Part 2

Preble writes (1902: 41): "Between York Factory and Fort Churchill a few small bands [of Woodland Caribou] are found throughout the year on the 'Barrens'." He includes reports to this effect from several sources, including J. W. Tyrrell (1898). The latter, however, does not specify which species of Caribou his party encountered. It might be expected that _R. a. arcticus_, rather than _R. caribou sylvestris_, would be the proper inhabitant of this tundra area. It is beyond question that the animals seen in recent years on the "Little Barrens" between the Churchill and the Nelson Rivers are the Barren Ground species. Furthermore, Mr. G. W. Malaher, of the Manitoba Game and Fisheries Branch, informed me that a considerable number of this species spend the summer and have their fawns on the Barrens in this area.

_Spring migration in the Nueltin Lake region_

The general pattern of this migration, as manifested particularly about the northwestern portion of the lake, was explained by Charles Schweder. As a rule, practically all the local Caribou spend the winter in the wooded country to the southward. When the northward movement starts in the spring, the does precede the bucks; they migrate through this area mostly in May (and apparently more commonly in the latter half of the month), but to some extent in April or even earlier. During June the majority of the animals passing by are bucks. According to Fred Schweder, Jr., the spring migration here is more regular, less erratic, than the fall migration.

When I arrived at Nueltin Lake on May 31, the spring migration was in full swing; it continued through June in gradually lessening force, and the last northbound band was seen on July 1. In the meantime many interesting details of caribou behavior came to light.

While flying from Churchill to Duck Lake Post on May 31, at a height of about 500 feet, we detected three bands on the frozen surface of Seal River, where they were evidently taking a noonday rest. They numbered approximately 40, 20, and 6 individuals. Within 20 minutes after resuming our journey, from Duck Lake Post to Nueltin Lake, we saw four more bands, numbering from two to a dozen individuals. Finally, just before landing on Windy Bay, we noticed a band of perhaps 20 crossing the bay a mile from its head.

Observations during the following 10 days showed that this was a very definite crossing-place for the Caribou, as if some invisible barrier on each side kept them to a certain line of march. Moreover, Charles Schweder informed me that they followed this identical route year after year. An examination of the local topography (map 1) soon revealed the reason. The rugged south side of Windy Bay rises steeply for some 500 feet to the summit of the Windy Hills, and over a considerable distance there are precipices and talus slopes barring the passage of such animals as Caribou. But the mile-long South Bay, meeting Windy Bay at right angles, affords a convenient break in the hills; and the slopes thereabouts are gradual enough to be negotiated readily by the Caribou. So here they converge from the neighboring heights, making long, slanting trails through the snow that are visible for miles; they pass out of the narrow mouth of South Bay as through a funnel, then follow the beaten path of their predecessors across the ice of Windy Bay toward the farther shore, until they are lost to view among a cluster of islands. It may be further remarked that their course northeastward from the mouth of South Bay is less obstructed by islands than almost any near-by portion of Windy Bay.

From our camp, a mile or so distant, Caribou in bands of approximately the following numbers were observed using this crossing-place during the early part of June: June 1--7, 10, 18, 20, and several other bands of unrecorded size; June 2--10, 3, 7; June 3--4, 4, 10, 30, 70, and others; June 4--3, 40?; June 5--40, 50, 75; June 6--25; June 10--8. Of course many others must have passed while our attention was elsewhere engaged. In most cases my records indicate the time of day when the bands were crossing Windy Bay. The periods were mainly from 10 to 11 a.m., from 2:30 to 5 p.m., and in the evening. Perhaps the infrequency of midday passages was due to the habit of the Caribou of resting at this period. One of the last bands to pass during the evening of June 1 consisted of about 20 individuals. Two big bucks were in the lead, and apparently a few others were scattered along the line. At the very rear was a big, extra-dark buck, immediately preceded by a yearling barely half its size.

In crossing the bay ice, the animals traveled habitually in long files, one after the other, and yet not altogether in single file. In watching the endlessly interesting spectacle from camp, we could not always count the individuals exactly, for here and there a few would get abreast of others and be partly concealed. The general formation of each band was that of a much strung-out procession. For the most part the animals progressed at a moderate walking gait; there were no flies to spur them on at this season. On one occasion the forward element of a large band was actually running, but those in the rear were going calmly, and there was no visible cause of alarm. At mid-morning of June 6 most of a band of 25 were lying down to rest on the bay ice, while a few remained standing.

