Across the sub-Arctics of Canada

by J. W. Tyrrell

An Eskimo appears to have no idea of a limited capacity for food, but usually eats until the supply fails. I knew of one exception, however, where an old woman, after doing heroically, was forced to yield.

A party of Eskimos were having a big feast on the carcase of a whale, which they consider very good food, when this woman, in her ambition, overestimated her capabilities and ate until she became quite torpid. Her friends, supposing her to be dead, trailed her out and buried her in the snow, but a day or two afterwards she kicked off the snow that covered her and rejoined her astonished companions.

Next to stowing capacity, an Eskimo’s stomach is noted for its powers of digestion. For instance, both the flesh and hide of the walrus are common articles of food with them, and yet these are so hard and gritty that when skinning or cutting up the animal one has to be continually sharpening his knife.

The skin of a walrus is a good deal like that of an elephant, and is from half an inch to an inch and a half in thickness; but, notwithstanding this, and the hardness of its structure, the little Eskimo children may often be seen running about gnawing pieces of walrus hide as if they were apples. Sometimes, however, they have no walrus hide or meat of any kind to gnaw, for occasionally in the spring season the condition of the snow and ice is such as to render hunting impossible, and though they store up meat in the fall for winter use, it is often exhausted before spring.

When this state of things occurs the condition of the Eskimos is deplorable in the extreme. They are forced to kill and eat their wretched dogs, which are even more nearly starved than themselves, and next they resort to their skin clothing and moccasins, which they soak in water until they become soft, though perhaps not altogether palatable.

HALF-BREED HUNTER WITH WOODEN SNOW-GOGGLES.

Next to starvation, perhaps the most severe affliction the Eskimo has to endure is that of snow blindness. This trouble is very prevalent in the spring season, and is caused by the exposure to the strong glare of the sun upon the glistening fields of snow and ice. Snow blindness is thus in reality acute inflammation of the eyes, and the pain caused by it is excruciating, being like what one would expect to suffer if his eyes were filled with hot salt. I speak from experience.

In order to guard against the occurrence of snow-blindness, the Eskimos wear a very ingenious contrivance, in the form of wooden goggles. These are neatly carved so as to fit over the nose, and close in to the sockets of the eyes. Instead of colored glasses, which the Eskimos have no means of getting, these goggles are made with narrow horizontal slits, just wide enough to allow the wearer to see through. Thus the excess of light is excluded, while the sight is not entirely obstructed.

Like many people in southern Canada, the native of the frozen zone possesses a summer and winter residence, and occupies each in turn as regularly as the seasons change. His winter dwelling is built of snow; his summer lodge is made of oil-tanned seal or deer-skins, neatly sewn together, and supported by poles, if such can be procured, or pieces of drift-wood spliced together. A flap is left for the door, but there is no opening at the top, as in the Indian wigwam or tepee, for, having no fire, they have no need of a chimney.