_THE HOME OF THE REINDEER._
From Lake Athabasca to the Height of Land our course had constantly been
up stream, but from this point to the sea the way must ever be with the
current. Having launched our little fleet in the lake on the north side
of the watershed, the new stage of the journey was begun with a strong,
fair breeze.
The lake is a large one, and has been named Daly Lake—after the Hon. T.
M. Daly, then Minister of the Interior for Canada. Towards the centre of
it was discovered a peninsula, which is connected with the west shore
only by a very narrow neck of land, across which a portage was made.
For a day and a half we were delayed here by a gale, the most severe
we had so far encountered. So wild was the lake during this storm that
water-spouts were whirled up from its billows and carried along in great
vertical columns for considerable distances.
Certain remarkable physical features in the shape of great sand “Kames,”
or high ridges, were also observed at this locality. They were composed
of clear sand and gravel, were sixty or seventy feet in height, trended
in a north-easterly and south-westerly direction, were quite narrow on
top, and so level and uniform that they might well be taken to be the
remains of the embankments of ancient railways. Geologists, however, have
another theory accounting for their origin, namely, that they were formed
by fissures or splits in the ancient glaciers.
On the sheltered southerly slopes of these ridges many new varieties of
plants were found, and some others which had been collected farther south
were here seen for the last time on the journey. Notable among the latter
was the aspen, of which several stunted, gnarled specimens were observed.
When the storm had abated sufficiently the traverse of the lake shore was
resumed, when other notable features appeared.
A large part of the country was now composed of frozen mossy bogs,
sloping gently down towards the lake. In the higher portions of the bogs
the moss was still growing, but elsewhere it was dead, and excepting
a few inches, was imbedded in solid glaciers. In many instances these
frozen bogs or glaciers were found to be breaking off into the lake, and
in such places they presented brown mossy vertical faces, from ten to
twenty feet above the water. In examining these vertical sections they
were observed, as on top, to consist of frozen moss to within about a
foot of the surface. The first of the moss glaciers, if I may call them
such, were observed near the Height of Land, but towards the north end of
Daly Lake they composed a large part of the country, and timber occurred
only in scattered, isolated patches.
[Illustration: TELZOA RIVER.]
According to our Indian information we should now be near the outlet of
the lake. During the morning of the 22nd, after a good deal of searching
in many deep bays, the entrance to the Telzoa (broad shallow river) was
discovered. It was indeed a great, broad and rapid river, broken up into
many shallow channels, whose waters seemed to have been, as it were,
spilled over the edge of the lake in the lowest places. This was the
river we had set out to explore, and with nothing more than conjectures
as to where it would lead us, we pushed our canoes into the stream, and
sped away to the northward. Landings were made when necessary to carry
on the survey and examination of the country, but at other times the
canoes were kept in the stream, and the men at the paddles. Many rapids
were run, but our veteran steersman Pierre, with his skill, judgment and
unflinching nerve, was usually able to map out his course and steer it
successfully, sometimes between rocks and through channels little wider
than his canoe.
Upon one occasion, which I well recollect, Pierre led the way for the
centre of a wild, rocky rapid. We soon saw that he was making for a
heavy shoot between two great boulders, where the channel was barely
wide enough to allow us to pass. I determined to follow, but our third
canoe sought a channel nearer shore. Pierre, by keeping straight in the
centre of the current, was shot through the notch like a rocket, but my
steersman, less skilful, allowed our canoe to be caught by an eddy. Like
a flash it was whirled end for end, and happily for us struck the shoot
stern first instead of sideways and was carried through safely—no thanks
to the steersman. The third canoe fared worst of the three, for it was
dashed upon a great flat rock and broken in the bottom. Its occupants, by
jumping out upon the rock, managed to hold it until assistance could be
given them. The load of the disabled canoe was safely landed by one of
the others, and the damage soon repaired.
[Illustration: RAPIDS, TELZOA RIVER.]
