The Skill and Enterprise of Lumbermen.--Method of taking Logs down
Hills and Mountains.--Dry Sluice.--Stern Anchor.--Giant Mountain
Steps.--Alpine Lumbering.--Warping a Team down Steeps.--Trial of Skill
and Strength.--The rival Load.--Danger and Inconvenience of Hills in
Logging Roads.--A distressing Accident.--Solemn Conclusion of a
Winter's Work.--Some of the Perils attendant upon Lumbering.--A
fearful Wound.--Narrow Escape.--The buried Cap.--The safest Way of
Retreat.--A Sabbath in the Logging Camp.--Sunday Morning Naps.--
Domestic Camp Duties.--Letter Writing.--Recreations.--Sable
Traps.--Deer and Moose.--Bear Meat.--A rare Joke.--Moose Hunt.
--Bewildered Hunters.--Extraordinary Encounter.--Conclusion of
Sabbath in the Woods.
Lumbermen not only cut and haul from clumps and communities, but
reconnoiter the forest, hill, vale, and mountain side for scattering
trees; and when they are deemed _worth_ an _effort_, no location in
which they may be found, however wild or daring, can oppose the skill
and enterprise of our men.
For taking logs down mountain sides, we adopt various methods,
according to the circumstances. Sometimes we construct what are termed
dry sluice-ways, which reach from the upper edge of a precipice down
to the base of the hill. This is made by laying large poles or trunks
of straight trees together the whole distance, which is so constructed
as to keep the log from running off at the sides. Logs are rolled into
the upper end, the descent or dip often being very steep; the log
passes on with lightning-like velocity, quite burying itself in the
snow and leaves below. From the roughness of the surfaces, the
friction is very great, causing the bark and smoke to fly plentifully.
At other times, when the descent is more gradual and not too steep,
and when there is not a sufficient quantity to pay the expense of a
sluice-way, we fell a large tree, sometimes the Hemlock, trim out the
top, and cut the largest limbs off a foot, more or less, from the
trunk. This is attached to the end of the log by strong chains, and as
the oxen draw the load, this drag thrusts its stumpy limbs into the
snow and frozen earth, and thus prevents the load from forcing the
team forward too rapidly. Should the chain give way which attaches the
hold-back to the load, nothing could save the team from sudden
destruction.
There is a mountain on the "west branch" of the Penobscot where
Pine-trees of excellent quality stand far up its sides, whose tops
appear to sweep the very clouds. The side which furnishes timber rises
in terraces of gigantic proportions, forming a succession of abrupt
precipices and shelving table-land. There are three of these giant
mountain steps, each of which produces lumber which challenges the
admiration and enterprise of the logmen. The ascent to these Alpine
groves is too abrupt to allow the team to ascend in harness; we
therefore unyoke and drive the oxen up winding pathways. The yokes and
chains are carried up by the workmen, and also the bob-sled in pieces,
after taking it apart. Ascending to the uppermost terrace, the oxen
are re-yoked and the sled adjusted. The logs being cut and prepared as
usual, are loaded, and hauled to the edge of the first precipice,
unloaded, and rolled off to the table of the second terrace, where
they are again loaded, hauled, and tumbled off as before, to the top
of the first rise, from which they are again pitched down to the base
of the mountain, where for the last time they are loaded, and hauled
to the landing.
To obtain logs in such romantic locations was really as hazardous as
it was laborious, varying sufficiently from the usual routine of labor
to invest the occasion with no ordinary interest. It was, indeed, an
exhibition well calculated to awaken thrilling emotions to witness the
descent of those massive logs, breaking and shivering whatever might
obstruct their giddy plunge down the steep mountain side, making the
valleys reverberate and ring merrily with the concussion.
In other instances loads are eased down hill sides by the use of
"tackle and fall," or by a strong "warp," taking a "bite" round a
tree, and hitching to one yoke of the oxen. In this manner the load is
"tailed down" steeps where it would be impossible for the "tongue
oxen" to resist the pressure of the load. Sometimes the warp parts
under the test to which it is thus subjected, when the whole load
plunges onward like an avalanche, subjecting the poor oxen to a
shocking death.
But the circumstance which calls forth the most interest and exertion
is the "rival load." When teams are located with sufficient proximity
to admit of convenient intercourse, a spirit of rivalry is often rife
between the different crews, on various points. The "largest tree,"
the "smartest chopper," the "best cook," the "greatest day's work,"
and a score of other superlatives, all invested with attractions, the
greater from the isolated circumstances of swamp life.
The "crack" load is preceded by all needful preliminaries. All
defective places in the road are repaired. New "skids" are nicely
pealed by hewing off the bark smoothly, and plentifully as well as
calculatingly laid along the road. All needful repairs are made on the
bob-sled, and the team put in contending plight. The trees intended
for the "big load" are carefully prepared, and hauled to some
convenient place on the main road singly, where they are reloaded,
putting on two and sometimes three large trees. All things in
readiness, the men follow up with hand-spikes and long levers. Then
comes the "tug of war;" rod by rod, or foot by foot, the whole is
moved forward, demanding every ounce of strength, both of men and oxen
united, to perform the feat of getting it to the landing. Were life
and fortune at stake, more could not be done under the circumstances.
The surveyor applies the rule, and the result gives either the one or
the other party "whereof to glory." If not "teetotalers," the
vanquished "pay the bitters" when they get down river. Men love and
will have excitement; with spirits never more buoyant, every thing,
however trifling, adds to the stock of "fun alive" in the woods. Every
crew has its "Jack," who, in the absence of other material, either
from his store of "mother-wit" or "greenness," contributes to the
merry shaking of sides, or allows himself to be the butt of
good-natured ridicule.
