 the Atlantic harbours of Nova Scotia ; their innumer- 
 able islands and heavily- wooded shores hinged 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 pictures, 
 which 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 clearing:s. 
 The bald-healed eagles (H. leucocephalus) sail majes- 
 tically through the air, conspicuous when seen against 
 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 
 clutch the small fry ; whilst the common kingfisher, as 
 abundant by the sea-shore as in the interior, thinking 
 
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 FW' P^RS^ ’ ■ ■ 
 
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 • ■ 
 
 
 4 
 
MUSQU0D0130IT HARBOUR. 
 
ACADIAN FISH AND FISHING. 
 
 227 
 
 all fish, salt or fresh water, that come to his net, equally 
 good, shoots over the harbour with jerking flight, and 
 uttering his wild rattling cry ; now and then he makes 
 an impetuous downward dash, completely burying himself 
 beneath the surface in seizing his prey. 
 
 If there is a run of trout, and we wish to fish the 
 river, we go to the sea-pools, which the fish enter with the 
 rising tide, and where we may see their silvery sides 
 flashing as they gambol 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 off Big Island, 
 of which an engraving is given, may be a pleasant 
 remembrance to many who may read these lines. 
 
228 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 A deserted clearing, with soft grassy banks positively 
 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 be the 
 trout ? is the question ; we try both. Perhaps the 
 former is the liest 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 bright 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 gra^y, over them. A little artistic 
 manoeuvring, so as to lubricate the rapidly brovming 
 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, Avhilst 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 
 Margarie is one of the most noted streams for sea trout, 
 
ACADIAN FISH AND FISHING. 
 
 229 
 
 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 Edwards Island affords some good 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 fisher in his 
 nobler pursuit, taking the salmon fly with a pertina- 
 city against which it is useless to contend ; nor is he 
 free from their attacks until a cascade of sufficient 
 dimensions has intervened between the haunts of the 
 two fish. 
 
 THE SALMON. 
 
 {Salmo Salar.) 
 
 The Salmon of the Atlantic coasts of America not 
 having been as yet specifically separated from the Euro- 
 pean fish, a scientific description is unnecessary, and we 
 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 — the salmon has 
 long since been driven, the last recorded capture in the 
 Hudson being in the year 1840. Mr. Eoosevelt, a well- 
 known American sportsman and author, states that 
 “the rivers flowing 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 Sable being, then, the south-easternmost point 
 in the salmon^s rans^e, we first find him entering the 
 rivers of the south coast of Xova Scotia Yerj early in 
 March, long before the snow has left the woods ; thus 
 disproving an assertion that he vdll 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 these gaunt, hungry fish 
 may be taken with most annoying frequency by the 
 angler for the new comers. 
 
 As a broad rule, with, however, some singular excep- 
 tions, the run of salmon now proceeds with tolerably 
 progressive regularity 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 March, as on the south-eastern coast. 
 This fact mihtates somewhat against the theory of the 
 salmon migrating in vdnter to warmer waters to return 
 in a body in early spring and ascend their native rivers, 
 entering them progxessively. 
 
 In the Bay of Chaleurs the season is somewhat more 
 delayed ; the fish are not fairly in the fresh water before 
 the middle of June, which is also the time for their 
 ascending the rivers of Labrador. 
 
 At midsummer in Nova Scotia, and in the middle of 
 July higher up in tlie gulf, the grilse make their appear- 
 
ACADIAN FISH AND FISHING. 
 
 231 
 
 ance 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 afibrd excellent sport, and take 
 a small briglit, yellowish fly with great boldness. 
 
 The American salmon spawns very late in the fall, not 
 before November, and for this purpose affects the same 
 localities as his European congener — shallow waters 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 spent 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 fishing for trout with worm in pools where 
 the runs enter the lakes. They are then as worthless and 
 slink as if they had but just spawned. In May 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 little 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 thirty 
 pounds, the latter weight being seldom attained, though 
 a fair proportion of fish brought 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 Clialeurs, 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 weight. The salmon of the Labrador rivers are 
 not remarkable for size : the average weight of two hun- 
 dred fish taken with the fly in the river St. John in 
 July, 1863, 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 appears 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 j)resent 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 found 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 be going at the time when the 
 rest of their species are busily engaged in reproduction ? 
 Another of the many mysteries attached to the natural 
 history of this noble fish ! In fresh running water the 
 salmon takes the artificial fly or minnow, whether from 
 hunger or offence it does not clearly appear ; 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, contrilnite to his food. 
 
ACADIAN FISH AND FISHING. 
 
 233 
 
 Dr. Gilpin, of Nova Scotia, speaking of many instances 
 of marvellous captures of salmon, tells the following 
 authentic story ; the occurrence happened in his own 
 time and neighbourhood — Annapolis : — 
 
 Mr. Baillie, grandson of the ‘ Old Frontier Mis- 
 sionary,’ was fishing the General’s Bridge river up stream 
 for trout, standing above his knees in water, with an old 
 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 
 him. The sun favoured him, throwing his shadow behind. 
 To remain motionless, to pull out a spare hook and pen- 
 knife, and with a bit of his old hat and some of the grey 
 old negro’s wool to make a salmon fly then and there, he 
 and the negro standing in the running stream like statues, 
 and presently to land a fine salmon, was the work of but 
 a few moments. This fly must have been the original of 
 Norris’s killing ‘ silver grey.’” 
 
 THE EIVERS OF NOVA SCOTIA AND THE 
 
 GULF. 
 
 Eivers and streams of varying dimensions, but nearly 
 all accessible to salmon, succeed each other with wonder- 
 ful frequency throughout the whole Atlantic Sea-board of 
 Nova Scotia. In former years, when they were all open 
 to the ascent of migratory fish, the amount of piscine 
 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 labourers similar 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 wdiich the shores of the long 
 harbours are studded, and arrived in the 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 gaspereaux 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 
 incalculable 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 Kossignol, 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 
 take of two thousand. 
 
 A few miles to the eastward we come to the Port 
 
ACADIAN FISH AND FISHING. 
 
 235 
 
 Medway 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 latter part of March. 
 The logs going down the stream are, however, a great 
 hindrance to fishing. 
 
 Proceeding to the eastward, the next noticeable 
 salmon river is the La Have, the scenery on which is 
 of the Vost picturesque description. There are some 
 excellent pools below the first falls. The run of fish is 
 rather later than at Port Medway, or at Gold Eiver, 
 which is further east. On the 4th of May, when excel- 
 lent sport was being obtained in these waters, I have 
 found no salmon running in the La Have. About the 
 10th 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 Eiver. 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 
 
233 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 tlie rising generation of tlie neighbouring villages proves 
 of late years a great drawback to the chances of the 
 visitor. The pools are continually occupied by clumsy 
 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 be endured, and of course spoils sport. Still, 
 however, without such interruptions, fair fishing may be 
 obtained 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 
 Kiver, 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 Margarets 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 guides to the pools, who are adepts at camp- 
 keeping, canoeing, and gaffing 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 may 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 Eiver. 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 golden pheasant tippet 
 feather. Its broad bars of rich velvety black and purest 
 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 affording capital sport at 
 
238 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 Midsummer, its season being announced, as the old 
 fisherman who lived on it and by it, generally known 
 as Old HojDewell,” told me, by the arrival of the fire- 
 flies. He has taken nineteen salmon, of from eight to 
 eighteen pounds 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 wild and rugged to the east of Hahfax, 
 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 inter^^ale 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. 
 
 239 
 
 distance from the capital, Halifax law,” as the settlers 
 will tell you, is “no account.” The spirit of wanton 
 extermination is rife ; and, as it has been well remarked, 
 it really seems as though the man would be 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. Eunning through 
 flat 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 picturesque 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 former 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 afibrd 
 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 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 miles from the Atlantic, the first rapids and pools where 
 fly-fishing may be practised occur in the \ficinity of 
 Boiestown ; here the sport afforded, in a good season, is 
 little inferior to that which may be obtained on the 
 Nepisiguit. One of its branches, also, the north-west 
 Miramichi, 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 
 Kestigouche, 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. Eising 
 ill the centre of northern New Brunswick, in an elevated 
 
ACADIAN FISH AND FISHING. 
 
 241 
 
 lake region Avkich gives birth to the Tobique and Upsal- 
 quitch, rivers of about equal size, the Nepisiguit has an 
 eastward course of nearly one hundred miles through 
 a Avilderness country, Avhere not even a solitary Indian 
 camp may be met with. It is one of the wildest of 
 American rivers ; sometimes contracted between cliffs 
 to the breadth of a fcAV yards, coursing sullenly and 
 darkly below overhanging forests, and sometimes, though 
 rarely, expanding into broad reaches of smoothly-gliding 
 water — its most common feature is the ever-recurring 
 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 interior to its parent lakes. 
 A short portage of a couple of miles, and the canoe 
 floats on the Tobique lakes, and thence descends the 
 Tobique 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 upper 
 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 Avith 
 interest to the sportsman and lover of wild scenery. 
 Moose, cariboo, and bear are inA^ariably met with ; the 
 tAvo former being generally seen bathing in the water 
 in the evenings, whilst a Ausit 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 Avhen gorging in the early morning, breakfasting 
 
 amongst the great thickets of wild raspberries which 
 
 11 
 
242 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 abound on tlie banks. A little searcli up tbe tributary 
 brooks will discover the wonderful works of beaver now 
 in progress ; and other frequenters of the river, mink, 
 otters, and musquash, are plentiful, and frequently 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 
 affording excellent sport, will greedily rise at an almost 
 bare hook throughout the whole extent of water. 
 
 Eeclining 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 vdth 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 water 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 by the same number. A few years since I 
 took a still more northern route to the upper St. John, 
 vid the Eestigouche and Grand Eiver ; 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 FISHING. 
 
 243 
 
 on the St. John, down whose broad, deep stream, how- 
 ever, we paddled at the rate of fifty miles a day. 
 
 The scenery on this line of water-communication with 
 the St. John is grander, but not so wild as on the former 
 route, which I recommend as possessing many advan- 
 tages, particularly in the way of sport. 
 
 Mais revenons d nos saumons — to describe the capa- 
 bilities of the Nepisiguit to afford sport to the salmon- 
 fisher, and direct the visitor. The ascent of salmon 
 in this river is restricted to twenty-one miles of water 
 by an insuperable barrier — the Grand Falls ; but from 
 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 with fish, and with such 
 picturesque surrounding scenery, that the eye of the 
 sportsman who may happily 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 seriatim. 
 
 Two miles above Bathurst we come to the Kough 
 Waters,” where 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 here and there breaks into pure 
 white foam as it passes over a ledge which crosses the 
 channel from the steep red sandstone cliffs opposite. A 
 short distance above are the Bound Bocks,” with little 
 falls and intervening pools, where 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, 
 
244 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 however, for of late years the little ragged urchins from 
 the Acadian settlement on the south shore have imbibed 
 a strong love of sport in addition to their hereditary 
 poaching propensities, and with a rough pole, a few 
 yards of coarse line, and a bait in appearance anything 
 but a salmon fly, they will hook some dozen or more 
 salmon in a day when they are running freely, of 
 course losing nearly every fish. 
 
 Distant eight miles from Bathurst, and accessible by 
 a fair Avaggon 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 broad, smooth expanses of light grey and pink 
 rocks which slope from him toAvards the brink of the 
 stream, AueAAdng its clear grass-green waters rolling in 
 such fierce undulations over long descents, and thun- 
 dering, enveloped in mist, tlmough various contracted 
 passes into boiling pools, Avith congregated masses of 
 foam ever circling over their black depths, he becomes 
 impressed Avith the idea of irresistible poAver, and is 
 constrained to acknoAvledge that he stands in the jDre- 
 sence of no ordinary stream, but of a mighty river. 
 
 I have here stood by the margin of the Avater, Avhere 
 hundreds of tons momentarily rushed past my feet in 
 a compact mass, and Avatched the bright gleam of the 
 salmon as they Avould dart up from beloAV hke arroAvs to 
 encounter the fall ; a slight pause as they near the head ; 
 another convulsive effort, and they are safely over ; but 
 many fall back, at present uu equal for the contest, into 
 the dark pool. 
 
 There are several Avell-built bark shanties on the rocks 
 
THE PABINEAU FALLS, RIVER NEPISIGUIT. 
 
ACADIAN FISH AND FISHING. 
 
 245 
 
 above the falls, 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 Beeterbox 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 sufficient 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 Pocks,” 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 fall 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 be seen flinging themselves out of 
 water throughout the day. Above this long series of 
 cascades which fall over terraces of dark rocks, for 
 nearly half a mile, there is some evenly-gliding water, 
 in which fish may be taken from stands on the left 
 
246 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 bank. Here, and at the little chain just above, is 
 my favourite resort at this part of the river ; there is 
 excellent camping-ground 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 above, 
 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 conoTegate in multitudes, 
 ultimately spawning at the entrance of numerous gravelly 
 brooks which flow into it from the surrounding forest, 
 and daily making sorties to the Falls, a mile above, to 
 enjoy the cool water which flows thence to the lake 
 between tall, overhanging cliffs, sometimes completely 
 shaded from the sunlight save during a very limited 
 portion of the day. 
 
 In this mile of deep swift water, wliich 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 certam spots which they 
 prefer, found by 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 (here the only mode of conveyance 
 
ACADIAN FISH AND FISHING. 
 
 247 
 
 from pool to pool) with its scarlet-shirted 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 by the canoe men, as currents both of air 
 and water sweep round it towards the pitch ; besides, 
 the fish here are so engaged in battling with the heaving 
 water, in their vain attempts to surmount the falls, that 
 they wiU not regard the fly. 
 
 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 the woods, and are, 
 withal, very merry, companionable fellows. For a 
 fishing camp anywhere above the Pabineau, a canoe and 
 three men (one to act as cook and camp-keeper), are 
 indispensable ; and on arriving at Bathurst, the services 
 of any of the following men of good character should be 
 secured : The Chamberlains, the Yineaus, David Buchet? 
 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, via the Nictaux and Tobique lakes, be 
 contemplated, selection should be made of those men 
 who have taken parties through l^efore. 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 Messrs. Ferguson, Eankin, and Co., 
 in Bathurst, obliging people, very moderate and liberal ; 
 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 Nepisiguit in every possible way — netting and 
 torching in fresh water, whenever the nature of the 
 stream allows of such proceedings, wholesale sweeping 
 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 mouth, 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 
 
 sport. The fish are not very large, as in the more 
 northern 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, 4lb. The fish commence running up in June, but, 
 from the height of the water, there is rarely good fishing 
 before July; the 10th is about the best time, and by 
 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 by different makers, it will be suffi- 
 cient to say that the length of the medium fly should be 
 l-|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 dark fly, tied as 
 follows, is a great favourite : body of black mohair, 
 ribbed with fine gold thread, black hackle, very dark 
 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 
 wins: 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. Many other and brighter 
 flies may be nsed in the rough water, and a primrose 
 l)ody, with IJack head and tip, and butterfly wing of 
 golden pheasant, will prove very tempting to grilse, 
 which, late in July, may be taken in any number in 
 many parts of the river, particularly at the Pabineau 
 
250 
 
 FOEEST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 and Chain of Eocks. These flies will do anywhere in 
 New Brunswick. 
 