We were now fairly beyond the limit of woods, which for some time past
had been gradually becoming thinner more scattered, and of more stunted
growth. On this account it is impossible to lay down any definite line as
the limit of the forest. Outlying patches of spruce and tamarack might
still be found here and there in the most favored localities, but as a
whole the country was now a vast, rolling, treeless wilderness.
On the evening of the 28th of July we reached the north end of an
expansion of the river, named Barlow Lake. Our supply of meat was already
running low. Being quite unable to carry provisions with us for the whole
trip, we had, in starting, taken only a limited quantity of this kind of
food, trusting to our ability to replenish the supply from time to time
by the way. Up to this time, however, we had seen nothing in the shape of
game since leaving Lake Athabasca, excepting the one black bear, and he
made good his escape. Plenty of old deer-tracks were to be seen, but not
a single deer, and in consequence we were beginning to feel some anxiety.
If game should not be found within a week or ten days, we would have to
return, or proceed with the probability before us of starvation.
We had only begun to think seriously on this question when on the evening
above-mentioned, just as we had gone ashore to camp, a moving object was
noticed on a little island out in the lake. By means of our field-glasses
we could tell it was a deer, and I need hardly say that no time was lost
in manning a canoe and pulling for the island. As we approached the deer
watched us closely, and soon satisfied of danger, bounded into the air,
galloped to the farther side of the island, plunged into the water, and
struck out for the nearest shore. The rate at which the frightened animal
tore its way through the water was really marvellous, and for a time it
looked as if we would not be able to overtake it with our light canoe and
four paddles. Every muscle was strained, both of deer and men, so that
the hunt resolved itself into a veritable race for life. Unfortunately
for the poor animal, though, the course was too long, and before it could
reach the shore we had overhauled and shot it. That night we enjoyed our
first meal of venison.
[Illustration: HERD OF REINDEER.]
The next day, after descending the river a distance of five or six miles,
and getting into a body of water named Carey Lake, through which we were
steering a central course, one of the party called attention to something
moving on the distant shore to our right. It turned out to be not one
but a band of deer. Our canoes were headed to leeward of the band, that
they might not scent us as we approached the shore. Drawing nearer we
found there was not only one band, but that there were many great bands,
literally covering the country over wide areas. The valleys and hillsides
for miles appeared to be moving masses of reindeer. To estimate their
numbers would be impossible. They could only be reckoned in acres or
square miles.
After a short consultation a place for landing, near a small grove of
tamarack—one of the last we saw—was chosen. Rifles were examined, and
an ample supply of cartridges provided. Shot-guns and revolvers were
furnished to four of the men, and thus prepared we landed and drew up
the canoes. So far the deer had apparently not seen us, but to prevent
a general stampede, it was arranged that I should go around to the rear
of a large detachment of the herd, near by, while my brother should
approach them from the shore. Accordingly I was given fifteen minutes to
run around, a mile or so, behind some rising ground. Meanwhile the rest
of the party scattered themselves about in different places, and at the
given time my brother, having approached within easy range, opened the
fray by bringing down a noble buck. At this first shot the whole band—a
solid mass of several thousands of deer—was thrown into confusion, and
they rushed to and fro, not knowing which way to flee. Simultaneously
with my brother’s shot, I opened fire on them from the rear, and our
armed men charged from the sides, while the other two were obliged to
take refuge upon a great boulder to avoid being trampled to death. The
band was speedily scattered, but not before a woful slaughter had been
made, and an abundant supply of fine fresh meat secured, for which we
were sincerely thankful. It was fortunate that there was wood at hand to
make a fire with and dry the meat. Having slain as many animals as we
required, the men were set to work to prepare dried meat for the rest of
the trip.
This stroke of good fortune gave us much encouragement, as we thought
we had now nothing to fear from lack of provisions. Several days were
spent in drying the eighteen or twenty carcases, which were preserved,
and while this work was progressing my brother and I had ample time to
roam over the hills and view and photograph the bands of deer which
were still everywhere about us. After the slaughter of the first day we
carried no rifles with us, but armed only with a camera walked to and fro
through the herd, causing little more alarm than one would by walking
through a herd of cattle in a field. The experience was delightful, one
never to be forgotten. The reindeer, which is the same as the Barren
Ground caribou, is an animal of exceptional interest. To those whose
imaginations dwell on visions of St. Nicholas and his coursers it is
the ideal steed; while to the hardy native of the frigid zone it is a
faithful and efficient servant, and is undoubtedly the most useful and
valuable of the fifty or more known varieties of deer.
