PART III.
DOG LORE.
CHAPTER XVII.
STILL TRAILERS VS. TONGUERS. MUSIC.
Perhaps no more mooted question enters in for so widely separated opinion as the comparative superiority of the Still Trailing dog and the Tonguers.
The still or mute trailer is the deer, rabbit or night dog which does not give tongue on the trail. He keeps his silence, until his game is treed or in sight and about to tree.
The tonguer gives forth a joyous and lusty cry as soon as he makes a strike, and continues to do so until the chase terminates. When treed he changes his bark, so that usually the hunter can distinguish between the signals.
We shall withhold personal opinion as to the preferable style, and present the arguments of a number of adherents on both sides of the question, allowing the reader to come to his own conclusion.
A West Virginia 'coon expert says, in favor of the tonguer: I have had several good 'coon dogs, both tonguers and silent trailers. This is a hilly, brushy country, with lots of deep hollows. The best 'coon dog I ever had was a three-fourths fox hound, one-fourth bull dog. He was very fast with a good nose and a wide hunter. He never struck a cold trail and went straight ahead all the time. He has started a 'coon half a mile away from me and would go right out of hearing of me, and I would follow the way I would judge the 'coon to travel and would be hours finding him barking treed. If he had been a mute trailer I would have left him in the woods without the slightest idea where he was and that is no fun when you have gone three or four miles walk from home to get a 'coon chase.
Another brother puts it this way: Some hunters prefer a still trailer on a cold trail. I have handled both kinds but it is an advantage to the hunter in keeping in touch with his hound if the hound will "wind his horn" occasionally on a cold trail for very often a wide hound will travel a couple of miles on a cold trail before starting the game. In windy weather, the hunters might be at a loss to know in which direction his dog was working, if he did not hear him. I like a dog with a loud, clear voice and one that keeps the music going steady once the game is afoot.
Still another gives voice to his sentiment thus: I want a good tonguer, one that will give me no trouble in keeping the direction they are going. One that is a courser, that is, that never foots around trying to find every track a 'coon makes, but keeps on finding ahead anywhere from a hundred yards to a quarter of a mile. That kind of a dog keeps you awake when cold trailing, and is apt to warm up at any time.
A Western tonguer adherent says: For 'coon I like the cold trailer that lets you know where he is going, and don't believe they will hole any sooner for him than a still trailer, and I never saw a full blooded hound still track. My hounds give a long whoop every few rods on cold trail, and will "back brush" a 'coon or wolf that is many hours old but will find him, and you can follow up so as to keep in hearing. My dogs are quite fast but I do not go back on a moderately slow dog to shoot after. I think they circle better.
From Indian Territory comes this addition to the testimony: The thoroughbred hound for 'coon is my view after 40 years' experience. A good many are giving their idea as to which is best, the still trailer or the dog that gives tongue. I have never known a thoroughbred hound fail to give tongue on trail. The thoroughbred has the greatest powers of scent and this is very important as you do not have to travel so much ground to find a trail that he can run. What we want when we go after 'coon is to start and catch all we can. If we cannot start one we cannot catch him, sure. I have followed behind over the same ground with my hound that another party had been over with their still trailers and caught more 'coon than they.
And again if you are out on a windy night and your still trailer gets a 'coon treed to the windward of you, you might as well go home as there will be no more fun for you if he is a good tree dog.
Now just one thing more in regard to still trailers catching 'coon on the ground. That has not been my experience, for you all know when you go a rabbit hunting with a still trailer, how soon the rabbit will hole. He has no warning where the dog is, so in trailing 'coon, the 'coon will wait and listen to the hound and if he is a fast runner, Mr. 'Coon has waited too long. He must make for the nearest tree or get caught. With the still trailer, the 'coon hears the leaves and brush snapping and without any more warning makes for his home tree.
Hundreds of hunters take this view, that is, favor the dog which barks from the time he takes up the trail. The principal advantage as has been pointed out, is that the hound and hunter may thus keep in closer touch, and that the hunter is treated to "music," so sweet to the ear of the average enthusiast.
Another considerable following, however, at once take issue and present an array of argument in favor of the dog which keeps his silence.