 At the head of the Bay of Chaleurs, and about fifty 
 miles from Bathurst, we come to the Eestigouche, one of 
 the largest rivers of British North America, 220 miles in 
 length, and formerly teeming with salmon from the sea 
 to its upper waters. So abundant were the fish some 
 twenty-five years ago, that Mr. Perley, Her Majesty’s 
 Commissioner for the Fisheries, states that 3000 barrels 
 were shipped annually from this river, and in those days 
 salmon of 60lb. 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 Eestigouche 
 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-fishing are 
 greatly diminished, whilst settlers and Indians torch and 
 spear everywhere. The channel is much used by the 
 lumberers for the water-conveyance of provisions to the 
 gangs employed in the woods at its head-waters — scows 
 (be., 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 which the channel 
 winds ; and the scow is often di*agged 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 fishing on the 
 Nepisiguit, during which my companion and myself 
 took eighty salmon, notwithstanding an unprecedented 
 drought, we visited the Eestigouche, 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 Matapediac with the main stream, I had the plea- 
 sure of hooking the first salmon ever taken with a fly 
 in the Eestigouche water, a fine clean fish of twelve 
 pounds. In an hours fishing I had taken three salmon, 
 each differently shaped, and at once pronounced by my 
 host to be frequenters of three separate rivers which 
 here unite — the two abeady mentioned and the Upsal- 
 quitch. 
 
 The Matapediac has a course of sixty miles from 
 a large lake in Eimouski, Lower Canada, and the Upsal- 
 quitch runs in on the New Brunswick side. They are 
 both fine rivers, and ascended by salmon in large 
 numbers ; the latter is stated to be very like the Ne- 
 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 long canoe 
 voyage up the main river, but we had not time to stay 
 and test its capabilities. About sixty miles from the sea 
 we discovered a salmon pool in the Eestigouche, and 
 took eight small fish from it in an afternoon ; but such 
 pools are few and far between, 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 
 
252 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 Restigoiiclie salmon run much larger, and even in these 
 days commonly weigh thirty pounds. 
 
 Campbelltown, a heat little village at the head of the 
 tide, twenty miles from the sea, is to be reached from 
 Bathurst by coach ; and here the traveller or sportsman 
 intendino; to ascend the Eestio;ouche or its before-men- 
 tioned tributaries, will find a large settlement of Indians 
 of the Micmac 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. McLeod. 
 
 We now leave the rivers of New Brunswick : the 
 Besti^ouche beino; the di\ddino; line between the two 
 provinces, the rivers of the north shore of Chalem^s Bay 
 are Canadian. About thirty miles from the head of the 
 bay we come to the Cascapediac, a large river running in 
 a deep chasm through the mountains of Bonaventure. 
 It is frequented by salmon of large size, and I have been 
 told by Mr. R. H. Montgomery, who resides near its 
 mouth, that the average weight is between 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 Gaspe 
 is intersected by numerous and splendid rivers, abound- 
 ing in salmon and sea trout, the latter of four pounds 
 to seven pounds in weight. The mountain scenery through 
 Avhich they flow is magnificent, and many of them have 
 never been thrown over with a fly rod. Amongst the 
 largest may be noticed the Bonaventure, the Malbaie, and 
 the ^lagdeleine. 
 
 On the south shore of the St. Lawrence, from Gaspe 
 to Quebec, there are several streams which formerly 
 
ACADIAN FISH AND FISHING. 
 
 253 
 
 abounded in salmon, but of late years have been so un- 
 productive that attention need not be directed to them. 
 From the Jacques Cartier, a few miles above Quebec, to 
 the Labrador, the north shore of the St. 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 artificial propagation 
 under an able superintendent, and the preservation of 
 the rivers, are bringing back the salmon to comparative 
 plenty in many a worn-out stream ; and the visitor to 
 Quebec will soon be enabled to obtain sport on the beau- 
 tiful Jacques Cartier and other rivers in the neighbour- 
 hood, without having to seek the distant fishing stations 
 of the Labrador. The Saguenay, too, with its thirty 
 tributaries, is improving ; for many years past this 
 noble river has scarcely proved worth a visit, except 
 for its wonderful scenery. In fact, the legislature, aided 
 by an excellently constituted club for the protection 
 of fish 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- 
 
254 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 garet, Moisie, St. Jolin, Mingan, Natashquan, 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 
 observed 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 stern of 
 a boat. 
 
 In conclusion, the salmon rivers of the Gulf of St. 
 Lawrence, though they offer 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 vdlderness in Newfoundland teem with cariboo, 
 ptarmigan, and wild fowl ; the former so abundant as 
 sometimes to tempt the sportsman (?) to kill more than 
 
THE GRAND FALLS, NEPISIGUIT. 
 
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. 
 
 GLOVEE’S SALMON. 
 
 S. Gloverii (Girard.) 
 
 My first acquaintance with this handsome salmonoid 
 began many years since, when I would take basketsfull 
 in the month of April in the runs connecting the upper 
 lakes of the Shubenacadie 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, when 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, whicli 
 the smaller individuals somewhat resembled. Findinof out 
 their haunts, and seasons for changing their abode, we 
 were content to take them in 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 
 
 FOEEST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 basins (where they spent the hot season and could only 
 be tempted by bait), under the common local misnomer 
 of Grayling. And glorious sport we found 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 Avith a strong base to a poAverful tail ; 
 eye large, nearly half an inch in diameter and tAvo 
 diameters from end of nose ; opercles rounded, and with 
 the pre-opercles marked Avith numerous concentric 
 streaks ; the lower line of inter-opercle parallel Avith 
 line of the body, labials, both upper and loAver, arched, 
 
ACADIAN FISH AND FISHING. 
 
 257 
 
 line of pre-opercle not so rounded as opercle ; the 
 pectoral fins coming out 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 fin opposite posterior edge of anal ; 
 caudal deeply cleft, and very nearly the length of head 
 in depth. In one instance the 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 have 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 brownish 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 
 ccBca (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 fi^h gave the 
 same placing of ovary. Both these fish were taken on 
 the 2nd and 4th Noveniber at Grand Lake, Halifax, and 
 evidently near spawning. Fins, D. 12 or 13, P. 14, V. 9, 
 A. 9, C. 20. Axillary scale small. The first dorsal ray 
 in some instances contains two, in other three small rays. 
 Typical marks, spots on opercles.” 
 
 In its general appearance, 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 durinor the 
 
ACADIAN FISH AND FISHING. 
 
 259 
 
 summer months far below the lakes. A place called 
 the Black Eock,” 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 great 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 
 is insipid, and they are unentitled to more than a passing 
 notice in a description of the game fish of Acadie. 
 
 The yellow perch (Perea 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. 
 
260 
 
 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 very 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 wiU seize a trout of half its own size. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 NOTES ON NEWFOUNDLAND. 
 
 I KNOW of no country so near England which offers 
 the same amount of inducement to the explorer, natu- 
 ralist, or sportsman as Newfoundland. 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 
 
262 
 
 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 principal 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, some of which, as the Grand 
 Lake (fifty miles in length) and the Eed 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 naturalist. 
 
 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 Eace — 
 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 the spring ; 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 
 wild, inhospitable harbours of the southern coast. The 
 duration of the voyage from Halifax 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 from 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 country behind rises but a few 
 hundred feet or so in a continuous undulating line of hills. 
 
 O 
 
 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 harbour 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 
 
234 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 islands of Nova Scotia and Cape Breton to breed. Now, 
 driven away by persecution, the bulk of them go much 
 further to the north-east. 
 
 Every fisherman along shore has a fowling-piece, and 
 shoots ‘‘ sea-ducks,^’ as he indiscriminately calls 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 within 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-1 )irds are singular. The 
 
NOTES ON NEWFOUNDLAND. 
 
 265 
 
 beautiful and quite common harlequin duck (Anas his- 
 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 language between a number 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 the 
 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 Kev. J. Ambrose, on “ Birds frequenting St. Margaret’s Bay, N. S.,” 
 from “ Proceedings of N. S. Inst. Nat. Science.” The writer further 
 observes “ The shooting of sea-l)ird3 is not only a source of profit 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 surprising, however, that accidents do 
 not more frequently happen from their mode of charging their guns. Three 
 fingers of powder and two of shot is the smallest load for their 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 has 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 as 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 by 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. Bounding Cape 
 Bace, 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. 
 Johns harbour has thus been blockaded even in the 
 month of June, wliilst 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 sliore 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 ofi*. 
 
 From comparative observations I should assign a 
 fortnight as the difference in the progress of vegetation 
 between Nova Scotia and the country round St. Johns. 
 On July 14th, the common lilac, long since faded in the 
 gardens at Halifax, was here found in full bloom. On 
 the 18 th I observed various Yaccinese, 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 spruce (Abies alba), 
 with a scanty mixture of balsam fir. 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 
 
FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 268 
 
 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 (Vaccinese) 
 that the original name of Newfoundland, given by its 
 early Norwegian visitors — ‘AVinland — -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 are 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, afibrding a plentiful supply of fuel, and 
 wood for manufacture. The yellow birch (Betula excelsa) 
 
 * A tolerably palatable red wine is commonly made in Nova Scotia, by 
 the settlers, from blueberries. 
 
NOTES ON NEWFOUNDLAND. 
 
 269 
 
 grows here with a diameter of nearly three feet, and 
 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 of 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 all 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, w^s 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 flying 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 
 magniflcent. We discovered that under cover of the 
 forest we had been 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 them. 
 
 ‘‘ In the westward, to our inexpressible delight, the in- 
 terior broke in sublimity 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 again 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 far 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 brilliantly are 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 and 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 the 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 they 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 ducks, 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 
 
274 
 
 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. 
 
 275 
 
 migration paths to deviate from the parallel ; and at the 
 necks of land that separate large lakes, at the extremity 
 of lakes, and at the straits and running 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 pounds for snaring 
 deer may be seen at the present day by the banks of the 
 Exploits river, were the Eed Indians, or Boeothics — a 
 tribe long since extinct. The last of her race, a Eed 
 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 wuth, 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 Boeothics have been described as a fine athletic 
 race, and, until the latter obtained possession of firearms, 
 
276 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 superior in war to the Indians of the mainland. Their 
 language was quite distinct from that of any of the sur- 
 rounding tribes. 
 
 In a pamphlet published in London in 1622 , by one 
 Richard Whitburne, who had had much experience in the 
 great bank fisheries, and was sent out to institute a com- 
 mission to inqufie 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 cannows 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 especially 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, and three pots made of such rinds of trees, stand- 
 ing each of them on three stones, boyling, with twelve 
 fowles in each of them, every fowle as big as a widgeon 
 and some so big as a ducke ; they had also many such 
 pots so served and fashioned, like leather buckets that 
 are used for quenching of fire, and those were full of 
 the yolks of eggs that they had taken and boyled hard 
 and so 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, beares, seals, otters and divers other fine skins 
 which were excellent well dressed, as also great store of 
 severall sorts of flesh dryed, and by shooting off a musket 
 towards them they all ran away, naked, without any 
 apparall but only some of them had their hats on their 
 heads, which were made of seale skins, in fashion like 
 our hats sewed handsomely with narrow bands about 
 them set round with fine white shels. All their three 
 cannows, their flesh, skins, yolks of eggs, targets, bows 
 and arrows, and much fine okar, and divers others things 
 they tooke and brought away and shared it among those 
 that tooke 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 us to endeavour to finde 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 off 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 migratory birds, visitors of the 
 Lower Provinces, are found here. At midsummer, in the 
 neighbourhood of St. John's, I have noticed the absence 
 of the night-hawk, so common a bird on the Continent. 
 Neither were fire-flies, which were scintillating in myriads 
 over the swamps in Nova Scotia at the time, to be seen. 
 Many 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. Keinhardt. The woodcock is not indigenous 
 to NeAvfoundland ; and, strange to say, the only specimen 
 shot quite recently near St. John's was a European 
 biixl. 
 
 Considering the immense portion of this island which 
 is claimed by Avater, bogs, and swamps, the Avell-ascer- 
 tained absence of reptilia is singular. In the peninsula 
 of Avalon I haA^e plodded frequently along the edges of 
 ponds and SAvamps, 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 eA^ery feAv paces on the mainland — but all in A^ain. 
 Indeed, more than once has the experiment been tried of 
 turning oat some of the large green-headed frogs (R. 
 clamitans), to end in failure: in a feAV days they Avould 
 all be found stift' on tlieir backs. Cormack met AAdth 
 neither frog, snake, nor toad, on his journey across the 
 main island, and obserAx^s that his Indians had never 
 
NOTES ON NEWFOUNDLAND. 
 
 279 
 
 seen or heard of one.* The island of Anticosti is said to 
 be similarly deficient in representatives of this class. As 
 has been written of Ireland in an ancient poem, composed 
 by a St. Donatus, and dating as far back as the ninth 
 century : — 
 
 “Nulla veneiia nocent, nec serpens serpit in herba, 
 
 Nec conquesta canit garrula rana lacu.” 
 
 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, afibrd 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 this circumstance, for he writes : 
 “Neither are there any Snakes, Toads, Serpents, or any other venomous 
 Wormes that ever were knowne to hurt any man in that country, but only a 
 very little nimble fly (the least of all other flies) which is called a Miskieto, 
 those flies seem to have a great power and authority upon all loytering and 
 idle peojile that come to the Newfoundland : for they have this property 
 that when they finde any such lying lazily, or sleeping in the woods, they 
 will presently bee more nimble to seize on them than any Sargent will be 
 to arrest a man for debt. Neither will they leave stinging or sucking out 
 the blood of such sluggards, until like a Beadel they bring him to his 
 master, where he should labour, in which time of loytering, those flies will 
 so brand such idle persons in their faces, that they may be knowne from 
 others as the Turks do their slaves.” 
 
280 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 foxes, marten, otter, beaver, 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 difference 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 — “ 'pattermegans”) begins in the 
 neighbourhood of St. Johns, where they are protected, 
 and the law receives the assistance of a game society, on 
 the 25th August. The game laws are strictly observed in 
 the vicinity of the capital ; snipe are included in the Act. 
 
 Although the cariboo 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, and 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 basin, and a little to the north of 
 Exploits Eiver, 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 before 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 
 which 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, fi'gured 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 weight 
 of five or even six hundred pounds, with 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. Gisborne,^ 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 River, an important 
 stream aflbrding excellent canoeing 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 the 
 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 been borne not only by the community 
 of Newfoundland, but by tjie 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. 
 
CHAPTEE XL 
 
 CAMPING OUT. 
 
 The necessities and shifts of a life in the woods are 
 described in so many works on North American travel, 
 with exhaustive treatises 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 eastern woodlands. Our expeditions never extend 
 very far from the base 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 the 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. 
 J ohn 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 campaign, is 
 all very 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 the 
 way, as the 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- 
 truding from the loads is liable to impede one’s progress. 
 Hence the bundles should be as near as possible the 
 breadth of the back, all loads being thus carried, with a 
 strap (the broader the better) encircling the chest and 
 shoulders. 
 
 The Indian, used to the work from infancy, will often 
 carry a hundred weight by a withy of birch or witherod 
 bush, which seems as though it would cut to the bone ; 
 but to the white man, unaccustomed to carrying a load 
 thus, a well-balanced 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 the 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 stream (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 splash, 
 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 8 lb.) ; 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, f.c., dead, fallen trees, 
 with the branches broken off 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 
 
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 
 in its favour, being so like that of rocks or tree stems. 
 An almost colourless material is as necessary for moose 
 hunting as it is for fishing, though I have seen a good 
 New York sportsman flinging over a clean pool on the 
 brightest of days with a scarlet flannel shirt and black 
 continuations, and get fish withal. 
 
