Peeps at Many Lands: Norway

by A. F. Mockler-Ferryman

But there is a peculiarity about the lemming which makes the country-folk of Norway more afraid of him than of any other animal. In most years you may wander about the country for weeks and never see a lemming, but occasionally there comes what is called a “lemming-year,” when more young lemmings are born than usual, and then the trouble begins. They eat up everything round about their homes, and they begin to wander in search of food in packs of thousands, like swarms of locusts. The farmers try to destroy them, but they soon give up the attempt, as for days and days the lemmings come on in great waves, eating up the grass and the crops wherever they pass. Except the sea, nothing will stop them when once they have made a start; they come down the mountain-sides, swim the rivers and streams, rush through the forests, and, eating as they go, devastate the farm-lands. They do not wander hither and thither, but keep to the same direction straight ahead, until they eventually reach the sea. Whether they think that it is only another river to be crossed, or whether they think that they have done enough damage for one lifetime, nobody knows; but into the sea they all plunge madly, and, of course, are soon drowned.

This, however, does not end the nuisance, for thousands of them die as they sweep over the country, leaving their dead bodies to poison the water, and thus making the people ill with what they term “lemming fever.” So the pretty little lemmings are on occasions more to be dreaded than are even bears and wolves, but fortunately “lemming-years” do not come round very often, and the whole country is not visited by the pest at the same time. They made their last big raid in several districts in 1902, and they may come swarming down from the mountains again any summer.

I must now say something about the wild animals which are helpful to the people in that they provide them with food and bring money to their pockets. Foxes and other fur-bearing animals will always fetch good prices. There are also the hares, especially the white ones, which are shot and snared in winter-time in great quantities, and sold all over Europe. You may see them hanging up in the poulterers’ shops in London. Then there is that huge beast, the elk, almost as big as a small horse, who roams about the forests like his Canadian brother, the moose, and is hunted and shot for his flesh, skin, and massive flat horns. Red deer there are also in some parts of Norway; but the animal of greatest interest is undoubtedly the reindeer.

Up on the great mountain plateaux there are still plenty of wild reindeer roaming about in large herds, and numbers of them are shot every autumn by the farmers, who sell the skins, and dry the meat to be eaten in the winter months. It is, however, the so-called tame reindeer which are so invaluable to the people of the North. Without them it would be difficult, if not impossible, for the Laplanders to exist, and without them thousands of Norwegians would be poor indeed.

It is a popular idea that, in the winter, reindeer draw the sleighs all over Norway. As a matter of fact, it is only in the extreme North, among the Lapps, that reindeer are employed for this kind of work; and very few Europeans ever have the opportunity of enjoying a drive in a reindeer “pulk,” as the queer sleigh is called. That the experience is most exhilarating and exciting is certain. In the first place, there is only one trace, connecting a kind of shoulder harness with the forepart of the sleigh; again, there is only one rein coming from a collar round the deer’s neck, and consequently driving a reindeer as we drive a horse is, of course, out of the question. All that it is possible to do is to head him in the required direction, and hope for the best. A jerk of the rein sets him going; and, as often as not, he starts at a frantic gallop, kicking up the snow into the driver’s face until he is almost blinded, and careering right and left at his own sweet will until he is tired. There is no difficulty about keeping to the road, because there are no roads—only miles and miles of snow, and the reindeer knows pretty well which way to go, since the camping-places and habitations in these regions are limited.

Imagine what it would be like to jump into a boat-like “pulk” all alone—for there is only room for one—twist the rein round your wrist, give it a flick, and so away over the waste of snow, watching the great antlers of the deer in front of you, and flinging yourself from side to side to prevent capsizing. And, if you do happen to upset, you must hang on to the rein like grim death and be dragged over the snow, otherwise the reindeer will either fly like the wind and be lost, or he may turn on you and attack you with his fore-hoofs.

These are the animals which are called the tame reindeer, but their tameness only consists in the fact that they are kept in herds together, and watched by men and dogs. They graze wherever they choose, and the men and the dogs have to follow them. When they are wanted for driving, to be milked, or to be killed, the Lapp has to lasso them over the horns, from a distance of thirty or forty yards, for no reindeer is ever sufficiently tame to permit a man to walk up to him.

The wealth of a Laplander depends on the number of reindeer which he possesses. They carry his baggage and draw his sleighs when encampments are moved; they provide him with milk and cheese, and, when killed, with excellent meat. Their skins keep him warm at night, and out of them are made boots, shoes, and leggings, as well as every kind of article of leather which the Lapp has a use for. Horns, hoofs, and bones all have their value, and not so long ago the women did all their sewing with needles and threads made out of reindeer’s bones and sinews. Moreover, after supplying their own wants, the herdsmen can sell the surplus meat and skins, and thus obtain the wherewithal to buy other necessaries or luxuries.

Cows, horses, sheep, goats, or pigs would be out of place in Lapland, and would find nothing to eat. But the “camel of the Arctic Desert,” as the reindeer has been called, thrives in the cold without care or shelter, and subsists on the moss, which he obtains by scraping deep holes in the snow. Small wonder that he is a valuable beast to the Laplander, who, however, repays him only with blows and lashes.

Farther south, on the Hardanger Fjeld and elsewhere, herds of tame reindeer have now been established by Norwegian companies as a new industry. Lapps are hired to look after them, and the meat is sold in great quantities in many parts of Europe, especially in Paris. A good trade is done also in the skins, for glove-making and other purposes. It is by no means difficult to have a look at one of these herds, and any visitor to Norway who finds himself within a day’s climb of the mountains whereon a herd is known to be grazing should do his utmost to see the reindeer. He will find them not, like the deer in Richmond Park, waiting to be looked at, but timid and restless, and ready to take flight at the slightest provocation. Only the Lapp herdsmen and their dogs are able to control these wild children of a wild land.