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[Contents]
[Illustrations]
[Main Text]
[Annotated Bibliography]

Cover A Caribou buck signaling with a sprawling posture of the left hind leg. Drawing by Earl L. Poole; based upon a motion-picture film taken August 24, 1947, near the Windy River post.

THE
BARREN GROUND CARIBOU
OF KEEWATIN

Map 1. The Windy River area at the northwestern extremity of Nueltin Lake, Keewatin. (Most of the smaller features bear merely local or unofficial names.)

Click map for close-up view.
The square detail can also be viewed separately.

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

THE ALLEN PRESS
Lawrence, Kansas
1955

[CONTENTS]

[ LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS]
(added by transcriber)

In the printed text, illustrations were grouped into three blocks, probably for mechanical reasons. For this e-text, each illustration has been placed as close as practical to its discussion in the text, while keeping them in numerical order. The List of Illustration and marginal page numbers both show the original location.

[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.

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.

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

[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).

[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.

Fig. 1. Half a dozen caribou trails along the Middle Ridge, looking SE. Ground plants: Ledum decumbens, Empetrum nigrum, Arcto­staphylos alpina, Loiseleuria procumbens, and various lichens, including Cladonia. A miniature “glacier” in the distance. June 24, 1947.

[ 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.

Fig. 2. Caribou trails on the 50-foot-high Little River Ridge. Picea mariana, Betula glandulosa, and Empetrum nigrum. June 19, 1947.

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.

Fig. 3. A Caribou buck (specimen No. 1065) being skinned by Fred, Mike, and Rita at the Bear Slough. August 17, 1947.

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.

Fig. 4. Skull, antlers, skin, and hind quarter of the same Caribou being transported to camp along the Camp Ridge. August 17, 1947.

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.

Fig. 5. Anoteelik and Mike preparing to bring in a load of caribou meat with dogs and travois. Windy River post, August 19, 1947.

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.

Fig. 6. Anoteelik and Mike pegging out caribou hides to dry on a gravelly ridge near the mouth of Windy River. August 23, 1947.

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.

Fig. 7. About 75 Caribou (bucks, does, and fawns) at a rapid on Little River. August 25, 1947.

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).

Fig. 8. About 22 Caribou crossing Little River at a rapid. Chiefly does and fawns, with several bucks bringing up the rear. August 26, 1947.

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.

Fig. 9. A band of Caribou swimming across Little River at its mouth and landing on the western shore. Toward the left, a doe standing broadside and enveloped in a cloud of spray being shaken off. August 28, 1947. (From a 16-mm. motion picture.)

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.

Fig. 10. Two Caribou bucks standing in the edge of Little River at its mouth after swimming across. August 28, 1947. (From a 16-mm. motion picture.)

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.

Fig. 11. A one-horned doe, a hornless doe, a fawn, and a two-horned doe among a band of Caribou approaching the camera within a rod after swimming across Little River. August 28, 1947. (From a 16-mm. motion picture.)

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.

Fig. 12. A band of Caribou (chiefly big bucks) swimming across Little River at its mouth. August 28, 1947.

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.

Fig. 13. Camp Slough, with trails showing the recent passage of Caribou through the sedge growth (predominantly Carex chordorrhiza). Black spruce in the foreground and distance. August 29, 1947.

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.

One group of some 40 does and fawns, after swimming the river near its mouth, came hurrying along the ridge in close array directly toward my station, and did not take alarm until they had arrived within 100 feet. Then they turned tail and, each with its flag erect, beat a hasty retreat. The maneuver made a scene of considerable charm and interest. While I was filming a dozen Caribou in the Eastern Bog from the Middle Ridge, a stray fawn came up and halted for some seconds within a rod of me. The bewildered look in its big eyes was comical though pathetic. In presently dashing on, it passed within a dozen feet.

Late in the afternoon Fred Schweder, Jr., reported about a thousand Caribou, in various bands up to 100 strong, crossing Little River here and there a mile or so above its mouth. They were traveling southwest.

August 26 was marked by mist squalls, a maximum temperature of 45°, and a slackening in the numbers of passing Caribou. Late in the morning a band of more than 30 bucks, does, and fawns crossed the rapid on Little River. In the early afternoon scattering individuals and a band of 15 or 20 did likewise. Presently another band of about 22 animals came ([fig. 8]); it consisted chiefly of does and fawns, but there were several medium-sized bucks bringing up the rear. They crossed the rapid in a somewhat V-shaped formation, open at the front. The vanguard reached a rocky strip 25 yards in front of my camera and began to feed contentedly on the low vegetation. However, a couple of does still in the water eyed me intently and presumably communicated their misgivings to the others, for all turned and went back through the river without panic or haste, although they trotted on reaching the farther shore. Later there were about 25 Caribou crossing the bay, and nearly as many on Little River Ridge.

The weather on August 27, while mostly sunny, included occasional snow or sleet flurries; the northerly wind was brisk to strong; and the temperature, ranging from 37° to 50°, prevented the appearance of black flies. By 10:20 a.m. a band of about 10 does and fawns crossed the rapid on Little River. Two hours later 12-15 animals followed the same course, and presently 75-100 passed upstream on the far side, with a good deal of grunting. About 2:35 p.m. nearly a hundred Caribou, perhaps alarmed by a passing plane, dashed north out of the Eastern Bog. By 4:45 p.m. 20 or more bucks, does, and fawns swam across Little River at its mouth; several of the biggest bucks, with enormous antlers, led the advance into the water. An hour later, on the eastern side of the river, half a dozen of the animals were lying down, but with heads erect, and facing down wind. At this period of the day several more bands of moderate size swam over to the west side of the river. A goodly number of the animals fed within 25 yards of me for a considerable time.

The following day was nearly cloudless; wind moderate, westerly; temperature, 37.5° to 66°—high enough to bring out the black flies (but extremely few mosquitoes) after several days of virtual freedom from these scourges. Between 11:30 a.m. and 3 p.m. at least 500 Caribou, coming from the east, must have passed the mouth of Little River, some swimming across at that point ([figs. 9], [12]), and others proceeding various distances upstream before undertaking the passage. A few of the larger bands numbered approximately 30, 40, and 75 individuals. Some consisted largely of does and fawns, some of big bucks. One of the larger bands approached the river on the run, plunged in recklessly, and landed on the western shore some 30 feet directly in front of my battery of cameras. Most of the animals on this and similar occasions were remarkably indifferent to me as I operated the cameras in full view of them. Some among them would approach within a rod or less and stare me in the face without alarm ([figs. 11], 14).

Fig. 14. A Caribou Elysium: a hornless doe approaching within 15 feet of the photographer at the mouth of Little River. August 30, 1947.