 The Canadian smock, known in England as the Norfolk 
 blouse, is a capital style of coat for hunting. Pockets 
 according to taste, and a piece of leather on either 
 shoulder and another on the inside of the right arm to 
 ease the pressure of the gun. 
 
 The camp generally taken into the woods is a spread 
 of strong cotton cloth soaked with boiled oil and well 
 dried in the sun. Its shape is best understood by de- 
 scribing the framework of the camp as follows : — Two 
 uprights with forks at the end stuck into the ground some 
 eight or ten feet apart, the crutches about six feet from the 
 base ; a cross piece between these well lashed on, on 
 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 fort- 
 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 f 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. 
 
288 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 suspended on a ridge pole bound to two uprights, and the 
 sloping sides stretched and fastened to pegs ; it had a 
 valence all round about 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 
 well stretched was quite rain-proof, unless the sides were 
 touched by a gun or anything leaning against them, when 
 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 w^aters, to find yourself becoming sud- 
 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 
 twenty-four hours from the commencement being the 
 general duration, when the wdnd 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 
 
CAMPING OUT. 
 
 289 
 
 lullaby when camped in tlie woods ; one’s somniferous 
 tendencies are greatly assisted by the curious chatterings 
 and tinkliugs of its little falls and rapids. As sleep draAvs 
 nigh, the multitudinous sounds in turn resemble, almost 
 to reality, those produced by far different causes — now it 
 is men talking in low tones close at hand ; then a distant 
 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 and there a foamy flake 
 Upon me, as I travel, 
 
 With many a silvery water-break 
 Above the golden gravel.” 
 
 To return, however, to the sober 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 Eiver, Nova Scotia, to try 
 
 u 
 
290 
 
 FOEEST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 some salmon 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 flnding shelter and a good night s repose, for we were 
 fatigued. An old camp of the meanest construction was 
 found, after considerable 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 dry 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 vermin 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 dovm came 
 a new enemy — pattering drops of rain, precursors of a 
 heavy summer shower. Back to camp ; but the ants 
 had not retired 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 
 
 lessly pitched into the hack part of the camp, had been 
 burned with the fir boughs ; so our beverage that morn- 
 ing was an infusion of hemlock boughs, a few sprays of 
 which 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 
 which 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 stand in a wild meadow, where 
 a cool brook joined the river. 
 
 Apropos of the flies which 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 Land and Water^ however, I find a receipt given by 
 my friend Ubique,” an old hand at “ camping out,” 
 which, though I have not had an opportunity of trying 
 
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 by 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 much heat when 
 the fire 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 the 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 piddications on the sport of the British 
 
CAMPING OUT. 
 
 293 
 
 provinces, entertainingly descriptive, and sound in advice, 
 which would prove highly useful. They include '' Game 
 Fish of the North,” by Koosevelt ; 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, before 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 comprise 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 seasoning at the last. The utmost vmi- 
 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. We 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-fluid ; 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 drawn 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 candles or fluid have been forgotten, the following 
 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-fleshed and delicate eating : the spruce 
 bird has very dark meat, and tastes like an old pine 
 board. 
 
CAMPING OUT. 
 
 295 
 
 The universal charge made by the Indian 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 scarce 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 bring the greatest 
 temporary distress. These beautiful adaptations for 
 water transport in the wilderness are far 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 delightful life than a canoe 
 
296 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 expedition through the forest. So many luxuries may 
 he taken ; and the position in Avhich 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- 
 ]iity 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 slightest puncture is soon detected by 
 the Indian, on turning her over, by suction, the mouth 
 being applied to doubtful looking spots. Kents or gashes 
 of considerable extent are “ fixed '' by a piece of rag 
 dipj)ed 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.” Reclining by the river side in the vicinity of 
 
CAMPING OUT. 
 
 297 
 
 the fishing 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 Cheemaun he patted, 
 
 To his birch canoe said ‘ Onward ! ’ 
 
 And it stirred in all its fibres, 
 
 And with one great bound of triumph 
 Leaped across the water-lilies. 
 
 Leaped through tangled flags 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 Monday, 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 respect 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 shall 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 between 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 weU to argue 
 that the poor Indian has a right to shoot a moose or 
 spear a salmon 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 be 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 magistrates 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, for 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 
 uiiAvdllingness, 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 where 
 the laws are framed. And until the government can 
 pay overseers Avho shall be scrupulously independent of 
 favour or partiality, in the districts to which -they are 
 appointed, and whose whole care shall be to bring 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 vdth the Council 
 of the Nova Scotian Inland Fisheries 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 tliese 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 true 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 with 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 
 
 * Lieiit.-Colonel William Chearnley, commanding Halifax Volunteer 
 Battalion, late Captain H.M. 8th Kegt. (King’s Own). 
 
302 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 modified, and the shooting season as regards elk is now 
 from the 1st of August to the last 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 every 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. This 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 
 
CAMPING 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 most 
 
304 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 startling decrease has taken place, both in the salmon 
 fisheries and game of British North America, and has 
 engaged the attention of the various colonial govern- 
 ments. Laws to j)rotect the wild animals at certain times 
 called close seasons, and stringent regulations to ensure 
 fair play to the salmon, have been passed throughout our 
 Atlantic colonies within this period. As regards legisla- 
 tion, nothing seems neglected, and still the game and fish 
 are decreasing as heretofore. We, at least in these pro- 
 Aunces, never hear of cases of game-law breakers in the 
 police re]3orts, yet, granted that the law is sufficient to 
 protect, it must be tlirough 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 
 dnectly injurious to a proprietor, and so meets vdth quick 
 justice. 
 
 In Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, or Canada, on the 
 other hand, the wild denizens of the forests, commonly 
 called game, are pubhc property, or rather the property 
 of the country. No private rights are infringed by moose 
 hunting or partridge shooting in any part of the country 
 
CAMPING OUT. 
 
 305 
 
 at any season, whilst, in the absence of proprietors of 
 inland fisheries, the netting interests become so over- 
 whelming that it is not surprising that the law should be 
 boldly challenged to prevent the salmon being speared 
 and netted on their beds to the very end of the spawning 
 season. It is to assist in carrying out the protection 
 afforded by law that societies have sprung up in various 
 parts of British America within the above-mentioned 
 period of time — public associations of all members of the 
 community who are anxious to arrest the decline of fish 
 and game, and willing to pay a small annual subscription 
 to the funds of the society, binding themselves to bring 
 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 conducted ; and now 
 the tributaries of the Saint Lawrence in the vicinity of 
 Quebec again afford excellent sport, and promise fairly to 
 return to their former importance as salmon 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 amongst 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 has 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 necessary to the ascent of fish. At 
 all events, local circumstances are so various that no one 
 pattern of fish-ladder can be authorised for any number 
 of streams. A government ofiicer — 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, although the society has not been 
 idle, hut little can he effected in carrying out a 'pro'per 
 sujpervision of the inland fisheries, unless an independent 
 and salaried officer he appointed by the Provincial 
 Government. 
 
 " The difficulties of prosecution, owing to the local 
 partialities of both vfitnesses and magistrates, would then 
 be removed, whilst the judgment and advice of such an 
 executive, with regard to the placing of efficient fish- 
 ladders, under the various peculiarities of river banks and 
 mill-dams, would be considered decisive in overcominsf 
 all obstructions." 
 
CHAPTEE 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 l7th 
 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 
 
308 
 
 FOREST LIFE IX ACADIE. 
 
 again uttering tlieir wild note of apparent encouragement 
 — '' lionk ! hawnk ! ” — a sure sign of the punter breaking 
 up for good. 
 
 “ Hawnk ! Lonk ! and for’ard to tlie XoFard, is the tnunpet-tone, 
 
 What goose can lag, or feather flag, or break the goodly cone ? 
 
 TTfl\\ -nk ! onward to the cool blue lakes where lie oiir safe love-bowers ; 
 
 Xo stop, no drop of ocean brine, near stool or hassock hoary, 
 
 Onr travelling watchword is “ Oiu’ mates, our goslings, and our glory ! ” 
 Symsonia and Labrador for us are crown’d with flowers. 
 
 And not a breast on wave shall rest until that heaven is ours. 
 
 Ha^^^lk ! havmk ! E-e ha^vnk ! 
 
 Frank Forester. 
 
 Then come a few warm, sunny days, and the expres- 
 sion of Nature's features appears quite altered, and our 
 welcome guests, the early migTatory birds, arrive from 
 the more genial southern climes, filling the long-silent 
 woods with animation and melody. And, first, the well- 
 knovm robin, or rather red-breasted thrush (Timdus 
 migratorius), affects warm, sunny banks in open woods, 
 whence he springs with a sudden note of alarm as the 
 mimderous boy, bent on developing his sporting pro- 
 pensities, creeps with levelled gun over the hifi’s brow, 
 and seeks to ‘^fiU his gaping tunefid bill vdth 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 
 tlirough the swamps and warm springs by the road-side, 
 ever}^ 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 1 ” 
 
 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 sjDring, 
 tmed of attempting to coax away the departing chills of 
 winter, 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 fragrant May-flower is seen and culled ? “We 
 bloom amid the snow,” is the motto of our province ; and 
 the May-flower (Epigsea repens) is to us what the violet, 
 sought in hedge-rows, is to our friends at home — entail- 
 ing the same close search for its retiring blossoms, and 
 evoking the same feelings of gladness and hope. And 
 we cling to these balmy spring days all the more closely 
 as we dread the chill easterly wind, and the dark sea-fog 
 
310 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 which may cover us with its gloom on the morrow ; for 
 we live on the shores of the ‘‘ mournful and misty Atlan- 
 tic/' and many a spring day must yet be darkened by fog 
 and chilled by gales from the floating ice-fields drifting 
 down the coast, before the tardy green leaves of the hard- 
 woods fully appear. 
 
 About the 20th of May the presence of spring is per- 
 ceptible in the sprouting of little leaves on almost all the 
 smaller deciduous shrubs, simultaneously with the light 
 green sprays of the larch. From this time vegetation 
 progresses with extraordinary rapidity ; a delightful 
 change in the atmosphere almost invariably occurs ; the 
 cold easterly winds cease ; balmy airs from the westward 
 succeed, and assist in developing the tender buds and 
 blossoms, and in a few days the face of the country, 
 lately so bare and dreary, glows with warmth and beauty. 
 All nature rejoices in this pleasant season ; the songs of 
 the hermit-thrush (T. solitarius), robin, and of a host of 
 warblers, the cheerful piping of the frogs throughout the 
 warm night, and the soft west wind, which borrows an 
 indescribable fragrance from the blossoms of innumerable 
 shrubs and plants now flowering in the vroods 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 vieing 
 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 
 country, 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 PEOGEESS OF THE SEASONS. 
 
 311 
 
 land nearly every shrub and plant bears sweet-smelling 
 flowers. The blueberry, huckleberry, and other Vacciniae 
 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-berry (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 the 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 a 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 bushes with a 
 drapery of lovely green. Nothing can be brighter than 
 American spring verdure, nor does it degenerate into 
 the dull heavy green of English summer foliage — the 
 leaves maintaining their vernal hue on the same branch, 
 side by side with the 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 Ehodora, and the succession 
 of the crimson whorls of the Kalmias (K. angustifolia 
 and K. glauca) as prominent species. The Kalmia, 
 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 coniferae. 
 The moss in the greenwoods is now covered with the 
 nodding bells of the twin flower (Linnsea borealis) which, 
 in imparting fragrance to the atmosphere, takes the place 
 of two pretty little spring flowers, the star-shaped Tri- 
 entalis, and the (locally so called) lily of the valley 
 (Smilacina 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 (Eana fontinalis) here rules the 
 world of reptile life ; his solemn ejaculation — ‘‘ glum ! 
 glumpk ! '' is heard in every direction and at regular 
 intervals, mingled with the long trifling love-note of 
 Bufo Americanus — the common toad — and the sharp 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 (Caprimulgus vociferus), and the night hawk 
 (C. Yirginianus) — leading 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 shrill scream 
 of the night hawk, and the strange booming sound which 
 
THE PROGRESS OF THE SEASONS. 
 
 313 
 
 is produced by tbe 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 without 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 glory being the rich golden-yellow hue assumed 
 
314 
 
 FOEEST 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 
 woodland picture, and all nature seems to bask in a calm 
 serenity. The hermit thrush now warbles forth his fare- 
 well from the spruce groves ; the robins congregate on 
 the barrens, busily picking the remains of the berry-har- 
 vest ere their departure for the south ; -and the squirrels 
 and wood-marmots hasten into their granaries their 
 winter supplies of acorns and beech-mast. 
 
 Xovember is not far advanced before cold northerly 
 winds and black frosts remove all traces of the beautiful 
 fall. The bear and the marmot hybernate ; the moose 
 select their vdnter yards ; the last detachments of 
 lingering robins depart, and the retreating columns of 
 wdld geese are soon foUoAved by the fierce driving storm, 
 which buries the hard-frozen ground under the first snows 
 of the long American winter. Yarjdng in intensity of cold 
 and general changeableness of climate, according to dis- 
 tance from the sea and the infiuence 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. 
 
 315 
 
 hiding-places in the forest, the little American hare 
 (Lepns Americanus) has assumed his winter coat, assimi- 
 lated in colour to the face of nature, and affording 
 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 perse veringly 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 cirrhi, 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. 
 
 Eising 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 bright morning with feelings of the highest exhilara- 
 tion. Not a branch stirs, save where the busy little 
 
316 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 titmice or gold-crests, sporting amongst tlie foliage, dis- 
 lodge a shower of sparkling crystals — 
 
 “ Myriads of gems tliat iii the waving gleam 
 
 Gay-t^vinkle as they scatter,” 
 
 when the disencumbered bough flies back to its original 
 position. The faintest sound flnds an echo amongst the 
 stems of the forest trees ; the chopping of an axe is 
 borne through the still rarified air for many a mile. 
 Bird-life is in full activity. The Corvidae, 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 surface 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 porcujoine in the top 
 branches of a hemlock, his favourite retreat on a fine 
 winter 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 temperature below 
 freezing point, every spray in the forest becomes coated 
 
THE PKOGRESS OF THE SEASONS. 
 
 317 
 
 with ice. Thus originates the beautiful phenomenon 
 called a silver thaw. Seen in sunlight, when the mists 
 have dispersed, 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 sparkling 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 snappings. 
 
 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, 
 drawing 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. 
 
318 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 NOTES ON PEEIODIC PHENOMENA. 
 
 The following observations 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 allowance 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 
 Eeptilia, it may be said that the phenomena of the 
 seasons in Nova Scotia afford a fair index to such occur- 
 rences throughout the British provinces of North 
 America bordering on the Atlantic.* 
 
 * Mean temperature and atmospheric pressure for four years, from 1863 
 to 1866 inclusive : — 
 
 Thermometer. Barometer. 
 
 Winter 
 Spring . 
 Summer 
 Autumn 
 
 . 24° 
 
 . 39° 
 
 . 61° 
 . 48° 
 
 29-66° 
 
 29-62° 
 
 29-68° 
 
 29-67° 
 
 Mean 
 
 43° 29-66° 
 
 From Proceedings of N.S. Institute of Natural Science. 
 
THE PROGRESS OF THE SEASONS. 
 
 319 
 
 NOTES OF THE YEAK 186 . 
 
 January 5. Snow falls at niglit to depth of four 
 inches, quite level, with a cold N.E. wind. 
 
