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Caribou Conservation in the Canadian Arctic, 1929



All About Caribou & Reindeer

William Henry Beir Hoare, 1890-1948



Edmonton Journal, Wednesday, March 13, 1929


    CANADA'S official explorers come and go in the most unobtrusive way. Those engaged in investigating the wild life of the barren lands facing the Arctic are not even called explorers. Their official status is camouflaged by referring to them as special investigators. After spending a year or two in those regions, performing feats as remarkable as anything in the literature of northern exploration, they return quietly, to Ottawa. A brief paragraph may announce their arrival, and the result of their labors eventually appears in a new regulation affecting the Eskimos, the traders, the caribou, or the musk-oxen, all of which is boiled down to a dozen lines or so in regulations governing the northwest territories.

    W. H. B. Hoare is one of the specialists of this class detailed by the government to make a biological and economic survey of the central part of northern Canada.

    Some time ago a news item appeared in the papers stating that in February a duck hawk was killed near Duchesne, Utah, bearing a band sated the previous July. It transpired that this was one of three such birds banded by Mr. Hoare on the Arctic coast. It was then a mere fledgeling, unable to fly, but in the following six and a half months it had migrated more than 2300 miles to the south.

    As another instance of the flight range of birds, Mr. Hoare tells of his discovery of a nest containing three young robins in the northernmost clump of dwarf spruces on the Coppermine river, twenty miles from the Arctic shores. The young robins were banded, and will perhaps yield a record of their migratory range at some time in the future. Since then Mr. Hoare had made two other trips of great interest.

The Disappearing Caribou

    Disquieting reports had been received at Ottawa for some years past from traders and the mounted police to the effect that the caribou herds were disappearing with alarming rapidity.

    There had once been a seemingly inexhaustible number of them. After a trip into the barren lands in 1906 Thompson-Seton, the naturalist, summed up the views of others in his book and subsequent lectures. "Cutting in half the estimates of explorers who went before me," he said, "and making a most conservative estimate, there are not less than thiry million of these caribou letting the wind blow through their whiskers up in that northern country." Warburton Pike, J. W. Tyrrell, D. T. Hanbury and many others bear testimony to the unbelievable numbers of these animals and their general distribution over the northern plains.

    What had happened in the meantime? Would these hordes, with a potential value of a billion dollars, disappear entirely from the face of the earth? The government realised that the whole question should be thoroughly investigated. Mr. Hoare was accordingly instructed to spend two years observing the caribou herds in an effort to find out whether their annual migrations had been deflected, and whether they were actually decreasing.

On the Arctic Frontier

    The Arctic frontier has been successively moved from Aklavik and Herschel to points like Bernard Harbor and Bathurst Inlet. The Hudson's Bay company's supply steamer Baychimo from Vancouver now discharges cargo at the latter places, although the trading schooners continue four or five hundred miles further eastward to King William island, where Amundsen wintered when making the northwest passage in 1905.

    Bernard Harbor, named after Captain Joseph F. Bernard, who wintered there in the trading schooner Teddy Bear in 1912-13, was used as a base by Stefansson's Canadian Arctic expedition in 1913-18 and has since become a trading centre, a mounted police station, and an outpost of the Anglican church. Its position midway between Herschel and Boothia and its good harborage make it the most important base in the central Arctics. Stefansson's blonde Eskimos live at Prince Albert sound, a hundred miles north, while the famous Coppermine river, with its valuable deposits of native copper, lies 75 miles south. From their use of this metal the Eskimos in the whole of this district are called the Copper Eskimos.

    Victoria Island, which is half again as large as the maritime provinces, is just across the straits. In previous years the great majority of the caribou herds crossed in spring to graze and produce their young in this immense pasturage.

    Mr. Hoare learned that there had been no spring migration across the straits that year and that no fall return could be expected. Formerly the frozen straits would have been trampled by the passage of hundreds of thousands of these animals, for this was one of their highways of travel, but on this occasion, in a sled journey of 150 miles on the ice in Coronation gulf, the investigator counted only 13 caribou tracks, and he afterwards learned that Patsy Klengenberg, the son of the trader of that name, had killed five on Victoria island just opposite Bernard harbor, the only ones in fact that hed been seen in that vicinity.

