The extreme range of a moose covers from five to fifteen miles. More
often it is confined to a much smaller area that merely includes the
low-lying river and lake valleys that afford him the choicest of summer
food--the pineapple-like roots of waterlilies--and also affords him
protection from flies while he is wading and delving for those very
roots; and the higher lands among the hills, where he spends the winter
in the denser forest.

But it is in midsummer that we can study the moose with greatest ease,
for then he spends the sunrises and sunsets wading among the lily pads,
and if we are careful to observe the direction of the wind to guard
against being scented, and also careful to cease paddling or any other
motion before the big brute looks at us, we may, with the greatest ease
and safety, propel our canoe to within from a hundred yards to fifty or
forty feet of the great beast as he stands looking at us with raised
head and dilating nostrils trying to catch our scent. If he catches
it, he suddenly tosses his ponderous head, drops back slightly on his
hind legs as he swings round, and is off with a grunt. Nevertheless,
he--or she--will pause long enough to leave the sign that all deer
leave upon the ground when suddenly startled by--to them--the dreadful
smell of human beings. Or if it happens to be moonlight and the moose
is a bit mystified by the steady, but silent, scentless, and motionless
approach of our canoe, he may at first stand gazing at us, then grunt
at us, then back out of the water up on to the bank and there stand,
not fifty feet away, towering above us--for he may measure from six to
seven feet at the shoulder and weigh three quarters of a ton--shaking
his great antlers and grunting, or perhaps, more properly speaking,
_barking_ at us while he stamps his big fore hoofs until he shakes the
very river bank.