 6. First good sleighing of the year in Halifax ; ther- 
 mometer ranges about 12° Fahr. throughout the day. 
 
 7. Clear and cold ; thermometer, — 5°. A dense pall 
 of vapour on the harbour, obscuring all but the tops 
 of vessels, and coating the sides and rigging with 
 ice. Large numbers of smelts and frost-fish (Morrhua 
 pruinosa) brought to market ; 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 flabby, 
 and quite worthless. 
 
 10. 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 heavy 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 their horns. Eels taken in harbours by spearing 
 through holes in the ice on muddy bottoms, where they 
 lie in a state of torpidity. 
 
320 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 26. Four indies of snow fall during day. 
 
 27. Calm, dear 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 
 
 much rain. 
 
 11. First salmon brought to market from 'Che 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. Eobins frequently seen in open spots in the 
 woods near the sea. Snowbird (Fringilla nivahs) 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. Eobins 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 stiU continues deep. 
 
 5 — 10. Very variable ; 
 
322 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 REMARKS ON THE ABOVE QUARTER. 
 
 The weather during the foresfoino^ winter months 
 
 O o o 
 
 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 months, January and February, passing over 
 without —10'^ to — 15° being registered. Even in the 
 beginning of March, in some Avinters, 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 beginniug 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, Avhen 
 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 Avhich 
 almost hide small dAvellings. On the 8th February, 
 1866, Halifax harbour was entirely frozen over, and bore 
 
THE PROGRESS OF THE SEASONS. 
 
 323 
 
 large numbers of persons securely. The thermometer 
 indicated 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 
 17) 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 
 precipices. 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 repens) in 
 flower abundantly ; occasional blossoms have been picked 
 
324 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 
 
 during the last fortnight. The small marsh frog 
 (Hylodes) is heard. Eobins 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 
 (Ficus auratus) on same date. Wood frog (E. sylvatica) 
 and common spring frog (E. fontinalis) are heard to 
 croak ; both are spawning. Trout take the artificial 
 fiy 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 thrush 
 (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. 
 
 325 
 
 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. Eobins, white- 
 throated sparrow, and hermit thrush sing till 8 p.m. 
 The toad trills all day. May and stone flies (Ephemerae 
 and Phryganeae) 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. Gaspereaiix (Alosa 
 tyrannus) ascending stream to spawn in lakes. Buffed 
 and Canada grouse (Tetrao umbeUus 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. Plerons 
 (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. vociferus) is heard in 
 copses on the banks of the north-west arm of the 
 harbour ; the night hawk (C. Virginianus) on same 
 evening. Bain at night. 
 
 O O 
 
 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 leaves of the latter of 
 a rich bronze tint. Light green leaves of birches un- 
 folding. Pigeon berry (Cornus Canadensis) in flower ; 
 also wild Azalea (Khodora Canadensis). 
 
 23 — 27. Variable weather, with rains. Blueberry 
 and whortleberry (Vaccinise) in flower on open barrens. 
 Smilacina bifolia and S. borealis in flower in fir woods, 
 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 Khodora 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 regalis) 
 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 
 latifohum) 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. Hylodes, 
 frogs, and toads very noisy at nights. Young robins 
 leaving the nest. 
 
THE PROGRESS OF THE SEASONS. 
 
 11. Fine weather, but cold for time of year. The 
 Bob o’ Lincoln (Emberiza oryzivora) in full song in 
 pasture fields. 
 
 15. Weather has become very fine and warm; this 
 day the thermometer indicates 87° in shade. Linnea 
 borealis, the twin flower, out, and imparts much fra- 
 grance to the atmosphere under green woods. Pollack 
 (Merlangus) arrive in bays and harbours, and take 
 .'artificial fly on the surface greedily. Kalmia angusti- 
 folia coming into bloom ; the Khodora fading off. 
 
 16 — 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 great 
 abundance. Withrod in flower. 
 
 July 5. Heavy rain succeeds fogg. The wood-sorrel 
 (Oxalis acetosella) in flower. Wild roses (R. parviflora) 
 out. 
 
 6 — 10. Very fine and warm atmosphere hazy, with 
 strong smell of burning 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- 
 
323 
 
 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 currants ripen. 
 Young woodcock, partridge, and flappers of duck 
 well grown. Wild cherries ripening ; also blueberries 
 (Yaccinium) on the barrens, with wild raspberries’ 
 (Rubus idaeus). Cargoes of sea-birds' eggs brought 
 to market from the Gulf and sold for food. Garden 
 cherries ripe and much visited by waxwings (Ampelis 
 Americana). 
 
 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. Berries 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 dry, swell, and 
 salmon, delayed by drought, ascend. 
 
 11 — 17. Fine weather, with occasional showers. Pas- 
 senger pigeons (Ectopistes migratorius) seen 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. 
 
THE PROGRESS OF THE SEASONS. 
 
 329 
 
 19 — 31. Fine weather. Tree frog (Hyla squirrella) 
 pipes. Moose have their horns developed, and rub off 
 deciduous skin. Trout recover from their summer lassi- 
 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 are 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 laro^e 
 proportion of the migratory fish spawning in summer 
 were prevented from reaching their grounds. 
 
 The mean temperature of April was 36°; 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 remarkable 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. 
 
 few weeks the same results as if the seed had been sown 
 in England a month earlier ; and the same rule applies 
 to general agriculture. The suitableness of the climate 
 to the growth of maize, tobacco, and the gourd family 
 attests its value in an agricultural light. The J erusalem 
 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. 
 
 Septemher 1 — 10. Fine autumnal weather. Apples 
 and fall fruits fast ripening. Berries of mountain ash 
 (Pyrus Americana) reddening. Butting 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 woodpeckers 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. Aj)ples 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. 
 
 331 
 
 Wild cherry leaves partially tinted with crimson. Sumach 
 leaves parti-coloured : green and vivid orange-scarlet. 
 Leaves of Vaccinese becoming tinted, especially those of 
 the whortleberry. Slight frosts at night. The young 
 of the Gaspereau descend from the lakes (observed on 
 22nd). Large 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 fading. Distant woods appear of a 
 dull brownish red. Fir cones ripe. Eobins and hermit 
 thrush sing at sunrise, the former feeding on berries in 
 flocks, and preparing to depart. 
 
 19. 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 are charming ; the distant hills show 
 a bght plum bloom ; the sky and water light apple 
 green. 
 
 5 — 8. Cold rains. Leaves all fallen from deciduous 
 trpes, 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 
 
 FOREST 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.AV. 
 
 5. Skating on ponds. 
 
 6 — 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 — 1 0° 
 
 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 v hen 
 the attributes of Indian summer weather appeared ; but 
 no lengthened season of this delightful feature in the 
 American autumn occurred 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 the temperature to that of spring. Perhaps from a 
 similar cause is the occurrence of autumnal blossoms on 
 spring-flowering plants. In the first week of October I 
 have seen the wild strawberry in blossom in large 
 patches in the woods, and also blossoms on the Kalmia 
 and blueberry. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 The following papers bearing upon the natural history 
 of the Lower Provinces are selected from several read by 
 the Author before the Nova Scotian Institute of Natural 
 Science. The Institution referred to, of which the 
 Author has had the honour of being a Member since its 
 inauguration in 18,63 (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 the 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.E.C.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 Sc Turner, 238, Strand, 1839. 
 
336 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 ON THE NOCTURNAL LIFE OF ANIMALS IN THE 
 FOREST. 
 
 In one of the most attractive of the 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 period 
 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 forest, then the phenomenon is common to many parts, 
 both of the temperate and the frigid zones. If, however, this 
 character consists in impenetrability, thiough 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 ‘ Hanes,’ 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 Humboldt’s very decisive statement of 
 his own views of the etymology of the word. He claims the title for 
 the South American forest from its impenetrability, and not from, 
 what would seem to me a much more distinguishing feature, the 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 337 
 
 enormous diameter and age of its mighty trees. In 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 coniferse cannot look back with those ancient 
 trees which by some have been placed coeval with the builders of the 
 pyramids. Still, as it is evident that in the heart of the great fir 
 forests of the North, 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 Yon Humboldt’s acceptation, but according to the ordinary 
 recognition of its meaning, and as ‘‘ original, such as was at first,” 
 says Johnson. 
 
 To return to the subject more immediately before us. Humboldt 
 next introduces a beautiful and eloquent description of the night life 
 of creatures in the forest by the Orinoco — the wild cries of a host of 
 apes and monkeys, terrified at the uproar occasioned by the jaguar 
 pursuing 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 commotion produced amongst the whole animal 
 world, rendering sleep impossible of attainment on stormy nights, 
 on which, especially, these carnivals appeared to be most frequent. 
 
 What a contrast is presented on entering the dreamy solitudes of 
 the North 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 same species, and cver-present tendency to 
 
338 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 alarm predominate even in the •wildest districts, where the sight of 
 man is unknown, or at least unremembered. At the slightest sound 
 the ruminants and rodents cease feeding, remaining motionless 
 either from fear or instinct ; the 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 chirruped 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 of ripe berries on the upland barren, on which he 
 revels ere taking his annual departure — into the bushes. No longer 
 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 the talons 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 barbed 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 339 
 
 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 “ maduis^' as the Indian calls him. The porcupine 
 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 strigidm 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 impressive 
 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 partridges. 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 “ wdxwmtcli^' 
 as the Indian calls it — Tengmalm’s owl. 
 
 The answer of the bull moose to the Indian’s plaintive ringing 
 
340 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 call on his cone trumpet of birch bark, if the animal is distant, is 
 freely and quickly returned. Eesembling, at first, the chopping of 
 an axe far away in the woods, the sound, when 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 ; the 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 approaching 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 him by another call, he is off 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 
 appeared 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 are still coming on from the same direction. 
 A chorus of bellowings respond to the plaintive wail of the cow. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 341 
 
 The branches are broken more fiercely, and horns are rapidly drawn 
 across stems as if to whet them for the combat. Momentarily I expect 
 to hear the crashing of rival antlers. One by one the bulls pass our 
 position, and 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 barred owl (Syrnium nebulosum) and the loon are the surest. 
 “ The ‘ coogogiieslc ’ is noisy again ; more rain cornin’,” says the 
 Indian, and whether we hear the unwonted chorus of wild hootings 
 soon after sundown or at daybreak, the storm will surely come within 
 twelve hours. Such is likewise the case in summer, when from our 
 fishing camps we hear the plaintive, quavering cry of the great 
 northern 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 Brelc! B-r-relc! of the 
 wood-frog (Rana sylvatica) is heard from pools of water standing in 
 hollows in the forest. A sound that has always been pleasant to my 
 ears when lying amongst the low bushes on the open barren, is the 
 Chinlzl chink! 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 top 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 injury. This little owl, 
 just turning the scale at two ounces, will actually attack and kill a rat. 
 
342 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Wherever there is mystery there lies a charm ; and to this 
 elFect expresses himself Mr. Gosse, who thus speaks of his ac- 
 quaintance with the cry of the saw-whet in his “Romance of 
 Natural History : ” 
 
 “ In the forests of Lower Canada and the New England States, I 
 have often heard in spring a mysterious sound, of which, to this day, 
 I 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 hemlock give a peculiar density to the wood, known as the 
 black growth. The sound comes up clear and regular, like the mea- 
 sured 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 the whetsaw, but nobody pretends to have seen 
 it, so that this can only be considered conjecture, though a highly 
 probable one. The monotony and pertinacity of this note had a 
 strange charm for me, 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. I was riding late at 
 night, and, just at midnight, came to a very lonely part 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 not 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 ? 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 343 
 
 But October is late for so tender a bird ; the latest day in which I 
 have observed it in Nova Scotia, was the 28th September. 
 
 Another mysterious sound which many of the Indian hunters con- 
 nect with superstition, and attribute to spirits of the Orpheonistic 
 description, is that curious, rushing 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 the nerves of that 
 organ. 
 
 The fierce yell of the lucifee, and the short sharp bark of the fox, 
 are often heard in wild parts of the country : they are both in 
 pursuit of the unfortunate hare, which falls a frequent prey to so 
 many of the carnivorae and raptores. I once heard the startling cry 
 of the former close to my head, whilst reposing in the open, after a 
 night’s moose-calling away from camp. Its bounds upon its prey, 
 having stealthily crept to within sight, are 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 
 appears 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 sound — 
 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 first signs of Aurora send the owls flitting back into the thick 
 tops of the spruces, and call forth the busy squirrels and small 
 birds to their daily occupation. 
 
 Once, and only once, did I hear the little red squirrel utter his 
 wrathful chirrup at night — a bad sign, say the Indians ; they firmly 
 believe that it prognosticates the death of one of their friends. 
 Neither does the chip-munk or striped ground squirrel come out at 
 night ; the only member of the family of nocturnal habits is the 
 flying squirrel, a rare but most beautiful little creature. Lying in 
 an open camp, 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 whip-poor-will is our only systematic nightingale, if we may 
 call him so. Arriving in June, and choosing the pleasantest 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. 
 
344 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Occasionally, howeyer, the white-throated spaiTow, or the common 
 peabiddj bird (F. Pennsjlvanica) strikes up his piping note at 
 yarious times of the night, and is often heard when the surrounding 
 woods are suddenly lighted up by the application of fresh fuel to 
 the camp fire. The Indians say that he sings eyery hour. The 
 exquisite flute-like warblings of the hermit thrush (T. solitarius) are 
 often prolonged far into the fine nights of early summer. As a 
 general impression, howeyer, 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 yoices 
 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 irrelative 
 to the objects of this work. 
 
 ACADIAN ACCLIMATISATION. 
 
 Haying thus adyerted to the deyeloprnent of “Applied Natural 
 History ” in other parts of the world as a practical science, and the 
 satisfactory results which haye already attended such efforts, we now 
 come to consider the proper subject of this paper — the question of 
 Acclimatisation as applicable to Noya Scotia. I haye so far drawn 
 attention to the adyances made by the antipodal colonists in this 
 direction, to show how the objections of distance, expense, and un- 
 certainty of results, haye all been put aside for ends thought worthy 
 of such sacrifices. But Australia was a country craying animal 
 immigration, her large and wealthy population demanding many 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 haying 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, 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 345 
 
 with that moderation which should always characterise a civilised 
 people, to afford both the invigorating pleasures of sport and luxuries 
 for the market. Every stream and lake abounds with trout, and 
 there are 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 animals which accompany man in his migra- 
 tions, and which, returning to a state of nature in the plains of 
 Mexico and South America, have multiplied so greatly as to afford a 
 staple 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 fish throughout 
 the northern continent since its first settlement by Europeans : many 
 animals, now on the verge of extinction, driven off their still large 
 domains, not primarily by the approach of civilisation, but by ruth- 
 less, wholesale, and wanton modes of destruction. “ One invariable 
 peculiarity of the American people,” says the author of “ The Game 
 Fish of the North,” “ is that they attack, overturn, and annihilate, 
 and then laboriously reconstruct. Our first farmers chopped 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 
 hunted 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 utterly 
 extinct, as with the pinnated grouse of Pennsylvania and Long 
 Island, and will, I predict, ere long re-stock the streams, rivers, and 
 ponds, 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, 
 w’e 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. 
 
346 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 and utterly regardless of restraint imposed by the laws of the country, 
 worse than useless because not carried out, are bringing about the 
 final depopulation of our large wild areas of land and water. It really 
 becomes a question as to whether late interference shall arrest the 
 tide of destruction ere the entire extennination of fish and game 
 shall bring the country to a sense of its loss, and finally to a wish for 
 their reproduction. 
 
