Meanwhile Caribou in some numbers were advancing northward by crossing Windy River, the ice on which did not break up generally till June 14. On June 3, for example, as I peeped out of my tent at 4 a.m., there was a band of about 15 making a crossing a quarter of a mile above camp. Late in the afternoon several dozen did likewise close to the same place. At this period I did not get farther upstream to note how many might be passing there. On June 14, while the river ice was breaking up but while the bay ice was holding firm, two bucks moved about on the latter, just off the river’s mouth. They appeared to be seeking a safe crossing. The smaller of the two almost invariably preceded, just as if it were aware that it would be less likely to break through than its companion. For the most part they walked rather sedately, but now and then took up a very leisurely trot. On the following day a dozen crossed Windy Bay at about the same place. These were the last ones seen on the ice in June. Though the ice remained on the bay for some days longer, it had evidently become unsafe.
Thereafter the Caribou obviously preferred the short passage of Windy River (no more than 50 or 60 yards wide in places) to a swim of half a mile or so across Windy Bay. So they appeared in considerable numbers on the south bank of the river, reconnoitering for a suitable place to cross. Many were deterred by movements or sounds in our camp on the north bank, including the yelping invariably set up by the tethered Husky dogs whenever they would catch sight of Caribou; the latter would then be likely either to retreat behind the ridges or to pass upstream along the south bank. Along the half-mile extent of this bank visible from our camp, I noted the following making the passage of the river by swimming: June 18, a band of half a dozen; June 20, a band of three landing practically in our dooryard and about 14 crossing at the mouth; June 21, six crossing at the mouth; June 24, about 10 (mostly big bucks) landing just above the camp. On the morning of July 1 a buck swam across the bay just off the river’s mouth, and a little later a band of about 11—the last seen on the spring migration—were trotting upstream along the south bank.
Various groups observed during June, principally on the south side of the bay and the river, furnished memorable spectacles. Besides resorting to open areas on the frozen lakes and rivers for their resting periods, the Caribou will also select some commanding hilltop for the same purpose. On June 3 a band of 75 appeared in midday on the summit of a rocky hill (“Caribou Knoll,” [map 1]) rising to a height of some 150 feet on the far side of Windy River. While some kept on feeding, many of them lay down on snowbanks, apparently preferring these to the plentiful patches of bare ground, and doubtless passing the time by chewing their cuds. The velvet of the bucks’ new antlers was plainly visible through field-glasses. In the variety of their attitudes on this rocky height the animals were disposed perhaps more like alpine Chamois than like the generally conceived masses of Caribou on the low Barrens. What a subject for a Millais!
It appears likely that the higher elevations may serve for the nocturnal rest as well as for a noonday siesta. During the evening of June 1, for instance, some 75 Caribou in a loose aggregation were feeding over the summit of Josie’s Hill, beyond the junction of Windy and South bays. On June 20 I was enjoying a wonderfully clear and golden light that was cast on the imposing mass of this hill as the sun was setting at my back about 9 o’clock. The glory of that scene was enhanced by picking out with the naked eye, at a distance of a couple of miles, two separate bands of 12 to 15 Caribou making their way upward toward the broad, plateaulike summit. Meanwhile a lone Caribou was outlined against the sky on one of the rocky ridges to the south. Might not these various movements have indicated a common urge to spend the semi-darkness of the Arctic summer night on some high, open area where a good lookout for Wolves could be kept?
About 2 p.m. on June 15, a herd, perhaps half a hundred strong, appeared on a ridge directly across the river from camp. The animals made a lovely spectacle as they stood for a time, despite certain human movements in camp. Then they moved off upstream. A couple of hours later about 15 Caribou were feeding quietly on the south bank. On the following morning a band of 20 were doing likewise in nearly the same place. Among them were a patriarchal buck (apparently the leader), several other bucks, various does (one with hard horns), and a large proportion of yearlings. The bucks in general were lighter in color—more buffy; the does and yearlings, a sort of smoke gray. They seemed to be feeding to some extent on the patches of crowberry and dwarf birch. Presently they trotted off upstream, almost but not quite in single file, for a couple marched out of line with the others.
On June 17 a band of about 20 appeared at a distance of 125 yards on the brow of a low hill near Stump Lake. Nearly all were big bucks, with velvety antlers up to about 20 inches in length. Perhaps three in the band were hornless—if not does, then young bucks that had very recently shed their antlers. Two of the bigger bucks were in the lead. At first the band came toward me, then went off at a tangent at a good pace, splashed across a little stream in a spirited action, and disappeared over the next ridge.
Out of several bands appearing on June 20 on the opposite side of the river, one of about 14 individuals came down the slope near the mouth, took to the water at once, and made for the north shore. A strong buck landed first, and farthest upstream; others did nearly as well, but some of the smaller animals were swept by the strong current down into the bay and probably landed beyond the point. On reaching the shore, and even some minutes afterward, several of the Caribou could be seen shaking the water from their fur in doglike fashion.
On the morning of June 21 a dozen came to the ridge across the river, briefly inspected the camp, and retreated. In a short time they returned, four antlered bucks in the lead, and some hornless individuals in the rear (almost in a separate band). Three of the bucks stood side by side, looking long and earnestly at the camp, while the others grazed. Finally dissatisfied with the prospect, they made off upstream.
A little before 7 p.m. on the same day six Caribou appeared on the same ridge. For once the dogs were inattentive and silent. After promenading back and forth along the brow, the Caribou disappeared on the far side of the ridge; but in a few moments they were in the water at the river’s mouth, in very close formation, three of them swimming abreast. There were three good bucks and three smaller, hornless animals. After they got ashore at the opposite point, there was wagging of tails and shaking of ears, heads, and bodies, while the water flew off in a spray. Then they leisurely proceeded along the shore and around the point.
About 7 p.m. on June 24 some 10 Caribou (mostly big bucks) swam the river and landed immediately above our camp. The last two, I noted, were heading almost upstream in the current that was running 6-8 miles per hour. They swam high, with the whole line of the back 2 or 3 inches out of the water and with the antlers tilted back to keep the snout above the surface. On landing, the animals hastened to the top of the Camp Ridge and ran off along it, while the chained and frustrated dogs expressed their feelings in the usual manner.