August 29 was a cloudy, nearly calm day, with temperatures ranging from 49.5° to 73°—conditions more propitious for black flies than for their victims. There was comparatively little local movement among the Caribou—in the morning two or three swimming across the bay and a band of 20 (6 old bucks, the rest does and fawns) swimming south across the mouth of Windy River; in mid-afternoon a band of 10 running along the ridge on the eastern side of Little River; and about 100 reported during the day in the vicinity of Windy Bay by Fred Schweder, Jr. The “big movement” had passed its peak.

The next day was largely sunny, with a light easterly or southeasterly wind and temperatures of 50° to 68°. There were comparatively few black flies and fewer mosquitoes. During a five-hour vigil near the mouth of Little River I noticed only about 50 Caribou, most of them passing westward by ones, twos, and intermediate numbers up to 17 (does and fawns) in a band. Mike Schweder reported a total of about 200 animals seen within a few miles of camp.

The morning of August 31 was dismal and overcast, with a heavy shower; in the afternoon the sky cleared; wind brisk, south to west; temperature, 47° to 74.5°. Several Caribou passed along the eastern side of Little River, and Fred Schweder, Jr., reported about 300 some miles north of camp, moving in a southwesterly direction.

Clouds and rain ushered in the morning of September 1; the afternoon was sunny; wind light to strong, west to northwest; temperature, 48° to 60°. The next day was partly cloudy, with a mist squall or two; wind light to brisk, northwesterly; temperature, 38° to 51.5°. No Caribou were reported on either day.

September 3 was largely cloudy, with some mist squalls; wind light to moderate, northerly to easterly; temperature, 40° to 51°. There were enough black flies to be slightly troublesome. Two bucks, two does, and a fawn were noted at Bear Slough.

September 4 was partly cloudy, with drizzling rain; wind light, east to south and southwest; temperature, 43° to 58°. I saw about 22 Caribou (largely does and fawns), in several different groups, at Bear Slough and vicinity, and Fred Schweder, Jr., reported about 200 in the same area. Two were noted swimming to the south side of Windy Bay.

September 5 was marked by a driving, day-long rainstorm; wind brisk, easterly; temperature, 43° to 50°. A band of about 20 Caribou (mostly does and fawns, with several middle-aged bucks), besides one or two single animals, were encountered at Bear Slough.

September 6 was a cloudy, raw day, with several snow flurries; wind brisk, northerly; temperature, 33° to 35°. Not a fly was abroad. Two Caribou moved northwest along Little River Ridge; a band of about 75 (mainly does and fawns, but with a fair number of big bucks) passed in the same direction along the Middle Ridge; and about 25 others grazed along the eastern side of Little River. Later about 15-20 more were seen about the mouth of Little River and on a near-by island, and eight swam across Windy Bay to the south side. Fred reported seeing about 300 during the day north and west of camp; they were moving in a northerly direction.

It was cloudy nearly all day on September 7; wind moderate, northerly; temperature, 33° to 40°. No black flies were in evidence. A dozen or more Caribou took to the water from an island in Windy Bay and made for the north shore. A band of about 25 passed along Little River Ridge toward the river’s mouth.

September 8 was mostly cloudy; wind moderate to strong, southeasterly; temperature, 37° to 42°. Fred reported a band of about 100 Caribou crossing the mouth of Little River toward the west. A dozen or more swam southward over Windy Bay at the usual crossing-place. Anoteelik brought in 13 tongues from that many freshly killed Caribou; he had secured them with a .22 rifle.

A driving gale from the east, with rain and sleet, continued through the day on September 9; temperature, 36° to 37°. A solitary buck inspected our camp from the south side of Windy River, then retreated.

An overcast sky, with some drizzle and sleet, prevailed on September 10; wind light, east to northeast; temperature, 35.5° to 42.5°. No flies present for some days past. Fred reported about 20 Caribou moving westward in the vicinity of Little River.

On September 11 clouds and mist squalls in the morning gave way to sunshine in the afternoon; wind light, easterly; temperature, 37° to 45.5°. Caribou were noted as follows: five on the east side of Little River; two does and a fawn on an island in Windy Bay; a doe and a fawn swimming northward across this bay; half a dozen on Josie’s Hill. During a flight from Churchill to Nueltin Lake on this day, Charles Schweder detected no Caribou at all, and concluded that the bulk of the migrating herds had by this time passed to the southward of his course. During the latter part of August, while descending the Thlewiaza River from Nueltin Lake to Hudson Bay, he had seen thousands of the animals—as many as 5,000 in a single day, although no more than 500 in a single herd.

Sun, clouds, and rain marked September 12; wind moderate to light, south to west; temperature, 48° to 60°. Only two Caribou were reported.

September 13 was cloudy, with intermittent mist squalls and a little sun; wind light to brisk, northerly; temperature, 34° to about 44°. Two bands of Caribou (of four and five animals) appeared near the mouth of Windy River.

It was generally cloudy, with a snow squall, on September 14; wind brisk to light, northerly; temperature, 33° to 41°. A doe and a fawn, proceeding northward, and four or five other Caribou appeared on the near-by ridges.

The weather was clear on the 15th, with a moderate to brisk north wind and temperatures of 29° to 48°; ice at edge of the river. Fred reported about 100 Caribou (none of them bucks) north of camp, and Anoteelik secured 13 east of Little River.

On the morning of the 16th intermittent snow flurries left a thin cover on the ground, but it was practically dissipated by the afternoon sun; wind brisk, northerly; temperature, 30° to 39°. Fred reported three old does without fawns, and no bucks.

September 17 was mostly cloudy, with a little sun; wind light, northwest and west; temperature, 30° to 43°. A single Caribou was seen on the south side of Windy River.

Clear skies prevailed on September 18; wind brisk, westerly; temperature, 35° to 53.5°; ice at edge of the river. A solitary black fly appeared. No Caribou reported.

September 19 was another clear day; wind moderate to brisk, west-southwest; temperature, 42° to 60°. Anoteelik, camping on the Barrens about 2 miles to the north of camp for the past couple of days, reports having killed 20 Caribou (only one of them a buck).

Light rain, soon changing to sleet, and then frequent snow squalls, provided the principal weather elements on September 20; wind light to strong, west to north; temperature, 27° to 43.5°. The ground became partly covered with snow. A big buck, followed several hours later by a doe and a fawn, swam across to the north side of Windy River at its mouth. Ten more Caribou were taken by Anoteelik. Charles considered that the retrograde movement to the north was definitely under way. There had been indications of it on various days from September 6 on.

Except for a few snow flurries, it was largely sunny on the 21st; wind brisk to moderate, north to northwest; temperature, 26° to 34°. About a quarter of an inch of snow remained in sheltered places. A doe and a fawn appeared near camp.