 In such a state of affairs, provincial acclimatisation would prove 
 an empty speculation, for any new animal or bird introduced into 
 our woodlands requiring freedom from molestation for a term of 
 years, would be quickly hunted down and destroyed. 
 
 Leaving, however, these important questions of protection or 
 extinction of already-existing indigenous species in the hands of those 
 who hold the means of ordering these matters, I will now call your 
 attention to what might be done to increase our stock of useful wild 
 or domestic animals, birds or fish, could they be ensured the necessary 
 wardship. We will consider first whether our large woodland districts 
 demand and would bear foreign colonisation, and for what types their 
 physical conformation seems best adapted. 
 
 Even in its most undisturbed and wildest depths the North 
 American forest has always been noted for its solitude ; the meaning 
 being the great disproportion of the animal to the vegetable king- 
 dom. It seems as if nature had exhausted her energies in shading 
 the gTound with the dense forest and the rank vegetation which 
 everywhere seizes on the rough surface beneath. It is impossible to 
 say to what extent animal life might have once existed in the primeval 
 forest ; but no one who has taken a day’s walk in the woods, either 
 near to or far from the haunts of man, can fail being impressed with 
 the apparent absence of animal life. The European visitor, in a 
 suburban ramble through the bush, wonders at the scarcity of game 
 birds, rabbits, or hares, but is astonished when told that in the 
 deepest recesses of the wild country he will see but little increase of 
 their numbers. A canoe paddled through lake after lake of our 
 great highways of water communication, will startle but a few pairs 
 or broods of exceedingly timid waterfowl, where in Europe they 
 would literally swarm. Surely, then, here is room for the work of 
 acclimatisation, in a countiy where so much toil is undergone in the 
 often fruitless pursuit of sport. 
 
 The undergrowth of our wild forest lands, the field for acclima- 
 tisation which we have under immediate consideration, consists of 
 an immense variety of shrubs, under-slirubs, and herbs, annual or 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 347 
 
 perennial. The under-shrubs generally bear the various descriptions 
 of berries, and with great profusion. There are, here and there, wdld 
 pastures, or intervales, by the edge of sluggish water, but they bear 
 but a small proportion to the woodlands ; the bogs and barrens pro- 
 duce moss in abundance, and of the kind found in every part of the 
 world where the reindeer is indigenous, or has been successfully intro- 
 duced, as in Iceland. 
 
 We find, accordingly, that our largest ruminant, the moose-deer, 
 is, in the strictest sense of the word, a wood-eater ; whilst our other 
 animal representing this class, the American reindeer, or cariboo, is 
 found in those portions of the province where large and seldom dis- 
 turbed plains and bogs afford him his favourite moss, the lichen 
 rangiferinus. As amongst the larger animals, ruminants alone 
 offer a selection for introduction into a forest country with the 
 physical attributes of Nova Scotia, we may ask if there is any other 
 animal of the deer tribe which might be successfully acclimatised 
 here. The answer comes through careful consideration of the fauna 
 and flora of other regions compared with our own. The field 
 naturally presenting itself for this research lies in the forest districts 
 of America further west, and in northern Europe, which, under 
 similar climatic influences, presents a strong analogy to this portion 
 of the globe, especially on its western seaboard ; the forest trees and 
 shrubs, the larger animals, the birds and the fish of Norway and 
 Sweden, are almost reproduced in British North America ; indeed, 
 distinction of species in many cases is far from established. 
 
 The common deer (Cervus Yirginianus), then, of Maine and the 
 Canadas, and more recently of New Brunswick by spontaneous accli- 
 matisation, or perhaps rather through the instrumentality of the wolf, 
 appears to be perfectly adapted for an existence in the Nova Scotian 
 woods — a graceful species, but little inferior to the red deer of 
 Europe, affording the excellent venison with which the New York 
 and Boston markets are so well supplied. The climate of Nova 
 Scotia, allowing so little snow to accumulate in the woods until the 
 close of the winter, would prove a great safeguard against the whole- 
 sale 'destruction with which it meets in Maine and New Brunswick, 
 where it is continually in a most helpless condition from the depth of 
 snow throughout the winter. Indeed, it is already with us, for a 
 small herd of healthy animals may now be seen at Mr. Do\vns’ 
 gardens, to whom the country is already indebted for many an un- 
 assisted attempt at real practical acclimatisation.* 
 
 * Mr. Andrew Downs, Naturalist, N. W. Arm, Halifax, Nova Scotia. 
 
348 
 
 APPENDIX, 
 
 It is well known that both the buffalo and the elk (C. wapiti) 
 formerly had an extensive range to the north-east. The latter 
 animal, now mainly found on the Yellowstone and Upper Missouri 
 rivers, once inhabited the forests of the Saguenay. Baird says it has 
 a gi’eater geographical distribution than any other American deer ; 
 and, according to Richardson, it can exist as far as 57 deg. north. 
 Doubtless it would thrive in the Xova Scotian or New Brunswick 
 forests. The wapiti thrives in the Zoological Society’s gardens in 
 England, where it annually reproduces ; and large herds of this 
 noble animal are being transported from America to the north of 
 Italy by His Majesty King Victor Emmanuel. Thirty were recently 
 awaiting departure from Xew York at the same time. 
 
 The only other ruminant on the list of this order, indigenous to 
 climates similar to our own, is the hardy little roe-deer or roebuck, 
 common in the beech woods of northern Europe. I am confident 
 that this animal would thrive in the extensive beech forests of Cum- 
 berland ; and as it seems to live and thrive close to civilisation, it 
 would find ample room and food in our suburban copses and un- 
 cleared barrens. Descending in the scale of animal classification, 
 the next selections for consideration of a future Acclimatisation 
 Society in this country, as adapted to live and multiply and become 
 profitable in the woodlands, seem to be offered in the prolific order 
 Rodentia, of which many families are already indigenous — the squirrel, 
 beaver, porcupine, and American hare, commonly known as the rabbit. 
 The first of these might receive an interesting accession by the intro- 
 duction of the black and grey squirrels of Canada and the States ; 
 the beaver, porcupine, and woodchuck, are all prized by the hunter 
 as food, lacking the supply of venison, and the hare, persecuted 
 though it be by human, furred, and feathered foes, is still so prolific 
 and common, as to form a great portion of the winter subsistence of 
 both settlers and the poor of this city. Indeed, when we enumerate 
 its enemies of the animal creation, which almost altogether live upon 
 it, the lynx and wild cat, the foxes, the horned owl, the marten, and 
 the weasel, and take into consideration the numbers which are taken 
 by man, by snaring them in their easily discovered paths to and from 
 their feeding grounds in the swamps, it is wonderful that they still 
 remain so plentiful. A great objection to the flesh of the American 
 hare, however, is its insipidity and toughness, except when taken 
 young. Far more delicate and esteemed is that of the Spanish, or 
 domestic, and common wild English rabbit (Lepus cuniculus), and it 
 would seem that both are of a sufficiently hardy constitution to stand 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 349 
 
 the rigours of our winter. The former is already an acclimatised 
 inhabitant of the sandbanks of Sable Island, according to Dr. Gilpin, 
 having been introduced by the Honourable Michael Wallace, and 
 increased amazingly, affording the islanders many a fresh dinner 
 when salt junk is plenty and fresh beef scarce. IXo easier experi- 
 ment could be made in applied natural history than the extensive 
 breeding of the common grey rabbit by some resident near town, 
 whose premises bordered on uncleared bush or scrub. To commence, 
 a large bank of loosely piled earth and stone might be made, here 
 and there perforated by a length or so of suitable tubing, such as 
 used for drains, the bank enclosed by wire netting, and a few pairs of 
 rabbits turned in. They would soon tunnel the bank in all directions, 
 and as the families increased they might be allowed to escape into 
 the neighbourhood. A fair warren once established would be the 
 means of a quick colonisation of the surrounding country. And the 
 true rabbit, living so constantly under ground, would enjoy much 
 greater security from animals and birds of prey than his indigenous 
 congeners. 
 
 Still keeping in view the acclimatisation of creatures intended to 
 exist in a state of nature, and not for domestication — a division of the 
 subject which appears to be most feasible and best adapted to the 
 condition of this province — let us next turn to the birds. 
 
 We have already existing in our woods as game birds, two species 
 of Tetraonidm — the T. umbellus, or the ruffed grouse, and the 
 T. Canadensis, or spruce partridge — as permanent residents ; and, as 
 summer visitors, the two North American Scolopacidm, the woodcock 
 and snipe. There is but one representative of the Phasianidae in 
 North America, the only gift of the new to the old world, whence the 
 domestic race has sprung, and that is the wild turkey. It certainly 
 would appear that our large woodland solitudes offer especial facilities 
 for the introduction of some new members of the grouse family, 
 birds especially formed for existence in cold climates. Formerly 
 common in the Scotch pine forests, now only to be met with in 
 abundance in the north of Europe, in Norway, Sweden, and Kussia, 
 the magnificent capercailzie, or cock of the wood (T. urogallus), 
 equalling, in the case of the male bird, the turkey in size, presents 
 so tempting an experiment that it should be almost introduced 
 regardless of expense. A bird inhabiting so widely the fir woods of 
 subarctic Europe and Asia, would surely succeed if transplanted to 
 the corresponding region of North America. It appears to feed 
 exclusively on pine shoots. Mr. Bernard, author of a recent work 
 
350 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 called “ Sport in Norway,” says it is still common in all large forest 
 districts in that country. I believe this bird loves solitude, and 
 surely he would find it, if essential to his existence, in some of the 
 great expanses of coniferous forest which still prevail in most por- 
 tions of Nova Scotia. Next in size and beauty might be selected 
 the black game (T. tetrix) of the wilder portions of the British Isles, 
 and numerous in Norway, where it is stated they not unfrequently 
 cross with the capercailzie. This bird is known to subsist on the 
 buds of the alder and birch, on the berries of the whortleberry, blue- 
 berry, and juniper, and on the bog cranberry, all of which are so 
 abundant in our woods, and of almost identical species. A successful 
 introduction of this bold, handsome grouse, would add great interest 
 to the wild sports on the open barrens. The hazel hen of northern 
 Europe (T. bonasia), reported to be the best fleshed bird of the 
 grouse tribe, is another association of a country in which spruce woods 
 abound. It is exceedingly like our birch partridge in appearance — 
 a little smaller, and wanting the ruff ; like the latter, also, its flesh is 
 white. There are many other northern grouse in both the old and 
 new worlds, but none that I should import as so likely to succeed, 
 and as such valuable acquisitions, as the capercailzie and the blackcock. 
 
 With the circumstance of the introduction and breeding of the 
 English and gold and silver pheasants at Mr. Downs’ establishment 
 W’e are all acquainted ; and a most interesting fact is the well- 
 ascertained capability of the English pheasant to live and And its 
 own subsistence in our woods through a rigorous winter, whilst the 
 latter birds, left out at night by accident, have apparently suffered 
 little inconvenience by roosting in a fir tree, exposed to a strong 
 wind, accompanied by the intense cold of — 16 °. Mliy should not 
 this experiment be continued ? 
 
 It is to be feared that those troops of little songsters with which 
 the fields of England abound, and which have been carefully acclima- 
 tised in Australia for old association sake, would die on the first 
 near approach of the mercury to zero. Those that are imported, 
 comprising thrushes, skylarks, flnches, &c., are closely kept within 
 doors. Mr. Downs has two pairs of the European jackdaw, which 
 he hopes will increase in his neighbourhood. These interesting and 
 garrulous little members of the family Corvidae, whose young every 
 English boy covets to obtain and educate to the acquisition of rudi- 
 mentary speech, would find but few ivy-mantled towers or venerable 
 steeples in which to build their nests ; but when Gilbert White 
 informs us that for want of church steeples they will build under 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 351 
 
 ground in rabbit burrows, the new-comers would not be long in 
 devising a remedy for the defect. The common English house- 
 sparrow, thoroughly acclimatised, and abundant in New York, would, 
 doubtless, do as well in this neighbourhood. 
 
 As a second consideration in connection with this wide subject, 
 let us inquire whether any good purpose could be answered by an 
 attempt at domestication or semi-domestication of our indigenous 
 ruminants, the moose and the cariboo. When we consider that 
 these two species are found throughout the old world, under the 
 same conditions of climate and vegetation which attend them in the 
 new, it appears unaccountable that we have no historic records of the 
 subjugation of the cariboo for domestic purposes by the primitive 
 Indians of the northern coasts of America, as this animal has been 
 applied from time immemorial by the Lapps. 
 
 An eminent naturalist. Dr. Gray, in delivering his address in the 
 Nat. Hist. Section at the late meeting of the British Association at 
 Bath, thus alludes to the latter fact : — “ The inhabitants of the arctic 
 or sub-arctic regions of Europe and Asia have partially domesticated 
 the reindeer ; and either Asiatics have peculiar aptitude for domesti- 
 cating animals, or the ruminants of that part of the world are 
 peculiarly adapted for domestication ; ” * and he then instances a 
 variety of exemplifications, in their having domesticated the yak in 
 the mountain regions of Thibet and Siberia, the camel and drome- 
 dary in central Asia, in southern Asia the zebra, and in the Malayan 
 archipelago various species of buffalo and wild cattle. It may be 
 stated, that modern discovery has placed the original home of the 
 reindeer in the high Alps of central Asia, whence these animals, 
 followed by their ever-accompanying human associates, the Lapps, 
 migrated to the north-west of Europe. As a beast of burden, how- 
 ever, to traverse those treeless wastes answering to the snow-covered 
 barrens of Lapland, the dog seems to have answered all the purposes 
 of the Esquimaux and other arctic- American tribes, whilst in more 
 southerly and wooded regions, a sledge-drawing animal would have 
 no scope or sphere of employment. And, viewing the ai^imals in this 
 light, the horse and the ox which have accompanied Europeans, 
 
 * Ennan in his Siberian travels frequently speaks of the passionate desire 
 evinced by the reindeer for human urine as the acknowledged means of success 
 adopted by the Osty aks, Samoyeds and Tunguzes, in domesticating this animal , 
 otherwise naturally so shy and averse to the presence of man. The new life 
 apparently acquired by the deer on a journey, after gratifying this strange 
 appetite, is attributed by the same author to the stimulus afforded by the 
 ammoniacal salts. 
 