Meanwhile Caribou in some numbers were advancing northward by crossing Windy River, the ice on which did not break up generally till June 14. On June 3, for example, as I peeped out of my tent at 4 a.m., there was a band of about 15 making a crossing a quarter of a mile above camp. Late in the afternoon several dozen did likewise close to the same place. At this period I did not get farther upstream to note how many might be passing there. On June 14, while the river ice was breaking up but while the bay ice was holding firm, two bucks moved about on the latter, just off the river's mouth. They appeared to be seeking a safe crossing. The smaller of the two almost invariably preceded, just as if it were aware that it would be less likely to break through than its companion. For the most part they walked rather sedately, but now and then took up a very leisurely trot. On the following day a dozen crossed Windy Bay at about the same place. These were the last ones seen on the ice in June. Though the ice remained on the bay for some days longer, it had evidently become unsafe.

Thereafter the Caribou obviously preferred the short passage of Windy River (no more than 50 or 60 yards wide in places) to a swim of half a mile or so across Windy Bay. So they appeared in considerable numbers on the south bank of the river, reconnoitering for a suitable place to cross. Many were deterred by movements or sounds in our camp on the north bank, including the yelping invariably set up by the tethered Husky dogs whenever they would catch sight of Caribou; the latter would then be likely either to retreat behind the ridges or to pass upstream along the south bank. Along the half-mile extent of this bank visible from our camp, I noted the following making the passage of the river by swimming: June 18, a band of half a dozen; June 20, a band of three landing practically in our dooryard and about 14 crossing at the mouth; June 21, six crossing at the mouth; June 24, about 10 (mostly big bucks) landing just above the camp. On the morning of July 1 a buck swam across the bay just off the river's mouth, and a little later a band of about 11--the last seen on the spring migration--were trotting upstream along the south bank.

Various groups observed during June, principally on the south side of the bay and the river, furnished memorable spectacles. Besides resorting to open areas on the frozen lakes and rivers for their resting periods, the Caribou will also select some commanding hilltop for the same purpose. On June 3 a band of 75 appeared in midday on the summit of a rocky hill ("Caribou Knoll," map 1) rising to a height of some 150 feet on the far side of Windy River. While some kept on feeding, many of them lay down on snowbanks, apparently preferring these to the plentiful patches of bare ground, and doubtless passing the time by chewing their cuds. The velvet of the bucks' new antlers was plainly visible through field-glasses. In the variety of their attitudes on this rocky height the animals were disposed perhaps more like alpine Chamois than like the generally conceived masses of Caribou on the low Barrens. What a subject for a Millais!

It appears likely that the higher elevations may serve for the nocturnal rest as well as for a noonday siesta. During the evening of June 1, for instance, some 75 Caribou in a loose aggregation were feeding over the summit of Josie's Hill, beyond the junction of Windy and South bays. On June 20 I was enjoying a wonderfully clear and golden light that was cast on the imposing mass of this hill as the sun was setting at my back about 9 o'clock. The glory of that scene was enhanced by picking out with the naked eye, at a distance of a couple of miles, two separate bands of 12 to 15 Caribou making their way upward toward the broad, plateaulike summit. Meanwhile a lone Caribou was outlined against the sky on one of the rocky ridges to the south. Might not these various movements have indicated a common urge to spend the semi-darkness of the Arctic summer night on some high, open area where a good lookout for Wolves could be kept?

About 2 p.m. on June 15, a herd, perhaps half a hundred strong, appeared on a ridge directly across the river from camp. The animals made a lovely spectacle as they stood for a time, despite certain human movements in camp. Then they moved off upstream. A couple of hours later about 15 Caribou were feeding quietly on the south bank. On the following morning a band of 20 were doing likewise in nearly the same place. Among them were a patriarchal buck (apparently the leader), several other bucks, various does (one with hard horns), and a large proportion of yearlings. The bucks in general were lighter in color--more buffy; the does and yearlings, a sort of smoke gray. They seemed to be feeding to some extent on the patches of crowberry and dwarf birch. Presently they trotted off upstream, almost but not quite in single file, for a couple marched out of line with the others.

On June 17 a band of about 20 appeared at a distance of 125 yards on the brow of a low hill near Stump Lake. Nearly all were big bucks, with velvety antlers up to about 20 inches in length. Perhaps three in the band were hornless--if not does, then young bucks that had very recently shed their antlers. Two of the bigger bucks were in the lead. At first the band came toward me, then went off at a tangent at a good pace, splashed across a little stream in a spirited action, and disappeared over the next ridge.

Out of several bands appearing on June 20 on the opposite side of the river, one of about 14 individuals came down the slope near the mouth, took to the water at once, and made for the north shore. A strong buck landed first, and farthest upstream; others did nearly as well, but some of the smaller animals were swept by the strong current down into the bay and probably landed beyond the point. On reaching the shore, and even some minutes afterward, several of the Caribou could be seen shaking the water from their fur in doglike fashion.

On the morning of June 21 a dozen came to the ridge across the river, briefly inspected the camp, and retreated. In a short time they returned, four antlered bucks in the lead, and some hornless individuals in the rear (almost in a separate band). Three of the bucks stood side by side, looking long and earnestly at the camp, while the others grazed. Finally dissatisfied with the prospect, they made off upstream.

