Chapter I: Part 1

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_Geographical Note:_ Lake Nueltin straddles the border between Nunavut and Manitoba. The area covered by the map is in southern Nunavut, in the region now written Kivalliq. "Eskimo Point" is modern Arviat.

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THE
BARREN GROUND
CARIBOU
OF KEEWATIN

By
Francis Harper

University of Kansas
Lawrence · Kansas

University of Kansas
Museum of Natural History

Editor: E. Raymond Hall

_Miscellaneous Publication No. 6, pp. 1-164, 28 figs., 1 map_
_Published October 21, 1955_

Means for publication were supplied by:
National Science Foundation
Wildlife Management Institute
American Committee for International Wildlife Protection

Printed in U.S.A.

THE ALLEN PRESS
Lawrence, Kansas
1955

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION 5

MIGRATIONS 7
Southern limits of winter range 7
Spring migration in the Churchill region 11
Spring migration in the Nueltin Lake region 12
Summer interlude 18
Fall migration in the Nueltin Lake region 18
Retrograde autumnal movement 32
Fall migration in the Churchill region 38

SUMMATION OF GEOGRAPHICAL DISTRIBUTION 39

ECOLOGY 41
Habitats 41
Trails 41
Influence of weather on distribution 43
Influence of food supply on distribution 44
Influence of insects on distribution 45
Effect of combined environmental factors on distribution 46
Relations to man 47
Ethnological material from caribou products 59
Relations to Black Bears 62
Relations to foxes 62
Relations to Wolves 63
Relations to birds of prey 67
Relations to miscellaneous animals 69
Relations to flies 69
Ectoparasites 73
Relations to Reindeer 74

NUMERICAL STATUS 78

GENERAL HABITS 79
Daily periods of activity and rest 79
Organization of herds 81
Disposition 83
Senses 86
Gaits 86
Tracks 87
Swimming 88
Shaking off moisture and insects 95
Signaling 96
Food 98
Scatology 99
Voice 100
Reproduction 101
Fawns 103
Growth 104
Antlers 105
Rubbing trees 108

MORPHOLOGY AND TAXONOMY 108
Pelage and molt 108
Albinism 112
Foot-glands 112
Mastology 113
Fat 113
Body measurements and weights 114
Measurements of skulls 115
Measurements of antlers 115
Measurements of testes 115
Geographical variation 116

LITERATURE CITED 120

ANNOTATED BIBLIOGRAPHICAL REFERENCES TO
_Rangifer arcticus arcticus_ 134

INDEX 161

INTRODUCTION

No other large North American land mammal is of such primary importance as the Barren Ground Caribou (_Rangifer arcticus arcticus_) as a source of food and clothing for so many primitive Eskimo and Indian tribes; no other performs such extensive and spectacular migrations; no other may be seen in such vast herds; no other exhibits so close an approach to a Garden-of-Eden trustfulness in the presence of man. And perhaps no other is more worthy of being cherished and safeguarded in its natural haunts for the benefit and enjoyment of future generations.

The original valid designation, in technical nomenclature, of the Barren Ground Caribou of the Mackenzie-Keewatin region dates back to 1829, when Sir John Richardson described it in the _Fauna Boreali-Americana_ as _Cervus tarandus_ var. _arctica_. The type locality is Fort Enterprise (about lat. 64° 30´ N., long. 113° W.), on Winter Lake, an expansion of Snare River, Mackenzie. Since the typical subspecies appears to lack a distinguishing common name, it would seem fitting to associate with it the name of its worthy describer; thus, Richardson's Barren Ground Caribou. The author's intimate acquaintance with the animal should have enabled him to draw up a somewhat fuller and more adequate description than he did. Previous travelers in the Barren Grounds, among whom Samuel Hearne (1795) was particularly notable, had contributed accounts of the species, without differentiating it from the Lapland Reindeer (_Rangifer tarandus_) or without giving it a distinctive technical name.

Since Richardson's time the mainland form of western Canada has been discussed by many zoologists and explorers. The most comprehensive account of its life history hitherto published is that by Seton (1929, +3+: 95-135),[1] whose personal experience was gained in the region of Artillery, Clinton-Colden, and Aylmer lakes. Dearth of adequate material (particularly from the type locality or adjacent areas) makes it all but impossible to determine whether there is any significant geographical variation between the herds of central Mackenzie and those of Keewatin.

[Footnote 1: This statement, written long before the appearance
of Banfield's work of 1954, no longer applies.]