352 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 have left no desideratum that could he supplied by either the moose 
 or the cariboo. There are, however, several undoubted instances of 
 the applicability of the moose to draught. A few years since a 
 settler on the Guysboro’ road, named Carr, possessed a two-year old 
 bull moose, which was perfectly tractable in harness. For a wager, 
 he has been known to overtake and quickly distance the fastest 
 trotting horse on the road, drawing his master in a sleigh, the 
 guiding reins being fastened to a muzzle bound round the animal’s 
 nose. Another instance was that of a very large moose kept by a 
 doctor in Cape Breton, which he would invariably employ in pre- 
 ference to his horse when wishing to make a distant visit to a 
 patient, and in the shortest time. It is very certain that in its 
 youth the moose is one of the most tractable of animals ; but it is 
 in the rutting season of the third year that the males first become 
 unmanageable and dangerous.* 
 
 A point, however, on which I would engage attention, is not the 
 domestication of either of these animals in the state in which the 
 ordinary domesticated animals are associated with us, but a possible 
 state of semi-domestication, by which the moose might be caused to 
 multiply on uncleared land, and regularly bred, fattened, and turned 
 to profit without the smallest cost to the owner, except the expense 
 of maintaining his enclosures in an efficient state of security. My 
 attention was first drawn to this by reading an account of the 
 successful breeding of the American elk (C. wapiti) by an American 
 gentleman — a Mr. Stratton, of New York State. I quote from a 
 letter dated January 12, 1859 : — 
 
 “ My desire to keep and breed them, without their becoming a tax 
 upon me, led to diligent inquiry in relation to what had been done 
 in the way of their domestication. I procured, as far as possible, 
 every paper, book, and document, which could give any light upon 
 the subject. I wrote to every part of the country whence any infor- 
 mation could be obtained, and opened a correspondence with those 
 who had undertaken such an enterprise. The result of my efforts 
 was simply fhis : nearly every one who had owned an elk was a 
 gentleman amateur, and had left the care and direction to servants ; 
 the bucks, not having been castrated at the proper age, had 
 become unmanageable ; and when the novelty of the attempt was 
 over, the domestication in most cases was abandoned. But from my 
 
 * Formerly the European elk was used in Sweden to draw sledges, but its 
 use for this purpose was finally prohibited by government, as criminals used 
 it as a means of escape. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 353 
 
 own inquiries, and a close personal observation of the habits of the 
 animal, I believed that a different course would produce a more 
 favourable result. The first requisite was a place to keep them in. 
 Now, they had always lived in the woods, summer and winter : why 
 not live in the forest again ? Acting upon this principle, I im- 
 mediately set to work and fenced in about 150 acres of hill land, 
 which was steep and stony, covered with brushwood, and entirely 
 useless for agricultural purposes. In this lot I turned my elks, 
 where they have been six years. In the meantime, I purchased two 
 more does, and have reared eight fawns. Having emasculated the 
 older bucks as fast as the younger ones became adults, I have now a 
 herd so gentle, that a visitor at my farm would hardly imagine that 
 their ancestors, only three generations back, were wild animals. 
 And this has been done simply by visiting the park two or three 
 times a week, and always carrying them an ear of corn, some little 
 delicacy, or salt, and treating them wdth unvarying kindness. 
 
 “ The facility for extending this business may easily be conceived. 
 New York alone might support 100,000 elks on land where our 
 domestic cattle could not subsist, furnishing an amount of venison 
 almost incredible ; while the adjoining State of Pennsylvania, to say 
 nothing of others, might sustain a still larger number without 
 encroaching upon an acre of land now used for stock-rearing, or any 
 other purpose connected with agriculture.” * 
 
 Here, then, we have a modern precedent for an experiment which 
 I am convinced would answer in the case of the moose, a still larger 
 and more profitable animal than the wapiti. What an admirable 
 opportunity for utilising those barren wastes which surround us ! 
 Take for example that large triangular piece of waste country in the 
 immediate vicinity of the city, commencing at Dartmouth, extending 
 along the shores of the Basin on one side, bounded by the Dart- 
 mouth lakes on the other, and skirted by the railroad from Bedford 
 to Grand Lake as its base. With the exception of a few clearings 
 on the shores of the Basin, the whole of this is a wilderness, con- 
 taining some 15,000 acres of wild, undulating land, with here and 
 there thick spruce swamps, mossy bogs, and barrens covered with a 
 young growth of birch, poplar, and all the food on which the moose 
 delights to subsist. That they have an especial liking for tliis small 
 district may be gathered from the fact that I have never known it as 
 
 * In 1862, Mr. Stratton states that he had succeeded in raising- thirty-seven 
 elk. He had trained a pair to harness, and had sold them for $1000. Whilst, 
 as an article of food he can now raise elk cheaper than sheep. 
 
354 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 not containing two or three of these animals. There is no reason 
 why an experimental farm, conducted on the principle indicated by 
 Mr. Stratton, should not be able to breed and turn out in this 
 district a very large number of moose, and in such a state of tame- 
 ness, that they would be induced to remain within enclosed portions 
 of the wilderness, furnishing, in proper season, a profitable supply of 
 flesh for the market. 
 
 To the cariboo, on the other hand, these suggestions will not be 
 applicable, as this animal requires, as a primary condition of its 
 existence, a large and uninterrupted field for periodical migration. 
 
 As regards the introduction of new fish, a very good exchange 
 might be made with the English Acclimatization Society, by sending 
 the beautiful American brook trout (Salmo fontinalis), and receiving 
 in return S. fario. Colonel Sinclair* has several times drawn my 
 attention to the suitableness of many of our rivers for the reception 
 of the true British trout — a fish quite different in its habits to our 
 migratory, deep-frequenting S. fontinalis. 
 
 The Shubenacadie, and other rivers, steadily flowing through alluvial 
 flats {intervale), present frequent gravelly reaches, with patches of 
 waving weed, and soft overhanging banks — just the counterpartof many 
 English trout-streams. With no predatory fish to harass the trout, 
 these waters at once suggest the introduction of S. fario, more 
 particularly as they are not the resort of our own species. As an 
 association, and for purposes of food, the common English stream- 
 minnow might be profitably turned in at the same time. 
 
 Our grayling (S. Oloverii), (the former a misnomer), is a lake- 
 trout. The true grayling (Thymallus), as well as the common 
 English perch, would be desirable additions to our waters. Even in 
 lakes where the trout has almost disappeared, I should hesitate to 
 recommend the introduction of any of the family Esocidae, for fear of 
 their spreading to damage more remunerative waters. 
 
 In conclusion, it is with the greatest pleasure that I welcome 
 Colonel Sinclair’s proposal to form a Society for the artificial propa- 
 gation of fish in this Province. The Americans are already earnestly 
 endeavouring by this means to restore their desolate rivers ; and 
 with the support of the Association for Protection of Game and Fish, 
 and the advice and the experience of the English pisciculturists, 
 the greatest results may be obtained in water-farming a country so 
 prolific of lakes and streams as is Nova Scotia. 
 
 * Lieut. -Col. R. Bligh Sinclair, Adjt.-Gen. of N. S. Militia, late 42nd High- 
 landers. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 355 
 
 AUDACITY OF THE BULL MOOSE IN THE CALLINO 
 
 SEASON. 
 
 The following instances of the recklessness which characterises 
 the bull moose in the fall are authentic : — 
 
 A sportsman, accompanied by an Indian, was moose-calling on 
 Mosher’s River, Nova Scotia, one morning in the autumn of 1867. 
 They were on a barren, and near the margin of a heavy forest. A 
 fine bull moose came up to the call, and fell to the Indian’s gun, 
 when instantly another bull emerged from the woods, and charged at 
 the prostrate animal. A second bullet brought him over, and he 
 fell on the body of what had most probably been his foe of the 
 season. 
 
 A settler in the backwoods going out one October evening to chop 
 firewood near his shanty in the forest, heard a bull moose “ handy P 
 He returned for his gun, and, after a short stalk in the bushes, 
 obtained a shot at the moose — an animal with superb antlers — and 
 could distinctly see that he had hit him in the neck. There he 
 stood for a considerable time, wdiile the settler, who had only the 
 one charge, lay in the bushes, and at length turned and leisurely 
 walked away. The man was up betimes next morning, and away to 
 the same spot. He saw blood ; and, following the trail for a short 
 distance, heard sounds indicating the presence of moose. Having 
 some faint idea of calling, he put a piece of bark to his mouth, and 
 gave the note of the bull. Answering at once, a fine moose came in 
 view, when he fired, and this time prostrated the animal — the iden- 
 tical one shot the evening before. He recognised the horns, and 
 the wound was in his neck. 
 
 Apropos of this subject, the following extracts from his note-book, 
 kindly placed at my disposal by ‘‘ The Old Hunter,” are highly 
 interesting and illustrative. He says : — “ I left my camp on Lake 
 Mooin (the lake of the bear), Liscome River, September, 1866, in 
 company with Peter, Joe, and Stephen, as my Indian hunters, in- 
 tending to cross the next lake to the southward in a canoe which we 
 had there secreted. On arriving at the lake we found the wind so 
 high that it was considered altogether unsafe to trust ourselves on 
 its waters in our frail bark. About five o’clock the wind moderated, 
 but as I still thought that we could not reach my old calling-ground 
 on the opposite side before the decline of the sun, I determined to 
 cross to a narrow neck of rocky barren distant from us by water 
 some seven hundred yards. After various perils we reached the spot, 
 disembarked amongst the rocks, fixed a place for the calling-ground 
 should the night be calm, collected our bedding of spruce boughs 
 
 A A 2 
 
356 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 picked in a neighbouring swamp, and, releasing our blankets from 
 their cordings, prepared for supper. Suddenly all was calm ; the 
 wind had gone down, and the western sky was tinged with the 
 gorgeous colouring denoting a moose-caller’s delight — a calm and 
 serene night. All at once a cracking of wood was heard away down 
 on our side of the lake, and presently more noises, plainly deter- 
 mining the presence of moose thereabouts. A few minutes of hesi- 
 tation, and I treed Peter to sound the love-note from aloft : and not 
 long after he descried a moose at fully a mile’s distance coming to 
 the edge of the forest. The margin of the lake on our side had been 
 burnt, and was barren of bush or tree except in a few spots. A few 
 persuasive calls brought him out on the barren, from which, how- 
 ever, he soon returned to the cover of the green-woods — a fact, as we 
 all knew, proving him to be either a coward or a beaten moose. We 
 coaxed : he still came on, showing himself occasionally on the 
 barren, though never answering, and at length was espied about 
 three hundred yards off, peering around him and listening, his huge 
 ears extended forwards to the utmost. We thought that he saw us, 
 but he had cunning folks to deal with ; we did not move or call. 
 Down he came, making directly for us, now speahing for the first 
 time. I was lying in his route, and, when distant about fifteen 
 yards, I bowled over one of the finest and most cautious of his 
 species I had ever met with. He was cast and butchered before the 
 twilight faded. 
 
 “ We supped, and that night lay replete ; but my sleep not being 
 of such a dead nature as that of my faithful followers, the crashings 
 of trees and the bellowings of moose emanating from the same direc- 
 tion as that whence came the fallen monarch, struck frequently on 
 my ears. At cock-crow I woke up the sleeping aborigines, and, 
 severe as had been the cold of the past night, we listened long and 
 with intense interest to the distant sounds, not the usual noise of the 
 cow moose at this season, but a sort of unearthly roaring. 
 
 “We called, and presently observed two moose leave the woods, 
 and approach us on the barrens. When about five hundred yards 
 distant from us we lost sight of them in the alder bushes which grew 
 thickly on the banks of a small brook flowing into the lake. Past 
 this spot they would not come ; we did not advance, as we deter- 
 mined to kill no more moose on that excursion. Our object was 
 simply to watch ; I particularly wanted to ascertain from which 
 animal the snorting and fierce bellowing came. We had perceived 
 that they were male and female. They stopped in the alders for 
 some fifteen minutes or so making a great row, breaking sticks and 
 pawing the water in swamp holes with a loud splashing. At length 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 357 
 
 we espied them beating a slow retreat on the route they had ad- 
 vanced upon, and -I determined to take the canoe and follow them 
 by water, leaving Stephen to prepare breakfast. The morning was 
 perfectly calm, fog here and there rising from the lake and along the 
 lines of the numerous brooks that emptied into it. I may here add, 
 that though I have named it Lake Merganser, owing to the numbers 
 of those birds frequenting it, it would have been fully entitled to 
 have been called Eocky Lake, as I think that both below and above 
 its surface rocks abound to a greater extent than in any other lake in 
 Nova Scotia, and that is saying a good deal. 
 
 “ Stealing over the lake’s surface, and seated in the bottom of our 
 canoe, we could not well scan the woods by the margin, for the rocks 
 on the shore were fully eight feet high. However, at length we 
 sighted two large black objects ascending a hill. Peter called like a 
 bull, and this at once arrested them. They turned, and one, for a 
 moment lost to sight, appeared on the edge of the barren : another 
 step and he must have descended. It was a mighty bull moose. 
 He peered at us, and we, motionless and with restrained breath, 
 gazed upon him. After standing in that position for some minutes 
 he turned and looked towards where we had slept. I did the same, 
 and could plainly see the boy Stephen perched upon the rock beneath 
 which we had lain. Then he walked five or six steps, turned, and 
 gave us a full side view, twice picking some twigs from the bushes 
 which we could hear him munching with his teeth, so close were we. 
 During this wondrous sight the loud noise was made in the bush 
 three times, when out walked a cow moose. She, like to her lord, 
 looked hard at us, and I thought was “ for off.” Not a bit ; she 
 stopped head on for fully five minutes ; then turned, and faced the 
 hill, emitting several times the angry grunt so dreaded by the Indian 
 as a sign of ill-luck. The bull quietly took his departure, and we 
 watched them enter the forest. This bull had only one horn. Peter 
 declared that the other was a small stump — a malformation — but I 
 shall ever be of the opinion that he had lost it in battle, for on our 
 return to our rocky home, and when butchering the dead moose, we 
 found that he had been in the wars, and was much bruised about the 
 neck and ribs on the near side. 
 
 “ Parting with this most interesting couple, we paddled on to the 
 foot of the lake, and called a few times at the head of a bog. We 
 were quickly answered, and up came a rattling moose. He was 
 astonished at first seeing us, I feel certain, and was for bolting, but 
 continued walking along the dry edge of the bog. Peter imitated a 
 bull’s note, at which he turned fiercely round with mane, rump-hair, 
 and ears erect, and answered angrily. This was repeated fully six 
 
358 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 times to our great amusement. At length he walked away, making 
 constant ‘ bookings,’ and rubbing his antlers against burnt trees. 
 
 “All at once we espied another pair of moose coming from the 
 opposite direction — a bull and a cow — and expected to see a meeting, 
 perhaps a combat ; but although there appeared every likeliliood of 
 such an occurrence, it was avoided by the pair retreating into the 
 deep woods. The bulls ceasing to answer each other, we paddled 
 back to camp, where little Stephen, though he had observed all the 
 first part of the spectacle fi’om the rock, had not neglected to provide 
 for his ‘ sacamoiv ’ and comrade red-skin a sumptuous repast of 
 kidneys, steaks, and coffee. 
 
 “ I am a firm believer, and always was, that it is the cow moose 
 that makes the noise by some called a roar, and I was thus a witness 
 to the fact. Here was a glorious morning’s sport without bloodshed ! 
 Alas ! last season upwards of fifty moose were killed about Lake 
 Merganser. It is a fact that now not a track can there be seen.” 
 
 MOOSE CAUGHT IN A TREE. 
 
 Moose not unfrequently perish in the woods through becoming 
 entangled in some natural snare, or by breaking their legs amongst 
 the rents and holes in the rocks which strew the country, and are often 
 concealed by a carpet of moss. A few falls since I stumbled by 
 chance upon the body of a moose which had recently met with an 
 accidental death under the following curious circumstances. I was 
 crossing a deep still-water brook in the forest, on a log fallen from 
 bank to bank, when my attention was arrested by the disturbed 
 appearance of the bank, and by the bark being rubbed off* the bottom 
 of a large spruce-tree which grew over the water on the opposite 
 side. Completely submerged below the surface was the body of a 
 large bull-moose, his antlers just peeping above the water A thick 
 root of the spruce gTew out of the bank, and, curving round, re- 
 entered it, forming a strong loop. Into this the unfortunate moose, 
 in attempting to cross the brook at this point, had accidentally 
 slipped one of his hind legs up to the hock, and the looped root 
 being naiTOW, he was unable to extricate it. A prisoner, for who 
 can tell how long, the unhappy animal perished from starvation, and 
 at last sank into the stagnant brook. The denuded state of the stem 
 of the spruce, and the broken bushes around, showed with what 
 violence his struggles had been attended. 
 
