ed deer
might possibly be induced to enter by the same way in fair numbers
over a limited area. The woodland caribou is almost exterminated, but
might be resuscitated. The barren-ground caribou is still plentiful in
the north, where most of the herds appear to migrate in an immense
ellipse, crossing from west to east, over the barrens, in the fall, to
the Atlantic, and then turning south and west through the woods in
winter, till they reach their original starting-point near Hudson bay
in the spring. But this is not to be counted on. The herds divide,
change direction, and linger in different places. Their tame brother,
the reindeer, is being introduced as the chief domestic animal of
Eastern Labrador, with apparently every prospect of success. Beaver
are fairly common and widely distributed in forested areas. Other
rodents are frequent--squirrels, musk-rats, mice, voles, lemmings,
hares and porcupines. There are two bats. Black bears are general;
polars, in the north. Grizzlies have been traded at Fort Chimo in
Ungava, but they are probably all killed out. The lynx is common
wherever there are woods. There are two wolves, arctic and timber, the
latter now rare in the south. The Labrador red fox is very common in
the woods, and the "white," or arctic fox, in the barrens and further
south on both coasts. The "cross," "silver" and "black" variations of
course occur, as they naturally increase towards the northern limits
of range. The "blue" is a seasonal change of the "white." The
wolverine and otter are common. The skunk is only known in the
southwest. The mink ranges through the southern third of the
peninsula. The Labrador marten, or "sable," is a sub-species,
generally distributed in the forested parts, like the weasel. The
"fisher," or Pennant's marten, is much more local, ranging only
between the "North Shore" and Mistassini.

From the St. Lawrence to the Barren Grounds three-fourths of the land
has been burnt over since the white man came. The resultant loss of
all forms of life may be imagined, especially when we remember that
the fire often burns up the very soil itself, leaving nothing but
rocks and black desolation. Still, there is plenty of fur and feather
worth preserving. But nothing can save it unless conservation replaces
the present reckless destruction.

DESTRUCTION

When rich virgin soil is first farmed it yields a maximum harvest for
a minimum of human care. But presently it begins to fail, and w