A little before 7 p.m. on the same day six Caribou appeared on the same ridge. For once the dogs were inattentive and silent. After promenading back and forth along the brow, the Caribou disappeared on the far side of the ridge; but in a few moments they were in the water at the river's mouth, in very close formation, three of them swimming abreast. There were three good bucks and three smaller, hornless animals. After they got ashore at the opposite point, there was wagging of tails and shaking of ears, heads, and bodies, while the water flew off in a spray. Then they leisurely proceeded along the shore and around the point.

About 7 p.m. on June 24 some 10 Caribou (mostly big bucks) swam the river and landed immediately above our camp. The last two, I noted, were heading almost upstream in the current that was running 6-8 miles per hour. They swam high, with the whole line of the back 2 or 3 inches out of the water and with the antlers tilted back to keep the snout above the surface. On landing, the animals hastened to the top of the Camp Ridge and ran off along it, while the chained and frustrated dogs expressed their feelings in the usual manner.

As I was retiring to my tent on the Camp Ridge in the twilight about 11:30 p.m. on June 29, I noticed a Caribou in the opposite edge of the river, about 125 yards away. For the most part it stood in about a foot of water and kept watching upstream. After some minutes I moved closer, right along the skyline; I waved a white pillow at it and shouted several times, but still it would not leave. Eventually it did move a few feet back from the water's edge and there appeared to browse on some dwarf birches.

The next day, watching from Pile o' Rocks northwest of camp, I noticed three Caribou passing on a northeasterly course. They walked for the most part, but now and again trotted. They were two well-antlered bucks and a smaller individual with shorter horns. One of the former paused to graze in a green-sprouting sedge bog. It was perhaps such fresh summer vegetation that had helped to produce fat an inch thick on the haunches of an animal secured about this date.

The area near the western border of Keewatin, lying at some distance south of Dubawnt Lake and west of the upper Kazan River, does not appear to attract large numbers of Caribou. Just once, in May, Charles Schweder has found them crossing a lake which he considered Dubawnt, but may have been Kamiluk. In his trapping excursions in that area he has found trails and other signs all along the way, indicating that the animals at least pass through on their migrations.

_Summer interlude_

After July 1 no more Caribou were seen about the Windy River for five weeks. From information supplied by Charles Schweder, it appears that virtually all of the animals desert the southern portion of the Barren Grounds at this season. Before dropping their fawns, the does pass on for an undetermined distance to the northward of that portion of the upper Kazan River lying immediately below Ennadai Lake. The rear guard of the northward migration seems to be composed mainly of bucks and a few barren does.

A general veil of mystery seems so far to have enshrouded most of the natal places (except the islands along the Arctic mainland coast) and the first few weeks in the life of the Caribou fawns.

_Fall migration in the Nueltin Lake region_

In former times the southward migration reached the Nueltin Lake region in July (_cf._ Downes, 1943: 203-237), sometimes as early as the middle of the month. Suddenly the time of arrival shifted to (early) August, and has so remained. In Charles Schweder's experience, the bucks nearly every year precede the does on the southward migration; this suggests that at least the majority of the bucks may not go so far north as the does. In a certain year the does actually appeared first in coming south. In normal years, according to Fred Schweder, Jr., the migration continues till October or November, by which time the animals have passed into the wooded country for the winter.

Charles Schweder described the general pattern of fall migration as follows. At first two or three animals will appear, then a few more, and after several days a big movement, lasting three or four days, will pass through. Thereafter the numbers dwindle, though the migration continues. Curiously enough, there is a definite retrograde movement northward into the Barrens in September--sometimes as early as the first part of the month. Then there is a final movement toward the south in November, at the time of the first good snows; the largest herds of the year may then be seen. Just how far the migration in 1947 conformed to this pattern (outlined in early August) will be seen in the following pages.

The big August movement occurs occasionally as early as the first days of the month, whereas it was delayed till the last week in 1947. About the first of August, 1943, according to Fred Schweder, Jr., a thousand Caribou swam across the mouth of Windy River in the course of an hour, and there were other thousands during a two weeks' period. But such a large migration strikes this point only once in several years. In other years it may pass southward farther to the west, as in the vicinity of Simons' Lake.

In the fall of 1946--the very season when the Caribou bypassed the Eskimo camps on the upper Kazan River--there were said to have been far more than the normal numbers in the Windy River area. Thousands passed in one day, about October 10. The hills about Four-hill Creek then gave Fred Schweder, Jr., the impression of "moving with Deer." By comparison, the numbers along the Windy River in 1947 were considered by the local residents to have been below normal, however impressive they may have been to a zoological visitor. On the other hand, it seemed to Charles Schweder, during his trip down the Thlewiaza River in late August of 1947, that Caribou were still very numerous; and he reported that people along the west coast of Hudson Bay were then getting more of the animals than in previous years.

