All Indians are born liars when it comes to getting the better of a
white trader. But outside of business, they are strictly truthful,
especially when telling stories about animal life. A few years ago, a
Chippewayan told me the following yarn, which I believe is true.
One winter, the Indian was on his way to his trapline on snow-shoes when
he came across a medium sized fisher and a porcupine. He watched them at
a distance without being seen.
The porcupine was huddled in a ball, every quill sticking out. The
fisher, mad with hunger, was circling around, unable to find a weak spot
in the prickly armor. After a while, the fisher chose a spot a few feet
away from the porcupine and began digging a hole or tunnel through the
snow, straight for its quarry. Every few minutes, the fisher would stop,
go to the porcupine, run around it, and even scratch snow on its back so
as to show that he was still there and prevent the other animal from
moving away. That went on for a long time. Finally, the tunnel was
ended. With unerring instinct the fisher had stopped his digging when he
felt that he had reached a spot exactly beneath the porcupine’s neck.
With a jerk upwards of his hard little snout, the fisher pierced the
crust of snow, and before poor “Porky” could guess what was happening,
he had him by the throat, far from the reach of the murderous quills.
[Illustration: Porcupine]