CHURCHILL IN SUMMER
Out of the world as it seems, Churchill is a busy place with the coming and going of Crees, Eskimo, and Chipwyans. The annual ship goes thither from York Factory, and boats have to be built for the loading and unloading of the cargo, as well as or carrying on the trade further north with Mable Island. Food is very dear, and is obtained with toil and difficulty. In summer, porpoises are hunted; in winter, bears, wolves, and foxes are shot. The cold is intense, and quantities of wood must be hewn, and hauled home on sledges drawn by the Eskimo dog. The short summer will scarcely allow any garden produce to come to perfection. A few very poor and puny potatoes are grown, which are highly prized by the Europeans, and carefully eked out. A very little hay is made for the winter fodder of the cows; which, however, gladly eat the nourishing white moss, which is the food of the reindeer.
‘I must tell you,’ says the bishop, with a spice of humour,’ about the Churchill cows, for they are—or were—a curious lot. There were three of them. About one there was nothing very particular, except that it was somewhat of a dwarf. The second went about harnessed, for, Churchill pasture not making her particularly fat, she was so supple that she required no milkmaid to milk her; she did it herself, and seemed to enjoy the exercise. The harness supported a bag, which enclosed the udder, and which prevented her from indulging in a draught of new milk. The third had an artificial tail. The poor brute had been off at a little distance from the place, when she was set upon by some wolves; she bellowed, and at once made for home, where she arrived almost frightened to death, and without a tail. What was to be done now? The flies were in myriads, and, if she had no protection against them, they would put her to a much more cruel death than that threatened by the wolves. A happy thought struck one of the colony of fifty. They had a dead cow’s tail lying in the store! Why not use that? The suggestion was at once acted upon; the tail was attached to the stump by means of some twine, and over it was tied some canvas, well saturated with Stockholm tar. It was a great success, and the creature was again able to do battle with her diminutive but persevering foes.’
In undertaking the distant station of Churchill, in the midst of a dreary waste, Mr. Lofthouse had a life of self-denial before him, as well as very serious work, not the least of which was the necessity for learning three languages, neither of them bearing any resemblance to the other. For example, the phrase ‘It is good’ is in Chipwyan nazo, in Cree milwashiu, and in Eskimo peyokumme.
Far away from Moose, five hundred miles distant, very difficult to reach—the journey to it occupying about twenty days—is the station of Matawakumma. Long and dangerous rapids have to be ascended, long and disagreeable portages to be crossed, one of which is four miles in length. One long lake—Kinokummisse, meaning ‘long lake’—must be traversed, and another—Matawakumma, ‘The meeting of the waters’—must be gone over.
ON THE CHURCHILL RIVER