CHAPTER IX
Eskimo Dogs
The value to the Eskimo of a good team of about five dogs is equivalent to that of a kyak or a sled, or a reliable gun. To assess it in terms of money would have no significance in a land where utility and necessity alone determine the scale.
The breed is part, or half, wolf. In build, the true Eskimo dog is well formed, almost slim about the hindquarters compared with the rest of his body, the broad and sturdy chest, the strong neck and heavy jaws. His hair is very thick, grey or tawny in colour, and his tail immensely bushy, always carried erectly, curving over the back. He is a different creature to the Samoyede and the Kentucky wolf hound; but probably there is very little to distinguish him from the famous Alaskan “husky” dog of so much literary fame, and the dog of the Labrador.
The dogs in Baffin Land are fed solely on seal flesh, unlike those of the trappers and mail carriers in Alaska and elsewhere, who subsist on a spare and spartan ration of frozen fish. Sacks of chopped seal are always carried on the sleds for the dogs on a winter journey, skin and hair included. They are [[120]]wonderful travellers, although the speed with which a trip may be accomplished depends on a good many other factors than dog power alone. In the winter a team may average thirty miles a day; or when conditions of ice and wind are particularly favourable this figure may be doubled.
The Eskimo dogs begin their lives in quite pleasant domestic comfort. They breed in the spring and autumn, and the puppies when born are kept on the sleeping place in the tent or igloo, and played with by the women and children in order to accustom them to being handled, and to the scent of human beings. Otherwise they would grow up wild and savage, and a trouble to their owners; and, moreover, might too easily fall a fat and toothsome morsel to any particularly hungry parent or stray wolf about the camp. They are pretty, playful puppies, full of puppy imbecility and fun. When about six weeks old this halcyon period of irresponsibility and shelter comes to an abrupt end. Out go the lot into the hard world, to eat and sleep with the grown-up dogs of the village. And immediately the puppy’s training begins. He has a miniature harness made for him and a little sled. The small boys take him in hand. They harness him and drive him about, to his unfathomable disgust and their own diversion, until he becomes used to the process and the various words of command.
As time goes on and he gets a little older his serious education engages the attention of the men. Puppy is harnessed to the real sled with the older dogs and [[121]]has to help to drag it to the hunting grounds. He objects strongly to leaving the village and what it has of possibilities in the way of tit-bits; but the accustomed orders break over his head in a fearful roar he has never heard before, and he scares up a new obedience. Soon, however, he tries the effect of rebellion, and bolts back on the trail, only to be brought up with a jerk as he reaches the end of his line. He is unceremoniously dragged along on his back, bumping over the rough ice, hating everything and everybody, thinking life not a bit worth living and that the bottom of his world has fallen out. He is rudely brought to! The leader of the team knows what to do. Like a parent spanking a naughty child, the leader sails in, and with many a forceful shake and many a shrewd nip at every tender point, he forces Puppy to take his rightful station in the team and do his best to pull. As he goes back to his own position at the head the Leader just passes word along to the rest to follow his example. They make quite a point of it. As often as the recruit shows a tendency to slack off again, or so much as rolls an eye towards the back trail, they give him a shake up or a nip on the leg to encourage him to proceed, rather, in the right direction. He receives further assistance towards this desirable fixity of purpose by an occasional and painfully adroit flick of the hunter’s long driving lash.
A few days of this sort of thing, and the youngster registers the lesson that discretion is the better part of valour. He learns to keep his objections to himself. [[122]]
The next thing to dawn upon his expanding mind is that dragging heavy weights over the snow makes one’s feet uncommonly sore. The older dogs knew that long ago, and lay down before starting in the morning, quite willing to have their boots put on. The dog “boot” is merely an oblong strip of seal leather with two holes for the nails to go through and a couple of thongs to secure the ends round the leg. Everywhere in the Arctics the freight dogs are obliged to have protection for their feet. But Youngster, whose turn for practical investigation has ere this convinced him that nothing is inedible except sticks and stones, retires promptly to the back of the sled or behind the nearest cover, and eats his boots there and then, with early morning relish. The team, to a dog, say nothing, but start off as usual. Youngster licks his lips, curls his tail, and feels good. But after a few miles something of the curl goes out of his tail, his feet become tender and he droops a little. The others plod on; he lags. Instantly comes the sting of the whip or a nip of teeth like a vice. Youngster sprints ahead, only to flag more and more, to limp and crawl at last with the pain in his unprotected, wayworn feet. At the end of the day he simply staggers home, a very sad and sobered Puppy. Leader strolls over, when he thinks he will, looks at him en passant, and grins. The culprit adds another mental note to his list of things not good for the digestion. No more boots!
Comes another milestone on the hard path of learning and virtue—pilfering. [[123]]