Let us first consider the views of a conservative Pennsylvania brother, in favor of the still trailer: I see a good many 'coon hunters disagree on 'coon dogs, still trailers vs. tongueing dogs. Now in my experience, I have used nearly all kinds of 'coon dogs, some good ones and some not so good. I think the difference is in the kind of country to be hunted, for hunting in a very rough country that is cut up by long hollows and large tracts of timber I prefer a tongueing dog.
For hunting in this locality where it is all cut up into small fields with principally all rail fences and timber in small blocks, mostly cut over by lumbermen and nothing left but hollow trees and brush, I prefer a still trailer by long odds, as the noisy dog gives the 'coon warning as soon as he strikes the trail, then Mr. 'Coon takes to the rail fence or a jungle of briers and old tree tops and begins to get busy and is soon in one of those hollow trees, where he is perfectly safe as far as I am concerned, for I never cut down any den trees.
The still trailer does his work quietly and is right on to the 'coon before it is aware that the dog is after it. So Mr. 'Coon is obliged to climb whatever kind of a tree there is handy and very often is taken on the ground.
From a Central States hunter's letter: I used to be a dear lover of a dog that would bark on trail and raise some of them, but now my choice is a still trailer, as a quiet trailer suits this locality best on account of the thickly populated country and the great amount of stock raised, and a great many farmers claim the constant barking of dogs frightens their sheep. For that reason fox chasing is fast losing its interest and foxes are becoming quite a nuisance in the destruction of quail, pheasant, rabbit and such like game.
A brother of conviction on this question writes: It takes patience, perseverance and skill to properly train a hound for 'coon. First, the dog must be silent until he finds the hot scent, so as not to give Mr. Coon time to commence his sunny ways, as the 'coon has a good knowledge box and lots of strings to his bow which he uses to evade Mr. Hound. He will swim down and sometimes up stream and often crosses them. Will never miss a hollow log and comes out at the other end, and will climb leaning trees and leap from them to others and may return to the stream for a good long swim before he will make quietly for his den. This is what an old 'coon will often do with a noisy dog, but with a swift and silent one he will have to climb at once and stay there.
Another telling stroke for silence: Regarding silent trailers: By silent trailer I mean a dog that will not tongue the very instant he finds an old trail when there is yet some scent, but that will work it quietly until he starts the game. I have often seen hounds roar on an old scent as well as on a new one. These dogs have generally a special gait, which they keep steady whether the trail is cold or hot, and give the full cry the whole time, and also often come to a full stop to blast away a few louder roars. These dogs dwell too long on the scent for me. My strain of dogs will open only when they are on a hot scent; if cold, they will cover the ground silently and fast.
A swift dog cannot keep up the full cry, but will give a roar now and then and not bark often as it takes a lot of wind to roar. Therefore, a dog cannot be a flyer and a roarer in the meantime, and a deer, fox, lynx or 'coon, chased by a fleet and silent dog as above mentioned, will have to point at once for safety, and will have no spare time for tricks. The lynx or 'coon will have to climb in a hurry the first tree he finds, while with a noisy dog Mr. 'Coon will commence with his tricks as soon as he will hear the music, and I maintain and stand ready to prove that a silent trailer as I have described will water more deer in five hours in this country than a noisy one will in five days.
"He Was Here a Moment Ago!"
THE MUSIC OF THE HOUND.
The term "music" as applied to the barking of trailing hunting dogs, is to the uninitiated a gross misnomer.
"Isn't that music grand!" exclaimed an enthusiast afield.
"I can hear no music for the noise those dogs are making," replied the other. And so it goes.
The hound is the master orator, with a command of language that varies from uncertainty, joy, anxiety, conviction, eagerness with great clearness and truth. His shades of meaning are accurately intonated and perfectly comprehendible to the well versed hunter.
The hound is looked upon with disdain by people who know not his capabilities, and is considered in the nature of the dunce of the tribe. Well do the well informed know that he is the most delicately strung and the most highly emotional type we have.
Every note that he utters is an expression of emotion. Because emotion is more susceptible to music than any other agency, his code of expression is likened unto notes of music, and with more fidelity than some instrumental sound producers committed in the name of music.
A student of this pure and undefiled language says: "Each note represents a particular feeling, and the whole harmoniously blended, tells a simple story in a pleasing way."
Now the hound takes up the cold trail. He signals his master — there are notes of expectancy and hope in the tone. As the scent grows warmer, his tone of hope rises. He makes a loss. Could anything express regret and chagrin any more plainly than his doleful cry? Back on the trail. Then joy again. Then comes the excited, imperative, anxious yet joyous fortissimo scale running when the quarry trees.