There was considerable snowfall on the 22nd; wind light to moderate, westerly; temperature, 30° to 33°; ice in edge of the river. A large buck left tracks in the snow along the Windy River.

September 23 was partly cloudy; wind brisk, north-northwest; temperature, 21° to 32°; about a quarter of an inch of snow on the ground, and a tundra pond mostly frozen over. Several small groups of Caribou (a doe and a fawn; three does and two fawns; and three others) appeared on the near-by ridges.

September 24 was mostly cloudy; wind moderate to brisk, northerly; temperature, 26° to 41°; nearly an inch of fresh snow on the ground. About 15 does and fawns were resting or feeding quietly on the east side of Little River, and tracks of about half a dozen were noted on Camp Ridge. Charles Schweder reported about 50 Caribou, in three slightly separated bands, appearing during the evening on the south side of Windy River about 2 miles above its mouth, as if contemplating a crossing. He thought they may have been alarmed by Wolves.

September 25 was a cloudy day; wind moderate to light, northerly to westerly; temperature, 31° to 36°; open ground largely bare by afternoon; ice forming on Windy Bay. Some Caribou tracks were noted on the north side of Windy River.

There were clouds, a sprinkle or two of rain, and a little sunshine on the 26th; wind brisk to moderate, southwest to west; temperature, 36° to 47.5°; ground becoming practically bare. Three Caribou were seen beyond Little River, and a doe and a fawn on the south side of Windy River.

The 27th was mostly cloudy, with a thick snow flurry; wind brisk, northwest; temperature, 33° to 40°. Two tundra ponds, previously frozen, were mostly open. Three bucks, a doe, and a fawn were noted on the south side of Windy River.

September 28 was mostly cloudy; wind brisk to light, north-northwest; temperature, 28.5° to 40°; a little snow on the ground disappearing. Seven large bucks (six in one band, moving northward) passed over Camp Ridge, and a dozen other Caribou (including does) were seen beyond Little River.

The 29th was chiefly sunny; wind very light to brisk, west to southwest; temperature, 29° to 48°; ground bare. A band of about 15 Caribou appeared on the north side of Windy River at its mouth. They included four large and two smaller bucks, the remainder being does and fawns. They were apparently traveling south.

The 30th was cloudy, with a sprinkle of rain; wind light, westerly; temperature, 39° to 48°; ground bare. A few black flies were brought out by the mild weather. During an all-morning trip to Point Lake, Charles saw no Caribou, but in the afternoon he reported about 200 on the eastern side of Little River. There were also half a dozen bucks on the south side of Windy River.

October 1 was a rare, fine, sunshiny day in the Barrens; wind moderate to brisk, south to southwest; temperature, 37° to 61°; ground bare; tundra ponds mostly ice-covered. A blowfly crawled over a caribou carcass, and possibly a few black flies were abroad. Two bucks passed from the shoal water of Duck Bay over Little River Ridge. Charles reported about 40 Caribou moving north a mile or two north of camp, and I saw a single buck likewise engaged. During the preceding week or so Fred had seen a good many of the animals between the upper Kazan River and Nueltin Lake; they were moving south and west.

The 2nd was another clear day; wind moderate, southwest; temperature, 41° to 65°; ground bare. About five does and fawns were seen at dusk in the spruce tract near Four-hill Creek.

The next day was drizzly and foggy throughout; wind light, southwest to southeast; temperature, 41° to 43.5°. No Caribou sighted. Eskimos arriving in camp reported them scarce along the way from the upper Kazan River.

October 4 was a dismal, dark day, with steady light rain throughout; wind very light, easterly; temperature, 36° to 42.5°. Fred reported 20 Caribou north of camp.

Snow fell throughout the 5th; wind light, north-northwest; temperature, 31° to 35°. No Caribou sighted.

With 6 inches of snow on the ground in the morning, there was some additional precipitation during the overcast day of October 6; wind moderate to brisk, northeast; temperature, 31° to 33°; waters clear of ice. No Caribou sighted.

October 7 was a generally cloudy day; wind moderate to very light, northerly; temperature, 24° to 29°; watercourses largely open. In the morning Charles reported a couple of hundred Caribou swimming southward across Windy Bay; he considered this a part of the final southward movement into the timbered country—apparently initiated by the recent snowstorm. Later he saw an approximately equal number 2 miles north of camp, moving toward the bay; and Fred encountered about 50 on the north side of the bay.

Late on the 8th clouds gave way to sunshine; nearly calm to a gentle breeze from west and southwest; temperature, 26.5° to 33.5°; 6 inches of snow on ground. I obtained a distant view of about 100 Caribou resting near Glacier Pond. Perhaps less than a quarter of them were old bucks; the remainder, younger bucks, does, and fawns.

October 9 was largely sunny, with light rain in the evening; wind light to moderate, southwest to south; temperature, 29° to 38°; ground with a 6-inch snow covering. No Caribou sighted.

Some snow fell on the 10th, though the day was partly sunny; wind very light, south to west; temperature, 33° to 36°. No Caribou sighted.

Clouds prevailed on the 11th; wind no more than very light, westerly; temperature, 33° to 38°; about 4 inches of snow on ground. Charles reported about a thousand Caribou scattered over a long hill several miles to the northwest; they were not traveling.

October 12 was marked by clouds, mist, and rain; wind light to moderate, southwesterly; temperature, 32° to 40°. No Caribou sighted.

There was a little sun on the 13th; wind light to moderate, west to east; temperature, 37° to 45.5°; ground largely bare and tundra ponds open. In the afternoon we set out for Simons’ Lake, and camped about 4 miles up the Windy River. No Caribou sighted.

On the 14th we reached the upper end of Simons’ Lake, for a several days’ stay at a deserted trading-post. There were snow flurries and a little rain; wind brisk, westerly; temperature, 35° to 36°; ground mostly bare. A band of about 15 Caribou, a solitary buck, and many tracks and droppings were seen along the way.

October 15 was partly cloudy; wind very light to light, west to northwest and east; temperature, 21° to 36°. Four Caribou sighted.

October 16 was a stormy, cloudy day; wind brisk, easterly; temperature, 30.5° to 34°. About a dozen Caribou were noted in the vicinity of Simons’ Lake.

A strong easterly gale during the night, with heavy rain, was followed during the day of the 17th by steady rain, with moderate to light easterly or southeasterly wind; temperature, 35° to 38°. A single Caribou seen.

October 18 was partly cloudy; wind brisk to light, westerly; temperature, 31° to 41°; waters open; some small patches of snow in sight. Four Caribou (at least two of them bucks) passed by.

