Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1896-04-13
A HUNDRED CARIBOU I'M a HERD.
a Sight In a Maine Pond the Like Of
Which No One BIay See Again.

Which No One RIay See Again.
st was trout fishing early one sum-
mer up in Somerset county, Me. - said
a New York sportsman. my camp WAS
on the shore of one of the many small
lakes that abound in that part OF the
state. One evening just at sunset my
guide came in all a-quiver with excite
ment.
If you want to see something that
neither you nor any other man will ever
be likely to see again, said he, Just
sneak down to the pond with me.
ct crept stealthily in his wake down
through the thick timber to the edge of
the lake. 1t was still light enough at
the upper end of the lake, where we
were camped, and which was not in the
shadow of the hills, for us to see plainly
quarter of mile along the margin of
the water. The guide cautiously parted
the dense growth Of young birches that
fringed the edge of the lake on that side.
"'Look yonder!' he whispered.
ct looked and my heart almost
jumped out Of my mouth. The sight
was almost past believing. ALI along
the upper shore Of the lake, standing
belly deep among the lily pads, i'll vari-
Gus attitudes of grace and stateliness,
the water was alive with caribou. Mag
nificently antlered bulls stamped and
snorted and tossed their kingly heads
among meek faced COWS, while in and
out among them snorted drove Of vel
vet coated calves. We counted 81 bulls
and cows and almost every COW had
proprietary interest i'll at least one calf.
ton of caribou in silence-the sight be-
ing too much for speech-until the
shadows Of evening began drawing
deeply about them, and we could have
seen them only dimly few minutes
later. Then my guide whispered:
"'We'1 pull on 'em just once a-y-
how and see how many we can drop.
Selecting each of us big bull, we
fired A terrified chorus of snorts fol-
lowed the discharge of the guns. There
was q sound of water in great commo-
ton for q moment, and the next instant
the woods were filled with the crashing
of the flying herd through the thick
brush. My guide and I sent the con-
tents of our second barrels after the
caribou as they rushed in a confused
and thickly punched mass from the wa
ter In less time than it takes to tell all
was as quiet as if nothing had occurred
to disturb the solitude of the great
Wilderness In the water, their huge
hulks showing above the broad mat Of
lily pads, lay the dead bodies of the two
old bulls we had selected as our first
targets. On the edge of the lake, one
with his head in the water and his
TANKS stretched on the shore, and the
other with his antlers lifted high on
land, his hind parts buried among the
lilies. lay two other bulls, the victims
of the two chance shots that followed
the herd in it's flight.
I've seen q good many caribou in
my time, said the guide-who was Nat
Moore, at that time Names greatest
caribou hunter-'but the natural his
tory of Maine never calculated ON me
or any one else ever getting in among
such congregation of 'em as that was.
'Two or three seasons after that 80
caribou came into that same lake while
Nat was there. He shot one and expect
ed to see the rest of the herd dash in
stantly away into the woods To the old
guides surprise, instead Of the rest
scampering away they seemed TO be
panic stricken, and huddled together in
the pond, snorting and splashing the
water about. 1t wasn't until Nat had
shot and killed seven of the drove that
the survivors recovered their wits and
removed themselves without any more
ado out of the reach of his deadly aim.
This was 20 years ago. have been on
those Maine waters every year, almost,
since then and have never seen but three
caribou there in all that time and two
of these saw last year, killing one, a
big bull ''-NeW York Sun