woodbuck27
02-29-2016, 02:10 PM
How to Hunt a Moose, a Goose and a Caribou in New Brunswick in 1791
Comment woodbuck27:
In my hunting experience mostly in Southern New Brunswick Canada with my Father and hunting friends we often used similar strategies as outlined here in the ways to hunt game 'of former times'. We hunt moose and I call using a voice technique I picked up over my years of learning 'the way' to hopefully have success. I also use a dipper (the water gathered and poured slowly) to simulate a Moose urinating in the lake, pond or marshes were I was aware that Moose frequented.
The secret to a successful hunt is 'stealth' or to be quiet or as unaware to the game as possible. You need all in the hunting party to be full on aware and cooperative in this regard or they must not ever hunt with you again. You have to be calm and not get 'the Fever'. Back home that's often referred to as 'Buck Fever'. I have a cousin that was so affected by 'the Fever' that instead of discharging his bolt action rifle; he injected each bullet and ejected the same on the ground. ...until his rifle was devoid of all ammo. He actually imagined he was shooting at the game. Soon he realized he wasn't cut out to shoot Big Game animals like deer.
It's rare that the excitement of hunting and the proposal of a kill doesn't challenge most hunters of Big Game. I'm dead calm as I end an animals life. It's after that I may misplace a my field dressing knife. Yup....it suddenly disappears as if to re4fer to my Irish....the Fairies scooped it up LOL. That knife always turns up right there where I field dressed that animal. This is a peculiar experience that I laugh at. Funny this as well. I always have bad dreams for 3-5 nights following a kill. Today I'd rather get myself through stealthy techniques within camera range of a deer or moose. I've been so fortunate to photograph Big Game often, in their natural habitat, because of the ready prevalence of such in the area of my Country Home in NB. It's at such times of getting that photo that I realize how fortunate we are to live amongst God's Nature creatures and like us they deserve life.
I hope you hunters enjoy this document extracted from a book originally penned by a Scotsman a man named Patrick Campbell Patrick Campbell toured New Brunswick in 1791-72 and got right into enjoying a pastime that's remains large for many back home. It's apparent that he gathered some of the stories from others expert in the hunt and residing in my home Province back in the days when game was abundant.
How to Hunt a Moose:
“The manner of hunting the Moose Deer in the rutting season, is as follows: The Moose at night is fond of feeding on a sort of grass that grows at the bottom or sides of ponds or lakes.”
“The sportsman ranges from pond to pond, and lake to lake, until he find by their track that which the Moose frequents; he then places himself in a proper situation on the side of that pond or lake. He is provided with a slip of birch bark, about a span broad, which he rolls up in the form of a funnel; and when the proper time of night comes, putting the small end of it to his mouth, he blows through it, and gives the call peculiar to this animal; if the Moose is within hearing, he answers the call, and comes milling through the wood with such rapidity and noise, that he is heard at a considerable distance; all the young saplings, branches, or bushes giving way to his great strength in his career. If he is any way doubtful, he stops and listens; the sportsman then calls and calls again, through his birch funnel; and if the Moose Bull does not know the sound, though within gun shot, he comes no farther. The huntsman finding this, has recourse to another deception with the same instrument. He blows in the water, and makes it bubble up; so as to resemble the water bubbling by the breath of an animal feeding in it; then putting his finger in the small end of the funnel, he dips it into the water and raises the full of it; then removing his finger, he pours it back again in a small stream; thus making a noise as if a Cow Moose was pissing. When the Bull hears this, he runs with such fury and force that the sportsman, for fear of being trodden down, is often obliged to step to a side, till he dash into the water, where he becomes more visible by its reflection, and having now full sight and time to take his aim, he fires and kills him on the spot.”
“In winter they hunt them with dogs, when the crust of the snow is so hard as to hold up the dogs, while the weight of the Moose sinks him to the bottom. When closely pursued, and no possibility of escaping, he runs about in a circle until he beat down the snow and make a path, within which he keeps to beat off the dogs, and often kills some of those that happen to come within this circle and his reach. His horns are of an enormous length and thickness at the root. I have seen one horn of a Moose Deer, which I am convinced would weigh from sixteen to twenty pounds.”
How to Hunt a Goose:
“Mr. le Dernier the sheriff, who is as indefatigable and expert a sportsman as can be met with in any country, told me, that he himself annually lays up for winter store, two tierces of Brant and Wild Geese, as many of Salmon, and as many of Herring, besides other fish, Moose, Keraboo, and other venison. The latter need not be salted, as they are killed in winter, and the frost preserves them; but the Brant, which is like a lump of butter for fat, and the Geese, are shot in September and October, and therefore require to be pickled to preserve them. When plucked they are split on the back, and barrelled up, and when they have occasion to use them, they are steeped in water for a night or two, to thaw and carry off the salt, when they become fresh, sweet, and as fit to be roasted or stewed as the day they were caught.”
