Part 4

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).

Without human interference, a large proportion of those that cross the lower part of Little River would doubtless proceed more or less directly to Windy River and cross near its mouth. But the human and canine inhabitants of the Windy River post seem to exert a strong influence in deflecting the Caribou northwestward along several more or less parallel ridges that rise to a maximum height of 40 or 50 feet. These are Little River, Middle, and Camp ridges (map 1). Many animals follow the first of these to its northwestern end, then cross a bog and ascend the Middle Ridge. Some cross the southeastern end of Little River Ridge, scramble down its steep sides by strongly marked trails (fig. 2), and then move across the Eastern Bog to the Middle Ridge. But when they reach the summit, they can see the post directly ahead, and generally hurry off northwestward along the ridge. Presently some may cross the Camp Slough (fig. 13) to the Camp Ridge and then proceed either westward or northwestward. The Caribou have a strong predilection for following the treeless summits of the ridges wherever they are available and extend in a more or less desirable direction. On reaching the vicinity of the Bear Slough, where the three ridges are interrupted or peter out, the animals doubtless turn more or less southwestward to make a passage of Windy River at various points above its mouth. Under the conditions outlined above, it is obvious that some of the finest opportunities for close-range observation and photography lie at the two well-established crossings near the mouth of Little River.

On the dark and drizzly morning of August 24 (temp. 47°-48°) I noticed a number of Caribou, in groups of 2 to 20, traveling northwestward along Middle and Little River ridges. This indication of general activity enticed me to the top of the latter, whence I had a view of perhaps 8 or 10 animals scattered over the Barrens beyond Little River. Several were lying down just beyond the summit of a ridge between the river and Glacier Pond, so that little more than their antlers was visible. With the idea of finding out how closely I could approach these resting animals, I waded knee-deep across a rapid about 100 feet in width, and worked my way up the opposite slope until I once more caught sight of the tips of several antlers. Under cover of a rock and some dwarf birches, I crept ahead on hands and knees, with a miniature camera at the ready. I had arrived within 50 yards when the nearest buck got to its feet and stood looking at me. In hopes of photographing the rest while they were still lying down, I rose to my knees and hastily exposed the last bit of film in the camera. Still there was no immediate reaction on the part of the Caribou. Fortunately there was a cross wind. The first buck was so little alarmed that it leisurely sprinkled the ground. But presently it turned and walked off, presumably giving some signal of voice or posture (such as an erect tail) to the rest; for they got to their feet, not the half a dozen I expected, but half a hundred of them! Though they trotted off toward Windy Bay, they paused within a hundred yards and turned to stare at me. Several more relieved themselves as the first buck had done. By this time I saw that some of the Caribou, including a little fawn, were carrying their tails quite erect, as an expression of suspicion or a signal of alarm. Evidently a majority of the band were bucks, but there were some does, with foot-long horns, and their fawns. On my way back to camp I noticed several groups of Caribou swimming across Windy Bay; perhaps they included the very animals I had so recently disturbed.

In the early afternoon it became evident that a further northwesterly movement was under way along the ridges between camp and Little River. The animals had doubtless made the passage of the river near its mouth. I followed some of them to a bog at the upper end of Little River Ridge, where I began to film several bucks and a lone, inquisitive, one-horned doe. While the latter was approaching me within a hundred feet, I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye, and all at once the bog seemed full of Caribou. There were 75-100 of them, chiefly bucks, and not more than 50 yards or so distant across the open bog. They presently moved on, without haste, and ascended the Middle Ridge.

Several hours later about 50 more Caribou passed through this bog. Then a band of 17 came along, composed chiefly of does and their fawns, with a couple of young bucks; they did not even turn their heads in my direction as I stood in the open 50 yards away. Eventually a herd of about 150 (the largest I saw during the whole season) passed along the well-worn trails on the summit of the Middle Ridge. It seemed to include all sexes and ages, with possibly a majority of does and fawns; bringing up the rear was a limping patriarch with huge antlers, a heavy mane, and a lingering winter coat.