But while the greater part of swamp life is more or less merry, there
are occasional interruptions to the joyousness that abounds. Logging
roads are generally laid out with due regard to the conveniences of
level or gently descending ground. But in some instances the
unevenness of the country admits only of unfavorable alternatives.
Sometimes there are moderate rises to ascend or descend on the way to
the landing; the former are hard, the latter dangerous to the team. I
knew a teamster to lose his life in the following shocking manner: On
one section of the main road there was quite a "smart pitch" of
considerable length, on which the load invariably "drove" the team
along on a forced trot. Down this slope our teamster had often passed
without sustaining any injury to himself or oxen. One day, having, as
usual, taken his load from the stump, he proceeded toward the landing,
soon passing out of sight and hearing. Not making his appearance at
the expiration of the usual time, it was suspected that something more
than usual had detained him. Obeying the impulses of a proper
solicitude on his behalf, some of the hands started to render service
if it were needed. Coming to the head of the hill down which the road
ran, they saw the team at the foot of it, standing with the forward
oxen faced about up the road, but no teamster. On reaching the spot, a
most distressing spectacle presented itself; there lay the teamster on
the hard road, with one of the sled runners directly across his
bowels, which, under the weight of several tons of timber, were
pressed down to the thickness of a man's hand. He was still alive, and
when they called out to him, just before reaching the sled, he spoke
up as promptly as usual, "Here am I," as if nothing had been the
matter. These were the only and last words he ever uttered. A "pry"
was immediately set, which raised the dead-fall from his crushed body,
enabling them to extricate it from its dreadful position. Shortly
after, his consciousness left him, and never more returned. He could
give no explanation; but we inferred, from the position of the forward
oxen, that the load had forced the team into a run, by which the
tongue cattle, pressed by the leaders, turning them round, which
probably threw the teamster under the runner, and the whole load
stopped when about to poise over his body.
He was taken to the camp, where all was done that could be, under the
circumstances, to save him, but to no purpose. His work was finished.
He still lingered, in an apparently unconscious state, until midnight,
when his spirit, forsaking its bruised and crushed tenement, ascended
above the sighing pines, and entered the eternal state. The only words
he uttered were those in reply to the calling of his name. As near as
we could judge, he had laid two hours in the position in which he was
found. It was astonishing to see how he had gnawed the rave[8] of the
sled. It was between three and four inches through. In his agony, he
had bitten it nearly half off. To do this, he must have pulled himself
up with his hands, gnawed a while, then fallen back again through
exhaustion and in despair. He was taken out to the nearest settlement,
and buried.
[8] "Rave," the railing of the sled.
At a later period, we lost our teamster by an accident not altogether
dissimilar. It was at the winding up of our winter's work in hauling.
Late in the afternoon we had felled and prepared our final tree, which
was to finish the last of the numerous loads which had been taken to
the well-stowed landing. Wearied with the frequency of his travels on
the same road for the same purpose, this last load was anticipated
with no ordinary interest; and when the tree was loaded, he seemed to
contemplate it with profound satisfaction. "This," said he, "is my
last load." For the last time the team was placed in order, to drag
from its bed the tree of a hundred summers. Onward it moved at the
signal given, and he was soon lost to view in the frequent windings of
the forest road. It was nearly sundown, and, had it not been for
closing up the winter's work that day, the hauling would have been
deferred until next morning.
The usual preparations for our evening camp-fire had been made, and
the thick shadows of evening had been gathering for an hour, and yet
he did not come. Again and again some one of the crew would step out
to listen if he could catch the jingling of the chains as they were
hauled along; but nothing broke upon the ear in the stillness of the
early night. Unwilling longer to resist the solicitude entertained for
his safety, several of us started with a lantern for the landing. We
continued to pass on, every moment expecting to hear or meet him,
until the landing was finally reached. There, quietly chewing the cud,
the oxen were standing, unconscious of the cause that detained them,
or that for the last time they had heard the well-known voice of their
devoted master. Hastening along, we found the load properly rolled off
the sled, but heavens! what a sight greeted our almost unbelieving
vision! There lay the poor fellow beneath that terrible pressure. A
log was resting across his crushed body. He was dead. From
appearances, we judged that, after having knocked out the "fid," which
united the chain that bound the load, the log rolled suddenly upon
him. Thus, without a moment's warning, he ceased in the same instant
to work and live. It proved, indeed, his "last load."
To contemplate the sameness of the labor in passing to and fro from
the swamp to the landing several times a day, on a solitary
wilderness-road, for a term of several months, with only those
respites afforded in stormy weather and on Sundays, one might think
himself capable of entering into the feelings of a teamster, and
sympathetically share with him the pleasurable emotions consequent
upon the conclusion of his winter's work. While it must be conceded
that, of things possessing every element capable of contributing
pleasure, we sometimes weary through excess, let it not be supposed
that our knight of the goad has more than usual occasion to tire, or
sigh for the conclusion of the hauling season. To be sure, "ta and
fra" the livelong winter, now with a load wending along a serpentine
road, as it winds through the forest, he repeats his visits to the
swamp, and then the landing; but he is relieved by the companionship
of his dumb but docile oxen, for whom he contracts an affection, and
over whom he exercises the watchful vigilance of a faithful guardian,
while he exacts their utmost service. He sees that each performs his
duty in urging forward the laboring sled. He watches every hoof, the
clatter of shoes, the step of each ox, to detect any lameness. He
observes every part and joint of the bob-sled while it screeches along
under the massive log bound to it. He examines the chains, lest they
should part, and, above all, the objects more watched than any others,
the "fid-hook" and the "dog-hook," the former that it does not work
out, the latter that it loose not its grappling hold upon the tree.