The 19th was partly cloudy; nearly calm to moderate wind, west and northwest; temperature, 30° to 40°. About five or six bucks (three of them together) appeared, perhaps moving south.

The weather on the 20th was raw, dismal, and gusty; wind brisk, northwest; temperature, 27° to about 35°; some ice on Simons’ Lake; a little fresh snow on higher hills. No Caribou sighted.

October 21 was somewhat foggy; nearly calm; temperature, 25° to 32°; Simons’ Lake partly frozen; ground generally bare. A lone fawn was seen as we started on the return trip to the Windy River post.

The 22nd was largely sunny; wind very light to brisk, southwesterly; temperature, about 30° to 46°. A medium-sized buck was seen near the mouth of Windy River.

The 23rd was largely cloudy; wind brisk, southwest; temperature, 35° to 39°; ground practically all bare; bay and river open. A buck started to cross to the north side of Windy River, but went back.

For the better part of a week, till October 29, I found no further fresh indications of Caribou in our vicinity. In the meantime the weather was largely cloudy, with some rain and snow (4-5 inches of the latter on the 27th); winds very light to moderate, swinging from east to south and west; temperature, 27° to 50°; waters generally open.

October 29 was largely cloudy; a gentle wind, south to east; temperature, 29° to 35°; 4-5 inches of snow on ground; thin ice on a tundra pond. The fresh track of a buck ([fig. 20]) was found near camp.

On the 30th gentle rain changed to snow; calm to a moderate wind, northeast to north; temperature, 30° to 33°. Tracks showed the passing of about a dozen Caribou, including half a dozen that swam westward across the mouth of Little River, breaking through a rim of ice at the edge.

Clouds prevailed on the 31st; wind moderate to brisk, northerly; temperature, 17° to 25.5°; 5-6 inches of snow on ground, with drifts up to a foot deep; river and lake open. Fred reported three Caribou.

November 1 marked the long-delayed “freeze-up.” Windy Bay and the edges of Windy River were frozen, while pieces of ice floated down the river. The day was cloudy, with continual snow flurries after noon; wind light to brisk, southeast; temperature, 21° to 31°; about 6 inches of snow on ground.

The 2nd was cloudy, with some rain and sleet; wind moderate to brisk, southeast to west; temperature, 29° to 34°. No Caribou sighted for two days.

On the 3rd it was cloudy all day; wind light, northwest; temperature, 16° to 20°. A herd of about 50 Caribou (largely does, with a few fawns and well-antlered bucks) hurried down the side of Little River Ridge onto the ice of Duck Bay, with the apparent intention of crossing to the south side of Windy Bay; but they were intercepted by a hunter and retreated northwestward along the ridge. Fred secured three southward-traveling bucks at a distance from camp.

No Caribou were sighted on the three following days (November 4 to 6), which were more or less cloudy, with some snow; wind light to brisk, southerly to northerly; temperature, 13° to 24.5°; ice 3 inches thick on Windy Bay; about 6 inches of snow on ground.

There was snow during the night of November 6 and the morning of the 7th, resulting in drifts up to a yard deep; wind brisk, northerly; temperature, -3° to 13°. Fred reported “lots” of Caribou some 10 miles to the north, moving south.

The next three days (November 8 to 10) varied from cloudy (with a snow flurry) to sunny; wind moderate to strong, northwest and north; temperature, -10.5° to 1°; 6-8 inches of snow (much drifted); Windy River gradually becoming ice-covered. No Caribou sighted.

November 11 was partly sunny; wind moderate to brisk, northerly; temperature, 3° to 6.5°; about 8 inches of snow on the average. Mike Schweder reported five does moving south across the mouth of Windy River on the ice.

Thereafter, until my departure on December 4, no more Caribou were actually seen in the vicinity of the headquarters on Windy River. There were, however, tracks of single animals on November 15 and 16. Moreover, during the period from about November 7 to 15, while traveling northward to the upper Kazan River, Charles Schweder saw thousands of Caribou, in herds up to 300, moving southward. He surmised that their course took them somewhere between Ennadai and Nueltin lakes. Fred also reported many to the northward on the 7th, as already noted. This was perhaps the last large migratory movement of the year in our general area. Thereafter virtually all of the animals were presumably in the timbered area to the southward. None was sighted from the plane during the flight to Churchill on December 4.

On November 7 the temperature had taken a sharp downward turn, dropping below zero for the first time that season; and it did not again rise above 6.5° till November 12. This cold spell, combined with a snow blizzard from the north on the 6th and 7th, coincided at least in part with the large migratory movement noted above, and it may have been the stimulus for it.

The general weather conditions that obtained from November 12 on may be summarized as follows. It was at least predominantly cloudy on all but four or five days. There was snowfall on six days, and drifting snow in the air on several other days. The winds were predominantly north, northwest, and west; less commonly, east and southeast. They were a little more frequently light than moderate or brisk. The extremes of temperature during this period were 22.5° and -23°; the average daily mean, approximately 1°. There was an average of probably at least 8 inches of snow on the ground, with deeper drifts. The river was not wholly frozen over at least up to the end of November.

[ Retrograde autumnal movement]

It would doubtless be difficult to find, among other animals, any exact parallel to this curious feature of caribou migration. According to Charles Schweder, it takes place in the Nueltin Lake region in September—sometimes as early as the first of the month. Herds up to 200 strong may then be seen moving northward, but generally the numbers are smaller—say 10 to 30 in a band. Some of the more notable autumnal movements toward the north, as reported by Charles, were the following: at Simons’ Lake in 1936 and again in 1938, when herds of fat bucks were streaming past for a month and a half; likewise at Josie’s Bay in 1940; and through the Windy Hills and across Windy River in 1943. Fred Schweder, Jr., said that most of the animals, in returning northward at this season, cross Windy River 4 miles above its mouth or Windy Bay 4 miles from its head; comparatively few pass the mouths of Windy and Little rivers. He remarked further that it is mostly bucks, with few does and fawns, that make the passage on Windy Bay.

More or less evidence of such a movement toward the north in 1947 has been presented in preceding pages, in the notes for September 6, 7, 11, 14, 20, 24, and 28, October 1, and even October 23. The numbers observed so involved on each of these days varied from a solitary buck or a doe with a fawn to about 300 of the animals. On some of these days, however, other Caribou were observed making their way toward the south. It is thus obvious that there was no universal impulse among the Caribou of a given area to move simul­taneously in a certain direction.

