CHAPTER I.
Habits and Haunts. Sections Where Found. Still Hunting. Calling. Possible Extermination.
Throughout the vast depths of the northern forests, bordered by the virgin growth of a trackless wilderness, often with an imperial fringe of timber-crowned hills, lives the moose. He is the largest, as well as the most highly prized, live game animal extant to-day on the American continent. Formerly, this species was very abundant throughout the region of country extending from the wilds of Northern Maine westward through the wilderness bordering on the Great Lakes and far beyond; but great havoc has been wrought, especially during the past twenty-five years, in the supply of this variety of game.
Comparatively few are killed annually in the United States, and those mostly within the limits of Northern Maine and the States of the far Northwest, where the pernicious activity of the professional hunters and self-styled sportsmen, who kill the large beasts during the prevalance of deep snows, will, if not checked, bring the moose into the list of extinct species of American game before the close of another decade.
No animal is so persistently hunted, and when killed, none considered so grand a trophy as his lordship. Owing to the comparatively small section of this country that he inhabits they are few in number, the Maine and Canadian wildernesses sheltering by far more moose than any other section. What few specimens found in far-off Alaska are world beaters in regard to size of body and spread of antlers, one having been shot in that territory whose horns measured over eight feet from tip to tip.
The best breeding and feeding grounds are along the Canadian border, while favorite localities for the sportsmen are in the vicinity of lakes, ponds, and dead waters throughout the aforementioned sections.
In appearance the moose is large and awkward; its huge head and broad nose, combined with its short, thick neck, giving it a rather grotesque appearance. In color, he is brown, while his legs and belly are grayish. His mane is almost black, and at any approaching danger rises upward, making him a most formidable foe to look upon.
The moose travels over the ground in a swinging trot, exhibiting remarkable speed. This style of locomotion is adopted only when the animal is suddenly started. If the presence of man is detected, while the hunter is yet some distance away, the moose moves off with considerable caution, often selecting a course which the follower can pursue only with the greatest difficulty.
COW MOOSE ON BLACK POND.
(West Branch Waters.)
Photographed from Life.
The endurance of the animal is such that only the hardiest of hunters can hope to overtake him in a stern chase when he has once become alarmed. The broad, palmate antlers are a distinguishing feature, and happy is the hunter who can boast the possession of a head as a trophy taken from an animal killed by himself. While few are successful in this respect the greater majority must be content with perhaps a view of his lordship at a distance.
Still hunting, or stalking the moose in his native wilds, is a branch of sport successfully followed by none except the skilled woodsmen and hardy hunter. The fatigue and countless obstacles to be met with are such that comparatively few amateur sportsmen attempt it. More frequently the animal is driven to the water by the guides and woodsmen, or attracted to such localities by calling.
In Northern Maine and in the Canadian Provinces, the moose is often hunted during early winter by pursuing him on snow-shoes. Jacking is often effectively followed in mid-summer, along the lakes and rivers. This method is considered unsportsmanlike by those who possess the requisite skill and endurance to adopt the style of still hunting.
In size and weight he exceeds that of the horse, specimens having been shot that weighed over twelve hundred pounds and stood seven and one-half feet to the shoulder.
COW MOOSE IN HARRINGTON LAKE.
(West Branch Waters.)
Photographed from Life.
In the summer he is to be seen feeding in and near the streams on the lily roots, of which he is exceedingly fond. This is the time of year that he is easily approached from a canoe as he stands, with head submerged, eating that dainty morsel. The black flies, at this season, are also to a great extent responsible for his taking to the water, as any of my readers who have had a few of these insects on them at one time usually feel disposed to follow his example in their endeavor to rid themselves of this pest.
As winter approaches he leaves the lakes and streams, forming a yard or runway by passing to and fro, beating a track, and keeping the snow packed down hard. These runways are always located where there is good feed to be had from young hardwood trees, such as the moosewood (a species of ash), also poplar, birch, and mosses near at hand. He does not feed from the ground, and, owing to the great height of his forelegs, he can reach from eight to ten feet to secure his food. Nor are all these twigs tender, for his lordship makes short work of biting off a sapling an inch through if it is to his liking.
Moose bring forth their young in May. Two calves are born, as a rule, though sometimes not more than one. The calf stays with the mother at least a year, and often two. While the cow moose is a timid animal, she is brave in defending her young. A story told by a trustworthy Indian guide illustrates this point.
While paddling on Chesuncook Lake, one day, the guide saw a cow moose and a calf come down the bank and enter the water. He watched them until they had waded some distance from shore, when his attention was arrested by another animal coming out of the woods near them. It was a black bear. The bear was not seen by the cow. He slipped easily into the water and waded towards the cow and calf. Presently he got beyond his depth, his legs being much shorter than even a calf moose's, and therefore had to swim. He swam directly for the calf, and was rapidly nearing it when the cow saw him. The ungainly beast turned with remarkable quickness towards the bear, whom she attacked with her fore feet. Three or four sharp jabs with her pointed hoofs was enough to insure the protection of her offspring, with whom she soon left the water. The bear appeared to be hors de combat, and the guide paddled up to him, to find that his back had been broken by the powerful blows of the cow. The Indian dispatched the bear with his knife and saved the pelt.
In size and strength the bull moose is probably the equal of any antlered animal that ever lived, one having been shot in Maine with a spread of over six feet. He sheds these splendid antlers every winter, generally in January. They are found sometimes by woodsmen, but usually are gnawed and eaten up by small animals as soon as dropped, as they have a salty flavor that makes them palatable to squirrels, sable, and the like.
