Chapter VIII: Forestry: Reindeer: Land Tenures

During my long walks while Nico was painting, I was refreshed and delighted by the abundance of wild fruit which I found everywhere, delicious little strawberries and large raspberries. Once, while I was greedily stripping a bush of raspberries, sitting at my ease on a rock beside the shrub, a large snake glided from under my skirt, and hid itself beneath the stone on which my feet were resting. I had a terrible fright for a moment. I have never discovered whether there are poisonous snakes in Norway. Every four or five years certain districts are infested by animals about the size and form of a guinea-pig. They swarm all over the country, and do a good deal of damage. Immense numbers are killed, and the race seems to die out, until, when a period of four or five years has elapsed, they appear again. I was told this by an English inhabitant, who could give me no reason for this intermittent character of their presence.

The Norwegian horses take their pleasures sadly. When they are not working, and are set at liberty to feed along the strip of herbage, they are either attached by a short chain round one leg to a staple fixed in the ground, or, what is worse, their forefeet are linked closely together by an arrangement like handcuffs. To see the poor things trying to be frisky amid these circumstances is quite painful. Nico describes the movement which results as "hirpling." It is a cross word, I suppose, between hopping and limping, and is extremely expressive of what it is intended to represent. In the towns the horse's forefoot is tied to the wheel of the cart when the driver is obliged to leave it. What would happen if wandering musicians were to strike up an equine cake-walk, I tremble to think!

In a country of such scattered population, the keeping of the miles of road in good order is naturally a question of moment. On most of his drives the traveller will notice hundreds of little poles painted red, and bearing some kind of inscription, planted at short intervals. These signposts give the name of the farmer or landowner appointed by the _lensmand_ to look after and repair a certain area of road, which is also indicated on the post. I do not know whether the farmer or the careless lensmand is to be blamed for the terrible condition of some few of the roads over which we passed. On the other hand, the difficulties to be contended with considered, the condition of the chief ways is wonderfully good. Many of the roads are cut up inconveniently by gates, placed at quite short intervals. Every second minute one has to scramble off one's cart to open these obstacles; but I believe they are less for the purpose of causing trouble than for keeping some sort of control over the straying of the farm animals. All along the route one meets with curious wedge-shaped constructions of wood. These are the snow ploughs. When they are needed, as many as six or eight horses are harnessed to them, and slowly they force a passage through the deep snow. I think they can be used only at the beginning or at the end of winter, though I am not quite certain; but why should people use ploughs when winter transit is entirely and most conveniently accomplished on sledges and skis? The deep valleys which are generally a feature on one side of a Norwegian roadway are levelled with drifts of snow, and it is only when spring comes that the road may be tracked by the heads of the ten-foot poles planted along the path, which begin to show themselves only as the thaw sets in. What a lonely, mysterious journey for the solitary postman!

Somewhere in the neighbourhood of Odde lives to this day a postman who had a terrible adventure in the snow. The history of it was told me by a man who drove us for days along the road across Norway between Odde and Christiania. In the winter in the farming districts letters are delivered only once a week--perforce by the postmen on skis. I gathered that the day of delivery is not absolutely certain, and the man is sometimes days on his trip. The postman in question set out, as usual, alone; half way to his destination he sank into a snow-drift on the side of the mountain. In a day or two, when his continued absence was remarked, search-parties of thirty or forty men set out to find him. Of these searchers my driver was one. With them they took his coffin, expecting indeed to find him, but resigned to the certitude of finding his dead body only. Before the third day was over they sorrowfully gave up the search, and returned to their homes to wait until spring should force the secret from the snow. At the end of the third day, a feeble, white-haired man staggered into the station, and fell fainting to the ground. For three days the postman had been buried alive, and at last, by dint of digging with his post-horn, he had got free. The rescue party had passed over his very head, and he had heard them speaking of him and finally deciding to give up the search; but of course it was impossible for him to discover himself to them. Imagine the joy of the community at his return! You may be sure he was well nursed back to health; and still, summer and winter alike, he carries the mail-bag over his allotted route.