The foremost objective of an expedition I made in 1947 to Nueltin Lake, in southwestern Keewatin, was a study of the Barren Ground Caribou. The expedition was supported by the Arctic Institute of North America, with funds supplied by the Office of Naval Research. My headquarters were at the little Windy River trading post, at the northwestern extremity of Nueltin Lake (map 1). There, for a period of six months, I enjoyed the fine hospitality of Charles Schweder and Fred Schweder, Jr. They had lived on intimate terms with the Caribou during most of their youthful lives, and they freely shared with me the knowledge they had thus gained concerning the ways of life of these wonderful creatures. They secured nearly all the specimens that went into my collection. The three other residents of the post also deserve my gratitude for their general helpfulness and friendliness; they were 10-year-old Mike Schweder (brother of Charles and Fred), 15-year-old Anoteelik (an Eskimo boy), and the latter's sister, 5-year-old Rita.

In a previous paper (1953) I have endeavored to express to various officials and friends my sincere appreciation of their courtesy and generosity in furthering the work of the expedition; and I can scarcely forbear to repeat here the names of at least a few of them: Dr. A. L. Washburn, at that time executive director of the Arctic Institute of North America; Mr. R. A. Gibson, deputy commissioner of the Administration of the Northwest Territories; and Mr. G. W. Malaher, director of the Game and Fisheries Branch, Manitoba. For the loan of a motion-picture camera, which secured for me some extremely gratifying scenes of the migrant hosts on the Barrens, I am greatly indebted to Mr. William C. Morrow. Dr. Ralph S. Palmer has kindly read, and made helpful comments upon, a preliminary draft of the present report.

Through the courtesy of the American Museum of Natural History, the United States National Museum, and the United States Fish and Wildlife Service, I have been able to examine important comparative material in their collections.

A grant from the National Science Foundation has enabled me to carry the investigation through to completion.

MIGRATIONS

The Barren Ground Caribou is the outstanding migratory land mammal of North America at the present day. (Some of the bats, though extensively migratory, obviously belong in a category too distinct for comparison.) We know as yet extremely little concerning the movements of individual Caribou;[2] but it is fairly safe to assume that among those reaching the southern limits of the winter range in central Manitoba or northwestern Ontario, there must be many whose summer range is at least 500 or 600 miles to the northward. The latitudinal extent of such wanderings is comparable with, or equivalent to, an annual round trip between Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and Charleston, South Carolina. There is perhaps less information available concerning the migrations of the wild Reindeer of the Old World than concerning the movements of the Barren Ground Caribou of North America (_cf._ Jacobi, 1931: 191-200).

[Footnote 2: One means of gathering information on this subject
would be to capture fawns as they swim across lakes or wide rivers
on the autumn migration, then to affix numbered metal tags to
their ears and to release them in time to rejoin their mothers.
This would simply be a modification of the leg-banding method
that has proved so highly successful in the study of bird
migration. It would also be particularly useful in studies on
age and growth.]

_Southern limits of winter range_

In years long past the winter range extended at least occasionally as far south as Fort McMurray in Alberta and Cree Lake and the upper Mudjatick and Foster rivers in Saskatchewan, and rather regularly to Reindeer Lake (Preble, 1908: 137); and "on rare occasions as far south as Cumberland House on the Saskatchewan River" (Buchanan, 1920: 105). At an early date Richardson believed (1829: 243) that "none" of these Caribou "go to the southward of Churchill."

There are, however, records of long ago that deal with mass occurrences of Caribou on the lower courses of the Nelson, Hayes, and Severn rivers, emptying on the west coast of Hudson Bay. The records are very puzzling in several respects. Most of them do not definitely differentiate the species involved from the Barren Ground Caribou, but some of them (by Hearne, Richardson, and Preble) indicate that it is the Woodland Caribou. The direction of the migrations, as reported in some instances, is just the reverse of that taken at the present time by the Barren Ground species during its normal movements at corresponding seasons. Finally, it is all but impossible to reconcile the numbers reported with such knowledge as we have of the status of the Woodland Caribou at any other period or in any other region.

Perhaps the earliest account is by Dobbs (1744: 22):

"They [residents at Fort Bourbon-York Factory] also take great numbers of Cariboux or Rain-Deer [sp.?]. In _March_ and _April_ they come from the North to the South, and extend then along the River 60 Leagues; they go again Northward in _July_ and _August_; the Roads they make in the Snow are as well padded, and cross each other as often as the Streets in Paris."

In discussing the "Indian deer" or Woodland Caribou in the vicinity of Great Slave Lake, Hearne remarks (1795: 225): "This is that species of deer which are found so plentiful near York Fort and Severn River."

