Cook Inlet is so sheltered and is favored by a climate so agreeable that
it was called "Summer-land" by the Russians.
Across Kachemak Bay from Seldovia is Homer--another town of the inlet
blessed with a poetic name. When I landed at its wharf, in 1905, it was
the saddest, sweetest place in Alaska. It was but the touching phantom
of a town.
We reached it at sunset of a June day.
A low, green, narrow spit runs for several miles out into the waters of
the inlet, bordered by a gravelly beach. Here is a railroad running
eight miles to the Cook Inlet coal-fields, a telephone line,
roundhouses, machine-shops, engines and cars, a good wharf, some of the
best store buildings and residences in Alaska,--all painted white with
soft red roofs, and all deserted!
On this low and lovely spit, fronting the divinely blue sea and the full
glory of the sunset, there was only one human being, the postmaster.
When the little _Dora_ swung lightly into the wharf, this poor lonely
soul showed a pitiable and pathetic joy at this fleeting touch of
companionship. We all went ashore and shook hands with him and talked to
him. Then we returned to our cabins and carried him a share of all our
daintiest luxuries.
When, after fifteen or twenty minutes, the _Dora_ withdrew slowly into
the great Safrano rose of the sunset, leaving him, a lonely, gray
figure, on the wharf, the look on his face made us turn away, so that
we could not see one another's eyes.
It was like the look of a dog who stands helpless, lonely, and cannot
follow.
I have never been able to forget that man. He was so gentle, so simple,
so genuinely pleased and grateful--and so lonely!
As I write, Homer is once more a town, instead of a phantom. I no longer
picture him alone in those empty, echoing, red-roofed buildings; but one
of my most vivid and tormenting memories of Alaska is of a gray figure,
with a little pathetic stoop, going up the path from the wharf, in the
splendor of that June sunset, with his dog at his side.
* * * * *
The Act of 1902, commonly known as the Alaska Game Law, defines game,
fixes open seasons, restricts the number which may be killed, declares
certain methods of hunting unlawful, prohibits the sale of hides, skins,
or heads at any time, and prohibits export of game animals, or
birds--except for scientific purposes, for propagation, or for
trophies--under restrictions prescribed by the Department of
Agriculture. The law also authorizes the Secretary of Agriculture, when
such action shall be necessary, to place further restrictions on killing
in certain regions. The importance of this provision is already
apparent. Owing to the fact that nearly all persons who go to Alaska to
kill big game visit a few easily accessible localities--notably Kadiak
Island, the Kenai Peninsula, and the vicinity of Cook Inlet--it has
become necessary to protect the game of these localities by special
regulations, in order to prevent its speedy destruction.
The object of the act is to protect the game of the territory so far as
possible from the mere "killer," but without causing unnecessary
hardship. Therefore, Indians, Eskimos, miners, or explorers actually in
need of food, are permitted to kill game for their immediate use. The
exception in favor of natives, miners, and explorers must be construed
strictly. It must not be used merely as a pretext to kill game out of
season, for sport or for market, or to supply canneries or settlements;
and, under no circumstances, can the hides or heads of animals thus
killed be lawfully offered for sale.
Every person who has travelled in Alaska knows that these laws are
violated daily. An amusing incident occurred on the _Dora_, on the first
morning "to Westward" from Seward. Far be it from me to eat anything
that is forbidden; but I had _seen_ fried moose steak in Seward. It
resembles slices of pure beef tenderloin, fried.
It chanced that at our first breakfast on the _Dora_ I found fried beef
tenderloin on the bill of fare, and ordered it. Scarcely had I been
served when in came the gentleman from Boston, who, through his alert
and insatiable curiosity concerning all things Alaskan and his keen
desire to experience every possible Alaskan sensation,--all with the
greatest naivete and good humor,--had endeared himself to us all on our
long journey together.
"What's that?" asked he, briskly, scenting a new experience on my plate.
"Moose," said I, sweetly.
"Moose--_moose!_" cried he, excitedly, seizing his bill of fare. "I'll
have some. Where is it? I don't see it!"
"Hush-h-h," said I, sternly. "It is not on the bill of fare. It is out
of season."
"Then how shall I get it?" he cried, anxiously. "I must have some."
"Tell the waiter to bring you the same that he brought me."
When the dear, gentle Japanese, "Charlie," came to serve him, he
shamelessly pointed at my plate.
"I'll have some of that," said he, mysteriously.
Charlie bowed, smiled like a seraph, and withdrew, to return presently
with a piece of beef tenderloin.
The gentleman from Boston fairly pounced upon it. We all watched him
expectantly. His expression changed from anticipation to satisfaction,
delight, rapture.
"That's the most delicious thing I ever ate," he burst forth, presently.
"Do you think so?" said I. "Really, I was disappointed. It tastes very
much like beefsteak to me."
"Beefsteak!" said he, scornfully. "It tastes no more like beefsteak than
pie tastes like cabbage! What a pity to waste it on one who cannot
appreciate its delicate wild flavor!"