Owing to the color of his coat, it is hard to detect a moose sometimes in "black growth," that is, spruce or hemlock, for his upper part is brownish black, and his legs tone off into gray or yellowish white. The shanks are esteemed by residents of the woods country for making boots or "shoepacks," the hair being left on and turned outward. Such foot covering lasts indefinitely and sheds water perfectly. The hoof is peculiarly flexible, and divided farther, for example, than in the case of the ox. This enables him to walk easily on slippery surfaces, and through bogs, by spreading the hoofs. It is said that he can pass through a swamp where a man would become foundered, while the speed with which he passes over moss-grown boulders, or masses of blown-down trees, is remarkable.
It is most discouraging, after tracking your game for hours at a time, to finally have to give it up on account of darkness setting in. Lighting your pipe, you retrace your steps to camp and await the coming of the morrow, when the routine of the previous day is gone over. It is the quiet, careful man who succeeds in tracking, as the breaking of a twig or the brushing of one's coat against a tree will jump your game, and in his fright he travels many miles before stopping.
He is an exceptionally keen-scented animal, and mark you well as to the general direction of the wind before leaving camp, as to work along with it is fatal. Miles before you have seen him he smells you and immediately increases the distance from his would-be foe.
TWIN MOOSE CALVES, THREE DAYS OLD.
(Taken at the Headwaters of the Liverpool River, Nova Scotia.)
Photographed from Life.
When the rutting season is at its height, along about the first of October, and the days warm, another method of moose-hunting is brought into play,—that of imitating the call of the cow with a birch horn about eighteen inches in length. There are many expert moose-callers in Maine and the Canadian Provinces, though they have by no means a monopoly of this accomplishment. The sound is most peculiar, and can only be acquired by long practice. The most expert callers are those who have taken lessons from nature,—that is, have been close to a female moose when she was calling the male. At least one in three of the Maine guides can call moose. With his birch horn, and seated beside some lake on a quiet evening, he sends back into the forest or across some shallow logan the weird "woo-oo-oo, woo-woo-oo" of the cow moose calling the bull. If there be a bull within hearing he will respond with a deep grunt. He will then tear along through the woods in the direction of the call, and perhaps splash out with a great noise into the shallow water where he expects to find a mate answering his amorous advances.
Ordinarily the moose is a silent animal, being very careful not to make a noise. Old guides have said that in spite of his great spread of horns he will pass quietly through a thick growth. Generally, if seen in summer at the edge of a lake or stream, he slips noiselessly into the woods, but when the rutting season begins he casts his discretion to the winds and responds to the call of the cow with noisy disregard of consequences. He is also quarrelsome at such times, and should another bull happen to trespass on what he considers his territory there may be trouble. The rutting season is generally over by the first week in October, and the bulls will not answer the calls after that, unless the weather should hold very warm. Most guides claim that during the rutting season the bulls have a wide range, but that the cows remain in one neighborhood.
While yarded moose are very methodical in their habits: they have, however, a single eye to one object, the detection of any intruder, therefore it is only by a knowledge of their habits that they can be approached by the hunter. It is their keen sense of hearing and smell that are to be guarded against, for as a rule, when the animal can see the hunter, he can also see the moose, and his capture becomes simply a question of marksmanship. It is certainly a unique sport and has few successful aspirants.
Of the two, still hunting is usually the more successful and the greater number of moose are secured in that way. In the late fall, the coming of the first snow doubles one's chances of success as every step of the animal is shown. In tracking he usually goes through the worst places possible for him to find, which adds to one's discomfort and lessens one's chances of a shot.
BULL MOOSE SWIMMING MUSQUOCOOK LAKE.
(St. John Waters.)
Photographed from Life.
Nature has bestowed upon him methods of passing through underbrush or blowdowns silently where a man in following makes a noise ten times as loud. The very silence of the forest is noisy. The wind whistling through the tree-tops, the bushes grating against one another, both contribute to make noise.
Those of my readers who have heard the low, weird grunt of the bull moose, and have listened to the music of the crashing of the underbrush as he forces his way through in answer to the melancholy and drawn-out bellow of the cow, will understand full well when I say that it cannot be described, but must be heard to be appreciated, and is certainly worth all the hardships it entails to be listened to only once.
I remember well of a time that my guide called from the edge of a lake at sunset, and received an answer from a large bull on a mountain a mile or two away, where we could hear him coming nearer and nearer as the moments wore on. After a half hour had elapsed he had reached the other side of the lake, and was so close that we did not dare to repeat the call for fear he would detect the artificial from the natural. He did not venture nearer, and as it was too dark to see him across the lake, we returned to camp, but that fifteen minutes will live long in my memory.
To hunt moose successfully one must "rough it," and sleep without a fire, as the best time to hunt is at sunset and daylight, and with their keen sight and scent a fire means no moose.
In his visits to the Maine woods half a century ago, Thoreau made copious notes about the moose, which was then slaughtered indiscriminately, by Indians and others, for their hides. This slaughter, which could not be called hunting, shocked the gentle naturalist from Concord, who made the prediction that "the moose will, perhaps, some day become extinct, and exist only as a fossil relic." This may be true, but the animal has judicial friends, and so long as they protect him, it does not appear as if the moose could become extinct from slaughter. Indeed, it is claimed that as many if not more moose are to be found now than fifty years ago.
LARGE BULL MOOSE ON MUD POND BROOK.
(West Branch Waters.)
Photographed from Life. Time exposure.