According to Thompson (1916: 100-101), an immense herd of "Rein Deer" [sp.?], estimated at the rather preposterous figure of 3,564,000 individuals, crossed the Hayes River 20 miles above York Factory in late May, 1792. The direction of this migration is not indicated.

Richardson writes ("1825": 330) of the Woodland Caribou: "In the beginning of September, vast numbers of this kind of deer pass near York Factory . . . on their journey towards the north-west."

And again (1829: 250):

"They cross the Nelson and Severn Rivers in immense herds in the month of May, pass the summer on the low, marshy shores of James' Bay, and return to the northward, and at the same time retire more inland in the month of September. . . . I have been informed by several of the residents at York Factory that the herds are sometimes so large as to require several hours to cross the river in a crowded phalanx."

The implication is that the herds passed _southward_ in May. It should be borne in mind that these were apparently not personal observations of Richardson's; and in his belief that the Barren Ground species did not go south of Churchill, he may have merely assumed that the animals in the York Factory region were the Woodland species.

"Near York Factory, in 1831, this propensity [Indian destructiveness] . . . led to the indiscriminate destruction of a countless herd of reindeer [sp.?], while crossing the broad stream of Haye's River, in the height of summer. . . . The deer have never since visited that part of the country in similar numbers." (Simpson, 1843: 76).

Referring to the York Factory region in 1837, John McLean writes (1932 [1849]: 195). "Not many years ago this part of the country was periodically visited by immense herds of rein-deer; at present there is scarcely one to be found."

A later account of Richardson's (1852: 290) is somewhat ambiguous as to the species to which it refers:

"The reindeer that visit Hudson's Bay travel southward toward James's Bay in spring. In the year 1833, vast numbers of them were killed by the Cree Indians at a noted pass three or four days march above York Factory. They were on their return northward, and were crossing Hayes River in incredible multitudes."

Pike writes (1917 [1892]: 50) that "within the last three years [_i.e._, about 1888] the [Barren Ground?] caribou have appeared in their thousands at York Factory . . . where they have not been seen for over thirty years."

Preble (1902: 41) quotes Dr. Alexander Milne as thinking, after 14 years' residence at York Factory, that the small bands of "Woodland Caribou," found between Churchill and Cape Churchill, form the "northern fringe of the bands which migrate to the coast in spring, the great majority of which in their journey cross to the south of Nelson River." At that time, however, Preble (1902: 42), like Richardson before him, seems to have regarded the Churchill River as the southern limit of the Barren Ground species, and thus he may not have considered the possibility of the animals of Cape Churchill and the Nelson and Hayes rivers belonging to the same species.

It is difficult to draw any sure conclusions from the confusing records just quoted. Possibly chief reliance should be placed upon the testimony of such high authorities as Hearne, Richardson, and Preble when they refer to the animals as Woodland Caribou. Furthermore, none of the early writers identify them unequivocally as the Barren Ground species. It remains fairly evident that long ago some species of Caribou in great numbers did actually cross these rivers in a southerly direction in the spring, pass the summer on the coastal tundra east of York Factory, and return northward or northwestward in late summer or autumn. Whichever species it was, it represented a segment of the population that must have become reduced to utterly insignificant numbers, if not entirely extirpated, some decades ago. In any event, it does not seem very likely that we shall ever be able to reconstruct the actual movements of the "incredible multitudes" in the York Factory region of more than a century ago.

Since the beginning of the present century, until very recent years, there seem to have been few or no Manitoba records of _R. a. arcticus_ from any locality so far to the southeast as York Factory. In 1947, however, Mr. G. W. Malaher, director of the Game and Fisheries Branch in Manitoba, informed me that during the previous couple of winters the animals had ranged southward on a broad front to the latitude of Oxford House, where they had not been known for 40 or 45 years. It was surmised that the recent burning of large areas north of The Pas, resulting in the destruction of the Caribou's normal winter food of lichens, had deflected the animals toward the southeast and had caused them to extend their migration beyond its normal limit. The Split Lake band of Indians (on the Nelson River) were said to have killed 4,000 Caribou during the winter of 1946-47, and to have used half of them for dog feed.

Arthur H. Lamont, in charge of the meteorological office at Fort Churchill, gave me information concerning Caribou that he had seen during a plane flight from that point to Edmonton on March 18, 1947. At midday he had sighted hundreds, in bands averaging 20 to 30 individuals, on some little lakes, averaging a quarter of a mile in diameter, near the southwestern end of Reindeer Lake. The animals were right in the middle of the frozen lakes (evidently for a noonday rest), and some of them were lying down. They paid no attention to the plane at a height of 6,000 feet, but were frightened when it came down to 200 feet. This was the only area where Caribou were sighted during the entire flight.