 The following is an Indian’s story of a somewhat similar occur- 
 rence : — Being visited one winter by two of his tribe and the larder 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 359 
 
 nearly empty, the trio determined to have a hunt in search of moose- 
 meat. It was February, and deep snow covered the country. On 
 the evening of the first hunting day they came upon a fi-esh track, 
 and their dogs, three in number, started the chase. Daylight failing, 
 they renewed the hunt bright and early next morning, following 
 until noon, when they finished the last morsel of their bread. -Away 
 again, and before nightfall the dogs had pressed the moose very 
 hard. Taking up the trail next day, they pursued it with all the 
 vigour left to them, and until two of the party gave in and deter- 
 mined to strike out for some settlement. The other Indian, how- 
 ever, resolving to stick to the trail to the last, went on, and, to his 
 great delight, about an hour before sundown, he heard the dogs 
 barking furiously. This was good ; on he dashed, and presently 
 came up with the moose and dogs. It was a barren cow : she had ‘ 
 crossed a bog bisected by a deep still-water stream thinly crusted 
 with ice, and, having broken through, was struggling mightily to 
 reach the opposite side. He shot the moose in the head, and found, 
 on attempting to haul out the carcase, that he could not succeed in 
 moving it ; so cutting off the mouffle and tongue, he lighted a fire 
 and then and there feasted. In the morning he became aware that 
 he was not far distant from a farm, as he heard the conk shell blow 
 for breakfast, and proceeding to the spot he induced the settler to 
 assist him by taking his two oxen and sled to the spot where the 
 moose lay to haul out the meat. It was with the greatest difficulty 
 that they extricated the beast from the hole. It appeared that a 
 hard-wood tree had fallen across the still-water, and that the animal’s 
 hind leg had got fixed fast in a crutch of the tree. Whence the 
 Indian’s success. “ Sartain good lucky this time,” said he. He sold 
 his meat well in the adjoining settlement. 
 
 A BEAD SHOT WITH A HALFPENNY.^ 
 
 “ Not many years ago, when my head-quarters for fall hunting 
 was on Lake Mooin (Anglice, the lake of the bear), I had enjoyed 
 most excellent sport, moose calling, and four superb sets of antlers 
 hung around the camp. The skins of these animals, together with 
 two of bears, stretched, surrounded the smoke place. This latter was 
 our favourite daily resort ; for the camp was too hot a place by day, 
 though a snug box enough at night. Jack Frost having come along 
 with a late September moon. I had made up my mind to visit the 
 
 * From “ The Old Hunter’s” note-book. 
 
360 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 lake which we had seen when out on the barrens ; it was studded with 
 islands, and not far from where a huge bear had fallen to our guns a 
 few days before when berry picking. He came quietly along, licking 
 in the blue-berries, and when about twelve yards from us, who lay 
 behind a rock, I bowled him over with an eleven to the pound bullet. 
 My Indian, Peter, fired also, and terminated his death struggles by a 
 ball through the brain. The other bear had likewise been stretched 
 in the same locality. We had been calling on the barrens and had 
 heard moose several times, but wind arose and they got to leeward of 
 us. Early next morning it became tolerably calm, though a few 
 light puffs of wind came from the westward. A bull moose, accom- 
 panied by a cow, advanced, but winded us ; and we saw them spinning 
 over the barrens for a long time, making for the deep woods to the 
 west of our lake. We kept a bright look-out for ‘ Mr. Mooin,’ and a 
 black object was presently discerned in the distance, though whether 
 it was a bear or a moose we could not make out ; it seemed to keep 
 so much about the same spot, and seemed so large at times that we 
 thought it must be the latter animal. Well, Peter and self started 
 for the locality ; the wind got up in our favour, and we advanced 
 with rapidity, though, at the same time, with caution. Should it 
 prove to be a moose we were not to fire ; we had killed enough meat 
 at that time, and besides bore in mind the great distance we should 
 have to carry our load out of the woods. On nearing the place 
 where we had seen the black object we crept to a large rock, 
 cautiously looked from its shelter, and at once sighted a bear. We 
 could just see its shoulders and head ; it lay on its belly, and was 
 picking berries from a bush apparently held down by its fore paws. 
 I fired my right barrel, but missed my mark. This brought the 
 monster to a sitting position, when, taking a second aim, my bullet 
 pierced his head, and tumbled over a full-grown he bear. When we 
 examined the trees about, we found that what had given him such a 
 strange appearance to our eyes, when viewing him fr’om a distance, 
 was, that he had been on his hind legs, pawing the bark on the tree 
 with his fore ; this was evident from the nature of the traces. 
 
 “Mell, now to my tale. We got to camp about noon, and, as 
 before stated, were bound to see the lake of the islands. There was 
 a good deal of talking and smoking over the matter, but early one 
 morning found us packed and in marching order. Leaving my boat 
 capsized at the foot of Lake Mooin, we took to the woods, heading 
 for Lake Merganser ; found our little canoe, which had been con- 
 cealed in the bushes by the shore ; crossed, and struck off for the 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 361 
 
 island lake. The difficulties were great ; and we had to pull up for 
 the night, choosing a good place for calling of course, for one, though 
 only one, more moose must fall to our party, and that one must 
 carry the finest antlers. At night we called, and were answered from 
 the direction in which we had come on our trail. Being fatigued, 
 and somewhat indifferent from the reflection that a dead shot would 
 necessitate some nine hundred-weight of meat being ‘ backed ’ out of 
 the woods, we gradually all slumbered. I was up very early. The 
 rocks on which I had lain had pierced almost to my bones, and I felt 
 particularly sore about the right hip. I smoked, then called, and 
 was at once answered by what was in my opinion the moose of the 
 previous evening. On he came dashingly — no signs of fear about his 
 note. I roused up Peter, and after some fifteen minutes attentive 
 listening, finding he was not far distant, sent him off to call from 
 some bushes about one hundred yards away. The moose presently 
 came in view. He was crippled in his gait, almost dead lame in the 
 off fore leg. He carried just what I wanted, an A 1 pair of antlers. 
 I shot him, and am persuaded that he was not more than ten yards 
 from me at the time ; he was bound, with head erect, for the bushes 
 wherein was secreted Peter. All the noise (my shot having been 
 fired absolutely over the head of my other camp follower, the boy 
 Stephen) had failed to arouse the slumbering son of the forest. 
 There he lay until I hauled off his blanket, when he appeared quite 
 annoyed at the close proximity of the antlered monarch. Upon 
 examination we found that in the previous season this beast had 
 got sadly mauled in a fight. Five ribs had been broken on one 
 side, three on the other. His lameness was accounted for by the fact 
 that the outside joint of his foot on the off side had been dislocated 
 and had set out. 
 
 “ The morning being very calm Peter proposed that we should 
 leave the boy to get breakfast, and ourselves take up positions on 
 two hills adjacent to look for bear. In case we saw any, the signal 
 was to be the hat raised on the muzzle of the gun from the hill top. 
 I had not been long on my look-out when I espied black objects 
 moving, but not being certain of their genus, I started to ascertain, 
 and soon came upon a fine cow moose with an attendant bull, a two- 
 year-old. I strolled back to my look-out, and being tired, I sup])ose 
 I “ slept upon sentry.” I was awakened by a shot, closely followed 
 by another, again two more in quick succession. Now I knew that 
 our party was alone in those deep woods, and that Peter had carried 
 my smooth bore, for which I had handed him only four bullets, with 
 
362 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 what little powder remained, in a red half-pound canister of Curtis 
 and Harvey’s. I was alarmed, for I knew that my henchman would 
 only fire at vermin, and I started helter-skelter in the direction of the 
 firing. Fear accelerated my steps, for on my onward course I heard 
 two more shots, and what that meant, except in sign of distress, I 
 could not divine. On reaching the side of the hill, on the summit of 
 which I well knew that Peter had perched himself, I saw an object 
 which I readily recognised as a back view of the Indian actively 
 engaged. I rushed on and found this wonderfully powerful and 
 agile youth hauling along the carcase of a young bear. He was full 
 of smiles, and chided me for not coming to the battle. He had seen 
 a bear feeding on berries, and had given me the signal, but it must 
 have been at the time I was ofi* to the pair of moose, or — shall I write 
 it ? yes, truth is best told — perhaps it was when I slumbered. He 
 crawled down, and when about twenty yards distant had fired at the 
 animal. A second shot seemed at first to have proved inefficacious, 
 when the fiying bear suddenly dropped dead in her tracks. It proved 
 afterwards that the first shot had told, hitting high up in the lungs. 
 Hearing a noise to his right he looked round, and espied two young 
 bears in precipitate retreat. He made chase, when both treed simul- 
 taneously on the nearest ‘ram-pikes’ — huge naked stems of burnt 
 pines, of which there was a bunch of five or six standing together. 
 Peter halted and loaded. He missed the nearest youngster with 
 shot number one, but the second brought it down dead from its 
 perch. About fifteen yards from the spot there sat the other cub 
 on a projecting branch, which, on the Indian’s approach, it left, and 
 clasped the trunk for a downward retreat. (Those who have not 
 witnessed it can form but a faint idea of the rapidity with which a 
 bear when scared can ascend or descend a tree.) Peter had no more 
 bullets, so what was to be done ? Well, his first attempt to kill young 
 ‘mooin’ was with the stopper, or rather charger of the powder horn, 
 which he rammed down into the right-hand barrel. This was a failure 
 and a miss. ‘ Mooin ’ still clasped the tree in desperation. Eefiection 
 made Peter search his pockets, when therein he found a halfpenny — a 
 fitting remaining. coin to be in an Indian’s keeping. He sat dovm ; 
 and underneath the tree where the poor victim clung, aided by the 
 butt-end of the gun, which bears the well-indented marks to this 
 day, he doubled up that copper, drove it down over the powder in 
 the left-hand barrel, fired, and brought dovii the bear from its 
 perch. He had broken its near thigh — a frightful fracture ; but, 
 falling with three legs to work on, it took to the bush at a great 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 363 
 
 pace. Scarcely a match at any time in point of speed for this agile 
 young Indian, it was soon overtaken, and he had succeeded in beating 
 it almost to fragments with a stick which he had snatched up in the 
 wild chase when I arrived to see him hauling it out from the thicket 
 in which he had captured it. 
 
 “ Hearing his story, I went to the tree, and in it could distinctly 
 see the end of the charger, and feel confident that it may be still 
 seen there if the former is standing. That day we feasted gloriously 
 at dinner-time on the roasted ribs of young bears, one of which had 
 been shot with a halfpenny.” 
 
 THE CAPLIN. 
 
 {Mallotiis villosus.) 
 
 This curious little Salmonoid, the smallest known member of its 
 family, and, perhaps, the most ancient in type,* plays a very impor- 
 tant part in connection with the great cod fisheries on the banks and 
 along the shores of Newfoundland, proving the most tempting bait 
 on which to take the latter fish when it approaches the shores to 
 spawn. This it does yearly in numbers baffling description, and the 
 manner in which the operation is performed is one of the most sin- 
 gular and interesting facts in its character. It may be observed that 
 the male and female differ so much in appearance at this season tliat 
 it would be difficult to believe they were of the same species. The 
 females are very like the common smelt, possessing, perhaps, more 
 metallic lustre, but the males are adorned by lines or ridges of flaccid 
 fringe, resembling velvet, which run just above the lateral line from 
 the upper angle of the operculum to base of tail. It is stated by so 
 many competent and credible authorities, that I think it deserves 
 to be placed on record as an authenticated fact, that the following is 
 the mode of proceeding. The time for the female depositing her 
 spawn having arrived, she is assisted by two male fish, one on each 
 
 * Hugh. Miller, in his “ Popular Geology,” thus speaks of the caplin as 
 an inhabitant of the deep, in the latter days of the tertiary period : — “ Clay 
 nodules of the drift period in Canada and the United States, are remark- 
 able for containing the only iclithyolite found by Agassiz among seventeen 
 hundred species which still continue to exist, and that can be exhibited in 
 consequence in duplicate specimens— the one fit for the table in the cha- 
 racter of a palatable viand ; the other for the shelves of a geological museum, 
 in the character of a curious ichthyolite. It is the Mallutm villosus, or 
 caplin. ” * 
 
384 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 side, and when the surf offers, they all force themselves with great 
 swiftness on the beach, taking particular* care that the female is kept 
 in the middle, and by thus compressing her the object of their visit 
 is accomplished. Many repetitions are undoubtedly requmed. The 
 three caplin then separate, and struggle back into the ocean with a 
 receding wave. It is difficult to say in what precise manner the 
 processes or ridges of the male are used ; probably some amount of 
 downward pressure is exerted through their aid in running on the 
 sand, and the female is assisted thereby in exuding the ripe and 
 readily expressed spawn. 
 
 The caplin arrives at its spawning beaches on the south-east coasts 
 of Newfoundland, about the 20th June, and remains close inshore for 
 about fixe weeks ; beyond this period the fish is rarely seen or taken 
 under any circumstances. The warm days with light fogs occurring 
 at this season are looked upon by the expectant fishermen as favour- 
 able to their striking in ; they call such days “ caplin weather.” 
 Now all is rivalry as to who shall get the first haul for bait ; a bucket 
 full would command any price — like new potatoes at Covent Garden 
 or the first salmon at Boston. In a few days’ time they will be 
 rolled over the roads by strings of carts, selling at 35. a load, and 
 exported by thousands of barrels to the eager French fishermen on 
 the Banks ; for now is the great banquet of the cod, and herring and 
 clam, mackerel and sardine, ai'e each refused for the new and delicate 
 morsel. It was the height of the caplin season when I arrived in St. 
 John’s one summer. Caplin were being wheeled through the streets, 
 caught in tubs, buckets, and ladled up in scoops by everybody from 
 the wharves of the town ; the air was strongly impregnated with the 
 smell of caplin ; they were scattered about in the streets, and you 
 trod on or drove over them everywhere. The fish-flakes, roofs of 
 houses, and little improvised stages attached to nearly every dwelling 
 were strewn with caplin drying in the sun. In the country, on the 
 roads to the out-harbours, a continual stream of carts was passing 
 loaded with glittering cargoes of fish, the whole mass moving together 
 like a jelly, and so likely to spill over the sides that division boards 
 are placed across the cart to separate the fish into two masses, and 
 thus keep them steadier. In the fields men were engaged in spreading 
 them broadcast, or sowing them in drills with potatoes ; whilst others 
 were storing them for manure by burying enormous masses of fish in 
 mounds of earth. But it is on tlie beach only that a just conception 
 can be formed of the great multitudes in which this fish approaches 
 the shore, when sometimes the surface of the water appears as a 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 3G5 
 
 living mass as far as the eye can reach ; with their heads towards 
 the land, they lie like a black line close in, each succeeding wave 
 dashing them on the beach, where, as the tide ebbs, they remain and 
 die. The seine, the cast-net, and the dip-net are being plied by the 
 busy fishermen, whose families are collecting the dead fish and 
 depositing them in heaps or in pits for manure. Sometimes the mass 
 is so dense that a boat is impeded in sailing through them, and in 
 dipping them up more fish than water are taken in a bucket. Num- 
 bers of the lively little tern wheel screaming through the air over the 
 school of fish, every now and then making a dash on their prey, 
 whilst out in the deep water lies the great army of codfish, ready to 
 feast on them as they return from the beach. In fact, as regards 
 their finny foes, every fish large enough to swallow them preys on the 
 caplin. Captain Murray, E.E., informed me that he had taken a 
 salmon with five, and a sea trout with two caplin in the stomach, the 
 latter being only 2 lbs. weight. A friend of his once thought he had 
 hooked a sea trout, but after a little play succeeded in landing a dead 
 caplin, to which the hook had affixed itself in the trout’s mouth, the 
 latter being apparently too full to complete the act of swallowing. 
 