“As the method of shooting the Wild Geese, Brants, and other sea fowl in this place, is somewhat curious and uncommon, it will not perhaps be amiss to give some account of it, which is as follows:”
“On any point of land between two creeks, bays, or (which is best,) between two rivers, the sportsman slips off a tree, a twig, or small branch, the small end of which he fixes in the sand, quite close to the water edge, to the height of the bird he means to represent; near to it he fixes two or three other sticks to the height of the body; round these sticks he wraps some sea weed, so as to resemble as much as possible the wings and tail of the bird; and the upper end of the stick, the neck and head, I mean that which formerly adhered to the tree; so that to view it at a distance it will very much resemble a bird. He sometimes makes two or three of these decoys close to each other, which being seen by the birds at a distance, as they fly along, entice them to come on, and take a sweep around, supposing them to be some of their fellows. At a proper distance he makes a pit in the sand, and around it places some shrubbery or small bunches of the crops of trees, to cover himself when he sits, that he may not be seen by them. This is always done on the windward side of the point, which, for the most part, sea fowls are fondest of frequenting. A flock of them in passing by, suppose these objects to be real birds, and come close up to them; on which the sportsman fires, and if he happens to kill one or two, he places them in the water, with a sharp pointed stick, one end of which is fixed in the sand, the other under the chops of the bird, which holds up his head as if alive, and the motion of the surge keeps him heaving up and down, and from side to side; so that now it is next to impossible to discover the deception.”
“The next flight that comes, alight close by this one, on which he readily fires sitting; and every one he kills, he places close by the other, in the same manner with the first. This he continues to do, till in a few hours he may have the full loading of his canoe, or as many as he chooses to carry home. The birds are so numerous in these bays, and flocks of them so frequently passing from one point to another, that scarcely would there be an end to this diversion, at which, indeed, the Indians are most expert.”
Next in another post, due to the length of this article:
How to hunt a Caribou.
That species is no longer in New Brunswick to my knowledge.
My Father (Bert) claims he saw one of the last of that species in NB while still hunting on a deer stalk. He saw this animal when he was 16 years of age or just before he enlisted with the Canadian Army to serve in WW II or in the latter part of the 1930's.. He informed me of just how very exciting this was for him . He said he saw a very large grey animal with an huge rack in a marshy area just south of a pond I used to hunt ducks in named Wood Pond. Wood Pond is named after my Paternal Family the Wood's of Woodside or more formally known as French Lake, NB. I asked him why he didn't shoot it. He informed me that he was aware how very fortunate he was to see such a Majestic and then recognized as an almost extinct species and that was enough.... all the reward that hunt needed. I respect all that man taught me... gave to me as a wonderful Father. He will always be my hero and what I recognize now as the very best friend I was so lucky to have care for me.
Thank You for reading this inside and me. Again.... I hope what follows you enjoy. ! :glug: to all you Packerrats that enjoy 'the Hunt'.
Comment woodbuck27:
In my hunting experience mostly in Southern New Brunswick Canada with my Father and hunting friends we often used similar strategies as outlined here in the ways to hunt game 'of former times'. We hunt moose and I call using a voice technique I picked up over my years of learning 'the way' to hopefully have success. I also use a dipper (the water gathered and poured slowly) to simulate a Moose urinating in the lake, pond or marshes were I was aware that Moose frequented.
The secret to a successful hunt is 'stealth' or to be quiet or as unaware to the game as possible. You need all in the hunting party to be full on aware and cooperative in this regard or they must not ever hunt with you again. You have to be calm and not get 'the Fever'. Back home that's often referred to as 'Buck Fever'. I have a cousin that was so affected by 'the Fever' that instead of discharging his bolt action rifle; he injected each bullet and ejected the same on the ground. ...until his rifle was devoid of all ammo. He actually imagined he was shooting at the game. Soon he realized he wasn't cut out to shoot Big Game animals like deer.
It's rare that the excitement of hunting and the proposal of a kill doesn't challenge most hunters of Big Game. I'm dead calm as I end an animals life. It's after that I may misplace a my field dressing knife. Yup....it suddenly disappears as if to re4fer to my Irish....the Fairies scooped it up LOL. That knife always turns up right there where I field dressed that animal. This is a peculiar experience that I laugh at. Funny this as well. I always have bad dreams for 3-5 nights following a kill. Today I'd rather get myself through stealthy techniques within camera range of a deer or moose. I've been so fortunate to photograph Big Game often, in their natural habitat, because of the ready prevalence of such in the area of my Country Home in NB. It's at such times of getting that photo that I realize how fortunate we are to live amongst God's Nature creatures and like us they deserve life.
I hope you hunters enjoy this document extracted from a book originally penned by a Scotsman a man named Patrick Campbell Patrick Campbell toured New Brunswick in 1791-72 and got right into enjoying a pastime that's remains large for many back home. It's apparent that he gathered some of the stories from others expert in the hunt and residing in my home Province back in the days when game was abundant.
How to Hunt a Moose:
“The manner of hunting the Moose Deer in the rutting season, is as follows: The Moose at night is fond of feeding on a sort of grass that grows at the bottom or sides of ponds or lakes.”