Duncan A. McLeod, of Winnipeg, informed me that he had seen thousands and thousands of Caribou on April 16, 1941, while he was flying from Isle à la Crosse to Beaverlodge on Lake Athabaska. They were nearer to Lake Athabaska than to the starting-point. They were congregated on frozen lakes about the middle of the day.

"Their nomadic migrations during the past 10 years have brought caribou herds during winter months to northwestern Ontario (Little Sachigo Lake); central Manitoba (Cormorant, Cross, and Island Lakes); northern Saskatchewan (Churchill River); northeastern Alberta (Clearwater and Athabaska Rivers and Lake Claire)" (Banfield, 1949: 478, fig. 1).

_Spring migration in the Churchill region_

The Hudson Bay Railway is perhaps the only one in North America from which Barren Ground Caribou of the present subspecies have been seen. On May 21, 1947, a passenger reported three or four of the animals near Mile 326, between Gillam and Amery. Farther north, between Herchmer and Chesnaye, the railway passes for perhaps 30-40 miles through the western edge of a tundra area, interspersed with small spruce timber; this is known as the "Little Barrens." It was a thrilling experience to see my first Caribou here, during a period of three-quarters of an hour on the afternoon of May 21, from Mile 453 to about Mile 475. There were eight bands, varying in number from 2 to 60 or 70 and averaging about 20 individuals. The first and largest band was loping away from the train, at a distance of perhaps 350 yards. A band of 9 or 10, at about 250 yards, exhibited both a trotting and a loping gait. Others, as far off as half a mile or a mile and therefore less alarmed, seemed to content themselves with trotting. They maintained a noticeably close formation while fleeing from the train. Yearlings, appearing only about half the size of the adults, were readily distinguishable. The animals were in the midst of their spring migration and were evidently moving in a general northerly direction over the snow-covered Barrens. The ice of the small lakes was still solid enough for the Caribou to trot over it.

Two weeks previously a large movement had passed through this area, as I learned from several sources. A member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police detachment at Churchill, for example, had traveled through the Caribou for a distance of 15 miles without coming to the end of them; he estimated their numbers at more than 5,000. Joe Chambers, a trapper of Goose Creek, said the animals had been very plentiful in April, moving generally northward. He spoke of finding a good many Caribou that Wolves had killed, contenting themselves with eating only the tongue and the unborn fawn.

According to a railway conductor, only 12 Caribou were seen from the train as it passed through the Little Barrens on May 25, and none on May 28.

John Ingebrigtsen, of Churchill, reported passing a frozen lake somewhere east of the Duck Lake Post, that was "absolutely full" of Caribou. It was about a mile and a half long by half a mile wide, and he estimated the number of animals at not less than 20,000. This was in the early part of May, 1942 or 1943, when the spring migration was no doubt under way.

During a plane flight from Eskimo Point to Baker Lake on May 22, 1947, John M. Bourassa and Don Gallagher sighted numbers of Caribou, including one herd of about 500. On May 28 the former saw a Caribou between Churchill and Fort Churchill. From other sources I learned that small numbers occasionally pass along the outskirts of Churchill during the migrations.

Professor Hazel R. Ellis (_in litt._, April 13, 1953) reports seeing several bands of Caribou from the train as it approached Churchill on June 8, 1947; also a band between Churchill and Fort Churchill on June 13 and 21, 1949, and a single animal on June 28, 1949, on the west side of the river near Churchill. On July 5, 1949, she filmed a herd of over 40 Caribou at Bird Cove on Cape Churchill.

Preble writes (1902: 41): "Between York Factory and Fort Churchill a few small bands [of Woodland Caribou] are found throughout the year on the 'Barrens'." He includes reports to this effect from several sources, including J. W. Tyrrell (1898). The latter, however, does not specify which species of Caribou his party encountered. It might be expected that _R. a. arcticus_, rather than _R. caribou sylvestris_, would be the proper inhabitant of this tundra area. It is beyond question that the animals seen in recent years on the "Little Barrens" between the Churchill and the Nelson Rivers are the Barren Ground species. Furthermore, Mr. G. W. Malaher, of the Manitoba Game and Fisheries Branch, informed me that a considerable number of this species spend the summer and have their fawns on the Barrens in this area.

