HOW WE TAMED CALF MOOSE

Transcription

1 HE STARTED DOWN THE BEACH WITH MOSE HOW WE TAMED CALF MOOSE By CHAUNCEY J. HAWKINS PHOTOGRAPHS BY THE AUTHOR Catching the Young Cattle of the Northern Wilderness with Camera and Lasso HE calf moose were as numerous about the lake near our camp as calves about the yards of a Western cattle ranch. We had counted five hundred and thirty-six moose in four weeks. Most of them were cows and each cow had one or two calves. Perhaps once a month some wandering woodsman would visit the lake, stopping only from curiosity to see if he could surpass the record count of moose feeding at one time in the pond. (The record count was fifty-seven). But outside of this occasional visitor, those moose feasted on tender lily roots and sprouts, unmolested by man. It was an ideal spot for cows with their young. On a clear night we could hear the grunt of the cows and the whine of the calves a mile away. As we approached the lake in the heat of the day when the sun poured down upon the little fellows' backs and the clouds of moose flies bored into their tender skins, we could easily imagine ourselves in a great day nursery where all the babies were crying together and order and quiet had been turned into chaos. How much like our own babies these calf moose are! Indeed, there were times when we could easily imagine a baby of three or four months, or even a year, crying in the edge of the forest. "Hear that little devil cry, 'Ma!' " whispered Mose as we sat one day listening to their sounds. [230]

2 MOSE AND THE CALF WERE PERFORMING ALL SORTS OF ANTICS The cry came from a calf in distress across the lake. The mother had been feeding too long and the little fellowwas hungry. He began his calls early in the afternoon, but the mother did not answer. As time passed and his hunger increased, his cries became more impatient until there was unceasing complaint, and truly no human baby could call mother more distinctly than that little moose. Among these calves are big bullies who domineer over all the smaller ones; natural leaders who guide the play; dull, backward ones who become victims of disease and an easy prey to danger; and alert, bright-eyed beauties who quickly scent danger and escape the enemies. One afternoon I watched a big bully, a calf larger and stronger than the rest, walk into a drove of a dozen or more young calves, whip them from their feeding ground, chase them away from their play, and generally disturb their afternoon of fun, just as a big boy on a city playground disturbs the sport of half a dozen boys for the entire day. Two of the smaller calves, on another occasion, got into a fight over something. They went at each other in vigorous fashion. Back went their ears, short manes bristled, they poked with their noses, struck with their front feet, and plunged on one another's backs until the smaller of the two ran away. As he ran he kept looking back, his mane still bristling as though he were saying, as every whipped boy does, "You big mucker, I'll fix you next time." However, they were soon friends again. The defeated calf ran a short distance, then lay down on the soft, cool earth. In a few minutes the victorious calf walked up and affectionately smelled him, the moose way of saying, ''Well, old boy, it's all off! Let's go and play [231]

3 232 THE OUTING MAGAZINE again." Soon the two friends were playing and running along the shore as though nothing had happened. One never knows just what to expect when he approaches a calf, whether the little fellow will make friends or run away. Some of them are more timid and alert than the wildest deer. I have moose in the lake when he ran and if an army of men with repeating rifles had started for them in canoes, keeping up an incessant firing, those moose could not have made a greater effort to reach the shore than they did from the impression conveyed to them by the frightened calf. But other calves are so unsuspecting HE STOOD QUIETLY AND SEEMED TO BE QUITE RECONCILED seen them run from the crack of the tiniest twig, whining until every moose in the lake was frightened and swam for shore. They must have a language easily undestoood by the cows and the bulls. I once frightened a calf while approaching the lake. It was a young bull not more than two months old. Into the water he plunged and swam across. No enraged monkey ever kept up a more incessant chatter than that frightened calf. His voice ranged through more than a dozen notes. There were over thirty of danger and are so ready to be friends that they seem not to belong to the wild creatures. I once walked out on a point of land extending into the lake and found three calves waiting for their mothers to return from their feeding. I used the utmost caution in stealing upon them as there were six cows in the lake to form a background for my picture. After consuming an hour crawling through mud and making my way without a sound through low brush I finally rose to snap a picture. I expected to see them bound away

