ARCTIC FLORA AND FAUNA
Another striking feature of the Arctics is the effect upon the
appearance and character of those shores touched by the Gulf Stream, as
compared with those where its waters never pass. Thus the coast of
Greenland is comparatively luxuriant in vegetation and its seas teem
with fish, while Baffin Land, opposite, washed by arctic currents, is
desolate and barren, with no fishing off its shores. The same contrast
holds good with respect to the north and south coasts of Hudson Strait.
There are no cod off Baffin Land, but the Labrador fishermen ply their
trade right into Hudson Bay.
Baffin “Island” is a trackless, mysterious continent where, high up on
the summits of some of the mountains, there are vast lakes fed from
hidden springs—or from streams from still higher ranges—wherein salmon
trout abound! At least, these fish are exactly like the sea trout which
come up the rivers every year to spawn, save that the hue of the belly
is bright red. The Eskimo point to this as proof that they never go
down to the sea, and call them the “dirty fish,” since they never quit
the lakes. How they ever got into them is a mystery the arctic
zoölogist must be left to solve, since neither hunter nor fisherman can
offer a suggestion. The trout could not have attained any such level
upstream. It would almost appear—if one might hazard a guess—that at
some remote geologic epoch this part of the N. American continent was
submerged, for the Eskimo of Baffin Land speak of an inland sea, now
dry, where fossil remains are to be found of large creatures such as
the whale and walrus. They come across fossil fish, indeed, in their
more extended wanderings, also shells, and bring them back to camp as
curiosities.
The Eskimo are properly a seaboard people and seldom penetrate farther
inland than thirty miles from the coast, unless during the annual deer
hunt, when they may be away for a couple of months, according to the
distance the quest may take them.
Possibly these unaccountable trout are the descendants of fish cut off
from access to the sea, when the gradual rise of the continental level
left lakes of originally salt water among the ranges. Where they are
not without marine life (excepting those wonderful seaweeds which are
found at the tropics as well as in the arctic), the waters round these
shores contain many species of fish commonly known elsewhere, only in a
much less developed state. Such creatures as sea anemones, shrimps, sea
snails, small squid, and salt water centipedes, are to be found on the
arctic beach. Naturalists enumerate a formidable list of the sort,
bristling with scientific nomenclature. Then there are the mosquitoes,
of which more anon, and small yellow, white and brown butterflies. It
is indeed due to the comparatively rich fauna and flora of the arctic
regions, both east and west, that arctic exploration has been carried
out so frequently. The utter absence of plant or animal or human life
in the dead antarctic has greatly militated against the success of
southbound expeditions.
To deal with the mosquitoes! These insects abound in the summer-time,
and are a terrible pest. It is a puzzle how they survive the winter,
when everything is frozen solid, and the very spots which thaw under
the sudden warmth of an arctic spring and allow them to swarm out in
their malignant millions are iron-bound as the rocks themselves for the
greater part of the year. So formidable are these insects that man
himself has sometimes fallen a victim to their onslaught. On one
occasion, a polar bear was crossing a swamp on the prowl, when he was
attacked by mosquitoes. They stung his eyes, the inside of his ears,
penetrated his nostrils and stung them. As the nasal passages became
inflamed and swollen, the bear was forced to open his mouth to breathe,
when his enemies swarmed in, fastened on to tongue, palate and throat,
causing them also to swell, until the tormented brute succumbed to
suffocation. His howls attracted the attention of some Eskimo hunters,
who afterwards told the tale.
Another time, some women in a summer camp noticed a kyak (skin canoe)
drifting about at sea in a curious way, and a man went off to
investigate. On arriving within hail he found a body in the canoe,
leaning back stone dead; done to death in precisely the same way by
mosquitoes.
Arctic birds are numerous. Most of them are migratory, but an eagle, a
hawk, some owls and a raven, remain the year round. The most typical of
all Arctic birds, the Snow Bunting (Plectrophenax nivalis), is the
first to arrive and bring news of the spring. He comes about the same
time as the Ptarmigan. Lastly comes the bird that always seems to greet
the explorer on landing, the Purple Sandpiper (Tringa striata). He
comes soon after the ducks—the Eider, the King Eider, the Pintail and
the Harlequin. Between the two, there is a rapid vernal succession of
birds, including sea pigeons and geese.
Eskimo hunters speak of the wild swan, on the south coast and in the
vicinity of Frobisher Bay. The raven is the only arctic bird which does
not change its plumage to match the surroundings. He is always
aggressively, blatantly black. Possibly, being so able a match for any
ordinary foe, this bird has no need to adopt the “protective
resemblance” of white. The writer has watched a raven alight to secure
some tit-bit of offal, and keep even the wolfish Eskimo dog at a
respectful distance, with its huge beak. The bird is cunning to a
degree. It will follow a trapper, note the position of his traps, and
return to visit and despoil them of their bait as soon as the coast is
clear. Then it takes up its stand on some convenient rock just out of
gunshot range, and watches the trapper on his return, just for all the
world as if it relished his comments!
So much for the land birds. At sea there are petrels, gulls, and skuas.
The natives do not recognise pictures of puffins or penguins, as these
birds are not known on their coasts.
Again, the animals of the frozen north form quite a formidable list.
There are three large lakes in Baffin Land (shown on the map at the
end), linked together by rivers and making connection with the sea by
river.