Only rarely do limited numbers of Caribou remain all winter in the Windy River area. During Charles Schweder's years of residence there (about 1936-47) the animals had done so just once--on the Windy Hills. In 1946-47 Fred Schweder, Jr., found about 300 of them remaining all winter about the north end of Ennadai Lake. He said that the locally wintering animals are all bucks. Katello, an elderly Eskimo of the upper Kazan River, informed Charles Schweder that the Caribou used to remain there all winter, but now very rarely do so.

By the end of July, after both men and dogs had subsisted for several weeks on a diet devoid of caribou meat, an air of expectancy began to pervade the Windy River camp. The hunters roamed the Barrens or watched from some lookout post such as the Pile o' Rocks (fig. 27). No Caribou were detected during plane trips to the upper Kazan River and return on July 31 and August 3, though their ancient, well-marked trails were visible along the ridges. It was not until August 6 that the first buck of the return movement was encountered. On the following day another animal was secured. On August 10 and 11 only a few Caribou--not over 25 in a band--were seen by Charles Schweder and Fred Schweder, Jr., from the air between the Windy and the Kazan rivers. It began to be feared that the bulk of the migration might pass somewhere to the westward. On August 13, however, at a distance of some miles from camp, Fred sighted 20 Caribou; all of them were does and fawns except for one buck. On August 17 he secured a good-sized buck (specimen No. 1065; figs. 3, 4) at Bear Slough and saw five other bucks elsewhere. Two days later Anoteelik reported a band of 13.

On August 20 Fred reported about 300 Caribou moving in our direction across the Barrens east of Lake Charles; they proved to be the advance guard of a big movement. On the same afternoon I had filmed several bucks going their separate ways on the slopes about Pile o' Rocks and Stony Man. They were moving along somewhat hurriedly, in a manner very different from the placid grazing of sheep or cattle. One or two does with fawns also appeared in the vicinity. (The passage of a Keewatin Tundra Wolf over the same ground a short time previously had no effect, as far as I observed, on the behavior of the animals at this time.) A grander, though more distant, spectacle gradually unfolded off to the eastward, beyond Little River, where several groups, numbering from 3 to 20 or 25 individuals, were feeding quietly over the open Barrens. Their fresh dark autumn coats showed up much more conspicuously than had the cream-buff of their winter coats in June. Presently the scene became livelier, as the largest band, composed of does and fawns as well as lordly bucks, started to romp northward over the Barrens. One or more of the various kinds of insects that bring life-long misery to the Caribou may have stampeded them. This band swept past a group of half its size without at once involving it. A doe and a fawn remained lying down as the others passed.

As the eye swept farther over that lonely land, still other Caribou were disclosed singly or in groups scattered over a couple of square miles. There was no strong herd instinct as they grazed at will. Even when on the march, they straggled along, some as much as 20 to 30 yards apart. As the sun sank lower, and the black flies became less active with the dropping temperature (about 53°), a lull ensued in the movements of the Caribou.

The big movement of the fall migration finally began to materialize on Sunday, August 24. This and the next few days were filled with memorable experiences. The throngs of Caribou passing at such times around the head of Windy Bay and across the lowermost portions of Little and Windy rivers may be accounted for, in part, by the local topography (map 1). The upper part of Windy Bay, occupied by numerous islands of various sizes and extending about 5 miles in an east-west direction, opposes something of a barrier to the Caribou in their southward trek. The easiest way to overcome this barrier is to by-pass it. So the migrant herds approaching the north shore of the bay turn westward toward Little River. At a point half a mile short of this stream a rather minor proportion of the Caribou actually do essay a passage of Windy Bay. They cross an island lying very close to the north shore, then steer for a small rocky islet a quarter of a mile northwest of the mouth of South Bay. Here they get a brief respite from swimming by walking through the shallow bordering waters, then continue straight on to the rugged south shore of Windy Bay. This course is roughly parallel to, and a quarter of a mile west of, the one pursued northward or northeastward across the ice in the spring migration. The Caribou were seen to follow this water route on various days from August 24 to September 8, and again on October 7. Like the one across the ice, it is probably a regular, well-established, annual route.

The greater number of the migrants proceed along the north shore of the bay to Little River and are there confronted with a choice of various further routes. Some continue for an indefinite distance up the northeastern bank, passing Lake Charles on their right, though other animals, coming from the north, may be following this bank in the opposite direction. Probably most of the Caribou arriving from the eastward either plunge into Little River at its mouth and swim across (figs. 9, 10, 12) or pass upstream for a bare quarter of a mile and then wade across at a rapid (figs. 7, 8).