The weekly Shasta courier., 1873-10-25
Shooting a Moose.

two weeks OF sport on the COulenge
River. in the atlantic Monthly, we make
the following interesting extract:
The next day was Wednesday, and
about the middle of the forenoon Peter
proposed trip to Windfall Lake. The
creek, two miles in length, was low, and
in many places obstructed by trees that
had fallen into it; but early in the after
noon we shot out into the lake-a fine
lake, indeed, but rocky, and more heavi-
ly wooded and rougher in its features
than Sandy Lake. Peter said the shores
were not good for moose to feed, and l
had resigned myself to the situation, for
the day was unusually hot, producing
sleepiness and heaviness of head, and
had given up all hope of game. We
had started too late, although had hint
ed to Peter the night before it was of
no use to do anything more than hint
that he might wake me up as any time
in the night to get an early start. He
had remarked at the time that he gener-
ally went out early in the morning when
he was off hunting. It was extremely
unlikely that any game would come out
of the shelter of the forest into so hot
sun. We made our way to small ISL
and, with some idea of watching the
shores. Somebody had killed bear
and the bones were bleaching under the
trees, where l was glad to stretch myself
out upon my back, and rest for mo-
ment, free from the cramping of the ca
noe and the constant necessity of bal
ancing myself upon the water. A few
moments passed, and Peter had disap-
peared, but as rose from the ground he
came running from the woods. He told
me afterward that he had presentiment
he was going to see some game, and was
afraid | would get sight of it first ''Did
you see anything 2" asked he. 1 replied
that 1 had not, and he sat down upon
the bank, looking far out across the wa
ter. Presently he cried, q see one
moose and we scrambled into the ca
noe. The wind had risen, and there was
considerable tossing of the surface, max
ing it difficult to guide the canoe. Pc
ter, put to his mettle, padded like mad,
without once stopping to take breath.
On we went, across the lake, toward a
bay mile and a half away upon the
other side. '' Look right over that rock,
said Peter that is the moose" And
sure enough there was huge, ungainly,
misshapen bunch of a dingy color visi
BILE close to the shore "How near can
can we get to him }" inquired. about
as near as those rocks" said Peter in re-
ply, pointing to a spot within forty feet
of US. Presently he said, 6 | don't think
We can get verv near to him." Wewere
then quarter of mile away, and there
upon fixed my sights for dead shot
at long distance. l had been striving
ever since the start to master my emo
ton, and show Peter l could shoot; but
when he said in an exciting whisper.
" He's got horns on him" l very nearly
gave up-for bull moose, of all the
deer that roam in the woods had been
my dream for month, and here was this
numbering, elephantine creature, slowly
turning about his unwieldy bulk as he
cropped the feed that grew about him in
the water, monstrous beyond all my
imaginations of his kind, and showing,
as he raised and lowered his head, a pair
of horns that surpassed anything had
ever seen for size and beauty.
The dead sights were put up, with
which I had frequently hit dollar at
ten rods. The splash of the paddle had
given place to the noiseless movement,
without taking the blade out of the
water, with which the hunter approach
es game. We were going nearer, and
nearer, and nearer. 1t became evident
that we were to have a close shot, but l
did not dare to alter my sights, for fear
the beast would look around and catch
sight of the motion of my arm. A sud
den thought had struck Peter. He had
padded across the bay to leeward of the
beast, and was approaching him from
the direction of the sun. He would nat
urally feed with his back to the sun,
to avoid the glare from the water and
if he looked around toward the figures
which were gliding down upon him, like
messengers from the spirit world, he
would get the sun in his eyes, already
sinking toward the water, it being a lit
tie past the middle of the afternoon
and what with that and what with the
glare of its reflection upon the surface,
he might not see us until we were very
near. Don't shoot him about the head
Shoot him about the heart" was Peters
last advice and don't shoot till l tell
you to shoot"
Ny gun was at my shoulder, but it
was with great difficulty that 1 could get
the fine sights upon him. I must peep
through pinhole, and put the head of
pin upon his shaggy hide. He was dark
and the sights did not show. "Shoot," "
whispered Peter. l could not see the
sights. "Shoot," said Peter again. l
would not pull the trigger till was dead
sure of my game. Meanwhile the moose
was turning from right to left, feeding
ut his ease, occasionally looking up and
stopping to feed again. At length, after
what seemed to me, and no doubt to
Peter, an age of hesitation, and after the
command to shoot had been repeated
with ever increasing emphasis, I got a
sight upon his dingy coat just as he
turned his broadside away from us, and
his hindquarter came round in range.
One" spake the little barrel, and there
came back second after-sweet sound
to the hunters ear-the soft thud of the
ball in the yielding flesh. Slowly he
turned, and looked upon us like lamb
Then slowly turning again, he COM
menced to walk with gentle steps toward
the shore. ''Shoot again, said Peter,
and this time had more trouble than at
first. Shoot" said Peter, and l fired
in utter desperation. A second thud
Don't shoot now" said Peter as drew
up my rifle for third time, "he's
down" And 10 in a moment the i'm
mense beast, turning his head toward us,
rolled over upon his side. There he lay
kicking as we cautiously approached,
and in half a minute he was dead. The
game was up.
REST AFTER EArING.-Every man who
owns horse, as well as most men who