Months afterward he sent me a marked copy of a Boston newspaper, in
which he had written enthusiastically of the "rare, wild flavor,
haunting as a poet's dream," of the moose which he had eaten on the
_Dora_.
In addition to the animals commonly regarded as game, walrus and brown
bear are protected; but existing laws relating to the fur-seal,
sea-otter, or other fur-bearing animals are not affected. The act
creates no close season for black bear, and contains no prohibition
against the sale or shipment of their skins or heads; but those of brown
bear may be shipped only in accordance with regulations.
The Act of 1908 amends the former act as follows:--
It is unlawful for any person in Alaska to kill any wild game, animals,
or birds, except during the following seasons: north of latitude
sixty-two degrees, brown bear may be killed at any time; moose, caribou,
sheep, walrus and sea-lions, from August 1 to December 10, inclusive;
south of latitude sixty-two degrees, moose, caribou, and mountain sheep,
from August 20 to December 31, inclusive; brown bear, from October 1 to
July 1, inclusive; deer and mountain goats, from August 1 to February
1, inclusive; grouse, ptarmigan, shore birds, and water fowl, from
September 1 to March 1, inclusive.
The Secretary of Agriculture is authorized, whenever he may deem it
necessary for the preservation of game animals or birds, to make and
publish rules and regulations which shall modify the close seasons
established, or to provide different close seasons for different parts
of Alaska, or to place further limitations and restrictions on the
killing of such animals or birds in any given locality, or to prohibit
killing entirely for a period not exceeding two years in such locality.
It is unlawful for any person at any time to kill any females or
yearlings of moose, or for any one person to kill in one year more than
the number specified of each of the following game animals: Two moose,
one walrus or sea-lion, three caribou; sheep, or large brown bear; or to
kill or have in his possession in any one day more than twenty-five
grouse or ptarmigan, or twenty-five shore birds or water fowl.
The killing of caribou on the Kenai Peninsula is prohibited until August
20, 1912.
It is unlawful for any non-resident of Alaska to hunt any of the
protected game animals, except deer and goats, without first obtaining a
hunting license; or to hunt on the Kenai Peninsula without a registered
guide, such license not being transferable and valid only during the
year of issue. The fee for this license is fifty dollars to citizens of
the United States, and one hundred dollars to foreigners; it is
accompanied by coupons authorizing the shipment of two moose,--if killed
north of sixty-two degrees,--four deer, three caribou, sheep, goats,
brown bear, or any part of said animals. A resident of Alaska may ship
heads or trophies by obtaining a shipping license for this purpose. A
fee of forty dollars permits the shipment of heads or trophies as
follows: one moose, if killed north of sixty-two degrees; four deer, two
caribou, two sheep, goats, or brown bear. A fee of ten dollars permits
the shipment of a single head or trophy of caribou or sheep; and one of
five, that of goat, deer, or brown bear. It costs just one hundred and
fifty dollars to ship any part of a moose killed south of sixty-two
degrees. Furthermore, before any trophy may be shipped from Alaska, the
person desiring to make such shipment shall first make and file with the
customs office of the port where the shipment is to be made, an
affidavit to the effect that he has not violated any of the provisions
of this act; that the trophy has been neither bought nor sold, and is
not to be shipped for sale, and that he is the owner thereof.
The Governor of Alaska, in issuing a license, requires the applicant to
state whether the trophies are to be shipped through the ports of entry
of Seattle, Portland, or San Francisco, and he notifies the collector at
the given port as to the name of the license holder, and name and
address of the consignee.
After reading these rigid laws, I cannot help wondering whether the
Secretary of Agriculture ever saw an Alaskan mountain sheep. If he has
seen one and should unexpectedly come across some poor wretch smuggling
the head of one out of Alaska, he would--unless his heart is as hard as
"stun-cancer," as an old lady once said--just turn his eyes in another
direction and refuse to see what was not meant for his vision.
The Alaskan sheep does not resemble those of Montana and other sheep
countries. It is more delicate and far more beautiful. There is a
deerlike grace in the poise of its head, a fine and sensitive outline to
nostril and mouth, a tenderness in the great dark eyes, that is at once
startled and appealing; while the wide, graceful sweep of the horns is
unrivalled.
The head of the moose, as well as of the caribou, is imposing, but
coarse and ugly. The antlers of the delicate-headed deer are pretty, but
lack the power of the horns of the Alaskan sheep. The Montana sheep's
head is almost as coarse as that of the moose. The dainty ears and
soft-colored hair of the Alaskan sheep are fawnlike. From the Alaska
Central trains near Lake Kenai, the sheep may be seen feeding on the
mountain that has been named for them.
Cape Douglas, at the entrance to Cook Inlet, is the admiration of all
save the careful navigator who usually at this point meets such
distressing winds and tides that he has no time to devote to the
contemplation of scenery.
This noble promontory thrusts itself boldly out into the sea for a
distance of about three miles, where it sinks sheer for a thousand feet
to the pale green surf that breaks everlastingly upon it. It is far more
striking and imposing than the more famous Cape Elizabeth on the eastern
side of the entrance to the inlet.