Sometimes his little journeys are spiced with the infinite trouble
which a long, sweeping stick will give him, by suddenly twirling and
oversetting the sled every time it poises over some abrupt swell in
the road. There is really too much to be looked after, thought of, and
cared for in his passage to the landing to allow much listlessness or
burdensome leisure. As well might a pilot indulge irresponsible
dormancy in taking a fine ship into port, as for a teamster to be
listless under his circumstances. No; the fact is, that, with the
excitement attendant upon each load as it moves to the landing, ten
times the number of tobacco quids are required than would abundantly
suffice him on his return.
Then look at the relaxation and comfort of the return. The jingling
chains, as they trail along on the hard-beaten way, discourse a
constant chorus. With his goad-stick under his arm or as a staff, he
leisurely walks along, musing as he goes, emitting from his mouth the
curling smoke of his unfailing pipe, like a walking chimney or a
locomotive; anon whistling, humming, or pouring forth with full-toned
voice some favorite air or merry-making ditty. He varies the whole
exercise by constant addresses to the oxen, individually and
collectively: "Haw, Bright!" "Ge, Duke!" "Whoap! whoap!" "What ye
'bout there, you lazy----" "If I come there, I'll tan your old hides
for you!" "Pchip, pschip, go along there!" Knowing him not half in
earnest, unless it happens to be a sharp day, the oxen keep on the
even tenor of their way, enjoying the only apparent comfort an ox can
enjoy while away from his crib--chewing the cud.
Recently, however, the wolves have volunteered their services, by
accompanying the teams, in some places, on their way to and from the
landing, contributing infinitely more to the fears than conscious
security of the teamsters.
Three teams, in the winter of 1844, all in the same neighborhood, were
beset with these ravenous animals. They were of unusually large size,
manifesting a most singular boldness, and even familiarity, without
the usual appearance of ferocity so characteristic of the animal.
Sometimes one, and in another instance three, in a most unwelcome
manner, volunteered their attendance, accompanying the teamster a long
distance on his way. They would even jump on the log and ride, and
approach very near the oxen. One of them actually jumped upon the
sled, and down between the bars, while the sled was in motion.
Some of the teamsters were much alarmed, keeping close to the oxen,
and driving on as fast as possible. Others, more courageous, would run
toward and strike at them with their goad-sticks; but the wolves
sprang out of the way in an instant. But, although they seemed to act
without a motive, there was something so cool and impudent in their
conduct that it was trying to the nerves--even more so than an active
encounter. For some time after this, fire-arms were a constant part of
the teamster's equipage. No further molestation, however, was had from
them that season.
One of my neighbors related, in substance, the following incidents: "A
short time since," said he, "while passing along the shores of the
Mattawamkeag River in the winter, my attention was suddenly attracted
by a distant howling and screaming--a noise which might remind one of
the screeching of forty pair of old cart-wheels (to use the figure of
an old hunter in describing the distant howling of a pack of wolves).
Presently there came dashing from the forest upon the ice, a short
distance from me, a timid deer, closely pursued by a hungry pack of
infuriated wolves. I stood and observed them. The order of pursuit was
in single file, until they came quite near their prey, when they
suddenly branched off to the right and left, forming two lines; the
foremost gradually closed in upon the poor deer, until he was
completely surrounded, when, springing upon their victim, they
instantly bore him to the ice, and in an incredibly short space of
time devoured him, leaving the bones only; after which they galloped
into the forest and disappeared." On the same river a pack of these
prowling marauders were seen just at night, trailing along down river
on the ice. A family living in a log house near by happened to have
some poison, with which they saturated some bits of meat, and then
threw them out upon the ice. Next morning early the meat was missing,
and, on making a short search in the vicinity, six wolves were found
"dead as hammers," all within sight of each other. Every one of them
had dug a hole down through the snow into the frozen earth, in which
they had thrust their noses, either for water to quench the burning
thirst produced by the poison, or to snuff some antidote to the fatal
drug. A bounty was obtained, on each, of ten dollars, besides their
hides, making a fair job of it, as well as ridding the neighborhood of
an annoying enemy. The following account of a wolf-chase will interest
the reader:
"During the winter of 1844, being engaged in the northern part of
Maine, I had much leisure to devote to the wild sports of a new
country. To none of these was I more passionately addicted than that
of skating. The deep and sequestered lakes of this northern state,
frozen by intense cold, present a wide field to the lovers of this
pastime. Often would I bind on my rusty skates, and glide away up the
glittering river, and wind each mazy streamlet that flowed on toward
the parent ocean, and feel my very pulse bound with joyous exercise.
It was during one of these excursions that I met with an adventure
which, even at this period of my life, I remember with wonder and
astonishment.
"I had left my friend's house one evening, just before dusk, with the
intention of skating a short distance up the noble Kennebeck, which
glided directly before the door. The evening was fine and clear. The
new moon peered from her lofty seat, and cast her rays on the frosty
pines that skirted the shore, until they seemed the realization of a
fairy scene. All Nature lay in a quiet which she sometimes chooses to
assume, while water, earth, and air seemed to have sunken into repose.
"I had gone up the river nearly two miles, when, coming to a little
stream which emptied into the larger, I turned in to explore its
course. Fir and hemlock of a century's growth met overhead, and formed
an evergreen archway, radiant with frost-work. All was dark within;
but I was young and fearless, and as I peered into the unbroken
forest, that reared itself to the borders of the stream, I laughed in
very joyousness. My wild hurra rang through the woods, and I stood
listening to the echo that reverberated again and again, until all was
hushed. Occasionally a night-bird would flap its wings from some tall
oak.