The general weather conditions on the nine above-mentioned days may be summarized as follows. Every day but one was largely or wholly cloudy; snow falling on three days, but ground bare on other days; wind predominantly from the north; extreme temperatures, 26° and 61°; mean daily average, 37.5°. Whether or not there is significance in the matter, it appears that on those days within the period extending from September 6 to October 1, when the Caribou were not definitely observed moving northward, the winds were less likely to be northerly. Furthermore, within this period there was never enough snow to interfere appreciably with the animals’ feeding on the ground lichens of the Barrens.

By October 6 there were 6 inches of snow on the ground, and on the following day 200 Caribou swimming southward across Windy Bay may have marked the beginning of the final movement into the timbered country. It appears possible that a considerable fall of snow may have a definite influence in inducing the Caribou to retreat from the Barrens.

On a trip from Windy River north to the Kazan River region in September, 1946, Charles Schweder found, during the first 45 miles, that the Caribou were moving north; at the Kazan they were moving south, although some were merely loitering. Northwest of the Kazan, the animals were taking a westward course. During the latter part of his return trip to Windy River, 11 or 12 days later, they had reversed the previous direction and were traveling south.

For such a distinct and regular feature in the life cycle of the species as the retrograde autumnal movement there must be some biological explanation. Several possible factors appear reasonably clear. Perhaps we may consider the Barren Grounds the true and preferred home of Rangifer arcticus, from which a proportion of the population is driven during part of the year under stress of insect attacks or shortage of food. When the animals begin to enter the woods in August, there is no shortage of food; thus an insect-induced frenzy may possibly be regarded as a potent force driving them southward. In September a state of comparative peace descends upon the caribou world: the current crop of adult insects has subsided; the larvae of warble and nostril flies have not attained the formidable size of the following spring and perhaps are not yet causing any severe discomfort; little or no snow covers up the food supply; the lakes and rivers, still unfrozen, offer a ready way of escape from pursuing Wolves; moderate or even balmy weather gives nature a pleasant mood. In short, both man and beast may well look upon early autumn as the very finest time of year both on the Barrens and in the adjacent wooded country.

Under these circumstances a definite retrograde movement out of the wooded country in September on the part of many Caribou must indicate their preference for the Barrens at this season. In any event, the movement begins just after the insect menace has subsided to a negligible stage. Possibly another inducement for retreating from the wooded country in the early fall is the dearth of open areas in which the animals may spend their resting periods, in comparative safety from Wolves. It is only after the freeze-up that the surfaces of the lakes and rivers supply this desideratum. This condition lasts from November to June—precisely that part of the year in which the Caribou are present in the wooded country in the greatest numbers.

But by November what are the conditions on the Barrens? The weather has become severe; snow has covered up a large part of the ground lichens; tree lichens are not to be had. And so at this season, with the coming of the first heavy snows, there is a final movement out of the Barrens into the shelter of the woods, leaving only a minority of the animals to face a bleak and bitter winter in the open country. The biggest herds of the year may then be seen passing southward. A few bucks are said to remain during most winters in the Windy River area.

Far to the westward, toward Great Slave and Great Bear lakes, the retrograde movements are somewhat different and more complicated (Clarke, 1940: 96).

“Mr. Carl Buchholz, of Churchill, describes the caribou migration at the 60th parallel, north of Churchill, as a southward migration in August, northward in September, and then south in the autumn” (Clarke, 1940: 97). (See also the next paragraph.)

[ Fall migration in the Churchill region]

The following notes for 1947 were kindly furnished me by Angus MacIver. He reported large numbers of Caribou moving southward across Caribou Creek (25 miles south of Churchill) about November 10, a day after the local freeze-up. He would then see thousands in a day. Prior to that time (perhaps in September?) there had been two “runs” to the northward and northwestward; these presumably represented the normal retrograde migration in the fall. The herds engaged in these two northerly movements must have previously passed southward farther inland. He reported also that the rutting season this year had commenced a little later than the usual October 15.

References on migration.—Dobbs, 1774: 20, 22; Hearne, 1795: 39, 40, 56, 66, 74, 85-87, 286, 299; Franklin, 1823: 241-242; Sabine, in Franklin, 1823: 667; Richardson, “1825”: 328-329, and 1829: 242-243; Godman, 1831, 2: 283-284; John Ross, 1835a: 328, 330, 337, 376, 390, 529-530, 628; J. C. Ross, in John Ross, 1835b: xvii; Richardson, in Back, 1836: 498; Simpson, 1843: 76, 196, 233, 277, 301, 320-321, 328, 386; Rae, 1850: 93; Richardson, 1852: 290, 296; Rae, 1852a: 79; J. Anderson, 1857: 326, 328; Murray, 1858: 203; Richardson, 1861: 274, 275; B. R. Ross, 1861: 438-439; Osborn, 1865: 223-224, 226; Kumlien, 1879: 54; R. Bell, 1881: 15C; Caton, 1881: 108; Gilder, 1881: 196-197; Nourse, 1884: 235, 356; Schwatka, 1885: 77-79, 83; Boas, 1888: 502; Collinson, 1889: 244, 290; Pike, 1917 (1892): 48-49, 50, 89-91, 101, 174, 204, 209, 220; J. B. Tyrrell, 1892: 128-130; Dowling, 1893: 103, 107; J. B. Tyrrell, 1894: 442, 1896: 13, 63, and 1897: 10, 19, 21, 49-50, 76, 124, 140, 142, 165; Russell, 1895: 48, and 1898: 88, 226; Whitney, 1896: 157, 238, 241; Lydekker, 1898: 48; J. W. Tyrrell, 1908 (1898): 77-78, 80; Jones, 1899: 368, 374; Hanbury, 1900: 66-67, 69, 71; A. J. Stone, 1900: 50, 53; W. J. McLean, 1901: 5, 6; Elliot, 1902: 259, 260, 274-275; Preble, 1902: 42; J. W. Tyrrell, 1924 (1902): 26, 31; Hanbury, 1904: 10, 30, 32, 34, 58, 93, 108, 120, 121, 139; Hornaday, 1904: 137; Stone and Cram, 1904: 52; MacFarlane, 1905: 683-685; J. A. Allen, 1908a: 490; Amundsen, 1908, 1: 97, 102-106, 200, 247, 326-329; Preble, 1908: 137-139; Cameron, 1912: 127; Wheeler, 1912: 199-200; R. M. Anderson, 1913a: 6, and 1913b: 502; Stefánsson, 1913a: 94-96, 99, 100, 103, 106, 1913b: 203-204, 224-225, 263-265, 269, 294, 348-350, and 1914: 39, 41, 54; Chambers, 1914: 93; Hornaday, 1914, 2: 101-104; Wheeler, 1914: 58; Harper, 1915: 160; Camsell, 1916: 21; Thompson, 1916: 99-101; Kindle, 1917: 107-108; Camsell and Malcolm, 1919: 46; Whittaker, 1919: 166-167; Buchanan, 1920: 105-108, 128-129; Hewitt, 1921: 60-63; Stefánsson, 1921: 401; Jenness, 1922: 15, 17, 25-26, 125; Blanchet, 1925: 32-34, and 1926b: 46-48; Mallet, 1926: 79; Preble, 1926: 137-138; Rasmussen, 1927: 54, 214-217, 246; Birket-Smith, 1929 (1): 51, 56, 101, 106; Seton, 1929, 3: 122, 125-128; Blanchet, 1930: 49-52; Critchell-Bullock, 1930: 58, 192-196; Hoare, 1930: 13, 14, 16, 21, 22, 27, 31, 33, 36-38; Kitto, 1930: 87; Mallet, 1930: 20-23, 27; Jacobi, 1931: 80-84, 192-210; Harper, 1932: 30, 31; Munn, 1932: 58; Sutton and Hamilton, 1932: 79, 81; Weyer, 1932: 40; Birket-Smith, 1933: 91-94, 112, 118; Ingstad, 1933: 34, 134-135, 156-159, 161, 163, 225, 229-231, 280, 291, 293, 296, 324; Weeks, 1933: 65; R. M. Anderson, 1934a: 81, 1937: 103, and 1938: 400; Hornby, 1934: 105-107; Birket-Smith, 1936: 91; Hamilton, 1939: 244-247, 359; Murie, 1939: 244; Clarke, 1940: 8-9, 11, 85-100; G. M. Allen, 1942: 298-299; Soper, 1942: 143; Downes, 1943: 215, 221, 224, 249, 250, 253-256, 260; Manning, 1943a: 52, and 1943b: 103; Porsild, 1943: 389; Soper, 1944: 248-249; Wright, 1944: 186, 190; Gavin, 1945: 227-228; R. M. Anderson, 1947: 178, and 1948: 15; Manning, 1948: 26-28; Rand, 1948a: 212, and 1948b: 149; Banfield, 1949: 478, 481; Harper, 1949: 226-230, 239-240; Banfield, 1951a: 6, 9-12, 28, and 1951b: 120; Anonymous, 1952: 267; Barnett, 1954: 96, 103.