The southern lake is called “Angmakjuak” (“the great one”). The length
of this sea may indeed exceed 120 miles by 40 in breadth in its central
part. The central lake, “Tesseyuakjuak,” is possibly 140 miles long by
60 broad, and the northern lake “Netselik” (the place of seals) is at
least 15 miles across. The difference in level between these great
sheets of water is so inconsiderable that the natives can paddle with
ease either up or down the waterways connecting them; perhaps none of
them lie much higher than 300 feet above the sea. They teem with seal
coming up from the coasts, and on the shores of Netselik old hunters
will tell you they have seen the Red Fox, as well as white and smoky.
This may well be so, as the fox is a denizen of Labrador, and might
easily cross Hudson Strait on the ice during a hard winter. The seal of
these lakes and of the coast (much hunted for food and for their skins
by the natives), are the grey haired seals of wide-spread commerce, but
not the fine, fur-bearing animals whose pelts are of the first beauty
and value. This latter is a different species and is protected by
Government, only a certain number being allowed to be killed each year.
Bears, of course, abound. The female is the only arctic land creature
which hibernates. Then there is the wolf, the white and blue fox, [1]
the ermine, the arctic hare, a tailless snow mouse, or lemming, the
musk ox, and—the most widely distributed of all—the cariboo or reindeer
(Rangifer tarandus). It would be impossible to over-estimate the value
of the last named beautiful creature, alive or dead, to all the peoples
of the arctic countries, east or west. It would be superfluous here to
remark much about it, except to note one interesting peculiarity. The
reindeer differs from all other deer in that both sexes bear antlers.
The wolves, of course, are the inveterate enemies of the deer. In the
winter, when the latter herds leave the lowlands and go up to pasture
among the hills, where the snow lies less deep and can be more easily
scratched away, they are dogged by the wolves. These hungry and
voracious creatures know well enough that the deer are sentinelled
while feeding by their fighting males, and make no movement of
aggression until one of them chances to stray from the herd. When this
happens, the luckless animal is immediately headed off towards the
shore and hunted down. The wolfish pack concentrates behind it and
draws in on either side, so as to leave but one avenue of apparent
escape. The quarry dashes down and away, out on towards the ice; but
its weight is so great and its hoofs so sharp that the frozen crust of
snow gives way beneath it and sorely cuts it about the legs. The deer
loses blood and slackens in speed, so that the wolves, skimming easily
over the treacherous surface, close in and soon drag it down.
It is a fact well known to the Eskimo hunter that the actual chase is
put up by the female wolf, the male only coming in at the last, for the
kill. The former do the hustling and placing of the victim, as it were,
and the latter do the fighting and killing at the end.
The Lemming (Cuniculus torquatus) is a queer typical little arctic
animal. It has a chubby build, a rudimentary tail, and no external
ears. The first toe of the forepaw is almost nil, but the third and
fourth have very strong claws, which grow longer and still more
powerful in winter. It is grey in summer and white for the rest of the
year. It lives upon the grubs to be found amid the moss under the snow,
and burrows its way along as it searches for food. It is quite a
familiar sound to hear the scratch, scratch, scratch of a lemming’s
claws beneath, as one lies on the snow sleeping bench of an Eskimo’s
igloo. The creature’s skin when dried is used by the natives for
sticking over cuts or boils. It is hunted in the spring by the women
and children, who are guided by the sound of its burrowings. They arm
themselves with a stick having a long barbed wire attached, and spear
the animal with this through the snow.
Around the coasts there are various species of whales. The Grampus
(Orca gladiator) or killer, as it is called by the whalers, is a fierce
member of the dolphin group, sometimes attaining a length of thirty
feet, with large powerful teeth, from ten to thirteen in number, on
each side of the jaw. It has a high, upstanding fin on the back, like a
shark. It is very swift in the water and can easily overtake and kill
one of these latter creature. It is shunned and feared by all the
denizens of the arctic seas except the Walrus and the great Sperm
Whale. The Grampus is incredibly voracious, and has been known to
devour thirteen porpoises and fourteen seals at one meal.
All the smaller animals take refuge in shallow water inshore at the
approach of a Killer, only to fall a prey there to the native. The
Killers hunt the whalebone whale, which, fast though it is, cannot make
good its escape. The pursuers will leap right out of the water and
crash down upon the head of their victim; or rush upon it and ram it,
until terrified, stunned and exhausted, the whale drops its jaw, when
the Killers tear out huge pieces of the tongue. (The tongue of a whale
is a vast mass of fat, weighing in a full sized animal as much as a
ton.) Finally, the unwieldly carcase is also despatched, and the
Grampuses take themselves off, replete. The male Walrus is too active
and fierce to be beset in this manner, but a female encumbered with a
calf will often be pursued by the Killer. She takes the young one under
her flipper and tries to escape; but the aggressor rushes in and butts
at her. Sometimes he succeeds in claiming this tender mouthful;
sometimes he is killed by the infuriated mother.
The Sea Unicorn or Narwhal (Monodon monoceros), is a purely arctic
animal. The curious “horn” is really the left tooth grown to the length
of six or seven feet. It is only hollow for a certain distance.
Exteriorly this horn is spirally grooved, to allow presumably for quick
thrust and withdrawal. The Narwhal often engage in a mock combat among
themselves with these horns, but use them with fierce and deadly
precision when engaged in actual warfare.
It were too long to linger here with the creatures of the North, since
we shall meet them all, and many more, in dealing with the human
inhabitants of the country. Arctic animals have a fascination all their
own, and of late years a wonderfully sympathetic and intuitive
literature has grown up having them almost exclusively for its
protagonists. Jack London has endeared the powerful, savage, husky dog
to us for all time, in his “White Fang.”