During the remainder of the afternoon several other groups appeared in that general area. About 15 individuals descended Little River Ridge (fig. 2) to the Eastern Bog, but retraced their course after coming close to several of us; they were mostly does, with four fawns and a few bucks. Another band, of all ages and sexes and numbering perhaps a hundred individuals, crossed at the rapid on Little River. The temperatures that had prevailed during this day's marked migratory movements varied from about 45° to 50°. They were low enough to keep the black flies completely in abeyance, and the mosquito season was virtually over. Although I noticed none of the parasitic flies, possibly enough of them were present to keep the Caribou moving actively against a moderate to brisk northerly wind. Now and again a big buck could be seen fairly jumping out of its skin with the vigor of vibrating its sides to shake off the tormentors.

On August 25 (the second day of the big movement) I watched and filmed the pageant of Caribou migration from the southwestern bank of Little River. The turfy slopes of the Barrens, carpeted with low ericaceous shrubs, mosses, and reindeer lichens, and dotted here and there with little thickets of dwarf birch, spruce, and tamarack, stretched invitingly before me. Temperatures ranging from 40° to 51°, with a brisk northwest breeze sweeping down the river, happily suppressed most of the black flies.

The Caribou came along at intervals from the eastward, in bands up to 75 strong, either to make the passage of the river or to continue upstream along the opposite ridge. A small number might make the crossing in one or two files, but one of the larger bands might spread out widely in the shallow rapid. One of the photographs (fig. 7) shows approximately 75 Caribou going divergent ways at this rapid: about 20 passing upstream along the ridge on the far side, including some pausing to feed on the low vegetation; 8 or 9 moving down the slope of the ridge to the water's edge; about 10 bucks, 16 does, and 6 fawns making the passage of the river; and about 13 arriving on the near shore and pausing to feed. The adults were able to step across in the swift water, while the fawns swam part of the way. The bucks were apparently in the minority again on this day.

One group of some 40 does and fawns, after swimming the river near its mouth, came hurrying along the ridge in close array directly toward my station, and did not take alarm until they had arrived within 100 feet. Then they turned tail and, each with its flag erect, beat a hasty retreat. The maneuver made a scene of considerable charm and interest. While I was filming a dozen Caribou in the Eastern Bog from the Middle Ridge, a stray fawn came up and halted for some seconds within a rod of me. The bewildered look in its big eyes was comical though pathetic. In presently dashing on, it passed within a dozen feet.

Late in the afternoon Fred Schweder, Jr., reported about a thousand Caribou, in various bands up to 100 strong, crossing Little River here and there a mile or so above its mouth. They were traveling southwest.

August 26 was marked by mist squalls, a maximum temperature of 45°, and a slackening in the numbers of passing Caribou. Late in the morning a band of more than 30 bucks, does, and fawns crossed the rapid on Little River. In the early afternoon scattering individuals and a band of 15 or 20 did likewise. Presently another band of about 22 animals came (fig. 8); it consisted chiefly of does and fawns, but there were several medium-sized bucks bringing up the rear. They crossed the rapid in a somewhat V-shaped formation, open at the front. The vanguard reached a rocky strip 25 yards in front of my camera and began to feed contentedly on the low vegetation. However, a couple of does still in the water eyed me intently and presumably communicated their misgivings to the others, for all turned and went back through the river without panic or haste, although they trotted on reaching the farther shore. Later there were about 25 Caribou crossing the bay, and nearly as many on Little River Ridge.

The weather on August 27, while mostly sunny, included occasional snow or sleet flurries; the northerly wind was brisk to strong; and the temperature, ranging from 37° to 50°, prevented the appearance of black flies. By 10:20 a.m. a band of about 10 does and fawns crossed the rapid on Little River. Two hours later 12-15 animals followed the same course, and presently 75-100 passed upstream on the far side, with a good deal of grunting. About 2:35 p.m. nearly a hundred Caribou, perhaps alarmed by a passing plane, dashed north out of the Eastern Bog. By 4:45 p.m. 20 or more bucks, does, and fawns swam across Little River at its mouth; several of the biggest bucks, with enormous antlers, led the advance into the water. An hour later, on the eastern side of the river, half a dozen of the animals were lying down, but with heads erect, and facing down wind. At this period of the day several more bands of moderate size swam over to the west side of the river. A goodly number of the animals fed within 25 yards of me for a considerable time.