CHAPTER XIV
SHOOTING AND FISHING
Now Newfoundland is becoming better known, the living treasures of her forests, moors, and waters are attracting an annually increasing number of sportsmen from Great Britain, the United States, and Canada. “Far from the madding crowd’s ignoble strife,” the sportsman may return for a season to the simpler life lived by races of men in the days when modern commercial methods were undreamed of, when the starry sky was the hunter’s jewelled roof, when the spongelike moss was his pillow, when time was not divided into sections, and he was not forced to calculate
“How many hours bring about the day;
How many days will finish up the year;
How many years a mortal man may live.”
Except where the snort of the engine is heard, or the song of the fisherman repairing his nets comes through the ravine, or the whistle of the woodman accompanies the clang of his axe, the country is as wild and natural and silent as when it first drank in the showers of heaven, and laughed in the sunshine of a summer day.
Among the larger game are the caribou and bears; foxes, lynxes and wolves are also plentiful, as are the otter, mink, Arctic hare, and the rabbit. The caribou is most graceful in appearance, usually weighs about 500 pounds, and its antlers are a treasure much coveted by sportsmen all the world over. The caribou is a most sensitive animal, and unless the huntsman has made a study of its movements, he may have some difficulty in bringing his prey to earth. Many of the huntsmen take a supply of provisions into the caribou regions, and, with the aid of a guide, move from place to place, spending the night in the open or in a small tent. Of course, if they wait until the season when the animals migrate from the north to the south of the island, they are more certain of good sport; but sometimes that season is too cold to be thoroughly enjoyed by the huntsman, who likes to take his sport under as comfortable conditions as possible.
Ptarmigan-shooting is another favourite sport among the tourists, and is enjoyed no less by the inhabitants. The ptarmigan very closely resembles the red grouse of Scotland, and in the months of October and November hundreds of these birds are shot and forwarded to St. John’s, where they are readily purchased by the residents, who consider them unsurpassed as a table delicacy. The wild berries that ripen in August and September make a palatable food for the ptarmigan, and the effect of this diet is registered in their plump, rich, and tender flesh.
If you were sitting under the shade of a tree by a secluded pond in the months of June and July, you would doubtless see a fine large bird moving gracefully along the edge of the water, followed by a procession of smaller birds. This is the wild-goose leading her children towards the brooks, and if the sportsman is wise enough to avoid suspicion on the part of the leader, he may rely upon bagging one or two remarkably fine birds.
The plover and the curlew are more abundant than other birds. They usually come in flocks from their breeding quarters in Labrador, and their rather awkward flight is perhaps attributable to the weight of the fat stomachs they have to carry along with them. They are not sought assiduously by sportsmen, but they supply the woodmen, farmers, and fishermen with a very acceptable dish.
More than one-quarter of Newfoundland is covered by water, and all the lakes and fiords are stocked with fish, thus making them an angler’s paradise. Some anglers prefer travelling from 50 to 200 miles from St. John’s in order to whip the rivers and streams that are known to yield excellent salmon. Nevertheless, good salmon-fishing can be procured within a few hours from the capital.
One of the most popular angling resorts is Log Cabin, on the west coast. The hotel is situated in the heart of some of Newfoundland’s most bewitching scenery. It is kept by two Englishmen, and was built in accordance with their own designs. High mountains slope down to the pretty English garden, which is stocked with native flowers; but the most surprising flower of all is the foxglove, the sight of which transports one to the lanes and meadows of old England. Harry’s Brook, which is really a river, rolls along at the foot of the mountain through a tangle of ferns and flowers, and through bright blue eyes the iris looks up at the scarlet cheeks of the wild raspberries. Here, when the day’s sport is ended, the angler sits in his easy-chair under the wide veranda of the Log Cabin, watching the sunset over that panorama of beauty the Bay of Islands.