[ Summation of Geographical Distribution]

The localities from which hitherto unpublished notes on Rangifer arcticus arcticus are presented in this paper include the following. Keewatin: Nueltin, Windy, “Highway” (at source of Putahow River), and Ennadai lakes; Little Dubawnt, Kazan, Red, Windy, Little, and Thlewiaza rivers; between Eskimo Point and Baker Lake. Manitoba: Nueltin (southern part), Nejanilini, Reindeer, and Split lakes; Seal River; Churchill; Cape Churchill; “Little Barrens” south of Churchill; between Churchill and Knife Lake; Caribou Creek, 25 miles south of Churchill. Saskatchewan: small lakes southwest of Reindeer Lake; lakes south of Lake Athabaska. Details as to occurrence and status in these localities are supplied on other pages.

The Caribou have been so thoroughly distributed over the approximately 300,000 square miles of the mainland Barren Grounds between Hudson Bay and the Mackenzie Valley that it is fairly safe to say that there is scarcely one square mile in this vast territory that has not been trod by the animals during the past century. See maps by Preble (1908: pl. 19), Seton (1929, 3: 60), Clarke (1940: figs. 3, 4), Banfield (1949: 479), and Anonymous (1952: 267).

The appended annotated bibliography supplies, in abstract form, most of the hitherto published information on the geographical distribution of Rangifer arcticus arcticus. In its preparation I have included records of Caribou from the Arctic islands north to Lancaster Sound, Barrow Strait, Viscount Melville Sound, and McClure Strait—all approximately in latitude 74° N. This has been done as a matter of having a convenient, well-defined regional boundary, not with any conviction that arcticus has ranged so far to the north in the more westerly islands, especially in recent years, when it is said to have become restricted to the southern fringe of the islands (Clarke, 1940: 98; R. M. Anderson, 1947: 178; Banfield, 1949: fig. 1). The islands north of latitude 74° are doubtless the exclusive domain of Rangifer pearyi. It is possible that this species may also occur to some extent on Banks, Victoria, Prince of Wales, and Somerset islands. The typical R. a. arcticus, as currently recognized, ranges eastward to Baffin, Salisbury, Coats, and Southampton islands and to the western shore of Hudson Bay. (The animals of the last three islands may be distinct insular forms.) The southern limits of the winter range in northwestern Ontario, central Manitoba, northern Saskatchewan, and northeastern Alberta have been discussed in preceding pages. On the west the range extends to the Mackenzie Delta (formerly), Great Bear and Great Slave lakes, Wood Buffalo Park, and Lake Claire. The timbered country (Hudsonian and Canadian Zones) is practically entirely deserted by the Barren Ground Caribou in mid-summer. At this season, in Keewatin at least, the animals tend to draw away also from the southernmost portions of the Barren Grounds.

References.—Since practically every paper in the entire bibliography presents some data on geographical distribution, only a few, containing more than an average amount of new or summarized information on the subject, have been selected for inclusion in the following list of references: Hearne, 1795; Franklin, 1823; Lyon, 1824; Franklin and Richardson, 1828; Simpson, 1843; Pike, 1917 (1892); Russell, 1898; Preble, 1902; Hanbury, 1904; Amundsen, 1908; Preble, 1908; R. M. Anderson, in Stefánsson, 1913b; Stefánsson, 1913a, 1913b, and 1921; Hewitt, 1921; Jenness, 1922; Rasmussen, 1927; Seton, 1929, 3; Blanchet, 1930; Critchell-Bullock, 1930; Hoare, 1930; Jacobi, 1931; Clarke, 1940; Manning, 1943a; Wright, 1944; R. M. Anderson, 1947; Manning, 1948; Banfield, 1949 and 1951a.

Distributional maps.—Grant, 1903: map following p. 196; Preble, 1908: pl. 19; Dugmore, 1913: 138; Hewitt, 1921: 57; Seton, 1929, 3: 60, map 2; Jacobi, 1931: 77, fig. 17; R. M. Anderson, 1934b: 4062, fig. 6; Murie, 1939: 241; Clarke, 1940: figs. 3, 4; Banfield, 1949: 479, fig. 1, and 1951a: figs. 4-10; Anonymous, 1952: 267.