“The sportsman ranges from pond to pond, and lake to lake, until he find by their track that which the Moose frequents; he then places himself in a proper situation on the side of that pond or lake. He is provided with a slip of birch bark, about a span broad, which he rolls up in the form of a funnel; and when the proper time of night comes, putting the small end of it to his mouth, he blows through it, and gives the call peculiar to this animal; if the Moose is within hearing, he answers the call, and comes milling through the wood with such rapidity and noise, that he is heard at a considerable distance; all the young saplings, branches, or bushes giving way to his great strength in his career. If he is any way doubtful, he stops and listens; the sportsman then calls and calls again, through his birch funnel; and if the Moose Bull does not know the sound, though within gun shot, he comes no farther. The huntsman finding this, has recourse to another deception with the same instrument. He blows in the water, and makes it bubble up; so as to resemble the water bubbling by the breath of an animal feeding in it; then putting his finger in the small end of the funnel, he dips it into the water and raises the full of it; then removing his finger, he pours it back again in a small stream; thus making a noise as if a Cow Moose was pissing. When the Bull hears this, he runs with such fury and force that the sportsman, for fear of being trodden down, is often obliged to step to a side, till he dash into the water, where he becomes more visible by its reflection, and having now full sight and time to take his aim, he fires and kills him on the spot.”
“In winter they hunt them with dogs, when the crust of the snow is so hard as to hold up the dogs, while the weight of the Moose sinks him to the bottom. When closely pursued, and no possibility of escaping, he runs about in a circle until he beat down the snow and make a path, within which he keeps to beat off the dogs, and often kills some of those that happen to come within this circle and his reach. His horns are of an enormous length and thickness at the root. I have seen one horn of a Moose Deer, which I am convinced would weigh from sixteen to twenty pounds.”
How to Hunt a Goose:
“Mr. le Dernier the sheriff, who is as indefatigable and expert a sportsman as can be met with in any country, told me, that he himself annually lays up for winter store, two tierces of Brant and Wild Geese, as many of Salmon, and as many of Herring, besides other fish, Moose, Keraboo, and other venison. The latter need not be salted, as they are killed in winter, and the frost preserves them; but the Brant, which is like a lump of butter for fat, and the Geese, are shot in September and October, and therefore require to be pickled to preserve them. When plucked they are split on the back, and barrelled up, and when they have occasion to use them, they are steeped in water for a night or two, to thaw and carry off the salt, when they become fresh, sweet, and as fit to be roasted or stewed as the day they were caught.”
“As the method of shooting the Wild Geese, Brants, and other sea fowl in this place, is somewhat curious and uncommon, it will not perhaps be amiss to give some account of it, which is as follows:”
“On any point of land between two creeks, bays, or (which is best,) between two rivers, the sportsman slips off a tree, a twig, or small branch, the small end of which he fixes in the sand, quite close to the water edge, to the height of the bird he means to represent; near to it he fixes two or three other sticks to the height of the body; round these sticks he wraps some sea weed, so as to resemble as much as possible the wings and tail of the bird; and the upper end of the stick, the neck and head, I mean that which formerly adhered to the tree; so that to view it at a distance it will very much resemble a bird. He sometimes makes two or three of these decoys close to each other, which being seen by the birds at a distance, as they fly along, entice them to come on, and take a sweep around, supposing them to be some of their fellows. At a proper distance he makes a pit in the sand, and around it places some shrubbery or small bunches of the crops of trees, to cover himself when he sits, that he may not be seen by them. This is always done on the windward side of the point, which, for the most part, sea fowls are fondest of frequenting. A flock of them in passing by, suppose these objects to be real birds, and come close up to them; on which the sportsman fires, and if he happens to kill one or two, he places them in the water, with a sharp pointed stick, one end of which is fixed in the sand, the other under the chops of the bird, which holds up his head as if alive, and the motion of the surge keeps him heaving up and down, and from side to side; so that now it is next to impossible to discover the deception.”
“The next flight that comes, alight close by this one, on which he readily fires sitting; and every one he kills, he places close by the other, in the same manner with the first. This he continues to do, till in a few hours he may have the full loading of his canoe, or as many as he chooses to carry home. The birds are so numerous in these bays, and flocks of them so frequently passing from one point to another, that scarcely would there be an end to this diversion, at which, indeed, the Indians are most expert.”
Next in another post, due to the length of this article:
How to hunt a Caribou.
That species is no longer in New Brunswick to my knowledge.
My Father (Bert) claims he saw one of the last of that species in NB while still hunting on a deer stalk. He saw this animal when he was 16 years of age or just before he enlisted with the Canadian Army to serve in WW II or in the latter part of the 1930's.. He informed me of just how very exciting this was for him . He said he saw a very large grey animal with an huge rack in a marshy area just south of a pond I used to hunt ducks in named Wood Pond. Wood Pond is named after my Paternal Family the Wood's of Woodside or more formally known as French Lake, NB. I asked him why he didn't shoot it. He informed me that he was aware how very fortunate he was to see such a Majestic and then recognized as an almost extinct species and that was enough.... all the reward that hunt needed. I respect all that man taught me... gave to me as a wonderful Father. He will always be my hero and what I recognize now as the very best friend I was so lucky to have care for me.
Thank You for reading this inside and me. Again.... I hope what follows you enjoy. ! :glug: to all you Packerrats that enjoy 'the Hunt'.