It is obvious that the winter is in Norway a time of enforced cessation from farm work. With the exception of a certain amount of labour connected with the cattle, there is little to be done for several months. The men pass most of this quiet time in carving wood and making various articles out of birch bark. The women spin for their household needs, and knit and embroider what may be called fancy goods in expectation of the tourist season. The large shops buy up enormous quantities of the peasants' winter work, and each of the posting inns is a small centre where the peasants of the neighbourhood endeavour to get large prices for the products of their winter industry--prices which dwindle through the summer as the days become shorter and the tourists fewer. It must be admitted that they are extraordinarily clever carvers; and they have a rather primitive method of painting their wares which is very decorative and, when it is not too well done, quite attractive. Their nicest carving they keep to themselves: witness the delightful fairy-tale animals which form the handle of the family mangling-board, and the equally charming monsters which seem to perch on the arms and backs of chairs.

A word on their primitive method of mangling may not be amiss. Two utensils are necessary--the first a kind of rolling-pin, round which the sprinkled linen is tightly swathed. The other, a mangling-board, a narrow flat piece of wood wielded by the picturesque handle I have described, is then pressed tightly on the linen and rolled with as much force as possible. I do not really believe that this operation can, even with great strength, make very much difference to the condition of the linen; but the process is much more interesting to watch than the working of a civilised mangling-machine.

It is in the winter that the work of a forester is at its height. The felling of trees begins late in September, and is continued under many difficulties and hardships all through the winter. As the large forests are often at some distance from populated areas, the woodsmen build themselves log huts. They fill up the crannies between the logs with moss and turf, but on the roof they lay first a covering of birch bark to keep things close and dry. These huts are warmed day and night by a wood fire, which is always kept burning; on this they make their tea and coffee and do what little cooking they may need. I could not discover what happens to the poor horses that help the woodsmen in their labours. Do they share the hut with their masters, or do they sleep as best they may outside in the cold and snow?

The trees are felled, the branches lopped off, and the trunks stripped of their bark, which is kept and applied to many useful purposes. They are then gathered together where it is most convenient, and when the snow becomes deep enough they are dragged or slid to the nearest practicable waterway. I believe that it is at this stage that the owner, or his representative, marks the timber for recognition. In many cases the owner of the forest sells his felled trees to a merchant, and it is here in such a case that the wood changes hands. In spring, when the ice-bound rivers begin to thaw, and the melting snow swells them in force and volume, the logs are carried by these torrents to the main river. During their journey hundreds of logs get stuck here and there, sometimes lying crossways between the banks and damming the river. The river drivers have their work cut out to obviate this happening, and, if possible, to be rid of it after its event, for to such a stoppage may be due most dangerous floods, and many accidents, when the immense mass of logs, stopped in their eager passage, at last are free. Sometimes the logs are chained together and sent down in rafts; but more often each one pursues a separate course. If they are jammed, the river driver, with the help of his long pole, must balance himself as best he can on the logs, as he springs from one to another, poking and prodding till at last he loosens the mass; and how to save himself is the question of the moment, for a risky calling is that of the man who endeavours to direct the logs in the way they should go. Sometimes, when the danger appears great even to these hardy Norwegians, accustomed though they are to risking their lives daily, the man whose duty it is to discover and cut the log which is probably causing the whole stoppage is put into a kind of harness and attached by ropes to both banks of the river, so that when the whole mass rends itself free he may be lifted directly above their violence and so drawn into safety. As it is bad for the wood to lie through the summer, it is important that all this work should be done completely and with regularity. If it is a dry season, the logs will be left high and dry, and be liable to crack; on the other hand, one may often see logs lying at the bottom of deep water so saturated that they cannot float. All this timber is a great source of wealth to the country. It is used enormously for fuel, for fencing, and in building. Immense quantities are exported in the raw; others are prepared for use in the form of doors or window frames; there is even a certain market for complete log houses of various sizes. Naturally, in such a country, one meets frequently with sawmills, and here the countless cataracts are found useful in supplying motive power. It is surely strange, all these things considered, that so little discretion is exercised in the felling and planting of trees. Although of late years, I believe, the Government has bestowed a good deal of attention on this question, so much of the forest land is in private hands and beyond surveillance that on the whole sadly little care can be taken to prevent the ill-treatment of the forests. It is acknowledged that there are many tracts of bare land which within the memory of living man were thick forests. In several districts wood is too scarce to be used for fuel, and consequently the inhabitants are dependent upon peat. Bogs are to be found all over the country--on the lonely tablelands as in the inhabited valleys. These bogs are generally moss lands, and, in the north particularly, they contain thick strata of decayed matter from the luxuriant forests of former days. The digging and cutting of splendid peat is one of the smaller industries of the country. It is thought that it will become of much greater importance as peat more and more takes the place of wood as fuel.

