In the northwest of Canada, far away from civilization, there still exist huge herds of caribou that roam by tens of thousands. In summer, they are to be found on the barren lands; in winter, through the wooded wilderness around Reindeer Lake.
The main body of the herd seems to follow a steady routine of migration.
Each year the natives know exactly where to find it. The Eskimos follow the caribou during the summer. The Chippewayans lie in wait for them on their way south in the early fall. From then on until spring those Indians live on the herd, using the meat for food and the leather for clothing.
At all times during the year, the grey timber wolves hover around, cutting out and pulling down the young, the maimed and the weak. Still, the caribou ranks never seem to dwindle. In countless numbers each year they move north or south, according to the season, obeying the law of their kind.
In winter, when one travels through that enormous country which lies between Cree Lake and Pakatawagan, through Bear Lake, Wollaston Lake, further north to Nueltin Lake, further southeast to Reindeer Lake, one is liable to meet, any day, hundreds and hundreds of these deer. In the depth of the bush one seldom sees them. But they seem to have a fondness for lakes, over the ice of which they roam aimlessly, in the open, milling like sheep at the slightest sign of danger.
All men who travel in those regions depend on these deer for food, not only for themselves but for their dogs. Each team of “huskies” is wise to what a herd of caribou means as soon as it is sighted. When the traveller reaches a lake and sees the deer far away on the ice, the dogs realize what is going to happen, and strain silently and excitedly in their traces. The deer, foolishly, look around, run about, stop and stare. Little by little, the sleigh drawn by the straining dogs gets nearer and nearer.
Finally the man with one short word stops the team, then steps out of the sleigh, aims and fires. Instantly the dogs are off, baying like maniacs. The man makes a flying leap, grabs the sleigh and scrambles on board. The seven dogs are racing madly towards the deer who are running around in circles.
If the man’s aim has been true, in a few minutes the team of “huskies”
has reached its prey and, in a mad leap, is worrying its throat.
If he has missed, the man calls out a second time. The dogs stop dead and the rifle barks again.