Joshua Fraser spent the Winter in the backwoods of upper Quebec in 1880, trapping and hunting and wrote about his exciting wilderness survival adventures in his 1881 book "Three Months Among the Moose."
In explaining his escape to the wilderness, Fraser writes:
"One morning my Doctor, who is as good a fellow as ever lived, and my fast friend as well as medical adviser, called to see me. His salutation was,"F—unless you give up work, and take some months of perfect relaxation and entire change of scene, you will be a dead man in six months, as sure as you were born." Startling as this announcement sounded I was in some measure prepared for it. For some years, week in and week out, with the exception of an occasional run to the seaside, I had been doing the work of two men. There had been a constant and heavy strain upon both my mental and physical energy. I hardly knew what it was to have' an hour in the week in which I had not an engagement or some professional work to attend to. For some time back I was sensible that my health was breaking, my nervous system was shaken, I was always listless and [exhausted], and I felt myself losing interest in life and work.
"Under these circumstances I knew that I must have a change, though I could hardly make up my mind to think about it, and, in fact, could not see my way clear how to accomplish it. My friend—a distinguished graduate of one of our universities, and a member of Parliament to boot— was an extensive lumber merchant, and was arranging to start in a few days on his annual winter trip to one of his far-off shanties on the Upper Ottawa. "Come with me," said he, "and I'll soon set you on your feet again."
"His presence and the memory of old associations acted like a charm. The old spirit of the woods came upon me, and without much hesitation I agreed to forego my sea voyage, and accompany him. I knew that the country to which he was going abounded in moose, an animal I had never hunted, in fact never seen except at a menagerie. I had shot abundance of our common red deer in every conceivable orthodox style, by stalking, stillhunting, hounds and jacklight, but I was ambitious of higher game, and had often longed for an opportunity to hunt the moose, the true monarch of our Canadian forests."
In describing a battle with a bull moose, Fraser writes:
"I never saw such an embodiment of infuriated passion as that animal presented. The four dogs gave him no peace. Dodging round him on the crust, they assailed him with their needle-like teeth at every quarter, and with quick, jerky snaps tore out great mouthfuls of hair, and sometimes of skin too. No wonder he was in a rage and a dangerous customer to approach, as I quickly found out.
"The Indians held back, and warned me not to go too near, and if I fired, to be careful of the dogs. But in my foolish temerity I advanced quite close, and lodged a bullet in his shoulder. It was the act of a lunatic. In a moment he abandoned his fruitless fight with the dogs, and with a roar, that sounded in my ears like the report of a cannon, made for me, I was about a dozen yards from him when he charged. I had no time to reload, and even if I had his terrific roar, and the fiendish, murderous glare that shot out from his fiery red eyes, so terror-struck me, that I never thought of it.
"For the first time in my life I knew -what the word panic meant. The Indians yelled, " run, run," "tree, tree," and run I did, no mistake. I never ran so fast in my life. If there had been sixty hungry, howling cannibals after me I couldn't have- run faster.
For about fifty yards I kept up the flight, looking about me as I ran for a tree to climb, for that was the meaning I put upon the cry "tree, tree," the about fifty yards I kept up the flight, looking about me as I ran for a tree to climb, for that was the meaning I put upon the cry "tree, tree," the absurdity of climbing a tree with snowshoes on never struck me . . . ."
In explaining his escape to the wilderness, Fraser writes:
"One morning my Doctor, who is as good a fellow as ever lived, and my fast friend as well as medical adviser, called to see me. His salutation was,"F—unless you give up work, and take some months of perfect relaxation and entire change of scene, you will be a dead man in six months, as sure as you were born." Startling as this announcement sounded I was in some measure prepared for it. For some years, week in and week out, with the exception of an occasional run to the seaside, I had been doing the work of two men. There had been a constant and heavy strain upon both my mental and physical energy. I hardly knew what it was to have' an hour in the week in which I had not an engagement or some professional work to attend to. For some time back I was sensible that my health was breaking, my nervous system was shaken, I was always listless and [exhausted], and I felt myself losing interest in life and work.
"Under these circumstances I knew that I must have a change, though I could hardly make up my mind to think about it, and, in fact, could not see my way clear how to accomplish it. My friend—a distinguished graduate of one of our universities, and a member of Parliament to boot— was an extensive lumber merchant, and was arranging to start in a few days on his annual winter trip to one of his far-off shanties on the Upper Ottawa. "Come with me," said he, "and I'll soon set you on your feet again."
"His presence and the memory of old associations acted like a charm. The old spirit of the woods came upon me, and without much hesitation I agreed to forego my sea voyage, and accompany him. I knew that the country to which he was going abounded in moose, an animal I had never hunted, in fact never seen except at a menagerie. I had shot abundance of our common red deer in every conceivable orthodox style, by stalking, stillhunting, hounds and jacklight, but I was ambitious of higher game, and had often longed for an opportunity to hunt the moose, the true monarch of our Canadian forests."
In describing a battle with a bull moose, Fraser writes:
"I never saw such an embodiment of infuriated passion as that animal presented. The four dogs gave him no peace. Dodging round him on the crust, they assailed him with their needle-like teeth at every quarter, and with quick, jerky snaps tore out great mouthfuls of hair, and sometimes of skin too. No wonder he was in a rage and a dangerous customer to approach, as I quickly found out.
"The Indians held back, and warned me not to go too near, and if I fired, to be careful of the dogs. But in my foolish temerity I advanced quite close, and lodged a bullet in his shoulder. It was the act of a lunatic. In a moment he abandoned his fruitless fight with the dogs, and with a roar, that sounded in my ears like the report of a cannon, made for me, I was about a dozen yards from him when he charged. I had no time to reload, and even if I had his terrific roar, and the fiendish, murderous glare that shot out from his fiery red eyes, so terror-struck me, that I never thought of it.
"For the first time in my life I knew -what the word panic meant. The Indians yelled, " run, run," "tree, tree," and run I did, no mistake. I never ran so fast in my life. If there had been sixty hungry, howling cannibals after me I couldn't have- run faster.
For about fifty yards I kept up the flight, looking about me as I ran for a tree to climb, for that was the meaning I put upon the cry "tree, tree," the about fifty yards I kept up the flight, looking about me as I ran for a tree to climb, for that was the meaning I put upon the cry "tree, tree," the absurdity of climbing a tree with snowshoes on never struck me . . . ."