"The mighty lords of the forest stood as if naught but time could bow
them. I thought how oft the Indian hunter concealed himself behind
these very trees--how oft the arrow had pierced the deer by this very
stream, and how oft his wild halloo had rung for his victory. I
watched the owls as they fluttered by, until I almost fancied myself
one of them, and held my breath to listen to their distant hooting.
"All of a sudden a sound arose, it seemed from the very ice beneath my
feet. It was loud and tremendous at first, until it ended in one long
yell. I was appalled. Never before had such a noise met my ears. I
thought it more than mortal--so fierce, and amid such an unbroken
solitude, that it seemed a fiend from hell had blown a blast from an
infernal trumpet. Presently I heard the twigs on the shore snap as if
from the tread of some animal, and the blood rushed back to my
forehead with a bound that made my skin burn, and I felt relieved that
I had to contend with things of earthly and not spiritual mold, as I
first fancied. My energies returned, and I looked around me for some
means of defense. The moon shone through the opening by which I had
entered the forest, and considering this the best means of escape, I
darted toward it like an arrow. It was hardly a hundred yards distant,
and the swallow could scarcely excel my desperate flight; yet, as I
turned my eyes to the shore, I could see two dark objects dashing
through the underbrush at a pace nearly double that of my own. By
their great speed, and the short yells which they occasionally gave, I
knew at once that they were the much-dreaded gray wolf.
[Illustration: THE COMMON WOLF.]
"I had never met with these animals, but, from the description given
of them, I had but little pleasure in making their acquaintance. Their
untamable fierceness, and the untiring strength which seems to be a
part of their nature, render them objects of dread to every benighted
traveler.
"'With their long gallop, which can tire
The hound's deep hate, the hunter's fire,'
"they pursue their prey, and naught but death can separate them. The
bushes that skirted the shore flew past with the velocity of light as
I dashed on in my flight. The outlet was nearly gained; one second
more, and I would be comparatively safe, when my pursuers appeared on
the bank directly above me, which rose to the height of some ten feet.
There was no time for thought; I bent my head and dashed wildly
forward. The wolves sprang, but, miscalculating my speed, sprang
behind, while their intended prey glided out into the river.
"Nature turned me toward home. The light flakes of snow spun from the
iron of my skates, and I was now some distance from my pursuers, when
their fierce howl told me that I was again the fugitive. I did not
look back; I did not feel sorry or glad; one thought of home, of the
bright faces awaiting my return, of their tears if they should never
again see me, and then every energy of mind and body was exerted for
my escape. I was perfectly at home on the ice. Many were the days I
spent on my skates, never thinking that at one time they would be my
only means of safety. Every half minute an alternate yelp from my
pursuers made me but too certain they were close at my heels. Nearer
and nearer they came; I heard their feet pattering on the ice nearer
still, until I fancied I could hear their deep breathing. Every nerve
and muscle in my frame was stretched to the utmost tension.
"The trees along the shore seemed to dance in the uncertain light, and
my brain turned with my own breathless speed; yet still they seemed to
hiss forth with a sound truly horrible, when an involuntary motion on
my part turned me out of my course. The wolves close behind, unable to
stop and as unable to turn, slipped, fell, still going on far ahead,
their tongues lolling out, their white tushes gleaming from their
bloody mouths, their dark, shaggy breasts freckled with foam; and as
they passed me their eyes glared, and they howled with rage and fury.
The thought flashed on my mind that by this means I could avoid them,
viz., by turning aside whenever they came too near; for they, by the
formation of their feet, are unable to run on ice except on a right
line.
"I immediately acted on this plan. The wolves, having regained their
feet, sprang directly toward me. The race was renewed for twenty yards
up the stream; they were already close on my back, when I glided round
and dashed past my pursuers. A fierce growl greeted my evolution, and
the wolves slipped upon their haunches and sailed onward, presenting a
perfect picture of helplessness and baffled rage. Thus I gained nearly
a hundred yards each turning. This was repeated two or three times,
every moment the wolves getting more excited and baffled, until,
coming opposite the house, a couple of stag-hounds, aroused by the
noise, bayed furiously from their kennels. The wolves, taking the
hint, stopped in their mad career, and after a moment's consideration
turned and fled. I watched them till their dusky forms disappeared
over a neighboring hill; then, taking off my skates, I wended my way
to the house, with feelings better to be imagined than described."
Such annoyances from these migrating beasts, in the vicinity of
logging births as above-named, are of recent date. Up to 1840 I had
been much in the wild forests of the northeastern part of Maine,
clearing wild land during the summer and logging in the winter, and up
to this time had never seen a satisfactory evidence of their presence.
But since this period they have often been seen, and in such numbers
and of such size as to render them objects of dread.
Every department of labor among the loggers, and in fact, to extend
the observation, every department of life, is characterized more or
less by adventure and peril. Our men get badly cut sometimes, and
then, in the absence of a surgeon, are put upon their own resources to
stanch blood and dress wounds.
I recollect an instance in which a man in one of the neighboring
crews, while at work, received the whole bit of an ax into the
muscular portion of his thigh, by an accidental blow from an
associate. It was indeed a gaping wound. A wound of such an alarming
character, in the absence of suitable medical aid, is deemed a serious
matter, and not without just cause. In this instance use was made of
handkerchiefs to swathe up the wound, so as to stanch the flowing
blood, while they bore him to the camp upon a litter. He was laid upon
the deacon seat, and the wound was sewed up by one of the crew with a
common sewing-needle. It did well, and in the course of a few weeks he
was able to resume his labors.
