Part 14

GENERAL HABITS

Daily periods of activity and rest

According to Charles Schweder, the Caribou do not move about much at night; that seems to be their principal time for sleep. They exhibit a definite tendency to pause and rest also toward the middle of the day. Several instances have already been given of the animals resting at such a time on frozen lakes and rivers: lakes southwest of Reindeer Lake, March 18; lakes south of Lake Athabaska, April 16; Seal River, May 31; Windy Bay, June 6 (mid-morning). Open hilltops are evidently sought likewise for both nocturnal and mid-day rests: knoll by Windy River, June 3; Josie's Hill, June 20; ridge by Little River, August 24 (about 9 a.m.). (For details, see sections on Winter range, Spring migration, and Fall migration.)

Although we noted a small band of Caribou passing through a thick and extensive stand of spruce at dusk on October 2, Fred Schweder, Jr., remarked that they do not rest in such a place; they are safer from Wolves in open areas. Charles Schweder reported about 50 Caribou, in three slightly separated bands, appearing on the south side of Windy River near Four-hill Creek during the evening of September 24, but not making up their minds to cross; he thought they might have been scared by Wolves. Possibly there was a similar explanation for the crossing of the river at this point by large numbers of the animals during an October night several years previously.

According to Fred Schweder, Jr., a day's movement of Caribou past the mouths of Little and Windy rivers during the fall migration generally does not commence before 10 a.m. and ends about 3 p.m. The explanation of such a phenomenon is none too obvious; and in any event, there were exceptions enough, though the general statement may hold true for the bulk of the migrants. As remarked in the section on Spring migration, the daily periods when the Caribou crossed the ice of Windy Bay were mainly from 10 to 11 a.m., from 2:30 to 5 p.m., and in the evening.

On August 27, about 5:50 p.m., a majority (say half a dozen) of a small band of Caribou were lying down on a slope near the mouth of Little River. They faced down wind to watch for enemies in that direction, while their noses would warn them of any approaching from the opposite direction. Their attitude was very much like that of Norway Reindeer figured by Seton (1929, +3+: pls. 11, 15, 18).

Charles Schweder spoke of having seen whole herds lying down to rest, while none of the animals remained standing up on guard. He had noted one such herd of 600 or 700 along the Thlewiaza River in August. He further stated that when the Caribou lie down to rest and to chew the cud, they hold the head up. They may also sleep in this position. In the hard winter of 1944-45, when the snow was deep and the animals were tired and hungry, he came up to a resting herd. All but one of them got up and moved away. That one remained sleeping, head up and eyes closed; Charles walked up to within 10 feet and shot it. He has also seen resting Caribou lay their heads down on the side, but only for a few moments at a time.

References.--J. B. Tyrrell, 1892: 129; Jones, 1899: 359; Harper, 1949: 227; Banfield, 1951a: 23.

Organization of herds

The Barren Ground Caribou is a distinctly gregarious species. It goes in herds for at least the greater part of the year; this is especially true of the spring and autumn migration periods and of the winter months. We know comparatively little of the behavior of the does at fawning time in June; but probably there is a tendency toward solitariness on their part at that season. It is true that solitary Caribou may be met with at almost any season of the year; but this doubtless represents merely temporary rather than permanent segregation of such individuals. At the very end of the spring migration and at the beginning of the autumn migration, there may be, among the sparse southernmost elements of the population, a larger proportion of solitary animals.

While marching over the Barrens and feeding as they go, the smaller bands maintain a fairly loose organization, as apparently best suiting their needs. On the other hand, the huge herds of former times, such as the Tyrrells met on the upper Dubawnt in 1893 (J. B. Tyrrell, 1897: 49-50, pl. 1; J. W. Tyrrell, 1908: pls. facing pp. 80, 81; Seton, 1929, +3+: pl. 22), obviously maintained very compact ranks. In my limited experience, the animals bunched more closely in crossing the rivers than was normally the case on land among feeding herds. While swimming, they would follow each other in files at minimum intervals; but in stepping across rapids they might extend these intervals somewhat.

When merely covering ground, without stopping to feed, or when following a trail through brush or along a narrow ridge, there is a strong tendency for the animals to go in a single file, or at least in a procession many times longer than wide. This was also apparent when they were crossing the ice of Windy Bay in June.