_Spring migration in the Nueltin Lake region_

The general pattern of this migration, as manifested particularly about the northwestern portion of the lake, was explained by Charles Schweder. As a rule, practically all the local Caribou spend the winter in the wooded country to the southward. When the northward movement starts in the spring, the does precede the bucks; they migrate through this area mostly in May (and apparently more commonly in the latter half of the month), but to some extent in April or even earlier. During June the majority of the animals passing by are bucks. According to Fred Schweder, Jr., the spring migration here is more regular, less erratic, than the fall migration.

When I arrived at Nueltin Lake on May 31, the spring migration was in full swing; it continued through June in gradually lessening force, and the last northbound band was seen on July 1. In the meantime many interesting details of caribou behavior came to light.

While flying from Churchill to Duck Lake Post on May 31, at a height of about 500 feet, we detected three bands on the frozen surface of Seal River, where they were evidently taking a noonday rest. They numbered approximately 40, 20, and 6 individuals. Within 20 minutes after resuming our journey, from Duck Lake Post to Nueltin Lake, we saw four more bands, numbering from two to a dozen individuals. Finally, just before landing on Windy Bay, we noticed a band of perhaps 20 crossing the bay a mile from its head.

Observations during the following 10 days showed that this was a very definite crossing-place for the Caribou, as if some invisible barrier on each side kept them to a certain line of march. Moreover, Charles Schweder informed me that they followed this identical route year after year. An examination of the local topography (map 1) soon revealed the reason. The rugged south side of Windy Bay rises steeply for some 500 feet to the summit of the Windy Hills, and over a considerable distance there are precipices and talus slopes barring the passage of such animals as Caribou. But the mile-long South Bay, meeting Windy Bay at right angles, affords a convenient break in the hills; and the slopes thereabouts are gradual enough to be negotiated readily by the Caribou. So here they converge from the neighboring heights, making long, slanting trails through the snow that are visible for miles; they pass out of the narrow mouth of South Bay as through a funnel, then follow the beaten path of their predecessors across the ice of Windy Bay toward the farther shore, until they are lost to view among a cluster of islands. It may be further remarked that their course northeastward from the mouth of South Bay is less obstructed by islands than almost any near-by portion of Windy Bay.

From our camp, a mile or so distant, Caribou in bands of approximately the following numbers were observed using this crossing-place during the early part of June: June 1--7, 10, 18, 20, and several other bands of unrecorded size; June 2--10, 3, 7; June 3--4, 4, 10, 30, 70, and others; June 4--3, 40?; June 5--40, 50, 75; June 6--25; June 10--8. Of course many others must have passed while our attention was elsewhere engaged. In most cases my records indicate the time of day when the bands were crossing Windy Bay. The periods were mainly from 10 to 11 a.m., from 2:30 to 5 p.m., and in the evening. Perhaps the infrequency of midday passages was due to the habit of the Caribou of resting at this period. One of the last bands to pass during the evening of June 1 consisted of about 20 individuals. Two big bucks were in the lead, and apparently a few others were scattered along the line. At the very rear was a big, extra-dark buck, immediately preceded by a yearling barely half its size.

In crossing the bay ice, the animals traveled habitually in long files, one after the other, and yet not altogether in single file. In watching the endlessly interesting spectacle from camp, we could not always count the individuals exactly, for here and there a few would get abreast of others and be partly concealed. The general formation of each band was that of a much strung-out procession. For the most part the animals progressed at a moderate walking gait; there were no flies to spur them on at this season. On one occasion the forward element of a large band was actually running, but those in the rear were going calmly, and there was no visible cause of alarm. At mid-morning of June 6 most of a band of 25 were lying down to rest on the bay ice, while a few remained standing.

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.

As I was retiring to my tent on the Camp Ridge in the twilight about 11:30 p.m. on June 29, I noticed a Caribou in the opposite edge of the river, about 125 yards away. For the most part it stood in about a foot of water and kept watching upstream. After some minutes I moved closer, right along the skyline; I waved a white pillow at it and shouted several times, but still it would not leave. Eventually it did move a few feet back from the water's edge and there appeared to browse on some dwarf birches.

The next day, watching from Pile o' Rocks northwest of camp, I noticed three Caribou passing on a northeasterly course. They walked for the most part, but now and again trotted. They were two well-antlered bucks and a smaller individual with shorter horns. One of the former paused to graze in a green-sprouting sedge bog. It was perhaps such fresh summer vegetation that had helped to produce fat an inch thick on the haunches of an animal secured about this date.