"Here He Is!"
He who has not been schooled in classical music sits bored and alone at the production of an opera, or yawns and wishes he were at home in bed, as the vigorous long haired performer spells out his emotions on the piano key board. So it is that one with no ear for music of the hound is disgusted thruout the sally to the woods at night, or the fields by day. He can dwell upon nothing save the scratches, falls and efforts required, all of which another forgets in fixing his attention on the action and music of the chase.
Some hounds are better singers than others, just as is the case with people. Also he must be trained to perform pleasingly and truly. If he is well trained and is certain in his movements it will be reflected in his music. If he is faulty in foot and head work he will also betray these faults in his voice. Anxious to cover his own shortcomings, he takes to guessing and guesses wrong. He becomes a liar, and his singing is like unto the fellow with a cracked voice who insists on singing in the church choir, thereby annoying everybody.
An experienced hunter can tell by the song of a hound how capable he is, even if there were not many other ways of fixing values.
Bring up a hound under proper training methods, and he is almost certain to prove a rare musician.
If you are not versed in music of this kind, you are unfortunate, and should join the fox or 'coon hunters and take a course of lessons. It is well worth while.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE DOG ON THE TRAP LINE.
Some trappers will take issue in regard to the advantages and disadvantages of the dog on the trap line. The subject holds sufficient interest, however, to warrant a chapter, and if some lonesome trappers benefit thereby, our effort shall stand justified.
Now, we will say first that there is as much or more difference in the man who handles the dog as there is in the different breeds of dogs. We have heard men say that they wanted no dog on the trap line with them, and that they didn't believe that any one who did want a dog on the trap line knew but very little about trapping at the best.
Now those are the views and ideas of some trappers, while my experience has led me to see it otherwise. One who is so constituted that they must give a dog the growl or perhaps a kick every time they come in reach, will undoubtedly find a dog of but little use on the trap line. We have known some dogs to refuse to eat, and would lay out where they could watch in the direction in which their master had gone and piteously howl for hours, waiting the return of the master and friend. I have seen other dogs that would take for the barn or any other place to get out of the way at the first sight or sound of their master. This man's dog is usually more attached to a stranger than to his master. The man who cannot treat his dog as a friend and companion will have good cause to say that a dog is a nuisance on the trap line.
I have seen men training dogs for bird hunting, who would treat the dog most cruelly and claim that a dog could not be trained to work a bird successfully under any other treatment. Though I have seen others train the same breed of dogs to work a bird to perfection and that their most harsh treatment would be a tap or two with a little switch. I will say that one who cannot understand the wag of a dog's tail, the wistful gaze of the eye, the quick lifting of the ears, the cautious raising of a foot, and above all, treat his dog as a friend, need expect his dog to be but little else than a nuisance on the trap line.
Several years ago I had a partner who had a dog, part stag hound and the other part just dog, I think. One day he (my partner) asked if I would object to his bringing the dog to camp, saying that his wife was going on a visit and he had no place to leave the dog. I told him that if he had a good dog I would be glad to have him in camp. In a day or two pard went home and brought in the dog. Well, when he came the dog was following along behind his master with tail and ears drooping, and looking as though he never heard a kind word in his life. I asked if the animal was any good and he replied that he did not know how good he was. I asked the name of the dog. He said, "Oh, I call him Pont." I spoke to the dog, calling him by name. He looked at me wistfully, wagging his tail. The look that dog gave me said to me as plainly as words that this was the first kind word he had ever heard.
We went inside and the dog started to follow, when his master in a harsh voice said, "get out of here." I said, "where do you expect the dog to go?" I then took an old coat that was in the camp, placed it in the corner and called gently to Pont, patted the coat and told him to lay down on the coat, which he did. I patted him saying that is a good place for Pont, and I can see that wistful gaze the dog gave me, now. After we had our supper I asked my partner if he wasn't going to fix Pont some supper. "Oh, after a while I will see if I can't find something for him." I took a biscuit from the table, spread some butter on it, called the dog to me, broke the biscuit in pieces, and gave it to the dog from my hand; then I found an old basin that chanced to be about the camp and fixed the dog a good supper.