[Ecology]

[ Habitats]

Within their natural range the Caribou apparently resort to practically every type of terrestrial and aquatic habitat (other than cliffs and precipices). On the Barren Grounds proper they frequent the open summits and slopes of the ridges, the dwarf birch thickets, the sedge bogs, and the peat bogs. Their trails traverse all the upland spruce and tamarack tracts, the wooded muskegs, and the willow thickets along the rivers. In the summer and fall they swim the rivers and the narrower lakes, and during the winter and spring they cross these on the ice. They do not avoid rapids; in fact, they seek the shallower ones as fords, and they swim the deeper ones (cf. Clarke, 1940: 88). They also cross the tundra ponds on the ice, but probably walk around these smaller bodies of water, as a rule, when they are not frozen. While they may prefer to approach the river crossings over open slopes, they do not hesitate to maintain trails through the dense thickets of willow on the banks.

The winter habitat of the major part of the Barren Ground Caribou population comprises the Hudsonian and upper Canadian Zones. This forested habitat is characterized by sparser and smaller timber in the Hudsonian Zone and by denser and taller timber in the Canadian Zone. Important among the features of this winter habitat are the frozen surfaces of the lakes and rivers, where the Caribou are wont to congregate for their daily periods of rest (cf. Mallet, 1926: 79; Ingstad, 1933: 86).

[ Trails]

The favorite migratory highways are the long, sinuous ridges that stretch across the Barren Grounds in a sufficiently approximate north-south direction to serve the needs of the Caribou. Here their age-old trails are particularly in evidence and may even be detected from the air. A single small ridge may bear half a dozen or more such trails ([fig. 1]), roughly parallel but anastomosing at frequent intervals. They probably change but little from generation to generation. They provide the smoothest courses available, avoiding rocks and shrubs and traversing intervening bogs at the most suitable points. The summits of the ridges constitute vantage points from which the animals may keep a wide lookout for Wolves and human enemies, and on which they may obtain the maximum benefit from fly-deterring breezes. Man himself is glad to utilize these trails, whether on the Barrens or in the timber tracts, wherever they lead in a direction he desires. They are kept open by the hurrying feet of hundreds or thousands of Caribou every year.

Along a well-used trail extending through low Barrens near Duck Bay, I found a certain grass (Agrostis scabra) growing. I did not recognize or collect it elsewhere during the season. Is this perhaps like certain other species, such as Juncus tenuis (fide Dr. Edgar T. Wherry) and Eleocharis baldwinii, in curiously thriving on beaten paths?

When the Caribou arrive at some lake or river, they generally follow the shores for a greater or lesser distance, seeking either a way around or a suitable crossing-place. The trails thus formed are generally on the nearest ridges rather than on the immediate shores. Their direction, as they conform to the winding shores, may diverge very widely from the desired migratory course.

In many parts of the Barren Grounds there must be as many as 10 linear miles of caribou trails to every square mile of territory. Even if there were only one mile of such trails to each square mile, the total, on the Barrens of Keewatin and Mackenzie alone, would equal or exceed all the railway mileage in the United States.

In contrast to the narrow ridges, the broader hilltops in the Barrens offer such freedom of movement to the Caribou that trails are much less likely to be formed in such places, even when they are frequented by large numbers of the animals. Thus I found the broad summit of Josie’s Hill practically without well-defined trails, despite the regularity with which many migrant bands resort thither. In feeding or traveling over such an area, there is no occasion for restricting themselves to a narrow course. In crossing from one ridge to another through an intervening bog, the animals may leave numerous scattered and temporary trails in the dense sedge growth to mark their passage ([fig. 13]). On the uniform surface of such a bog, as on the broad hilltops, there is no need to confine their steps to any particular course.

It might be supposed that the Barren Ground Caribou would have some reluctance in entering thickly wooded tracts, where Wolves naturally have a much better chance of a close approach than on the open Barrens. As already stated, however, their trails may be found more or less throughout the spruce and tamarack growth in the Windy River area. One of these tracts, covering probably several square miles on the west side of Four-hill Creek, is fairly crisscrossed with trails. At deep dusk on October 2, while several of us were skinning a Black Bear in this thick timber, about five does and fawns trotted up quite close to us. Perhaps they were on their way to the open Barrens to pass the night. While wintering in the forested Hudsonian Zone, the animals may spend their nights as well as their diurnal resting periods on the frozen lakes and rivers.

Fred Schweder, Jr., says that Caribou are somewhat fearful of sand hills or eskers, and that he has never seen one lying down in such a place; he believes this is because the Wolves frequent the eskers in summertime. On the other hand, Mr. G. W. Malaher spoke of a long esker that extends down the west side of Nueltin Lake and far to the southward; this, he said, forms a migration highway for the Caribou.

References on habitats and trails.—J. B. Tyrrell, 1892: 129, and 1895: 445; W. J. McLean, 1901: 6; Blanchet, 1925: 33, and 1926a: 73, 96-97; Mallet, 1926: 79, 80; Seton, 1929, 3: 100-102, 122, 127-128; Jacobi, 1931: 186-187; Ingstad, 1933: 86; Murie, 1939: 246; Manning, 1948: 26-28; Rand, 1948a: 212; Harper, 1949: 226, 228; Banfield, 1951a: 3.

[ Influence of weather on distribution]

In the section on Migrations the meteorological conditions in 1947 have been reported for any possible bearing they may have had on the daily movements of the Caribou, particularly during the fall migration. The temperature has an important effect on the activity of the insect pests (see Influence of insects on distribution) and thus, to a certain extent during summer and fall, on the behavior and probably the distribution of the Caribou.

Low winter temperatures on the Barren Grounds do not appear to be a factor of prime importance in the seasonal distribution of R. a. arcticus. “Some individuals and small herds remain in the northern part of the range at all seasons” (R. M. Anderson, 1947: 178). Peary’s Caribou (R. pearyi) inhabits the more northerly Arctic islands throughout the year, without engaging in such extensive migrations as its relative to the south.

The forceful winds that blow over the Barren Grounds so much of the time are of distinct benefit to the Caribou during the summer in abating the very serious scourge of flies. If other things were equal (as they are not), this factor alone would make the Barrens a more favorable summer habitat than the forested country. (See Retrograde autumnal movement.) Air movements of similar strength during the winter must, through the wind-chill factor (cf. Siple and Passel, 1945), make life so much the harder for any living being; on the other hand, they tend to sweep the ridges bare of snow, thereby making readily available the Caribou’s principal winter food of reindeer lichens (Cladonia spp.)

References.—Armstrong, 1857: 479; Critchell-Bullock, 1930: 192, 194-196; Hoare, 1930: 33; Jacobi, 1931: 193, 195; Clarke, 1940: 96, 99; Banfield, 1951a: 27-29.

