and mountain ash
trees occur at intervals, and afford sufficient food to the moose.

It is to these regions the bull retires with his consort, and remains
for weeks together, claiming to be the monarch of the swamp; and should
he hear the approach of a distant rival, he will crash with his antlers
against the tree stems, making sudden mad rushes through the bushes, the
sound of his blows reverberating to a distance. He has also a curious
custom of tearing up the moss over a considerable area, exposing the
black mud by pawing with the fore-feet. He continually visits these
hills, and in consequence a strong musky effluvia arises from them. The
Indian hunter, by examining them, can ascertain without fail when they
were last visited by the animal. He utters loud sounds both by day and
night, described by the Indians in their guttural voices as "quoth,
quoth," but occasionally becoming sharper and more like a bellow when he
hears a distant cow. The cow utters a prolonged and strangely wild
call. This is imitated by the Indian hunter through a trumpet composed
of rolled-up birch-bark, when his dogs are in chase of the animal; and
the bull being by this means attracted towards him, becomes more easily
his victim.

During the early part of the year, and the summer, the antlers are
growing; but this process ceases early in September, when the moose has
got rid of the last ragged strip of the deciduous skin against the young
larch-trees and alder-bushes. He now stands ready to assert his claims
against all rivals. At this season the bulls fight desperately; often
the collision of the antlers of huge rivals, driven with mighty force by
their immense and compact necks, is heard to a great distance, like the
report of a gun on a still autumnal evening. They probably approach
from different directions, regardless of the rugged ground, the rocks,
and fallen trees in their course, bellowing loudly, and tearing up the
ground with their horns. Now they catch sight of each other, and rush
together like two gladiators. Now butting for some time till their
antlers become interlocked, perhaps both fall struggling to the ground.
Frequently portions of skeletons, the skulls united by firmly-locked
antlers, have been found in some wilderness arena, where a deadly fight
has occurred. A magnificent pair of horns thus interlocked is to be
seen in the Museum of the Royal College of Surgeons. Terrible must have
been the fate of the c