The area near the western border of Keewatin, lying at some distance south of Dubawnt Lake and west of the upper Kazan River, does not appear to attract large numbers of Caribou. Just once, in May, Charles Schweder has found them crossing a lake which he considered Dubawnt, but may have been Kamiluk. In his trapping excursions in that area he has found trails and other signs all along the way, indicating that the animals at least pass through on their migrations.

_Summer interlude_

After July 1 no more Caribou were seen about the Windy River for five weeks. From information supplied by Charles Schweder, it appears that virtually all of the animals desert the southern portion of the Barren Grounds at this season. Before dropping their fawns, the does pass on for an undetermined distance to the northward of that portion of the upper Kazan River lying immediately below Ennadai Lake. The rear guard of the northward migration seems to be composed mainly of bucks and a few barren does.

A general veil of mystery seems so far to have enshrouded most of the natal places (except the islands along the Arctic mainland coast) and the first few weeks in the life of the Caribou fawns.

_Fall migration in the Nueltin Lake region_

In former times the southward migration reached the Nueltin Lake region in July (_cf._ Downes, 1943: 203-237), sometimes as early as the middle of the month. Suddenly the time of arrival shifted to (early) August, and has so remained. In Charles Schweder's experience, the bucks nearly every year precede the does on the southward migration; this suggests that at least the majority of the bucks may not go so far north as the does. In a certain year the does actually appeared first in coming south. In normal years, according to Fred Schweder, Jr., the migration continues till October or November, by which time the animals have passed into the wooded country for the winter.

Charles Schweder described the general pattern of fall migration as follows. At first two or three animals will appear, then a few more, and after several days a big movement, lasting three or four days, will pass through. Thereafter the numbers dwindle, though the migration continues. Curiously enough, there is a definite retrograde movement northward into the Barrens in September--sometimes as early as the first part of the month. Then there is a final movement toward the south in November, at the time of the first good snows; the largest herds of the year may then be seen. Just how far the migration in 1947 conformed to this pattern (outlined in early August) will be seen in the following pages.

The big August movement occurs occasionally as early as the first days of the month, whereas it was delayed till the last week in 1947. About the first of August, 1943, according to Fred Schweder, Jr., a thousand Caribou swam across the mouth of Windy River in the course of an hour, and there were other thousands during a two weeks' period. But such a large migration strikes this point only once in several years. In other years it may pass southward farther to the west, as in the vicinity of Simons' Lake.

In the fall of 1946--the very season when the Caribou bypassed the Eskimo camps on the upper Kazan River--there were said to have been far more than the normal numbers in the Windy River area. Thousands passed in one day, about October 10. The hills about Four-hill Creek then gave Fred Schweder, Jr., the impression of "moving with Deer." By comparison, the numbers along the Windy River in 1947 were considered by the local residents to have been below normal, however impressive they may have been to a zoological visitor. On the other hand, it seemed to Charles Schweder, during his trip down the Thlewiaza River in late August of 1947, that Caribou were still very numerous; and he reported that people along the west coast of Hudson Bay were then getting more of the animals than in previous years.

Only rarely do limited numbers of Caribou remain all winter in the Windy River area. During Charles Schweder's years of residence there (about 1936-47) the animals had done so just once--on the Windy Hills. In 1946-47 Fred Schweder, Jr., found about 300 of them remaining all winter about the north end of Ennadai Lake. He said that the locally wintering animals are all bucks. Katello, an elderly Eskimo of the upper Kazan River, informed Charles Schweder that the Caribou used to remain there all winter, but now very rarely do so.

By the end of July, after both men and dogs had subsisted for several weeks on a diet devoid of caribou meat, an air of expectancy began to pervade the Windy River camp. The hunters roamed the Barrens or watched from some lookout post such as the Pile o' Rocks (fig. 27). No Caribou were detected during plane trips to the upper Kazan River and return on July 31 and August 3, though their ancient, well-marked trails were visible along the ridges. It was not until August 6 that the first buck of the return movement was encountered. On the following day another animal was secured. On August 10 and 11 only a few Caribou--not over 25 in a band--were seen by Charles Schweder and Fred Schweder, Jr., from the air between the Windy and the Kazan rivers. It began to be feared that the bulk of the migration might pass somewhere to the westward. On August 13, however, at a distance of some miles from camp, Fred sighted 20 Caribou; all of them were does and fawns except for one buck. On August 17 he secured a good-sized buck (specimen No. 1065; figs. 3, 4) at Bear Slough and saw five other bucks elsewhere. Two days later Anoteelik reported a band of 13.