In Winter Camp

    Hoare decided to make his base camp at Escape rapids, 25 miles up the Coppermine, because the dry-stunted spruce trees at that place would solve the fuel problem and allow his stock of coal oil to be saved for winter travel in the barren lands. He therefore proceeded to the Coppermine, where he built a lean-to cabin of spruce poles, and then returned to Bernard harbor for more supplies and additional dogs. He also engaged an Eskimo freighter, with his team, to haul in a load to the camp, but this man was sadly discouraged by the roughness of the trail and left him at Bloody Falls, the scene of the masssacre of Eskimos by Hearne's party of Indians in 1771. Until the end of December Hoare and his Eskimo assistant Algivanna were engaged in relaying their outfit to camp.

    On January 8, the sun was seen for the first time, but it must not be supposed that it is ever dark in winter right around the clock. There are from four to five hours a day of very fair light all through the polar "night."

    "Before proceeding inland," the diary states, "it was necessary to visit some natives on the sea-ice, some 50 miles north of our camp, to procure the winter clothing which was being made for Angivanna and myself; also to procure dry meat and fish for dog feed. We left our camp for this purpose on January 17, and camped that night half way out in a deserted snow house.

    "Next morning while cooking breakfast it was noticed that the candle would hardly burn. I suspected gas from the primus stove, opened the door and crawled out; the boy followed, and both became unconscious upon reaching the fresh air. Sometime afterwards we regained consciousness and found ourselves very cold but not frostbitten. It was fortunate that the igloo had been cold and we had on most of our outdoor clothes, or it might have been worse.

    "We gathered and loaded our things, hitched the dogs and soon found a trail leading to the people, reaching them the same day. For two days we suffered from vomiting, severe headaches, and dizziness."

A Hike on the Mackenzie

    On January 26 with an Eskimo guide and his assistant Angivanna, Hoare started out with two sleds and eight dogs on a long hike to Fort Norman on the Mackenzie river, but unfortunately the same day, while taking an observation westward from the height of land, he fell and broke a rib. This, however, did not prevent him from proceeding, though he remarks that it was too rough to ride and very painful walking. Considering that the distance to Norman was 430 miles, it says a great deal for his determination and fortitude that he carried out his program.

    Throughout such trips it is necessary to hunt to supplement the supplies and provide food for the dogs. Five or six dogs will devour an average-sized caribou carcass in a night, and as there were eight dogs and three men in the party the normal requirement would be two caribou every twenty four hours. It is very seldom, however, that a party can secure what it requires with any regularity. Consequently it is customary to make caches of meat to provide for the return journey.

    Dismal lake was reached on the 30th. Next day it was discovered that there was only coal oil enough to cook two more meals. However, wood was found more frequently from this time on.

    Next day they reached Dease bay on Great Bear lake but found the village deserted, except for Father Falaise of the Catholic mission, who was stopping in the house of Borland the trader. The supply boats from Norman had been unable to cross the lake in the summer. The Indians and Eskimos had rifled the stores in the fall and there was nothing to be had. The priest had enough flour for his own use but very little else.

    The temperature had been down to sixty below zero for the past week and had descended to 68 below on the day of Hoare's arrival. The Indians in the vicinity had been starving, not being able to find caribou, and as_a last resort had gone 12 miles off to put their nets under the ice, which was four feet thick and so clear that it was possible to see through it into the depths of the lake. Their catches were small but sufficient to tide them over. Hoare bought 40 smali herring from them at about ten cents each.

Fresh Meat Was Welcome

    Before crossing the lake the party came upon a band of caribou and killed seven, caching a part for their return.

    On the eighth they got half way across the lake at its narrowest part, where it has a width of about fifty miles. The following day was a strenuous one of fourteen hours on glare ice, so smooth that it was very trying on dogs and men alike. Completely exhausted, they managed to get a meal ready by midnight.

    A few days later they came upon a trail made by an ice-shod sled, the dogs of which were hitched Nome style. By the 14th they reached the site of old Fort Franklin, where they met the sled party, which turned out to be H. Bjorn of the Hudson's Bay company from King William Island in the eastern Arctics, who was on his way to Fort Norman with an Eskimo companion. Bjorn had reached Hoare's camp on the Coppermine the evening the latter left and had passed him unseen during one of the blizzards.

    From Bjorn he heard that there had been no caribou on southeastern Victoria Land either in the summer or fall, but they were more plentiful than usual on Back's river and the country eastward.

At Fort Norman

    Traveling at 25 miles a day, the two sled parties reached Fort Norman in four days.

