Peninsula enterprise. [volume] (Accomac, Va.) 1881-1965, 1896-04-18
a HUNDRED CARIBOU IN A HERD.
A Sight In Maine Pond the Like OF
Which No One May Sec Again.

Which No One May Sec Again.
81 was trout fishing early one sum-
MGR ND 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.
II crept stealthily in his wake down
through the thick timber to the edge of
the lake. 1t was still light enough ut
the upper end of the lake, where ve
were camped, and which was not i'll 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.
"L,ool yonderr he whispered.
II looked and my heart almost
jumped out of my mouth. The sight
was almost past believing. All along
the upper shore of the lake, standing
belly deep among the lily pads, in 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 i'll and
out among them snortcd 4 drove of vel
vet coated calves. We counted 81 bulls
and COWS, and almost every COW had a
proprietary interest in at least one calf.
We watched this remarkable congrega-
ton of caribou i'll silence-the sight be-
ing too much for speech-umtil the
shadows of evening began drawing
deeply about them, and we could have
seen them only dimly few minutes
later. Then my guide whispered:
Gwen pull on EN- just once any
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 4 sound of water i'll great conmo-
ton for a moment and the next instant
the woods were filled with the crashing
of the flying herd through the thick
brush. My guide and l sent the con-
tents of our second barrels after the
caribou rs they rushed i'll confused
and thickly punched mass from tho Wa
ter III less time than it takes to tell all
was as quiet rs 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 rs our first
targets. On the edge of the lake, one
with his head III 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, Law two other bulls, the victims
of the two chance shots that followed
the herd III its flight.
I've seen Il good many caribou III
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 i'll among
such congregation Of 'em as that was
1.-TWO or three seasons after that so
caribou came into that same lake while
Nat was there. He shot one and expect
ed to see the rest Of the herd dash i'll
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 i'll
the pond, snorting and splaShing the
water about. II 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. I have been on
those Maine waters every year, almost,
since then and have never seen but three
caribou there i'll all that time, and two
of these saw last year, killing one, Il
big bull. New York Sun.