Life is constantly endangered in felling the Pine-trees. The tops of
other trees seldom oppose any barrier to the giddy plunge of the
towering Pine, breaking, splitting, and crushing all coming within its
range. The broken limbs which are torn from its own trunk, and the
wrenched branches of other trees, rendered brittle by the intense
frosts, fly in every direction, like the scattered fragments of an
exploding ship, always more or less endangering life. Often those
wrenched limbs are suspended directly over the place where our work
requires our presence, and on the slightest motion, or from a sudden
gust of wind, they slip down with the stealthiness of a hawk and the
velocity of an arrow. I feel an involuntary shudder, as if now in the
presence of danger, while I remember some of the narrow escapes I have
had from death by the falling of such missiles. I recollect one in
particular, which was wrenched from a large Pine-tree I had just
felled. It lodged in the top of a towering Birch, directly over where
it was necessary for me to stand while severing the top from the
trunk. Viewing its position with some anxiety, I ventured to stand and
work under it, forgetting in the excitement my danger. While thus
engaged, the limb stealthily slipped from its position, and, falling
directly before me end foremost, penetrated the frozen earth. It was
about four inches through, and ten feet long. It just grazed my cap; a
little variation, and it would have dashed my head in pieces. But my
time had not come. Attracted, on one occasion, while swamping a road,
by the appearance of a large limb which stuck fast in the ground,
curiosity induced me to extricate it, for the purpose of seeing how
far it had penetrated. After considerable exertion, I succeeded in
drawing it out, when I was perfectly amazed to find a thick cloth cap
on the end of it. It had penetrated the earth to a considerable depth.
Subsequently I learned that it belonged to a man who was killed
instantly by its fall, striking him on the head, and carrying his cap
into the ground with it.
It is never safe to run from a falling tree in a line directly
opposite from the course in which it falls, as it sometimes strikes
other trees in such a way as to throw the butt from the stump. I have
sometimes seen them shoot back in this way with the velocity of
lightning half their length. Running from a falling tree in the way
above alluded to, I knew a man killed in an instant. Another reason
which should induce choppers or spectators to avoid this manner of
retreat is, that the broken limbs frequently rebound, and are thrown
back in a direction opposite that in which the tree falls. It reminds
one of a routed enemy hurling their missiles, as they retreat, back
upon the pursuing foe. I have sometimes seen the air in the region of
the tree-tops literally darkened with the flying fragments, small and
great, torn from trees in the thundering passage of one of those
massive columns to the ground. Sometimes they come down like a shower
of arrows, as if from the departed spirits of aerial warriors. To
retreat safely, one should run in a direction so as to make nearly a
right angle with the falling tree. A man by the name of Hale, a master
chopper, cut a Pine which, in its passage down, struck in the crutch
of another tree and broke the trunk of the falling one, the top of
which pitched back and instantly killed him.
If lumbermen do not love the return of the seventh day for its moral
purposes, they welcome it for the rest it brings, and the opportunity
it affords for various little matters of personal comfort which demand
attention. On visiting our winter quarters, one of the first things
which might arrest attention, indicating a Sabbath in the
logging-swamp, would be a long morning nap. Dismissing care, they
court the gentle spell, until, wearied with the lengthened night, they
rise, not, as on other mornings, when their hurrying feet brush the
early frosts as they pass to their work, while the lingering night
casts back its wasting shadows upon their path. On the Sabbath morning
they recline upon their boughy couches until the sun has traveled a
long way upon his daily circuit.
Every one feels free to sleep, to lounge, or to do whatever he may
choose, with a moderate abatement in behalf of the teamster and cook,
whose duties require some seasonable attention on all mornings.
Breakfast over, each individual disposes of himself as best accords
with inclination or interest. There are a few general duties which
come round every Sabbath, which some, by turns, feel the
responsibility of performing. For instance, every Sabbath it is
customary to replenish the bed with a fresh coat of boughs from the
neighboring evergreens. Of the healthful and invigorating influence of
this practice there is no doubt. Then follow the various little duties
of a personal character. Our red flannel shirts are to be washed and
mended, pants to be patched, mittens and socks to be repaired, boots
to be tapped and greased, &c. Our clumsy fingers, especially if unused
to the needle, make most ludicrous and unwoman-like business of
patching up our torn garments. Letter-writing receives attention on
this day, if at all, with no other than the deacon seat, perhaps, for
a writing-desk, a sheet of soiled paper, ink dried and thick, or pale
from freezing, and a pen made with a jack-knife; letters are dedicated
to a wife, it may be, or to a mother by some dutiful son, or to his
lady-love by some young swamper. There are some recreations to relieve
the monotony of a Sabbath in the wilderness. Sometimes a short
excursion in search of spruce gum; for many a young urchin at home has
had the promise of a good supply of this article, to be furnished on
the return of the campers. Others go in pursuit of timber for
ax-helves. As neither the White Oak nor Walnut grow in the latitude of
Pine forests in the eastern section of Maine, the White Ash, Rock
Maple, Beech and Elm, and sometimes the Hornbeam, are in general use.
Others spend, it may be, a portion of the day in short timber-hunting
excursions. Where the contiguity of encampments allow it, visits are
exchanged among the denizens of the camps.
Formerly, when sable were more plenty, some one or more proprietors of
a line of sable traps would take the opportunity on the Sabbath to
visit them, as time from the weekly employment could not be spared for
this purpose. Such traps are very simple in their construction. Some
thin, flat pieces of wood, cleft from the Spruce or Fir-tree, are
driven into the ground, forming the outline of a small circle some
nine inches in diameter, and about the same in height, with an opening
of three or four inches on one side, over which is placed the trunk of
a small tree some three inches through, running cross-wise, and raised
at one end about four inches, supported by a standard spindle, to
which a small piece of meat is fastened for bait. The top of the whole
is covered with light fir or spruce boughs, to prevent the sable from
taking the bait from the top. Access to the bait is then had only by
passing the head and shoulders into the little door or opening under
the pole, when the slightest nibbling at the spindle will bring down
the dead-fall and entrap them. These traps occur every few rods, and
thus a line or circuit is formed for several miles.