On August 20 Fred reported about 300 Caribou moving in our direction across the Barrens east of Lake Charles; they proved to be the advance guard of a big movement. On the same afternoon I had filmed several bucks going their separate ways on the slopes about Pile o' Rocks and Stony Man. They were moving along somewhat hurriedly, in a manner very different from the placid grazing of sheep or cattle. One or two does with fawns also appeared in the vicinity. (The passage of a Keewatin Tundra Wolf over the same ground a short time previously had no effect, as far as I observed, on the behavior of the animals at this time.) A grander, though more distant, spectacle gradually unfolded off to the eastward, beyond Little River, where several groups, numbering from 3 to 20 or 25 individuals, were feeding quietly over the open Barrens. Their fresh dark autumn coats showed up much more conspicuously than had the cream-buff of their winter coats in June. Presently the scene became livelier, as the largest band, composed of does and fawns as well as lordly bucks, started to romp northward over the Barrens. One or more of the various kinds of insects that bring life-long misery to the Caribou may have stampeded them. This band swept past a group of half its size without at once involving it. A doe and a fawn remained lying down as the others passed.

As the eye swept farther over that lonely land, still other Caribou were disclosed singly or in groups scattered over a couple of square miles. There was no strong herd instinct as they grazed at will. Even when on the march, they straggled along, some as much as 20 to 30 yards apart. As the sun sank lower, and the black flies became less active with the dropping temperature (about 53°), a lull ensued in the movements of the Caribou.

The big movement of the fall migration finally began to materialize on Sunday, August 24. This and the next few days were filled with memorable experiences. The throngs of Caribou passing at such times around the head of Windy Bay and across the lowermost portions of Little and Windy rivers may be accounted for, in part, by the local topography (map 1). The upper part of Windy Bay, occupied by numerous islands of various sizes and extending about 5 miles in an east-west direction, opposes something of a barrier to the Caribou in their southward trek. The easiest way to overcome this barrier is to by-pass it. So the migrant herds approaching the north shore of the bay turn westward toward Little River. At a point half a mile short of this stream a rather minor proportion of the Caribou actually do essay a passage of Windy Bay. They cross an island lying very close to the north shore, then steer for a small rocky islet a quarter of a mile northwest of the mouth of South Bay. Here they get a brief respite from swimming by walking through the shallow bordering waters, then continue straight on to the rugged south shore of Windy Bay. This course is roughly parallel to, and a quarter of a mile west of, the one pursued northward or northeastward across the ice in the spring migration. The Caribou were seen to follow this water route on various days from August 24 to September 8, and again on October 7. Like the one across the ice, it is probably a regular, well-established, annual route.

The greater number of the migrants proceed along the north shore of the bay to Little River and are there confronted with a choice of various further routes. Some continue for an indefinite distance up the northeastern bank, passing Lake Charles on their right, though other animals, coming from the north, may be following this bank in the opposite direction. Probably most of the Caribou arriving from the eastward either plunge into Little River at its mouth and swim across (figs. 9, 10, 12) or pass upstream for a bare quarter of a mile and then wade across at a rapid (figs. 7, 8).

Without human interference, a large proportion of those that cross the lower part of Little River would doubtless proceed more or less directly to Windy River and cross near its mouth. But the human and canine inhabitants of the Windy River post seem to exert a strong influence in deflecting the Caribou northwestward along several more or less parallel ridges that rise to a maximum height of 40 or 50 feet. These are Little River, Middle, and Camp ridges (map 1). Many animals follow the first of these to its northwestern end, then cross a bog and ascend the Middle Ridge. Some cross the southeastern end of Little River Ridge, scramble down its steep sides by strongly marked trails (fig. 2), and then move across the Eastern Bog to the Middle Ridge. But when they reach the summit, they can see the post directly ahead, and generally hurry off northwestward along the ridge. Presently some may cross the Camp Slough (fig. 13) to the Camp Ridge and then proceed either westward or northwestward. The Caribou have a strong predilection for following the treeless summits of the ridges wherever they are available and extend in a more or less desirable direction. On reaching the vicinity of the Bear Slough, where the three ridges are interrupted or peter out, the animals doubtless turn more or less southwestward to make a passage of Windy River at various points above its mouth. Under the conditions outlined above, it is obvious that some of the finest opportunities for close-range observation and photography lie at the two well-established crossings near the mouth of Little River.