    "My Eskimo and I had a meal at the Hudson's Bay company," the diary says. "We put up at the police barracks. The dogs are played out, and I want to give them a week's rest. Inspector Eames and one constable are away at Simpson. Mrs. Eames and Constables Carnac and Kirk are here. There is one Indian prisoner. My side is very painful these days, the fractured rib probably knitting."

    Inspector Fraser arrived from Fort Rae on Slave lake and reported that caribou were plentiful east of the north arm.

    On the return trip they were accompanied from Dease bay by Boland the trader, who reported that Indians had seen a band of musk-ox north of Great Bear lake and had killed several. This is the only band known to be in that district.

    Blizzards delayed the travelers. On one occasion three Eskimo girls and a boy went out to pack meat to camp, as their dogs were took weak to haul the sleds. A blizzard came up, and two of the girls did not come in. The men were out most of the night looking for them. At 4 a.m. Hoare's men found them, none the worse for their experience, and brought them in to camp. From time to time the party had to remain in camp on account of blinding snowstorms, whipped by the winds into regular sand-blasts. On these occasions the diary notes the delay in such words as these: "We did not travel today, as it is, too hard to see, and one might easily fall over a precipice."

    On arriving at the base it was discovered that a wolverine had completely wrecked the camp, and two days were spent in straightening things out.

    Hoare then pulled out for Bernard harbor, and from there made a journey alone along the Ar¢tic coast eastward, finally crossing the bight of Coronation gulf to Tree river. On May 25 he went back up the Coppermine to meet the Eskimos at their fishing. The traveling over the ice on this trip was bad; towards the end of it there was so much slush and water on top that the dogs often had to swim.

Life With the Eskimos

    Speaking of his stay with the Eskimos at Bloody falls. Hoare says: "During the period spent with the natives I adopted the community life and took part in the hunting, fishing, work, and play. Several families each day provided the food for the community. and I in turn provided my share. The people appreciated this attitude and came to me to talk over many personal problems. I soon had a standing among them as a sort of counsellor.

    "Almost daily a community discussion took place, the subjects dealt with covering a wide range and including almost everything of interest from wild life to babies. I was expected to take part in these discussions, and if I failed to I so was generally asked my opinion."

    Here, as at other places where natives gathered, he took every possible opportunity to teach and instruct them to save the caribou. In discussing the disappearance of the herds from the Arctic coast between Cape Bexley and Kent peninsula, he made it a point to get the natives' opinion. A few thought it was because of hunting with rifles instead of bows and arrows. Others explained it by some superstition or put it down to supernatural causes. One man said it was because it was wrong to feed caribou hearts and livers to dogs, but white men had been doing this, and he and other natives had noticed that the caribou had disappeared in consequence.

Some Educational Work

    To illustrate his teaching, the investigator showed them a map of the North West Territories, pointing out their own country, which they readily recognized, and the Indian territory, and reminded them that in the spring female caribou used to come far from the south, cross over the frozen straits to the Arctic islands, have their young, then return in the late fall to winter in or near the timber.

    It was pointed out that the Eskimos used to remain on the Arctic coast until the ice got rotten, which gave the caribou a fair chance to get across to the calving grounds on the islands. But now that the Eskimos had high-powered rifles and primus stoves, they go in early spring to the passes in the Arctic mountains, which run parallel to the coast, and shoot down and waste many caribou, also preventing the rest from getting through. Now the caribou are either going far from Eskimo country or have to stay in the interior to breed, where both Indians and Eskimos can readily reach them and where wolves are so plentiful that many fawns are devoured as soon as they are dropped. They are gradually being encompassed in a smaller area, where they will soon be all killed.

    "This teaching first amazed the natives, then impressed them as being nearer the truth than their own wild ideas, and I was asked to tell them over and over again. Several asked for my map, and I gave away all the spare copies I had after marking them to illustrate the position of the Indians and Eskimos and the present caribou situation. The possessors of these maps have set themselves up as teachers and are using the maps to help explain to others what I have taught them.

    "If this teaching is followed up and the Eskimos are persuaded to remain on the Arctic coast until mid-summer, I am convinced that the caribou would soon come back to their old breeding grounds. Then we need have no fear of extermination. But if each spring the Eskimos continue to go into the interior, kill pregnant cows, and in conjunction with the Indians gradually encompass the caribou in smaller and smaller areas, the end of the caribou as a source of clothing and food supply is not far distant."

    In the course of this reconnaissance in the north Mr. Hoare traveled a total of 3,565 miles, 230 of which were on foot, back-packing his outfit, 1,195 by canoe and schooner, and 2,140 by dog team.