The Province of New Brunswick, in the neighborhood of the Tobique River, was once noted as a favorite resort for caribou, but for some reason this fickle, migratory animal has become somewhat scarce in that locality. The moose has become more abundant. Various reasons are given for the diminishing number of caribou and the increase of moose, but I do not undertake to explain the cause of the change. There are certainly quite a number of moose in the country, and if one is not too eager to shoot the first chance he gets, and will wait till he sees a good head, a hunt of several weeks ought to secure satisfactory results. The law allows a sportsman only one moose, and that fact should make him careful about bagging anything which comes in sight.

The true sportsman should form a resolution to secure a good trophy or nothing. It is pitiable to see what rubbish some people lug out of the woods—heads that are wanting in size and defective in fair proportions. The head of the moose lacks the grace and beauty of outline which characterize the elk, the only large animal of this continent which can compare with it in size, and so it must make up in massiveness what it lacks in other respects. Whether large or small, an elk’s head is almost invariably beautiful and graceful. In securing a trophy one can afford to be more independent of size when an elk head is the object sought, and not the head of a moose.

The attractiveness of a moose head consists largely in its grotesqueness; the size has quite as much to do with that as its shape.

If one intends to hunt in New Brunswick, a great deal depends upon the kind of hunting desired, whether one goes early or late in the season. In the early part of the season, say from the first of September to the 25th of October, there is little or no snow, and at that time it is extremely difficult to get any large game by stalking, for the ground is covered with dry leaves and brittle wood, which make considerable noise at every step. At that season one must depend largely upon canoe work and calling for moose, while caribou and deer are then still more difficult to hunt.

Moose frequently come down to the water, of which they are very fond, and in which they bathe and wallow. Caribou are less apt to frequent such spots. Calling is a favorite method of bringing moose within range, but great care has to be exercised, for a single false note and your noble quarry, instead of accepting an invitation to a funeral, which he is to grace, will retire to a place of safety.

When there are a few inches of snow on the ground, hunting becomes more attractive to the sportsman. Instead of sitting in his canoe waiting for something to come within range, he is vigorously exercising his muscles and his knowledge of woodcraft to secure a shot, and often his skill is put to a considerable test in shooting through thick timber.

There is nothing more improving to health and conducive to happiness than strenuous exercise in the cold, bracing air, with sport as an incentive. Whatever may be the outcome of your hunting, you are sure to take out of the woods with you an increased supply of vital energy and robustness, which, after all, is very important. If your hunting should not furnish you with such tangible results as you would like to see, console yourself with the reflection that a very wealthy man once offered “a million dollars for a new stomach,” and perhaps you have secured an equivalent for a great deal less.

Early in October of 1904 I joined my guide at the forks of the Tobique. We immediately started out in a canoe, into which I packed all my things, to pole up the Little Tobique. The water was pretty high, and this increased the difficulty of ascending the river, whose current, naturally strong, was interspersed by rocks and the dÉbris of stray logs and woodland refuse. The sturdy skill of the guide was considerably taxed in spite of the small assistance rendered by me with the paddle; and yet I was of some assistance in forcing the canoe over places where there was no poling bottom. In about five hours we reached our destination and put up at the camp, which consisted of a very commodious log cabin, where we found the cook, who soon began to busy himself in preparing the evening meal. The two succeeding mornings I got up before day, while stars were still bright, and returned late in the morning, having as a reward for my pains a good appetite and plenty to satisfy it, when I could succeed in getting it down. The third morning both the guide and myself overslept, and with a blush of shame I encountered the glare of Old Sol as he fiercely showered his burning rays upon our heads.

That same morning a lazy bull moose had been guilty of the same offense, and appeared at the bank of the river to take his belated bath just as our canoe came dancing and twisting down the swift, turbid stream toward him. The big bull did not seem in the least concerned, although every moment we were rapidly drawing nearer. If he had been standing in the water, I believe he would have let us run into him had we been disposed to do so. With a quick movement of the paddle, the guide turned the canoe so that I could secure an easy position to shoot, and then a sharp crack of the Mauser rifle, followed by the heavy swaying motion of the animal as he sank down to pour out his life blood on the sand, closed the incident.

The head measured fifty-two inches, and was quite shapely. As I surveyed the prostrate form of this pride of the Canadian forest, I thought that it was no particular skill of mine which had brought it within easy reach and secured me a fine trophy. It seemed to me as though the original owner of the antlers had almost made me a present of them. We do not greatly appreciate things which come too easily into our possession. I would have been better pleased if the royal beast had made the shot more difficult and had given me a chance to exercise my skill. He may have mistaken me for one of those sportsmen who tremblingly pass the gun to the guide and ask him to shoot.

During that time I saw another moose, which I declined to shoot, because, as I informed a friend, I had all the law allowed, and for the further reason that “it had no head.” When I informed my friend that the moose “had no head,” he seemed somewhat incredulous, but after I explained that this was an Irish bull, he seemed better satisfied.

During the rest of my sojourn I had considerable amusement in shooting at a mark with my .22 automatic Winchester, which affords plenty of practice without making too much noise, and is also useful for small game.

The return trip home was diversified with the common experiences of the transition from the rough camp life to your own fireside, when you sit in an easy chair and talk it all over with your friends. Sixty miles’ paddling down the Tobique, ever impelled by its rapid though wayward current, which required the constant correction of your course, and gave delight in the survey of the beautiful banks, decorated by the virgin forest for miles, marked the first day’s journey. The next day a ride in stuffy cars over a second-class railroad, until you finally land in a Pullman coach and spin along at the rate of sixty miles an hour. Perhaps you pick up a chance acquaintance in one or two sportsmen who have just returned from a similar outing, and tell you of their mighty deeds which lose nothing by repetition; you shrink within your modest little self as you listen, for you know you have accomplished nothing which will stand well in comparison.

On my way back I met several sportsmen, one of whom related to me his exploits, which were very tame on first recital. We were sitting in the smoking apartment of the Pullman, when presently two other sportsmen came in and we got into conversation over our different hunting experiences. The two sportsmen who came in last related the wonderful feats which they had accomplished. After they had talked themselves out, my first acquaintance, who had been so modest in what he related, much to my surprise took a fresh start. I think a couple of good drinks, which stimulated his imagination and stirred his personal pride, had something to do with it. With an eloquence which truly surprised me, he added the “verisimilitude of truth to otherwise bald and uninteresting statement of facts.” It was evident that the newcomers were outclassed, for my modest friend was not only gifted of tongue, but he told his story last. I have discovered that there are more ways than one of establishing a reputation as a sportsman, and sometimes the “gift o’ gab” is more important than skill in handling a rifle.

MARVIN LAKE, COLORADO.