When Caribou flee from some source of alarm, a distinct tendency toward compact bunching may be observed. This may have been developed as a measure of protection from pursuing Wolves; the latter could naturally overcome a straggling or isolated individual more readily than one in a compact herd. The Caribou running away from the train in the "Little Barrens" south of Churchill very clearly demonstrated the tendency toward a close formation. (See also, in the section on Disposition, the account of a herd attacked by a hunter near Lake Charles.)

The larger herds of the autumn migration seemed to be generally composed of all sexes and ages; yet some sizable bands were made up chiefly of bucks on the one hand, or of does and fawns on the other hand. The rear guard of the spring migration and the vanguard of the autumn migration are generally composed of bucks, traveling either singly or in small bands; this state of affairs is looked upon as evidence that the majority of the bucks do not advance so far to the north in June and July as the does do.

The following are a few examples of the composition and leadership (or rear-guarding) of groups of Caribou. (Other examples are mentioned in the sections on Migration.) A band of about 20, after feeding for a time on the south bank of Windy River on June 16, moved off upstream, mostly in single file, with a patriarchal buck in the lead. The remainder of the band included several lesser bucks and various does and yearlings. On the following day a band of equal size, composed chiefly of bucks but including three hornless individuals (does?), was led by two of the bigger bucks. When a band of some 40 does and fawns approached Little River to cross it on August 25, a doe came first to the water's edge to make a careful inspection. On the same day I remarked having noted several times that a buck brought up the rear of a band. On August 26 I noted that a distinct majority in the herds of the previous two or three days were does and fawns, although there were generally a few bucks present also. At this period I got the impression that the number of individuals in a band was frequently not far from 25. On August 28, when a band of 40 crossed the mouth of Little River, three or four bucks plunged in first, but a doe was almost even with them. At the Bear Slough, on September 3, a group consisted of two bucks, two does, and a fawn. On September 15 Fred Schweder, Jr., reported seeing about 100 Caribou, with not a buck among them. On September 24 about 15 does and fawns were resting or feeding quietly by Glacier Pond. On September 28 a band of six large bucks crossed the Camp Ridge. On October 1, an older and a younger buck appeared in the shoal waters of Duck Bay. On November 3, in the same locality, a band of about 50 was composed largely of does, but included a few fawns and a few well-antlered bucks. On November 11 five does were reported crossing the mouth of Windy River on the ice.

Charles Schweder remarked that the leader of a band is generally a doe; but sometimes it is a buck, or even a fawn. There is virtually no way of telling whether the same doe habitually leads a band. In the big migrant herds, bucks bring up the rear. Once in September, in a herd of about 100 animals, the front half was composed of does and fawns, the rear half of bucks. In the rutting season the does are naturally in the lead, the bucks following them.

References.--Hearne, 1795: 198; Richardson, "1825": 329; Simpson, 1843: 277, 281, 381; J. Anderson, 1856: 24, and 1857: 324; Schwatka, 1885: 83; Pike, 1917 (1892): 49, 174, 204, 209; Dowling, 1893: 107; Stone and Cram, 1904: 52; Blanchet, 1925: 32-33, and 1926b: 48; Critchell-Bullock, 1930: 192-196; Hoare, 1930: 13, 33, 37; Kitto, 1930: 88; Mallet, 1930: 20-23; Jacobi, 1931: 190, 203-204; Hornby, 1934: 106; Birket-Smith, 1936: 112; Hamilton, 1939: 247; Clarke, 1940: 95; Downes, 1943: 256; Manning, 1943a: 52; Harper, 1949: 228, 229; Banfield, 1951a: 23-26.

Disposition

The Barren Ground Caribou comes close to holding the palm for unwariness among the larger land mammals of North America. It is fortunate that its range lies so far from the centers of civilization. It is scarcely conceivable that it could survive, as the White-tailed Deer does, in some of our most thickly settled areas. At the river crossings, where I watched the pageant of migration for day after day, some of the animals would come up to within a rod while I handled my cameras in the open, with no more cover than knee-high bushes and rocks (figs. 11, 14). Where else, among the larger creatures of the wilderness, could one find such a close approximation to a Garden-of-Eden existence? Until they detected the human scent, they would stare at me at such close quarters with little more concern than so many barnyard cattle. (For examples, see the section on Fall migration.) Moreover, there were occasions when they must have gotten my wind and still did not show panic. There is an obvious deficiency of eyesight or judgment, or both.