In other times there were thousands of acres of common land in Norway. The difficulties which this places in the way of a complete utilisation of the soil have led to attempts by the local governments to partition the common land among responsible owners; but there are obstacles, and in many cases the ground is shared by several farmers.

On the private property of many large farmers a feudal system of a kind is very much in vogue. Almost the same method is found on the Italian _podere_. Dwelling-places are built on the estate, and together with a greater or lesser plot of land, and under certain conditions which differ in various districts, are leased to a class of farm-labourers called _husmaend_. These men have certain rights of grazing on the farmer's land, and in addition to the rent, which is exceedingly small, the farmer has a right to their services during a certain time of the year. Superior to these husmaend are the _placemaend_, who own their houses but lease a certain amount of the farmer's land.

In the south-east of Norway the cultivation of fruit is carried on to a large extent. In favourable years peaches, apricots, tomatoes, and even grapes, are grown in the open air; in the north, on the mountains, the summer warmth is insufficient for even hardy plants.

Rye and oats are the most important cereals. They flourish and ripen amid harsher conditions than other grains can endure. Rye is the chief bread cereal of the country. A large area of ground is devoted to the cultivation of a mixture of barley and oats which is known as _mangcorn_. Experience has shown that the two grains planted together produce a larger crop than they do when planted singly. Besides being used as a human food, it is also a fodder for cattle, and a peculiarly excellent means of fattening swine. Berries are found growing wild in abundance in most of the inhabited regions; but vegetables play a very unimportant part in the feeding of the peasant.

The Norwegian horse, while not remarkable for beauty or carriage, is an exceedingly useful beast. It is hardy, gentle, and very active. On the Norwegian roads, which are in some parts very bad and in other parts merely rough bridle-paths, it cannot be surpassed. In Lapland, as everyone knows, the horse is almost entirely superseded by the reindeer. These are indeed a source of profit to their masters. From them the Lapps obtain their milk, cheese, peat, and the skin from which a good deal of their clothing is made. The small sledges which the reindeer draw are usually for one person. They are made of skin and are without shafts. The reins are tied to the horns of the beast, and this is all the control the driver has over the animal. Occasionally the reindeer is vexed and turns on his master, who saves himself by rolling out of the sledge and covering himself with it. It is a wonderful fact that a well-trained reindeer can run down the steepest hill without once coming in contact with the vehicle behind it, though there is nothing in the world but its own cleverness in covering the ground in a sort of zig-zag movement to prevent constant bumping and collisions. While young reindeer are being trained in the way they should go, a big buck animal is fastened to the back, to do nothing but pull against the other continually. This animal lives almost entirely on the moss, its natural food, which in the winter it scrapes out from under the snow with its strong hoof. Many Lapps keep a thousand or more head of these deer. They herd them together with the help of their clever dogs. Sometimes during the winter a family of these tent-dwellers descend upon districts more favoured than their own, and I believe the immense flocks of reindeer do untold damage in the forests. Besides clothing themselves in the skin of the reindeer, the Lapps make from it many objects for sale in the towns. Shoes and coats in the Lapp style, and all sorts of small articles, such as boxes, bags, knife-handles, in the fur, are produced by this people. I came across a very old book which--in an account of a visit to Norway--gives a short description of a meeting with some Lapps. I imagine that much of it may stand as if it had been written to-day.

"We accordingly provided a supply of drink and eatables; and, with a guide and an interpreter, set out on horseback. After travelling about forty hours, without seeing either any people or the road, we pitched our tents, at night, near a wood, with a part of which we made our fire. At length we met a family of about twenty persons, with their wives and children, who cordially saluted us, and we all shook hands. We shared out tobacco and brandy among them. They conducted us to their huts, and gave us dried reindeer flesh and milk.