 A scene of this description is exceedingly interesting, as I saw it 
 one deliciously warm sunny afternoon in July on the pebbly beaeh at 
 Topsail, near the head of Conception Bay. As we approached the 
 village from the road leading to St. John’s the prospect from the top 
 of the last hill was charming. The neat little village at our feet, 
 wdth its fish stages and patches of garden, bounded by the rough, 
 barren, sandstone cliffs of Portugal Cove ; a pebbly beach in front, 
 dotted with groups of fishermen throwing their cast-nets over the 
 black patches which indicate the approaching beds of caplin ; the 
 activity prevailing on board the boats and schooners moored a few 
 yards off ; the men dipping up the fish, and throwing them over their 
 shoulders into their boats, formed a pleasing and animated foreground 
 to a picture where the distance was formed of the lofty blue moun- 
 tains across the bay, whilst in middle distance reposed the well 
 cultivated islands of Great and Little Belleisle. In the centre of the 
 bay was grounded a large iceberg, which lay melting away in torrents 
 under the influence of the hot July sun. 
 
 Nothing could exceed the beauty of the iridescent colours of the 
 fish as I handled them fresh caught. The back of the male between 
 the ridges flashed from deep blue to emerald green as it caught the 
 light. The absence of timidity on the part of the fish was wonderful : 
 it seemed as if no amount of splashing over them by the heavily 
 
366 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 weighted cast-nets could frighten the remainder from the shore. 
 They appeared impelled to push in by strong instinct, and even when 
 W’ounded and dying from being struck by the lead weights of the net, 
 their heads would still point to the beach. We could readily capture 
 them with our hands as they swam close in, scarcely wetting our 
 feet. The sand and gravel of the beach was mixed with a large pro- 
 portion of spawn ; I found the latter in the stomachs of several of 
 the males which I opened. 
 
 As has been stated, the primary and most important use of the 
 caplin in Newfoundland, Labrador, and the Gulf is as bait for the 
 cod. During the spring the fish has been taken, both on the banks 
 and along shore, by herring, but in incousiderable numbers; now, 
 however, they look for their great annual glut, and caplin alone will 
 take them. Every shore boat must have its fresh caplin, as well as 
 every Frenchman on the banks. It is the bait of the hook-and-line 
 fisherman as well as for the destructive bultow. Were the supply of 
 caplin withheld from the French, their great fishery fieet could do 
 nothing, as, having exhausted the supply from their own islands of 
 St. Pierre and Miquelon, by taking and wasting the fish with too 
 great prodigality, they are now entirely dependent on the supply 
 from the harbours of the main island. 
 
 It is evident that any material and permanent decrease of this bait 
 must tell directly on the fisheries. The caplin may, as has been 
 proved, be so thinned by wholesale destruction whilst spawning on 
 the beach, whilst many are driven off and compelled to drop their 
 spawn in deep water, where it will not vivify, as finally to desert a 
 locality for ever. On many parts of the Newfoundland coast this has 
 been the case, and Perley states that the cod fishery of the Bay of 
 Chaleur has greatly fallen off since the caplin have almost ceased to 
 visit parts of it, and many houses in consequence found it necessary 
 to break up their establishments. The great complaints of the 
 scarcity of bait along the western shore of Newfoundland are owing to 
 the complete failure of a celebrated baiting place at Lamaline, where 
 formerly the strand looked like a bed of spawn, but now is completely 
 ruined, the caplin no sooner approaching the shore than they were 
 hauled before they had time to spawn. In fact little argument is re- 
 quired to prove that the cod fishery must stand or fall with the supply 
 of caplin. The wasteful practice of manuring the land with caplin is 
 another incentive to taking the fish wantonly. Not only are the 
 dead fish, which are strewn in myriads on the beaches, collected for 
 manure, but live fish are hauled for the same purpose, and hundreds 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 367 
 
 of cartloads have I seen upset to form a heap of putrefaction, after- 
 wards to be spread on the soil, every fish composing which was good 
 and wholesome food for man, eaten fresh on the spot, or simply dried 
 for exportation or winter use. But Newfoundland is shamefully 
 prodigal of the great natural resources afforded to her. It is true 
 that the fish is dried and exported to the markets of Europe — and a 
 more delicious dried fish than the caplin does not exist ; but why this 
 shameful conversion of food into manure from sheer laziness ? Neither 
 does the caplin manure prove so very beneficial after all. Though 
 very efficacious for one year for grass and all root crops except 
 potatoes, it then requires renewal ; the land cannot do without the 
 stimulus, or it soon falls off*. About five loads of earth are mixed 
 with one of caplin, which is bought at three to four shillings. The 
 fish, well covered, are allowed to decompose till October ; then mixed 
 and ploughed in the land either that fall or the ensuing spring. On 
 the other hand, the caplin requires little or no attention in drying to 
 become an article of food. A few hours in pickle, and a few more 
 exposed to the sun, on a stage or roof, or even on the ground, and 
 they may be packed loosely in a barrel, without salt, and headed up. 
 
 Though its range is too great, and its spawning grounds far too 
 extended to render extinction of the species possible, yet, in the 
 baiting places whence it is obtained for the use of the neighbouring 
 cod fisheries, it has been in many instances rendered exceedingly 
 scarce ; and its final total departure from these resorts must ensue 
 unless it is protected from being hauled before or in the act of 
 spawning, and for such a wasteful purpose as that of manuring the 
 land. The total absence of bait will at once ruin the fisheries, the 
 immediate effect of which must be the ruin, starvation, and abandon- 
 ment of their present residence on the part of thousands ; and to 
 such a state of affairs the Newfoundland fisheries, including its very 
 vitality as a colony, seem rapidly drifting. 
 
 THE GASPEREAU. 
 
 {Alosa tyr annus.) 
 
 Another example of an important and interesting fish, affecting 
 the shores of Acadie as far north as the Miramichi river in New 
 Brunswick, is afforded by the Gaspereau, a true alosa allied to the 
 shad, which ascends all the streams and brooks of these provinces 
 to spawn in the parent lakes in the beginning of May, those with 
 
338 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 clean sandy beaches being its most favoured resorts. Dr. Gilpin 
 thus graphically describes its progress : — “ The stream before us is 
 crowded with a multitudinous marine army, coming up from the sea 
 with the last of the flood, and running to reach the lakes to spawn. 
 A little further up it becomes deep and smooth, and is crossed by the 
 high road. Lying our length on the log bridge, we watch a continu- 
 ous stream passing slowly up, two or three inches apart. Further 
 up, and the river breaks over a smooth plane of slate stones too 
 shallow for the depth of the flsh. Arrived at this plane the gaspe- 
 reau throws himself as far up as he can, and then commences a series 
 of spasmodic flaps with his tail. 
 
 “ Slowly and painfully he passes over and drops exhausted into the 
 tranquil pool above. Utterly exhausted, they lie heads and tails in 
 a confused mass. Presently recruiting, their heads all pointing up 
 stream, they again commence their march. In countless hordes they 
 sweep through lonely still waters, the home of the trout, cool and 
 pellucid enough to tempt a weary way wanderer, but on and on his 
 irresistible instinct drives him. A natural dam, some two or three 
 feet elevation, and over which the waters fall with a perpendicular 
 rush, now arrests his progress. He throws himself (no doubt with a 
 vigorous sweep of tail) directly at it. That about two and a half to 
 three feet is his utmost range, the many failures he makes before he 
 drops into the pool above attest. 
 
 “ He has now gained his lake, often a very small one in the heart 
 of the forest, and perhaps at six hundred feet elevation from high 
 water mark. And now commences his brief courtship, for, unlike 
 the lordly salmon who dallies until November, our fish has but little 
 time for delay. Camping on the lake-side of a moonlight night, you 
 hear a swash in the water. “ What fish in that ? ” you ask your 
 Indian ; “ Gaspereau,” is his answer. The trout-fisher by day sees the 
 surface of the lake rufded by a hundred fins, then the trout break all 
 around him. “ See the gaspereau hunting the trout,” he says. But 
 these are only his harmless gambols, coloured by the resistless instinct 
 of reproduction. He has even been known to rise at a fly, and to take 
 a bait on these waters. Although the salmon and trout are often seen 
 spawning, I never met any one who has seen the Gaspereau in the act. 
 
 “In three or four weeks after leaving the salt water, his brief 
 holiday over, our fish commences his return. Unnerved by the 
 exhausting toil of reproduction, by the absence of food (on the lakes 
 their stomachs are found empty), and perchance by the warming 
 summer waters, he addresses himself to the perils and dangers of 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 369 
 
 descent. Too poor for an object of capture, he slips down unnoticed, 
 save by the idle or curious, where, a few weeks before, a whole popu- 
 lation watched his ascent. It is said those marine wolves, the eels, 
 follow the advancing and retreating armies in their rear, gobbling up 
 many a weak fish, or unlucky little one on the march. A dry 
 summer has emptied the lakes and turned the foaming torrents of 
 the spring into dusty rills. He often gets caught in these lukewarm 
 shallows and dies. Not unfrequently the hunter finds them in 
 bushels in the fords ; quite as often the bear secures a rich feast — 
 dipping his hairy paws into the shallow pools. He may be seen 
 approaching nervously and timidly a rapid, then striking up stream, 
 and returning pass down tail first. Those which are seen in July 
 or passing down in August, we must consider fish that have left the 
 sea late in May, or that are caught by the dry season, and go down 
 during the August freshets. Finally, October seems to be the last 
 date for even the fry to be seen in fresh water.” 
 
 The advent of this fish in fresh water just at the time when fly- 
 ^ fishing is at its best, often proves a source of vexation to the angler. 
 It is. so disappointing, just as one is commencing to ply the rod over 
 some favourite pool for sea-trout, to see the sharp splash of the 
 gaspereau, and the gleam of their silver sides as they dash round the 
 pool in reckless gambols. The trout are quite cowed, and further 
 fishing is useless ; for, although this fresh-water herring will some- 
 times take the fly, it is a worthless fish when caught — thin, tasteless, 
 and full of bones. Drenched in brine, and eaten as a relish with a 
 mess of potatoes, it forms a common diet throughout the country ; 
 and as there is scarcely a brook too small for the gaspereau to 
 ascend, provided it comes from a lake, the luxury is brought fresh 
 from the sea to the very door of many a settler in the remote 
 backwoods. Great fun to the youngsters is dipping for gaspereau. 
 A noisy crew of juveniles, half-clothed in homespun, stand on oppo- 
 site sides, or striding across a forest brook ; presently there is a 
 shout of “ here they come ! ” and in go the dip-nets with which they 
 are armed, working with the stream. At every scoop two or three 
 bright silvery fish are brought out, and deposited in a tub or barrel 
 behind. It is a picturesque scene — the brook dashing between the 
 dark-brown rocks, the surrounding bushes tinged with the pale green 
 of their young leaves, and laden with blossoms — the excited boys 
 with their high-braced trousers tucked up over the knee, and 
 tattered straw hats, and the gleam of the fish as they are quickly 
 hoisted out. 
 
 B B 
 
370 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 The damming up of many of these forest brooks to supply saw 
 mills, and the disgraceful plan of stopping the now worthless fish on 
 their return from spawning, by brushwood weirs stretched com- 
 pletely across the stream, is fast shortening the supply of these 
 welcome visitors to the interior waters of the backwoods, thereby 
 also depriving many of the harbours of the anxiously-sought visits of 
 the mackerel, which come in vast shoals in search of the young fry 
 of the gaspereau and the smelt. To enable this fish to ascend the 
 rough waters and falls of the streams through which it must pass to 
 get to the lake, it is provided with a horny ridge or keel, passing 
 along the belly, and armed with recurved teeth like those of a saw, 
 enabling it to hold its ground and rest on the rocky bottom in the 
 roughest water. 
 
 VOICES OF KEPTILIA IN SPRING. 
 
 The subjoined passages from my note books advert to the multi- 
 tudinous sounds emitted by reptile life in the warm nights of spring 
 and early summer, which to a stranger appear one of the most 
 striking features of New World natural history : — 
 
 May 10th . — Driving homewards this evening our ears were almost 
 deafened by the chorus of frogs in the road-side swamps. For some 
 days past we have been cheered by their welcome voices, but to-night 
 they seemed to outdo themselves. The principal and noisiest per- 
 former is a little fellow, not more than three quarters of an inch in 
 length, and so shy and acute that it is almost impossible to get a 
 glimpse of him, even by the most artful approach. This is the 
 common peeper or cricket frog (Hylodes Pickeringii). Its quickly 
 repeated, chirping note is very like that of the common house cricket, 
 and equally joyous. If we stand by to listen, they somehow or other 
 slacken gradually, as if a warniug of danger was being passed 
 through the community : we remove a few paces, and a solitary peep 
 of a bold frog announces that the danger is past, and away they all 
 start again into the maddest chorus, each trying to outvie the others. 
 At the edge of the swamp sits the common toad (B. americanus), 
 and, with a distended throat, pours out that rapid and peculiar 
 trilling note which may always be heard as an accompaniment to 
 the frog chorus throughout the warm nights of spring. He is not 
 quite such an ugly reptile as the English toad, though very similar 
 in general appearance and form ; the colour is lighter and brighter, 
 sometimes approaching an orange-yellow, and the spots and markings 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 371 
 
 are more conspicuous. At intervals we detect the solemn croak 
 of the large green-headed frog (Kana fontinalis), which seems to 
 put periods to the incessant rattle of the hjdodes and toads. They 
 seem half afraid of this great handsome bully, and his authoritative 
 “ down, down ! ” comes from the undoubted monarch of the swamp. 
 This is a very pretty reptile — a dark brown skin barred with black, 
 the head and upper portion of the back bright grass green, and the 
 throat a glaring yellow. Their colours are most developed at mid- 
 summer, when they sit croaking in shallow ponds throughout the 
 day as well as night, and pursue one another with prodigious leaps. 
 I have seen them clear eight feet at a jump. Eeturning from fishing, 
 I have tempted these frogs to spring on a red fly dangled over their 
 nose, and a disagreeable business the releasing of the slimy monsters 
 proved. 
 
 A good scene for a Christmas pantomime would be a representation 
 of one of our swamps, with an opening chorus of the little peepers,” 
 and a laughable representation of bull-frogs by agile humans meta- 
 morphosed into reptiles, whilst the staid old toad slowly waddles up 
 the bank, and pours forth his monotonous trill. The hylodes might 
 be shown clinging to the stems of rushes above the surface of the 
 pool (a position in which I have discovered them by the aid of a 
 bull’s-eye lantern at night), inflating their immense throat bags to 
 produce their shrill pipe, whilst an admirable scenic effect might be 
 rendered by imitation of the swamp vegetation — the tussacs of pink 
 sphagnum perforated by the crimson and green vases of the pitcher 
 plant and covered by the creeping tendrils and great shining 
 apples of the cranberry, clumps of bulrush, purple iris, and other 
 waterside plants, arrow heads, and the two water lilies, white and 
 yellow. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 BRADBURY, EVANS, AND CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS. 
 
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UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 
 
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