After the dog had finished his supper I went to the coat in the corner, spoke gently to Pont, patted the coat, and told him to lay down on the coat. That was the end of that, Pont knew his place and took it without any further trouble.
The next morning when we were about ready to start out on the trap line I asked Pard what he intended to do with Pont. He said that he would tie him to a tree that stood against the shanty close to the door. We were going to take different lines of traps. I said, "What is the harm of Pont's going with me?" "All right, if you want him, I don't want any dog with me." I said, Am, (that was Pard's given name, for short) I don't believe the dog wants to go with you any more than you want him to. Am's reply was that he guessed he would go all right if he wanted him. I said. Am, just for shucks, say nothing to the dog and see which one he will follow. So we stepped outside the shack and the dog stood close to me.
I said, "Go on Am, and we will see who the dog will follow." He started off and the dog only looked at him. Am stopped and told the dog to come on. The dog got around behind me.
Am said, "If I wanted you to come, you would come or I would break your neck." I said, "No, Am, you won't break Pout's neck while I am around; it would not look nice."
I started on my way, Pont following after I had gone a little ways. I spoke to Pont, patting him on the head and told him what a good dog he was. He jumped about and showed more ways than one how pleased he was, and from that day until we broke camp, Pont stayed with me. He showed plainly the disgust he had for his master.
It so happened that the first trap I came to was a trap set in a spring run, and it had a 'coon in it. I allowed Pont to help kill the 'coon, and after the 'coon was dead, I patted Pont and told him what great things he had done in capturing the 'coon. Pont showed what pride he took in the hunt, so much so that he did not like to have Am go near the pelt. I saw from the very first day out that all that Pont needed was kind treatment and proper training to make a good help on the trap line.
I was careful to let him know what I was doing when setting a trap, and when he would go to smell at the bait after a trap had been set, I would speak to him in a firm voice and let him know that I did not approve of what he was doing. When making blind sets, I took the same pains to show and give him to understand what I was doing. I would sometimes, after giving him fair warning, let him put his foot into a trap. I would scold him in a moderate manner and release him. Then all the time I was resetting the trap I would talk trap to him, and by action and word teach him the nature of the trap. Mr. Trapper, please do not persuade yourself to believe that the intelligent dog cannot understand if you go about it right.
In two weeks Pont had advanced so far in his training that I no longer had to pay any attention to him on account of the traps. The third day Pont was with me he found a 'coon that had escaped with a trap nearly two weeks before. My route called me up a little draw from the main stream. I had not gone far up this when Pont took the trail of some animal and began working it up the side of the hill. I stood and watched him until the trail took him to an old log, when Pont began to sniff at a hole in the log. He soon raised his head and gave a long howl, as much as to say he is here and I want help. After running a stick in the hole I soon discovered that the log was hollow. I took my belt axe and pounded along on the log until I thought I was at the right point and then chopped a hole in the log, and as good luck would have it, I made the opening right on to the 'coon, and almost the first thing I saw on looking into the log was the trap. Pont soon had the 'coon out, and when I saw it was the 'coon that had escaped with our trap, I gave Pont praise for what he had done, petting him and telling him of his good deed, and he seemed to understand it all.
Not long after this Am came into camp at night and reported that a fox had broken the chain on a certain trap and gone off with the trap, saying that he would take Pont in the morning and see if he could find the fox. In the morning when we were ready to go Am tried to have Pont follow him, but it was no go, Pont would not go with him. Then Am put a rope on to him and tried to lead him, but Pont would sulk and would not be led. Then Am lost his temper and wanted to break Pont's neck again. I said that I did not like to have Pont abused and that I would go along with him. When we came to the place where the fox had escaped with the trap Am at once began to slap his hands and hiss Pont on. Pont only crouched behind me for protection. I persuaded Am to go on down the run and look at the traps down that way while I and Pont would look after the escaped fox.
As soon as Am was gone I began to look about where the fox had been caught and search for his trail, and soon Pont began to wag his tail. I merely worked Pont's way and said, "Has he gone that way?" Pont gave me to understand that the fox had gone that way and that he knew what was wanted. The trail soon left the main hollow and took up a little draft. A little way up this we found where the fox had been fast in some bushes but had freed himself and left and gone up the hillside. Pont soon began to get uneasy, and when I said hunt him out Pont, away he went and in a few minutes I heard Pont give a long howl and I knew that he had holed his game. When I came up to Pont he was working in a hole in some shell rocks. I pulled away some loose rocks and could see the fox, and we soon had him out, and Pont seemed more pleased over the hunt than I was. There was scarcely a week that Pont did not help us out on the trap line.