"Their countenances are a miniature resemblance of the Calmuck faces; they are diminutive in size, and to appearance wretched; sufficiently generous, but full of uneasiness. They suffered us to go about everywhere, and do as we chose; and they readily showed us whatever they had. We were soon as intimate as if we had been born among them. Their language is very harmonious. A herd of about thirty reindeer strayed around. Our interpreter, who, by the bye, knew but little of their language, contrived to let them know that we wished to proceed onwards, to visit a few families of their people, by means of a carriage with reindeer. Immediately they harnessed a sledge for us; but it went very slowly, as no track in the snow had been previously beaten down. We arrived at a tribe who were all brothers and sisters of those we had quitted. Their huts were formed of large poles of wood, and set circularly, covered with branches, moss, earth, and reindeers' hides; they have holes for the smoke to escape and another hole made in the ground. We stayed three days with these people. In the middle of their huts a stove is placed, on which they make their fire, all sitting round it. Their clothing is made of deerskin, similar to a shirt, and tied about the loins with a cord. We saw some, however, dressed in linen, for which they had made an exchange of skins. These people, whose manners and habits are well worth observation, seem to enjoy the freedom of their way of life. They have no words in their language which express the ideas we attach to king, prince, governor, laws, rights, etc. We presented them with a few trifles, with which they were highly delighted, and took leave of them, to continue our route to Tuffendalen, where, after eight days' dragging, we at last found good boor-cottages. Whether the Laplanders indirectly belong to any regular constitution, or contribute anything to it, I cannot tell; but I remarked that, generally speaking, like the poor Indian of Pope, they have no artificial wants; and thus far, at least, they appear contented. The whole of this tract of land is solitary and desert. The superficial and level extent of it may comprehend a thousand and eight hundred square miles. _Laplander_ is with them considered as a term of reproach, or a mere nickname; they call themselves _Samalatzes_."

Since I wrote about the restrictions on the shooting of wild animals, I have learned that, whilst only one elk may be shot during one year on any estate, the owner of the estate may mark his ground for the purpose into certain divisions, and by paying a slight increase on his licence has thereby the right to kill as many elk as he has these partitions of his land.

While wandering in the forest, a Norwegian friend was attacked by a bull elk. Having no weapons and considering prudence the better part of valour, he climbed an adjacent tree. Not to be baulked of his victim, the elk had recourse to the extraordinarily brilliant idea (for an elk) of gnawing away the roots of the tree. For eight mortal hours the object of his endeavours sat on the top of the tree momentarily expecting its fall and his destruction. At last the elk turned his attention for a time to food, and on this quest he absentmindedly wandered away, leaving my friend to scramble down and be free. I should imagine there was an elk hunt next day on that estate.

Inhabiting the innumerable small islands on the south-west coast of Norway are a race different from the land dwellers, with whom they have no communication. They are miserably poor, and live in abominably dirty huts on the barren land which is their heritage. Among these islanders consumption and leprosy claim many victims. The spread of leprosy is due mainly to the uncleanly habits of the people. They eat very little meat with the exception of pigs' flesh. The pigs feed on anything they can pick up, which resolves itself chiefly into the rotting remains of fish. The name given to them speaks for itself--"fish pig." Once a year, in the families that can afford it, such a pig is killed, and on its flesh they depend for their meat for months. It is not to be wondered at that such food, combined with their unsavoury habits, produces such terrible results. Statistics seem to show that leprosy has been growing less prevalent since the middle of the last century; but it is still necessary to keep several hospitals for the lepers.

Another remarkable fact gives rather an interesting example of the evolution which must follow on any abnormal conditions. For hundreds of years these people have had no opportunity of duly exercising their lower limbs, which are in consequence short and undeveloped; while the extraordinary muscular development of their arms and shoulders is not astonishing when one considers that all their transit exercise must be done by rowing. In consequence of this, and perhaps also on account of the consanguineous marriages, many of the inhabitants of these islands present extraordinary appearances.

FISHERIES: THE LAPPS: RELIGION AND MORALS: MUSIC