THE SKETCHER.

Otago Witness, Issue 1858, 1 July 1887, Page 30

THE SKETCHER.

moose hunting. ; : ;

How the Drove is Alarmed-Breakinfir YardOff pa the Trail — A, Desperatq Chase — . Showing Fight— AlUangerous OpponentCamping in the Snow. ' Long before the -hunter in isighfc or hearing the moose have discovered his presence, and are off. . The sportsman continues on till he finds where they have ceased wandering about, and have moved away in a straight line. At the first alarm each animal looks out for its own interests,' so that, though all take the same general direction, they move in skirmishing order, adhering to their old tracks, and crossing from one trail to another. But soon they strike the* snowshoe track. It bears the unmistakable of man, and if they were alarmed ■ before, are frantic now. Then they " break yard," as It is called, and falling in one behind the other, start down the mountain in close column, never to face rising ground again as long as they are pressed. They .move on a square trot, raising each leg clear of the snow at every stride, those in the rear^stepping in the tracks of their leader, so that it looks pretty much the same whether there are half a dozen animals or but one. \ The hunter is after them at his best speed; that he may overtake them at the earliest possible moment, and thus prevent them- from stopping to rest. He receives his first encouragement when he sees where one or more of them have snatched a mouthful of snow in their course. They are beginning to be heated and distressed. Next it is noticed that the h6les made by their iegs in the snow are more broken, and it is" clear that they are not raising them with the same vigour as at the outset. Then he sees 'where the leader has slackened his pace, and another from the rear has crowded by him, thus showing for the moment two trails instead of one. Then the .steps shorten, the snow is more scraped at every stride, the marks of eating the snow become more frequent, and the track begins to bear some resemblance to a trench. Before, they followed in a straight line through thick and thin ; now, they deviate toward the thicker growths, either hoping to find less snow and better travelling there, or for concealment. Next the hunter notices flakes of froth lying on the snow, and the trail begins to look as though made by a plough. At last specks of blood appear in the froth, and the, hunter knows the race is about run, and that soon he will see his game for the first time. He comes in sight at last. Before, he has followed close beside the trail; now, he edges off to the right. The game pause for a moment to study their pursuer, their coats flecked with foam, and their tongues hanging almost a foot out of their mouths from the fearful exertion they have made. Then, spurred by a new impulse of fear, they are off again as though perfectly fresh. At once the hunter throws his pack upon the snow, and discarding everything which can impede his movements in the slightest degree, except his rifle, pushes them with all vigour that hope can inspire. But the almost exhausted animals cannot hold their spurt more than a quarter of a mile at tho outside. Soon the hunter closes with them, again edging pit" to the right. As he swings toward the right they edge off to the left, always trying to keep him behind. He watches the course made with care, and should it so change as to render it possible that they may gain their old trail, he drops behind and ranges up on the other side, and thus drives them in the opposite direotion. For the pursuer is now almost as tired as the pursued, and should the latter once enter the beaten track, encouraged by the comparatively easy travelling they will find, they will seem so to gain fresh vigour that he cannot hold them in sight for an instant. They will then go right back to and through the yard, and off to a new locality, and the hunter may as well give it up for a; bad job. , This, however, 'is not likely 'to occur, unle3s he loses his reckoning of the direction which the chase has taken. At this stage the effort of the hunter 'is to get a broadside shot, and' after some trials he succeeds in i etching tho desired position. But he must nut i4>P roaCa to o n ©ar — not closer than ' 35 , or 30 yards — or he will see the hair along the spine of one of the animals begin to ereot itself and ourl forward, its ears to lie straight back, and its eyes grow green and glassy. Then, cjuioker than a flash, it swings on its hind-legs like a pivot, and is at him.

A Formidable Foe.

Woe betide the hunter if he trusts to speed to escape. * Even in ,that heavy snow the moose, now goaded to absolute 1 madness, is for the time more than his match. Nothing is to be apprehended from his antlers. But those terrible forefeet can strike with the quickness of a prize-fighter and .with', the force of a sledge-hammer. Should. he once strike the hunter down, or should the latter trip and fall, his friends, when they findhim, will have trouble to tell which was formerly the head and which the heels of ■ the mangled mass that will remain.' If he" has foolishly provoked the attack', he stands his ground, facing the animal, till he is almost on him, and then springs to one side, and runs at his best pace at a right angle to the direction of the onset. And ft well behoves him to use good judgment in timing th^s — not a second too spon,pot a hair'a-breadth too late— or he will never, hunt moose mere. * The assault having failed, it is not resumed; but this animal continues to retreat in the direction he is headed, without rejoining ' the others. But he is now fighting mad, and, unless he is the best of the lot, ifr is well to let him go, and make after the others, which i have kept right on, remaining; 'however, at a I respectful distance hereafter. The Quarry.

But let us assume the hunter has had hia shot, and downed his animal. If he is not a butcher he is satisfied, and allows the test to go without further molestation. - Without a moment's pause, the perspiration dripping from every pore, notwithstanding the bitter cold, he hastens back to his pack and axe, for a fire is now a -matter 'almost of life and death. Returning, he builds a regular 'conflagration near bis prize, and cuts a large

quantity of wood that it may be maintained while he is skinning it. This accomplished, he cuts a forked tree, the butt two or three inches in diameter, and the prongs about four feet long, and trims the butt to an angle on one side. He then binds a third prong in the middle with a thong of the animal's hide, thus forming a three-tined fork with deflecting prongs. He now packs the snow hard, spreads the moose hide upon it, lays the the fork on the hide, the butt toward the neck, folds the hide over it, places his meat on it, flattening the bottom perfectly smooth, and allows the whole to freeze. Thus he has made a sledge on which to draw his meat home, the sloping butt of the fork forming the forward end. By the time his sled is made and packed, the fire has melted a hole clear to the ground? The day is now nearly gone, and he is far from home, he hardly knows where. He must camp on the spot, and be quick about it too, lest darkness come before his preparations are complete. So he picks a lot of evergreen boughs for his bed, cuts his night's firewood in sticks about six feet long, sohe can have a long thin fire, digs with his snow-shoes another hole beside that melted through the snow, moves his fire over on to the newly cleared space, and spreads his boughs on the heated ground, eats his supper, not forgetting a liberal portion of moose tenderloin, and lying down lengthwise of the fire in the bottom of his well, as it were, sleeps the sleep of exhaustion, except when the cold admonishes him that fresh fuel is required. In the morning he breakfasts, puzzles out where he is, and starts for home, towing the hard-earned reward of his skill and toil behind him.