Not unfrequently did Pont show me a 'coon den. I had some difficulty in teaching Pont to let the porcupines alone, but after a time he learned that they were not the kind of game that he wanted, and he paid no more attention to them.
I have had many different dogs on the trap line with me, and I can say to any one who can understand dog's language, has a liking for a dog and has a reasonable amount of patience and is willing to use it, will find a well trained dog of much benefit on the trap line, and often a more genial companion than some partners one may fall in with. But if one is so constituted that he must give his dog a growl or a kick every time he comes in reach, and perhaps only give his dog half enough to eat and cannot treat a dog as a friend, then I say, leave the dog off the trap line.
A Group of Typical Sledge Dogs.
CHAPTER XIX.
SLEDGE DOGS OF THE NORTH.
Not a hunting dog in a strict sense of the word, yet most important in that connection, is the sledge dog, in transportation of hunters and their outfits to and from the hunting and trapping scenes.
Following is a first hand, specially written article by Colonel F. H. Buzzacott, the intrepid Arctic explorer. That he writes from experience is evident, which necessarily adds interest and value to his highly interesting contribution.
What the Indian pony is to the plain Indian, the Pack Horse or Mule is to the White Settler, Hunter or Trapper, the Sledge Dog or Reindeer is to natives of the distant and Far North. An old saying among frontiersmen is that a white man will abandon a horse as broken down and utterly unable to go when a Mexican will take that same horse and make him go a hundred miles further, while an Indian after all of this will mount and ride him for a week still.
With all Indians, natives of the north or Esquimaux, knives are luxuries, ponies and dogs, necessities. Yet, for all that, they are never stabled, curried, washed, blanketed, shod, seldom protected or even fed. When the icy cold wintry blasts sweep the drifting snows over plain and valley and buries under his white mantle his food he either digs for it, finds and eats what he can, or starves.
In my plains experience with the Indians or in the Polar Regions with the natives of the north or Esquimaux, I have observed that the love of an Indian for his ponies, an Esquimaux for his dogs or Laplander for his reindeer consists in seeing how much he really can get out of them with the least trouble or effort to him.
I have seen the Indians or natives of the northwest and the Esquimaux of Hudson's and Baffin's Bay, Greenland, etc., drive half starved dogs to the sledge until they fell or froze, only to be eaten by their masters or mates, whom for a lifetime they had pulled with or served faithfully. Necessity recognizes no law — man is but an animal himself — and in the struggle for life or gain it is everywhere but the "Survival of the Fittest" or strongest and passing of the weak, be it white man or Indian.
The best of the "Sledge Dogs of the North" are to be found in Greenland or Siberia, "Samoyed" dogs or its Esquimaux cousin, the "Immit Dog", used by explorers and Esquimaux generally. Those with short, thick hair, medium build, size and full breed are considered the best for all around work. They will exist and work well on one pound of food per day, or a big feast once a week. Their food consists mostly of dried and fresh fish, carrion or fresh, or, if with explorers, dog biscuit added.
They closely resemble a wolf and howl like one. Are of various colors and sizes, iron grey predominating. They average about two feet four inches in height by three feet six inches in length, of unusually light weight for their size, owing to the bristle out appearance of their hair which adds to their real size. As a rule females are killed at birth, except those few to suffice for breeding. Commence training at six months to a year old and when two or three years old and seasoned to work are considered prime and preferable for long heavy distant sledging and hunting.
The best trained of the team (eight, twelve or more in number) is selected as a leader. They are guided by voice and whip, a loud "Brr-Brr" taking the place of our "Gee" in starting and the word "Sass-Sass" used as "Whoa." "Hi" and "He" for right and left, "Ho" to correct, or speed, as they are trained, of course. A good leader possesses the quality of rarely failing to lead one safely over any route once traveled by them, bringing you safely to the place even if buried under the snow.