On the dark and drizzly morning of August 24 (temp. 47°-48°) I noticed a number of Caribou, in groups of 2 to 20, traveling northwestward along Middle and Little River ridges. This indication of general activity enticed me to the top of the latter, whence I had a view of perhaps 8 or 10 animals scattered over the Barrens beyond Little River. Several were lying down just beyond the summit of a ridge between the river and Glacier Pond, so that little more than their antlers was visible. With the idea of finding out how closely I could approach these resting animals, I waded knee-deep across a rapid about 100 feet in width, and worked my way up the opposite slope until I once more caught sight of the tips of several antlers. Under cover of a rock and some dwarf birches, I crept ahead on hands and knees, with a miniature camera at the ready. I had arrived within 50 yards when the nearest buck got to its feet and stood looking at me. In hopes of photographing the rest while they were still lying down, I rose to my knees and hastily exposed the last bit of film in the camera. Still there was no immediate reaction on the part of the Caribou. Fortunately there was a cross wind. The first buck was so little alarmed that it leisurely sprinkled the ground. But presently it turned and walked off, presumably giving some signal of voice or posture (such as an erect tail) to the rest; for they got to their feet, not the half a dozen I expected, but half a hundred of them! Though they trotted off toward Windy Bay, they paused within a hundred yards and turned to stare at me. Several more relieved themselves as the first buck had done. By this time I saw that some of the Caribou, including a little fawn, were carrying their tails quite erect, as an expression of suspicion or a signal of alarm. Evidently a majority of the band were bucks, but there were some does, with foot-long horns, and their fawns. On my way back to camp I noticed several groups of Caribou swimming across Windy Bay; perhaps they included the very animals I had so recently disturbed.

In the early afternoon it became evident that a further northwesterly movement was under way along the ridges between camp and Little River. The animals had doubtless made the passage of the river near its mouth. I followed some of them to a bog at the upper end of Little River Ridge, where I began to film several bucks and a lone, inquisitive, one-horned doe. While the latter was approaching me within a hundred feet, I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye, and all at once the bog seemed full of Caribou. There were 75-100 of them, chiefly bucks, and not more than 50 yards or so distant across the open bog. They presently moved on, without haste, and ascended the Middle Ridge.

Several hours later about 50 more Caribou passed through this bog. Then a band of 17 came along, composed chiefly of does and their fawns, with a couple of young bucks; they did not even turn their heads in my direction as I stood in the open 50 yards away. Eventually a herd of about 150 (the largest I saw during the whole season) passed along the well-worn trails on the summit of the Middle Ridge. It seemed to include all sexes and ages, with possibly a majority of does and fawns; bringing up the rear was a limping patriarch with huge antlers, a heavy mane, and a lingering winter coat.

During the remainder of the afternoon several other groups appeared in that general area. About 15 individuals descended Little River Ridge (fig. 2) to the Eastern Bog, but retraced their course after coming close to several of us; they were mostly does, with four fawns and a few bucks. Another band, of all ages and sexes and numbering perhaps a hundred individuals, crossed at the rapid on Little River. The temperatures that had prevailed during this day's marked migratory movements varied from about 45° to 50°. They were low enough to keep the black flies completely in abeyance, and the mosquito season was virtually over. Although I noticed none of the parasitic flies, possibly enough of them were present to keep the Caribou moving actively against a moderate to brisk northerly wind. Now and again a big buck could be seen fairly jumping out of its skin with the vigor of vibrating its sides to shake off the tormentors.

On August 25 (the second day of the big movement) I watched and filmed the pageant of Caribou migration from the southwestern bank of Little River. The turfy slopes of the Barrens, carpeted with low ericaceous shrubs, mosses, and reindeer lichens, and dotted here and there with little thickets of dwarf birch, spruce, and tamarack, stretched invitingly before me. Temperatures ranging from 40° to 51°, with a brisk northwest breeze sweeping down the river, happily suppressed most of the black flies.

The Caribou came along at intervals from the eastward, in bands up to 75 strong, either to make the passage of the river or to continue upstream along the opposite ridge. A small number might make the crossing in one or two files, but one of the larger bands might spread out widely in the shallow rapid. One of the photographs (fig. 7) shows approximately 75 Caribou going divergent ways at this rapid: about 20 passing upstream along the ridge on the far side, including some pausing to feed on the low vegetation; 8 or 9 moving down the slope of the ridge to the water's edge; about 10 bucks, 16 does, and 6 fawns making the passage of the river; and about 13 arriving on the near shore and pausing to feed. The adults were able to step across in the swift water, while the fawns swam part of the way. The bucks were apparently in the minority again on this day.