[ Influence of food supply on distribution]

The strong winter winds on the Barrens affect the Caribou in still another way. While they pack the snow so firmly that man may dispense with snowshoes, this condition naturally increases the difficulty that the Caribou experience in pawing through the snow to reach the lichens that are covered by it. The limited grazing capacity of such areas as are laid bare by the wind may force a reduction in the wintering population. Although the snow in the timbered regions to the south covers virtually the whole surface of the land, it is evidently less compact and so offers more favorable feeding conditions than the areas of hard-packed snow on the Barrens. (Charles Schweder states that Willow Ptarmigan will fly out of the Barrens to spend the night in tracts of timber, where the snow is softer and thus more suitable for the nocturnal burrows of these birds.)

Another apparent inducement for resorting to the tracts of timber in winter is the abundance there of tree lichens, such as Alectoria and Usnea (cf. Richardson, 1829: 243; J. B. Tyrrell, 1894: 441; Dix, 1951: 287), upon which the Caribou may feed without regard to snow conditions. (See also [Retrograde autumnal movement].)

Reindeer lichens (Cladonia spp.) and doubtless other lichens are of such slow growth that forest fires may deprive the Caribou of this indispensable food for a period of years. According to Mr. G. W. Malaher, the recent burning of a large area north of The Pas may have deflected the animals toward the southeast, causing them to extend their migration to an abnormal distance in that direction. For a similar reason in years past, according to Pike (1917 [1892]: 50), they avoided “great stretches of the country” near the Mackenzie River, and also on the south side of Great Slave Lake. A quarter of a century after Pike’s time, Dogribs reported that Caribou had not come to the lower Taltson River for several years, “because the timber had been burned off” (Harper, 1932: 30). Some years ago, extensive fires in Manitoba were said to have been deliberately set by prospectors with the aim of exposing the underlying rock.

Charles Schweder believes that the Caribou show a certain predilection for rocky places, owing to the more luxuriant growth of lichens there.

References.—Richardson, “1825”: 328-329; Bompas, 1888: 24; Pike, 1917 (1892): 50; Wheeler, 1914: 60; Blanchet, 1930: 52; Jacobi, 1931: 192, 194, 195; Harper, 1932: 30; Ingstad, 1933: 34, 161, 163; Hornby, 1934: 105; R. M. Anderson, 1938: 400; Clarke, 1940: 100, 106-107; G. M. Allen, 1942: 299; Downes, 1943: 261; Porsild, 1943: 389; Wright, 1944: 186; R. M. Anderson, 1948: 15; Banfield, 1951a: 5, 11, 27-29.

[ Influence of insects on distribution]

It is quite possible that the blood-sucking mosquitoes (Aedes) and black flies (Simulium) and the parasitic warble flies (Oedemagena) and nostril flies (Cephenemyia) have a definite and important influence on the extent and dates of caribou migration.

As far as I am able to judge from my own experience, mosquitoes are more or less equally numerous and ferocious in the Canadian, the Hudsonian, and the Arctic Zones of the Northwest. Naturally the season begins earlier in the more southerly localities. In two seasons (1914, 1920) at the western end of Lake Athabaska they began to be troublesome about the middle of June, whereas at Nueltin Lake this stage was reached about the first of July. In the Athabaska and Great Slave lakes region (Canadian and Hudsonian Zones) I have never had occasion to regard black flies as serious in respect to either numbers or ferocity; but there is universal agreement that conditions are vastly different and worse on the Barren Grounds. At Nueltin Lake the Simulium hordes become troublesome at approximately the same time as the mosquitoes. Toward the end of August there is a merciful diminution in the numbers of both mosquitoes and black flies on the Barrens, and after the first of September they may be practically disregarded, except on an occasional day of unseasonable warmth.

It may be remarked in passing that one of the insect terrors of the Athabaska region, the so-called “bulldog” (a species of Tabanidae), did not come to my attention as a pest at Nueltin Lake though I collected two species of Tabanus. Malloch (1919), in reporting on the Diptera of the Canadian Arctic Expedition of 1913-18, does not include a single species of Tabanidae. On the other hand, Twinn (1950: 18) states that 17 species have been found at Churchill; he refers to tabanids as “very abundant in forested regions of the North.” The “bulldog” may be presumed to contribute to the summer misery of the Woodland Caribou and the Moose as well as of man.

The season during which the adult warble flies and nostril flies harass the Caribou probably lasts only a few weeks in July and August. While the adults evidently cause no pain, they no doubt arouse an instinctive dread in the prospective hosts of their larvae. While I have no information as to whether they follow the hosts into the wooded country, it would appear quite likely that they do so if we are to credit statements by Franklin (1823: 242), Richardson (1829: 251), and B. R. Ross (1861: 438) that these pests infest the Woodland Caribou as well as the Barren Ground species. Furthermore, Cephenemyia has been reported in Pennsylvania as a parasite of the White-tailed Deer (Odocoileus) (Stewart, 1930?). The scarcity of available study material may be judged from the fact that the Canadian Arctic Expedition of 1913-18 secured only three adults of Oedemagena and none of Cephenemyia (Malloch, 1919: 55-56).

From the foregoing it may be seen that the wooded country represents a virtually fly-free haven for the Barren Ground Caribou during nearly ten months of the year. Is it any wonder, then, that they hasten throughout August toward or into the shelter of the woods, to gain freedom from the winged scourges of the Barrens? (See also [Retrograde autumnal movement].)

In the spring migration of 1947 the last of the Caribou passed the Windy River area on July 1, just before the mosquitoes and black flies had become seriously troublesome. It might be surmised that the animals keep marching northward in advance of the appearance of these flies, as long as that is feasible; and that when fairly overwhelmed by the winged hordes, they desist from further progress in that direction. The fawns are born at such a time (in late May or June) as to pass their first few tender weeks before becoming subject to serious insect attacks.

(See also [Retrograde autumnal movement]; [Relations to flies].)

References.—Richardson, “1825”: 328-329; Hoare, 1930: 33, 37-38; Jacobi, 1931: 193-195; Soper, 1936: 429; Hamilton, 1939: 247, 301; Clarke, 1940: 95-96; Porsild, 1943: 389; Banfield, 1951a: 27-29.

[ Effect of combined environmental factors on distribution]

The sum total of environmental factors apparently makes the Barren Grounds a distinctly more favorable summer habitat for the present species than the wooded country, since the latter region is virtually entirely deserted at that season. In general, the wooded country must be a more favorable winter habitat, since the bulk of the animals evidently resort to it at that time; yet its advantages are by no means clear-cut or overwhelming, since a very considerable proportion of the Caribou elect to spend the winter on the Barrens (Hanbury, 1904: 93, 120, 139; Hoare, 1930: 22; Clarke, 1940: 8-9, 11, fig. 4; Anonymous, 1952: 267).

[ Relations to man]