In different localities, and at different seasons of the year, reindeer
vary in appearance; they range in weight from one hundred to four hundred
pounds. During the months of June and July they present their poorest
appearance, being then lean and scrawny, and their half-shed coats ragged
and frowsy. By the month of August they have discarded their tattered
last-winter garments, and have assumed sleek glossy brown summer coats,
which give them a smaller but much more comely appearance. From this
time, both because of increasing flesh and length of hair, they become
gradually larger and more handsome, until, by the month of November, when
they don their winter suits of white and grey, they are transformed in
appearance into the noblest animals of the chase.
Then it is that the enormous antlers of the male deer have attained their
full, hard growth, and he is thus armed for the many battles habitually
fought during the months of November and December for the possession
of favored members of the fair sex. During the month of January these
antlers of the male deer, having served their purpose as weapons of
warfare, are annually cast. Within a few weeks of the falling of the old
horns, soft new ones begin to form beneath the skin, and gradually they
increase in size until they reach maturity the following autumn. During
growth the antlers remain comparatively soft, and are covered with skin
and fine short hair, known as the “velvet.” At maturity a circular burr
is formed at the base of the horn. This has the effect of cutting off the
blood-vessels, and causing the velvet to dry and shrivel and ultimately
peel off. The peeling of the velvet is also hastened by the deer rubbing
its antlers upon rocks and trees. With each successive year the antlers
are supplemented by one additional prong, so that the number of prongs
or tines is a positive indication of the age of the deer. I have counted
as many as twenty-two prongs on one horn, or twice that number on the
pair. Unlike every other variety of deer, the caribou is antlered in
both sexes, the only difference being that in the case of the females
the horns are rather smaller, and are more slender and delicate in their
formation than those of the males.
The hoofs of the reindeer are very large in proportion to other parts
of the body, and, being cloven, they spread greatly in walking. This
characteristic peculiarly fits them for travelling upon the crusted snow,
through which other deer would break and flounder in a hopeless manner.
Concerning the habits of the reindeer, they are both gregarious and
migratory. During the summer season their resort is the open plain or
the sea-coast, where, to some extent, they escape from their tormentors,
the mosquitos and black flies, and find abundance of food in the tender
grasses, the ground birch, or the willow buds. In the autumn they turn
their steps toward the woodlands or more sheltered districts, where they
spend the long, severe winter, subsisting on tree-buds, moss or lichens.
The breeding season occurs in the early spring, before winter quarters
are vacated; and the number of fawns borne by a doe at one time ranges
from one to three.
From an economic or commercial point of view, the reindeer is highly
prized. By the Laplanders and other people it is domesticated, and takes
the place of the horse, the dog, the cow or the goat of other countries.
As a traveller it is swift and enduring, being capable of hauling from
two to three hundred pounds upon a sled, as much as one hundred miles per
day; and as compared with the dog, it possesses the great advantage of
being able to obtain its food by the way.
As a source of venison it cannot be excelled, especially in the autumn
season, when it is in prime condition. During September and October the
males are rolling fat; and as food their flesh is then equal to the
finest beef. Of all meats I have ever tasted, certainly reindeer tongues
take the first place for daintiness and delicacy of flavor.
From the skins of the reindeer the natives of the Arctic regions make
almost every article of winter clothing. For this purpose it is most
admirably suited, both because of its great warmth and its remarkable
lightness. Through different methods of tanning and dressing it is made
adaptable to a great variety of other uses. Sewing thread, lashing twine
and other strong lines are also made from sinew obtained from along the
spine of this animal.
What the buffalo was to the North American Indian in days gone by, the
reindeer is now to the Eskimos and other natives of the north country.