They eat each other's flesh wolf-like with gusto and will tear their fellows to pieces in fight or injury, unless beaten, torn apart or separated by a man of whom they are afraid. They hate water in winter as much as they love it in summer when they frequent the salmon streams and support themselves by fishing, pounce upon nearing fish of any size that approach them, much as does the bear, two of them even tackling an immensely big fish and fighting to secure and bring it to shore. As bear, muskox, or reindeer, dogs, a pack of them will invariably round up, hold or drive anything sighted within reasonable distance so long as the hunters will follow on, needing but little urging, as they realize the prospect of a "good big feast," hence get busy to the end; younger dogs often paying the penalty with their lives but seldom older ones.
As a rule, rawhide or seal harness is used in the far north, Alaska and Greenland and by the Esquimaux but with the explorers these consist mostly of canvas collar like attachments made of fourfold strips, two of which pass or slip over the critter's back, the other two between the forelegs, the whole united to a trace and this in turn fastened by a toggle, hook or ring to the sledge or drag rope. The dogs are hitched to this, either side of the drag, or alternately single or double, distant a few feet from each other. The guiding dog or leader is ahead leading while the others follow. Where canvas harness or steel wire rope is used on the drag by "Expeditions" it is because it lessens the chances of the harness being stolen, chewed or eaten, when rations become scarce.
In heavy traveling they are used and hitched double for fast travel, alternate and single as exigencies require and will travel from 10 to 50 miles a day according to conditions of road, load, snow, ice, etc. When hitched or prior to it, they are usually lightly fed so as to bring them to reach their destination and "Tether," loafers soon learn that they must earn their food. At times when worked hard, they get off feed, so to speak, sulk and refuse to come up to a drag. In which case the remaining dogs must do the work and rarely do they fail to whine, show their contempt for such action and punish "His Nibs" at the first chance later on, even pining to get at him, sled and all, as they observe him following behind alone.
On hard pulls, or uneven drags, they play out easily, act mulish, refusing to budge until the sled is started or at variance with each other. Otherwise, the start is a steady pull until well under way. A good team double will pull easily a load of 1,000 pounds or more, single about one-half, depending largely on condition of themselves and the road they travel. The Esquimaux seldom spares them or the whip, "Brring" them on and "Hi-ying" if needs be.
About eight hours' work constitutes a day's travel or they go until played out, the latter case most likely. When traveling they are fairly obedient and preserve a steady equal pulling that occasionally is relieved by a jerky, gallop-like pace. Well trained dogs preserve their pace and tug on the harness for hours at a time. Usually they stop every hour or so for breathing spells as the atmosphere in those regions winds them easily. If traveling fast on ice and one falls or slips, he is dragged along, half strangled, until he regains his feet, place and position in line again, or, becoming tangled he is loosened up. By this time he has been snapped a few times by the dogs about him as if to punish him for his carelessness.
Ordinarily, the leader responds promptly to the driver's voice, guiding, turning, halting or increasing speed at the given command. When, however, they scent game, they become difficult to manage, requiring utmost application of the whip to keep the trail or direction and this invariably ends in confusion, hopeless tangle and upset sledge.
Handling, feeding, training calls for more judgment and patience than skill, driving especially. They refuse to cross apparently weak yet tested ice, pressure ridges, ice or snow cracks and mule-like, will make a plunging jump over a depression (when in trace) which ordinarily would not call for a leap at all. They require watchfulness on the part of the driver over cross country or when not following the trail, lest they sheer off from a given direction or straight line.
Sledge Dog. — Photo From Life.
When following the trail much confidence is vested in the leader and should perchance it strike a blind or cross trail, it will howl to attract the attention of the driver and by these means verify directions, as if to ask if it is leading right. In case it loses the track it will slow up, whine, run up or criss-cross its tracks, sniffing and smelling in an anxious, expectant way, until it finds or is led correct, when it howls with delight and pulls off "like blazes" again.
They have strange likes and dislikes. As entire pack will punish one who incurs the displeasure at times to an extent of crippling or killing each other. If a strange dog comes amongst them he is pretty sure to get "mauled" or his scraping abilities put to test, which usually ends in a free-for-all fight, catch as catch can rules predominating.