Wild cats sometimes take the business of tending these sable traps, in
which case they tear them to pieces and devour the bait. One such
animal will occasionally break up an entire line, and blast the hopes
of the hunter till captured himself.
Although, when circumstances favor it, some portion of Saturday is
devoted to hauling up camp wood, yet the practice of devoting a few
hours of the concluding part of the Sabbath is not unfrequent. Upon
the whole, we conclude that, notwithstanding the necessity of rest and
recreation, and the necessary attentions to personal conveniences
which the seventh day affords, the season usually wears away rather
heavily than otherwise, and Monday morning, with its cheerful
employments, brings not an unwelcome change. The pleasures of a forest
life are, with lumbermen, found rather in the labor performed than the
recreations enjoyed. Suspension from labor, without the pleasant
relief which home privileges afford, leaves a vacancy of feeling not
altogether free from _ennui_. The little domestic duties claiming
attention--unpleasant, as indeed they are unnatural to the coarser
sex--remind them strongly of the absence of _woman_, without whose
amiable presence, society, and services man can not enjoy his quota of
earthly bliss.
A tramp after deer and moose is sometimes taken. We often disturb them
in penetrating the deep forests for timber. In such cases they always
remove to some more sequestered place, and post themselves for winter
quarters again, where we sometimes follow and take them when the
condition of the snow renders their flight tardy and difficult. In the
summer they roam at large through the forests and on the meadows,
where they may often be seen feeding as we pass up the rivers; but in
winter they confine themselves to much smaller limits, where they
remain during the greater portion of the season. The flesh of the deer
forms an agreeable change from our salt provisions. Venison is often
quite plenty. From the hare and partridge our cook serves a delicious
pot-pie. The flesh of the moose and bear are very good. Were it not
for the unprepossessing appearance of the latter, his flesh would be
esteemed before most wild meat. The flesh of a young black bear a year
old, if fat, is not easily distinguished, when cooked, from a good
pork spare rib. I recollect a ludicrous instance of imposition
practiced upon an individual by furnishing him with bear meat for his
dinner, while he supposed that he was feasting upon fresh pork. He was
known to be exceedingly averse to eating bear meat, and often
expressed his disrelish, and even disgust, at the idea. "Eat bear's
meat? No! I would as soon eat a dog." A bear had been taken by a crew
near by; it was fine meat, and it so happened that our anti-bear-eater
was at their camp one day, when the cook served up in his best manner
some of the flesh. Of course he was invited to dine, as lumbermen are
always hospitable. On this occasion the invitation was especially
urgent, as they "had a nice bit of fresh pork, which had been sent
them by the provision-team."
Our friend ate and praised the nice pork alternately. "Fine, very;
hadn't had any fresh pork before for nearly a year. It was tender--it
was sweet and good." With much effort, the risibility of the jokers
was kept in subjection through the meal. Many senseless things were
said, and every thing seemed to elicit laughter.
Dinner over. "Well, captain, how have you enjoyed your dinner?" "First
rate." "Do you know that you have been eating bear's meat?" "No!" said
he; "that warn't bear's meat, was it?" "Yes." He seemed incredulous;
but the evidences were at hand; the quarter from which the dinner had
been taken was produced. Poor fellow! he looked as though he had
swallowed a lizard; and, to "finish him up," the long-nailed shaggy
paw was produced. He could stand it no longer; but, rushing out of the
camp, and throwing himself down upon his hands and knees, he retched
as though he had taken a dozen doses of ipecacuanha, while all the
rest of the crew were convulsed with laughter at the poor fellow's
distress.
The moose is the largest species of deer found in the New England
forest. Their size varies from that of a large pony to the full-grown
horse. They have large branching antlers, which grow and are shed
every season.
The taking of moose is sometimes quite hazardous. The most favorable
time for hunting them is toward spring, when the snow is deep, and
when the warmth of mid-day melts the surface, and the cold nights
freeze a crust, which greatly embarrasses the moose and deer in their
flight.
"One pleasant morning, six of us started with the intention of taking
deer; we had a gun and a large dog. Fatigued, at length, with several
hours' travel, and meeting with no success, we concluded to give it
up, and returned to camp late in the afternoon. Having been very
intent in our search for game, we had taken little notice of the
various courses which we had traveled, and, when the purpose was
formed of returning, we found, much to our discomfort, that we were
altogether in doubt as to the direction proper to be pursued. However,
we were not without our opinions on the subject, though,
unfortunately, these opinions differed. We finally separated into two
parties, four supposing that the camp lay in a particular direction,
while two of us entertained nearly opposite views. The gun was
retained by the four, while the dog followed myself and comrade. We
had not separated more than five minutes, when the dog started two
fine moose. The other party, being within hail, soon joined us in the
pursuit.
