Deer-hunting is a very exciting sport; but I prefer still-hunting (or
deer-stalling, as it is called in the Highlands of Scotland) to driving
them into the lakes and rivers with hounds.

The deer are not now nearly so numerous as they formerly were.
Civilization has driven them back into the unsurveyed lands or less
populated townships. To give my readers some idea how plentiful these
wild denizens of the forest were, some years since, I need only mention
that a Trapper with whom I was acquainted, and four of his companions,
passed my house on a small raft, on which lay the carcasses of thirty-
two deer--the trophies of a fortnight's chase near Stony Lake. The
greater number of these were fine bucks.

I once had seventeen deer hanging up in my barn at one time--the
produce of three days' sport, out of which I had the good fortune to
kill seven. Parties are now made yearly every October to Stony Lake,
Deer Bay, or the River Trent. I do not know anything more pleasant than
these excursions, especially if you have agreeable companions, a warm
camp, and plenty to eat and drink. Indeed, poor hunters must they be
who cannot furnish their camp-larder with wild-ducks and venison. This
is one of the great charms of a Canadian life, particularly to young
sportsmen from the mother-country, who require here neither license nor
qualification to enable them to follow their game; but may rove about
in chase of deer, or other game, at will.

The greatest enemy the deer has to contend with is the wolf. In the
spring of the year, when the snow is in the woods, and a crust is
formed on the surface, the deer are unable to travel any distance, the
snow not being sufficiently hard to bear their weight. Consequently,
great numbers of them are destroyed by their more nimble adversaries,