Beautiful Joe [73]
and follow them up. They easily take
the scent of men, and we'd have to keep well to the leeward. Sometimes we'd come
upon them lying down, but, if in walking along, we'd broken a twig, or made the
slightest noise, they'd think it was one of their mortal enemies, a bear
creeping on them, and they'd be up and away. Their sense of hearing is very
keen, but they're not so quick to see. A fox is like that, too. His eyes aren't
equal to his nose.
"Stalking is the most merciful way to kill moose. Then they haven't the fright
and suffering of the chase."
"I don't see why they need to be killed at all," said Mrs. Wood. "If I knew that
forest back of the mountains was full of wild creatures, I think I'd be glad of
it, and not want to hunt them, that is, if they were harmless and beautiful
creatures like the deer."
"You're a woman," said Mr. Wood, "and women are more merciful than men. Men want
to kill and slay. They're like the Englishman, who said 'What a fine day it is;
let's go out and kill something.'"
"Please tell us some more about the dogs that helped you catch the moose,
uncle," said Miss Laura. I was sitting up very straight beside her listening to
every word Mr. Wood said, and she was fondling my head.
"Well, Laura, when we camped out on the snow and slept on spruce boughs while we
were after the moose, the dogs used to be a great comfort to us. They slept at
our feet and kept us warm. Poor brutes, they mostly had a rough time of it. They
enjoyed the running and chasing as much as we did, but when it came to broken
ribs and sore heads, it was another matter. Then the porcupines bothered them.
Our dogs would never learn to let them alone. If they were going through the
woods where there were no signs of moose and found a porcupine, they'd kill it.
The quills would get in their mouths and necks and chests, and we'd have to gag
them and take bullet molds or nippers, or whatever we had, sometimes our jack-
knives, and pull out the nasty things. If we got hold of the dogs at once, we
could pull out the quills with our fingers. Sometimes the quills worked in, and
the dogs would go home and lie by the fire with running sores till they worked
out. I've seen quills work right through dogs. Go in on one side and come out on
the other."
"Poor brutes," said Mrs. Wood. "I wonder you took them."
"We once lost a valuable hound while moose hunting," said Mr. Wood. "The moose
struck him with his hoof and the dog was terribly injured. He lay in the woods
for days, till a neighbor of ours, who was looking for timber, found him and
brought him home on his shoulders. Wasn't there rejoicing among us boys to see
old Lion coming back. We took care of him and he got well again.
"It was good sport to see the dogs when we were hunting a bear with them. Bears
are good runners, and when dogs get after them, there is great skirmishing. They
nip the bear behind, and when they turn, the dogs run like mad, for a hug from a
bear means sure death to a dog. If they got a slap from his paws, over they'd
go. Dogs new to the business were often killed by the bears."
"Were there many bears near your home, Mr. Wood?" asked Mr. Maxwell
"Lots of them. More than we wanted. They used to bother us fearfully about our
sheep and cattle. I've often had to get up in the night, and run out to the
cattle. The bears would come out of the woods, and jump on to the young heifers
and cows, and strike them and beat them down, and the cattle would roar as if
the evil one had them. If the cattle were too far away from the house for us to
hear them, the bears would worry them till they were dead.
"As for the sheep, they never made any resistance. They'd meekly run in a corner
when they saw a bear coming, and huddle together, and he'd strike at them, and
scratch them with his claws, and perhaps wound a dozen before he got one firmly.
Then he'd seize it in his paws, and walk off on his hind legs over fences and
anything else that came in his way, till he came to
the scent of men, and we'd have to keep well to the leeward. Sometimes we'd come
upon them lying down, but, if in walking along, we'd broken a twig, or made the
slightest noise, they'd think it was one of their mortal enemies, a bear
creeping on them, and they'd be up and away. Their sense of hearing is very
keen, but they're not so quick to see. A fox is like that, too. His eyes aren't
equal to his nose.
"Stalking is the most merciful way to kill moose. Then they haven't the fright
and suffering of the chase."
"I don't see why they need to be killed at all," said Mrs. Wood. "If I knew that
forest back of the mountains was full of wild creatures, I think I'd be glad of
it, and not want to hunt them, that is, if they were harmless and beautiful
creatures like the deer."
"You're a woman," said Mr. Wood, "and women are more merciful than men. Men want
to kill and slay. They're like the Englishman, who said 'What a fine day it is;
let's go out and kill something.'"
"Please tell us some more about the dogs that helped you catch the moose,
uncle," said Miss Laura. I was sitting up very straight beside her listening to
every word Mr. Wood said, and she was fondling my head.
"Well, Laura, when we camped out on the snow and slept on spruce boughs while we
were after the moose, the dogs used to be a great comfort to us. They slept at
our feet and kept us warm. Poor brutes, they mostly had a rough time of it. They
enjoyed the running and chasing as much as we did, but when it came to broken
ribs and sore heads, it was another matter. Then the porcupines bothered them.
Our dogs would never learn to let them alone. If they were going through the
woods where there were no signs of moose and found a porcupine, they'd kill it.
The quills would get in their mouths and necks and chests, and we'd have to gag
them and take bullet molds or nippers, or whatever we had, sometimes our jack-
knives, and pull out the nasty things. If we got hold of the dogs at once, we
could pull out the quills with our fingers. Sometimes the quills worked in, and
the dogs would go home and lie by the fire with running sores till they worked
out. I've seen quills work right through dogs. Go in on one side and come out on
the other."
"Poor brutes," said Mrs. Wood. "I wonder you took them."
"We once lost a valuable hound while moose hunting," said Mr. Wood. "The moose
struck him with his hoof and the dog was terribly injured. He lay in the woods
for days, till a neighbor of ours, who was looking for timber, found him and
brought him home on his shoulders. Wasn't there rejoicing among us boys to see
old Lion coming back. We took care of him and he got well again.
"It was good sport to see the dogs when we were hunting a bear with them. Bears
are good runners, and when dogs get after them, there is great skirmishing. They
nip the bear behind, and when they turn, the dogs run like mad, for a hug from a
bear means sure death to a dog. If they got a slap from his paws, over they'd
go. Dogs new to the business were often killed by the bears."
"Were there many bears near your home, Mr. Wood?" asked Mr. Maxwell
"Lots of them. More than we wanted. They used to bother us fearfully about our
sheep and cattle. I've often had to get up in the night, and run out to the
cattle. The bears would come out of the woods, and jump on to the young heifers
and cows, and strike them and beat them down, and the cattle would roar as if
the evil one had them. If the cattle were too far away from the house for us to
hear them, the bears would worry them till they were dead.
"As for the sheep, they never made any resistance. They'd meekly run in a corner
when they saw a bear coming, and huddle together, and he'd strike at them, and
scratch them with his claws, and perhaps wound a dozen before he got one firmly.
Then he'd seize it in his paws, and walk off on his hind legs over fences and
anything else that came in his way, till he came to