To account for their behavior on such occasions, I speculated as follows. The species has scarcely any predatory enemies save man, the Wolf, and (perhaps to some extent) the Wolverine. In their normal experience, any such enemy, if within close range, would be making an attack. Thus a questionable figure, not becoming evident to them until they are within close range, and then making no motion to attack, may be dismissed by them as something different and therefore harmless.

The attitude of unconcern has probably been developed in past generations through the habit of the Caribou of traveling in vast throngs. The threat of danger to a given individual in a herd of, say, 100,000 is practically negligible. From time immemorial the river crossings have represented a particular point of attack on the part of the natives. Yet when a large band of Caribou come to such a crossing, they may plunge in with little pause or hesitation. On the other hand, when a lone doe with her fawn approaches the river bank, she may be very circumspect, taking time to look carefully upstream and down, and across, before venturing into the water. I also saw another doe with a fawn exercise similar precaution, when she was merely the first of a band of 40 to reach the river's edge. It is probably concern for her fawn that renders a doe more circumspect than a buck.

When Fred Schweder, Jr., was endeavoring to intercept a Wolf on September 6, a fullgrown buck came feeding around a tree within 10 feet of him. The animal winded Fred without apparently seeing him, and went back and forth uncertainly for about a minute; finally it moved off very slowly.

Stefánsson's account (1913b) of his various adventures with Caribou near the Arctic coast of Mackenzie indicates a far wilder animal in that region than the one in Keewatin. It appeared a great deal easier for me, with no particular effort at caution, to get within photographic range (say a dozen feet to 50 yards) than for him to approach within rifle range (several hundred yards).

Even after being fired upon, a single animal or a band in the Nueltin Lake region will rarely put distance between themselves and a hunter with all possible dispatch, as an alert White-tailed Deer would, but will run hither and thither in confusion, with frequent pauses to display their befuddlement. On October 8 I was a distant and saddened spectator of a scene of slaughter. A hundred or more Caribou were resting or feeding quietly on a bare ridge south of Lake Charles. They were distributed in a narrow formation, 75-100 yards long and from one to several animals deep. A hunter, approaching close to the south end of the herd, began firing. With one accord they made toward the north, but very shortly executed a sharp turn and came back rapidly in the opposite direction, passing in a narrow, compact column within 30 feet of the hunter, who continued shooting. In 200 or 300 yards they paused and allowed the hunter to come up with them and resume shooting. The process was repeated over a distance of three miles; but the pursuer now and then circled ahead of the herd instead of following in its tracks. The final toll: 29 Caribou hit and 22 or 23 secured--virtually a quarter of the herd destroyed and most of it to be used for dog feed.

It is said that the attachment between a doe and its fawn is such that when one of them is killed, the hunter can approach within 50 feet of the surviving doe or within 20 feet of the surviving fawn. A fawn is apt to linger for days in the vicinity where its dam has been killed.

Charles Schweder has never seen fawns playing with each other or with their mothers; two or three times he has seen one frisking by itself--such as jumping about or running in a circle--but never for more than half a minute at a time. Seriousness of life for a Caribou seems confirmed from its infancy.

In the hard winter of 1944-45, when the Caribou were tired and hungry, Charles had the rare experience of driving his dogteam right through herds on Nueltin Lake; the animals merely moved aside enough to let him pass. In like vein Joe Chambers spoke of encountering such numbers of migrating Caribou on or near the "Little Barrens" south of Churchill in the spring of 1947 that his dogs "went wild" and he had to halt for a time; the animals came within about 100 yards of his team.

A Caribou bold enough to attack a man is very rarely heard of. Yet that was the experience of 15-year-old Anoteelik on September 8. Having run out of ammunition, he undertook to kill a 2-year-old buck with a rock in a patch of timber. (Possibly the animal had already been wounded with Anoteelik's .22 rifle.) When the missile failed of its mark, the buck made for the boy, who escaped by climbing a tree. Perhaps this is the first case on record of a man or a boy (especially an Eskimo!) being treed by a Barren Ground Caribou. Jenness mentions (1922: 150) a case of an Eskimo being fatally gored by a Caribou on Victoria Island. Otherwise, under all general circumstances, and in contradistinction to the Bison, the Muskox, the Moose, and even the White-tailed Deer, the Caribou may be regarded as quite innocuous to man.