4 A BIG BULL, FEEDING IN THE MUD, SECURED BY THE AID OF OUR PET MOOSE

5 BACK WENT THEIR EARS, THEIR SHORT MANES BRISTLED, THEY POKED WITH THEIR NOSES, STRUCK WITH THEIR FRONT FEET into the brush from the sound of the that they finally went back to the lake falling of the curtain of my camera. To and to their mothers. my astonishment they never moved. Repeated experiences such as this led Then I began to talk to them in the calf language and quietly approach nearer. me to think that a moose calf would make an excellent camp pet and a good One calf grew nervous and walked companion in the woods. They seemed away a few feet, but the others remained to have more of the qualities necessary perfectly still until I approached within for a pet than any wild creature of the ten feet of them. Then I continued forest and with my guide I began to to talk until the timid calf returned, plan the capture of a choice specimen. lost all his nervousness, and lay down We agreed that we would avoid taking a small sorrel calf that was still in front of me. I could have touched him with my hand. Our conversation dependent upon milk for its living. continued more than an hour and I We had no cow and we knew it would snapped calves in all sorts of poses before mean certain death to separate such a turning for camp. calf from its mother. To my amazement, after I had gone a few yards, I found two of the calves After talking the matter over, we concluded that we wanted a little bull, following me. They trotted behind as one that was already a brownish black pets accustomed to follow. After we and was not far from the weaning sea- had gone some distance from the lake, they showed no disposition to return. It was only after I ran away from them, losing them in the dense forest, [234] son. We knew it would require considerable skill to capture this type and a long struggle to subdue him, but it was excitement we wanted.

6 THE MOOSE WAY OF SAYING: WELL, OLD BOY, ITS ALL OFF! LETS GO AND PLAY AGAIN" One day we crept quietly to the edge of the forest and scanned, the lake through our big glasses. There were twenty-five moose in the lake. About the center of it stood a young bull on a bunch of lily roots. Against the water he looked black as jet and almost as big as a yearling. "There's the fellow we want, Mose," I whispered. "You'll change your mind before you get through with that animal," Mose replied. "Get the rope ready. Get all the kinks out so it will throw well," I commanded, as though not having heard Mose's discouraging words. "You're goin' to do it then, are you? Better make your will before you start." We were off for the chase. Quietly we stole down the shore, out along the edge of the lilies, and were within a hundred yards of the young bull before he discovered us. He plunged into the open water and we followed in hot pursuit. Each man bent to his paddle. The distance between the boat and the calf narrowed. We were within a hundred feet, then fifty. "I'll take her now," said Mose. "You get the rope ready." I stood up in the bow. The rope was made ready for a cast. We were within forty feet. Two or three circles around my head, and out went the rope. I missed. The bull put his head deep in the water and the rope slipped over his crown. Again and again I threw, but every time this was my experience. He was almost ashore. His feet could touch the bottom, his head was high out of water. He was racing, enveloped in a white spray. I gave a long throw, the noose fell perfectly, and the line slipped over his neck. He made one long leap as though all the demons of the forest were after him. The rope tightened with a jerk that [235]

