On the dark and drizzly morning of August 24 (temp. 47°-48°) I noticed a number of Caribou, in groups of 2 to 20, traveling northwestward along Middle and Little River ridges. This indication of general activity enticed me to the top of the latter, whence I had a view of perhaps 8 or 10 animals scattered over the Barrens beyond Little River. Several were lying down just beyond the summit of a ridge between the river and Glacier Pond, so that little more than their antlers was visible. With the idea of finding out how closely I could approach these resting animals, I waded knee-deep across a rapid about 100 feet in width, and worked my way up the opposite slope until I once more caught sight of the tips of several antlers. Under cover of a rock and some dwarf birches, I crept ahead on hands and knees, with a miniature camera at the ready. I had arrived within 50 yards when the nearest buck got to its feet and stood looking at me. In hopes of photographing the rest while they were still lying down, I rose to my knees and hastily exposed the last bit of film in the camera. Still there was no immediate reaction on the part of the Caribou. Fortunately there was a cross wind. The first buck was so little alarmed that it leisurely sprinkled the ground. But presently it turned and walked off, presumably giving some signal of voice or posture (such as an erect tail) to the rest; for they got to their feet, not the half a dozen I expected, but half a hundred of them! Though they trotted off toward Windy Bay, they paused within a hundred yards and turned to stare at me. Several more relieved themselves as the first buck had done. By this time I saw that some of the Caribou, including a little fawn, were carrying their tails quite erect, as an expression of suspicion or a signal of alarm. Evidently a majority of the band were bucks, but there were some does, with foot-long horns, and their fawns. On my way back to camp I noticed several groups of Caribou swimming across Windy Bay; perhaps they included the very animals I had so recently disturbed. In the early afternoon it became evident that a further northwesterly movement was under way along the ridges between camp and Little River. The animals had doubtless made the passage of the river near its mouth. I followed some of them to a bog at the upper end of Little River Ridge, where I began to film several bucks and a lone, inquisitive, one-horned doe. While the latter was approaching me within a hundred feet, I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye, and all at once the bog seemed full of Caribou. There were 75-100 of them, chiefly bucks, and not more than 50 yards or so distant across the open bog. They presently moved on, without haste, and ascended the Middle Ridge.