"As the snow was deep, and crusted sufficiently hard to bear us upon
snow-shoes, while the moose broke through at every leap, we were soon
sufficiently near them to allow a good shot. One of the men approached
within a few yards of the hindermost, and fired. The ball took effect,
but did not stop him. Still pursuing, another ball was lodged in his
body, when he turned at bay. It was now our turn to retreat; but,
after making a few bounds toward us, he turned and fled again, when we
again came up to the charge. I took the gun this time, and approached
within fifteen feet of him, and fired. He dropped instantly upon the
snow. Supposing him dead, we left the spot and pursued the other with
all possible dispatch, for there was not a moment to lose, as the
fugitive, alarmed by the report of the gun, was redoubling his
exertions to effect his escape. The dog, however, soon came upon him
and retarded his flight. Emboldened in his successful encounter with
the other, Rover dashed incautiously upon him, but nearly paid the
forfeit of his life. The moose gave him a tremendous blow with one of
his sharp hoofs, which made him cry out till the woods echoed with his
piteous howl. In vain did we try to induce him to renew the encounter.
His passion for the chase seemed effectually cooled; so we were
obliged to abandon the pursuit, and the more readily, as the day was
now quite spent. We returned to dress the one we had shot, but were
astonished, on arriving at the place where we left him, to find that
he, too, had made his escape. Tracking him by a trail of blood which
appeared to spirt out at every leap he made, we soon came up with him,
and fired again. The ball hit, but only to enrage him the more. Five
additional bullets were lodged in his perforated body, now making in
all nine. Having but one shot more, we desired to make it count
effectively; so, taking the gun, I approached very near upon one side,
and fired at his head. The ball passed directly into one eye and out
at the other, thus rendering him completely blind. The last shot
caused him to jump and plunge tremendously. He now became furious,
and, guided by the sound of our footsteps, would dart at us like a
catamount whenever we approached him. We had no ax to strike him down,
or to cut clubs with which to dispatch him. We were at a stand what to
do. We tried first to entangle him in the deep snow by approaching
him, and thus induce him to spring out of the beaten into the
untrodden snow; but the moment he found himself out, he would back
directly into the beaten path again.
"Our feelings became very uncomfortable, and now, from pity, we
desired to put an end to his sufferings. To see his noble struggle for
life, with nine bullets in him, and blind, inspired a painful regard
toward him. What to do we knew not. It was really unsafe to approach
him so as to cut his throat. We could neither entangle him in the
snow, nor bring him down with the small sticks we had cut with our
jack-knives. At length we hit upon the following expedient: obtaining
a long stiff pole, one end of it was gently placed against his side.
We found he leaned against it, and the harder we pushed the more he
opposed. Uniting our strength, we pressed it as powerfully as we were
capable; he resisted with equal strength. While thus pressing, we
suddenly gave way, when he fell flat upon his side. Before he had time
to recover, we sprang upon him, and with a knife severed the jugular
vein, when he yielded to his fate. It was nearly two hours from the
commencement of our last encounter before we dispatched him. Leaving
him for the night, we returned to camp, quite overcome with hunger and
fatigue.
"Next morning we went out to bring in our prize. We found the other
moose affectionately standing over the dead carcass of her slaughtered
companion. Manifesting much reluctance to flee, she permitted our
approach sufficiently near to afford a good shot, which we were not
unwilling to improve; so, raising the fatal instrument to my cheek, I
let go. She fell on the spot, and was soon dressed with the other. We
took the carcasses into camp, and, after reserving what we wished for
our own use, sent the remainder down river to our friends."[9]
[9] The adventures of a mess-mate.
The "bull moose" is a formidable foe when he "gets his dander up," and
specially so at particular seasons of the year; then, unprovoked, they
will make war on man, betraying none of that shrinking timidity so
characteristic of the _cervine genus_. A hunter, who used to put
up occasionally over night at our camp, entertained us with the
following singular adventure. "Once," said he, "while out on a hunting
excursion, I was pursued by a 'bull moose,' during that period when
their jealousy was in full operation in behalf of the female. He
approached me with his muscular neck curved, and head to the ground,
in a manner not dissimilar to the attitude assumed by horned cattle
when about to encounter each other. Just as he was about to make a
pass at me, I sprang suddenly between his wide-spreading antlers,
bestride his neck. Dexterously turning round, I seized him by the
horns, and, locking my feet together under his neck, I clung to him
like a sloth. With a mixture of rage and terror, he dashed wildly
about, endeavoring to dislodge me; but, as my life depended upon
maintaining my position, I clung to him with a corresponding
desperation. After making a few ineffectual attempts to disengage me,
he threw out his nose, and, laying his antlers back upon his
shoulders, which formed a screen for my defense, he sprang forward
into a furious run, still bearing me upon his neck. Now penetrating
dense thickets, then leaping high "wind-falls,"[10] and struggling
through swamp-mires, he finally fell through exhaustion, after
carrying me about three miles. Improving the opportunity, I drew my
hunter's knife from its sheath, and instantly buried it in his neck,
cutting the jugular vein, which put a speedy termination to the
contest and the flight."
[10] Old fallen trees.
The habits of the moose, in his manner of defense and attack, are
similar to those of the stag, and may be illustrated by the following
anecdote from the "Random Sketches of a Kentuckian."
"Who ever saw Bravo without loving him? His sloe-black eyes, his
glossy skin, flecked here and there with blue; his wide-spread thighs,
clean shoulders, broad back, and low-drooping chest, bespoke him the
true stag-hound; and none who ever saw his bounding form, or heard his
deep-toned bay, as the swift-footed stag flew before him, would
dispute his title. List, gentle reader, and I will tell you an
adventure which will make you love him all the more.
"A bright frosty morning in November, 1838, tempted me to visit the
forest hunting-grounds. On this occasion I was followed by a
fine-looking hound, which had been presented to me a few days before
by a fellow-sportsman. I was anxious to test his qualities, and,
knowing that a mean dog will not often hunt well with a good one, I
had tied up the eager Bravo, and was attended by the strange dog
alone. A brisk canter of half an hour brought me to the wild forest
hills. Slackening the rein, I slowly wound my way up a brushy slope
some three hundred yards in length. I had ascended about half way,
when the hound began to exhibit signs of uneasiness, and at the same
instant a stag sprang out from some underbrush near by, and rushed
like a whirl-wind up the slope. A word, and the hound was crouching at
my feet, and my trained Cherokee, with ear erect and flashing eye,
watched the course of the affrighted animal.