7 236 THE OUTING MAGAZINE nearly threw Mose out of the canoe backwards. The moose never stopped to look behind, but took that canoe at a desperate speed. Within fifty feet of the shore the bow stuck fast in mud. "Jump! Now's your chance!" shouted Mose. I sprang and sank in mud to my waist. One mighty jerk of the rope and I was off my feet, being dragged through dirty, slimy mud. It did not seem possible that a three months' calf could possess such powers. It took me through that watery ooze as though I had been a log and it a team of horses. Wearing Him Down But my time came when we reached the shore. Once my feet were on solid ground I was more than his equal. Two or three times he took me for a spin down the beach, but seventy-five feet of line and one hundred and sixty pounds of human flesh were too great a handicap. He was beginning to tire, but I more so. My breath was gone and I turned the rope over to Mose while I used the camera. The transfer came near being more serious for me than it did for the calf. Mose had taken him about the neck to relieve the pressure of the rope, which was a bad move for it gave the calf new advantage. He started down the beach with Mose as I stooped to pick up the camera, his heels flew into the air, and the end of the kick just reached the pit of my stomach and knocked out the last bit of breath in my body. I lay for some minutes limp as a rag while Mose and the calf were performing all sorts of antics on the beach. He reared in the air and tried to strike. Then he landed an uppercut with his hind leg which lifted Mose a foot from the ground and left a sore spot for several days. The camera frightened the little creature even more than either of us. Every time the curtain fell the struggle was renewed. "If you want me to hold that calf put that durn thing down!" Mose finally shouted, referring to the camera, which I was using energetically. I put it to one side and began the real work of showing the calf we wanted to be friends. At first it seemed a hopeless task. We were both nearly exhausted and the calf was as determined as ever. But just when we were about to decide that our undertaking was a foolish venture, the little bull began to weaken. He stood quietly, let us rub his neck, put down his bristling mane, and seemed to be quite reconciled. We changed the knot in the rope so it would not choke him, tied him to a tree while we lay down to rest, and in a few minutes he was eating lilies from our hands. Our pet proved to be of greater value to us than we had ever dreamed. He lived with us about the camp, slept in the hovel, and followed us through the woods. Not once, after the first few days, did he show any disposition to return to his wild and free life. After we had kept him about the camp for several days, we took him to the lake for a feast of lilies. He trotted from the forest into the edge of the water while we kept in hiding. There were three moose within fifty feet of where we sat and when they saw the bull calf come from the brush into the open they thought there could be no danger and continued to feed in contentment. There was an idea. We would use our pet as a decoy in securing pictures. It was a most successful plan, enabling us to snap many fine specimens which would have been beyond our reach without this aid. A large bull with at least a sixty-five inch spread of horns was standing one day on a point of land extending into the lake. The approach to it was through a swamp and a heavy alder growth. To approach the bull without noise was impossible. We urged our pet ahead of us. The noise he made wading through mud and breaking sticks drowned to some extent the noise we made as we followed behind him in mud to our waists. The swamp led to a short piece of dry ground at the shore of the lake. The

8 SIX COWS IN THE LAKE AS A BACKGROUND FOR THE PICTURE OF THE TWO CALVES ON THE SHORE.

9 IMMEDIATELY THE PROUD BULL CAME FROM COVER AND TROTTED BOLDLY TO THE WATER

10 HOW WE TAMED CALF MOOSE 239 old bull had heard us coming and was exceedingly nervous. When the calf began to nibble the lily roots, the suspicions of the big bull were overcome, and we crept quietly to the edge of the woods, where we secured a wonderful picture. The only moose about the lake which had entirely outwitted us was a threeyear old bull. He carried his three little spikes with a dignity becoming a true monarch with a mighty spread of antlers. He walked about the lake with caution which would indicate that he had the entire region resting on his back. Many times, through the glasses, we detected his face peering through the brush. He would stand for an hour without moving, trying to scent danger, and we could never get near enough to snap his picture. One day as we lay hidden in a blind, we discovered his brown face looking out of the brush not more than a hundred yards above us. The little pet lay by our sides. We gently urged him to his feet and made him walk out upon the beach. Immediately the proud bull came from cover, trotted boldly to the water, and began to feed. Gradually he came toward us until there were not more than fifty feet between him and our camera. Then we snapped and, thanks to our pet, the one bull that had evaded us was ours. A fatal day, however, came when we used our decoy to approach a group of calves. They were playing in shallow water, chasing one another as children at tag. When our pet walked out to them there was a sudden bristling of manes and humping of backs. They were ready for a fight. It is customary in the school of the moose to whip the newest pupil just as it is in our district schools. They were all banded together to give him a good flogging, at least to try his courage and his strength. The new life our pet had led robbed him of none of his fighting qualities. He threw himself into form and went into the ring. After the first round they were satisfied and took him into their circle. But it was a sad time for us. After we had snapped all the pictures we wanted, we stepped out of the woods. Every calf bounded away, our pet with them. We called, but in vain. He had found better company. He had returned to his own.