When in harness training a young dog gets punished frequently by its mates for any awkwardness it shows. Old dogs especially show contempt for a new or strange dog which takes its mate's place, be it pup or otherwise, and will often sulk if their place is changed. Each seems to think his place is best, the leader especially being particularly proud of his honored position in "Dogdom." As a rule, existing difficulties or arguments in harness are stored up until that day's march is over, because of fear of punishment from the driver, but as soon as turned loose, they settle the difficulty of the day by another scrap, in which often one bunch will participate in, "take sides," and chew up each other, until all pitch in, aiming to settle things somehow. If too tired, they await the morrow. As a rule, the best sledge dogs are the poorest scrappers (so we have to be partial at times) especially to the leader who is usually the most intelligent; hence favored.
In a pinch, when game and rations are scarce, they make good eating, of course, being sacrificed. At these times, their peculiar savage nature asserts itself, when you kill one for food, by signs of joy, rather than fear for they seem to be devoid of sympathy or unaffected by the scene. Their flesh is pale, tender and tasteless much like rabbit, bloodless and poor, and they will eat anything from a tin can label to Kipling's "Rag, Bone or Hank of Hair." When meat is plenty, they take on flesh and fatten quickly but seldom does this happen as the Esquimaux says, "Him no good, lazy, much fat."
Wolf-like, stolen food tastes better and one will leave his own ration to steal a fellow's equal share and risking by his greediness both, as it is stolen in turn by another. Their thieving propensities are great, a tin can of meat, skin boots, oil lamp, old soup kettle, or their own harness if sealskin or rawhide.
Rough and Ready Sledge Dog.
Tied, penned up or left harnessed any length of time, they assert their belief in "Liberty and Equality" by chewing their way to freedom if it takes a week to do it. As a rule, the dogs respect a female and will seldom molest her. These give birth to a litter of from 4 to 8 pups which are generally killed at birth, unless a scarcity of them, fat "puppy dog" being with the paunch of the reindeer considered a regular "Delmonico" dish. The average usefulness of their existence is about 6 to 8 years, the old dogs following the same road as fat puppies, after their usefulness has seen the limit. Fall bred dogs are best. Alaskan dogs are larger and heavier and the same rule applies to Labrador species, but as they are of mixed breed, lazier and require more food they are only used to advantage where they belong — at home.
As a rule, they exist, breed and sleep in the open, the soft side of a drifting snow bank being a luxury, especially if it drifts about them up to the muzzle, and it is only vacated when dangerous. They seek the warmest spots they can find, a rope coil, rag or paper, or even a tin can to lie on, in preference to ice or hard snow. Failing in this, they will dig a hole in the soft snow and bury themselves in this, lying one on top of the other in bitter weather. The best of Arctic or Polar dogs, while they withstand cold to surprising degree, nevertheless, suffer with the cold and danger of freezing, especially in winter time when food is scarce or frozen and snow serves to quench thirst, a wet foot or crippled limb being the first to suffer. In bitter weather I have seen them roll and run to maintain circulation. They huddle together, shivering, hold up their paws and whine pitifully and appealingly.
They receive a kind word by a show of teeth instead of a wag — indeed, are anything but friendly, except at "chuck" time and then limit it to the grub with a few exceptions, of course. Most of them, however, Indian-like, believe in the old maxim "Familiarity breeds contempt" and thus they treat kindness with suspicion and turn tail as if it preceded work or a licking and perhaps both.
If left alone any length of time, one will start up a coyote-like howl and all join in one after the other in the chorus that takes the appearance of a man with a "big stick" to quell. If left alone they will keep it up for hours, stopping as it commenced by degrees, apparently without reason. They are fed when circumstances permit and if permitted, will gorge themselves to the point of bursting, eating enough to last a week and camping alongside of it until even the bones are cleaned up and not enough left to feed a fly. Indian-like, however, they are always on hand for the next meal, hungry again. When traveling, they are fed a little daily, but when not, exist on wind, bones and kicks, fish offal and refuse thrown out, or hunt for themselves like wolves, after Arctic hares, lemmings or anything they can find.
In winter time, dogs are often the main food of the Esquimaux and as fat or oil is generally scarce, are eaten raw instead of cooked, oil being too valuable at this time to be wasted on dog. Its taste to the white man largely depends on one's hunger or digestive cravings. If half-starved, it is voted "just excellent." If not, it is "just dog," that's all. Yet, if the pangs of hunger gnaw one's vitals, repugnance, position in life, creed, superstition, opinions, likes and dislikes, self-respect, all give way to the cravings of an empty stomach; especially in that trackless great white desert called the "Distant Polar Regions."
Such is the life and existence of these, the sledge dogs of the north.