"On the very summit of the ridge, full one hundred and fifty yards,
every limb standing out in bold relief against the clear blue sky, the
stag paused, and looked proudly down upon us. After a moment of
indecision, I raised my rifle, and sent the whizzing lead upon its
errand. A single bound, and the antlered monarch was hidden from my
view. Hastily running down a ball, I ascended the slope; my blood ran
a little faster as I saw the 'gouts of blood' which stained the
withered leaves where he had stood. One moment more, and the excited
hound was leaping breast high on his trail, and the gallant Cherokee
bore his rider like lightning after them.
"Away--away! for hours we did thus hasten on, without once being at
fault or checking our headlong speed. The chase had led us miles from
the starting-point, and now appeared to be bearing up a creek, on one
side of which arose a precipitous hill, some two miles in length,
which I knew the wounded animal would never ascend.
"Half a mile further on, another hill reared its bleak and barren head
on the opposite side of the rivulet. Once fairly in the gorge, there
was no exit save at the upper end of the ravine. Here, then, I must
intercept my game, which I was able to do by taking a nearer cut over
the ridge, that saved at least a mile.
"Giving one parting shout to cheer my dog, Cherokee bore me headlong
to the pass. I had scarcely arrived, when, black with sweat, the stag
came laboring up the gorge, seemingly totally reckless of our
presence. Again I poured forth the 'leaden messenger of death,' as
meteor-like he flashed by us. One bound, and the noble animal lay
prostrate within fifty feet of where I stood. Leaping from my horse,
and placing one knee upon his shoulder, and a hand upon his antlers, I
drew my hunting-knife; but scarcely had its keen point touched his
neck, when, with a sudden bound, he threw me from his body, and my
knife was hurled from my hand. In hunters' parlance, I had only
'creased him.' I at once saw my danger, but it was too late. With one
bound he was upon me, wounding and almost disabling me with his sharp
feet and horns. I seized him by his wide-spread antlers, and sought to
regain possession of my knife, but in vain; each new struggle drew us
further from it. Cherokee, frightened at the unusual scene, had madly
fled to the top of the ridge, where he stood looking down upon the
combat, trembling and quivering in every limb.
"The ridge road I had taken placed us far in advance of the hound,
whose bay I could not now hear. The struggles of the furious animal
had become dreadful, and every moment I could feel his sharp hoofs
cutting deep into my flesh; my grasp upon his antlers was growing less
and less firm, and yet I relinquished not my hold. The struggle had
brought us near a deep ditch, washed by the fall rains, and into this
I endeavored to force my adversary, but my strength was unequal to the
effort; when we approached to the very brink, he leaped over the
drain. I relinquished my hold and rolled in, hoping thus to escape
him; but he returned to the attack, and, throwing himself upon me,
inflicted numerous severe cuts upon my face and breast before I could
again seize him. Locking my arms around his antlers, I drew his head
close to my breast, and was thus, by great effort, enabled to prevent
his doing me any serious injury. But I felt that this could not last
long; every muscle and fiber of my frame was called into action, and
human nature could not long bear up under such exertion. Faltering a
silent prayer to Heaven, I prepared to meet my fate.
"At this moment of despair I heard the faint bayings of the hound; the
stag, too, heard the sound, and, springing from the ditch, drew me
with him. His efforts were now redoubled, and I could scarcely cling
to him. Yet that blessed sound came nearer and nearer! Oh how wildly
beat my heart as I saw the hound emerge from the ravine, and spring
forward with a short, quick bark, as his eye rested on his game! I
released my hold of the stag, who turned upon the new enemy.
Exhausted, and unable to rise, I still cheered the dog that, dastard
like, fled before the infuriated animal, who, seemingly despising such
an enemy, again threw himself upon me. Again did I succeed in throwing
my arms around his antlers, but not until he had inflicted several
deep and dangerous wounds upon my head and face, cutting to the very
bone.
"Blinded by the flowing blood, exhausted and despairing, I cursed the
coward dog, who stood near, baying furiously, yet refusing to seize
his game. Oh! how I prayed for Bravo! The thoughts of death were
bitter. To die thus in the wild forest, alone, with none to help!
Thoughts of home and friends coursed like lightning through my brain.
At that moment, when Hope herself had fled, deep and clear over the
neighboring hill came the baying of my gallant Bravo! I should have
known his voice among a thousand. I pealed forth, in one faint shout,
'On, Bravo, on!' The next moment, with tiger-like bounds, the noble
dog came leaping down the declivity, scattering the dried autumnal
leaves like a whirl-wind in his path. 'No pause he knew,' but, fixing
his fangs in the stag's throat, he at once commenced the struggle.
"I fell back, completely exhausted. Blinded with blood, I only knew
that a terrific struggle was going on. In a few moments all was still,
and I felt the warm breath of my faithful dog as he licked my wounds.
Clearing my eyes from gore, I saw my late adversary dead at my feet,
and Bravo, 'my own Bravo,' as the heroine of a modern novel would say,
standing over me. He yet bore around his neck a fragment of the rope
with which I had tied him. He had gnawed it in two, and, following his
master through all his windings, arrived in time to rescue him from a
horrible death.
"I have recovered from my wounds. Bravo is lying at my feet. Who does
not love Bravo? I am sure I do, and the rascal knows it--don't you,
Bravo? Come here, sir!"