This frightened the deer still more, so that they huddled at last into the final enclosure, where they were so tightly packed that they were completely at the men's mercy.

"I assure you," writes Champlain, "there is a singular pleasure in this chase, which takes place every two days, and has been so successful that in thirty-eight days one hundred and twenty deer were captured.

These were made good use of, the fat being kept for the winter to be used as we do butter, and some of the flesh to be taken to their homes for their festivities." Champlain himself, in the winter of 1615, pursuing one day a remarkable bird "which was the size of a hen, had a beak like a parrot and was entirely yellow, except for a red head and blue wings, and which had the flight of the partridge"-- a bird I cannot identify--lost his way in the woods.

For two days he wandered in the wilderness, sustaining himself by shooting birds and roasting them.
But at last he found his way back to a river which he recognized, and reached the camp of the Hurons, who were extremely delighted at his return.

Had they not found him, or had he not come back of himself, they told him that they could never again have visited the French for fear of being held responsible for his death.
By the month of December of this year (1615) the rivers, lakes, and ponds were all frozen.