Learn

The dogs had leapt out in a burst of energy this morning. Frisky after the long winter, my huskies were just as glad to be flexing their muscles as I was. The team eventually settled into a comfortable pace and pulled the sled smoothly over the ice. The sun’s reflection seemed to course just ahead of us and the brisk air ruffled the fur on my parka.

My name is Inatuk. Up here, in the Canadian Arctic, spring breaks through the winter darkness and finally blesses us with longer days. March and April are the months we hunt for seals. We wait patiently by holes in the ice where the seals come up for air. That may seem boring, but all of us are just plain glad to be outside again. The dogs are anxious because they, like us, have not had fresh meat for several months.

We eat the seal meat and use the fat in our oil lamps. The thick seal coats are used to make clothing and to trade for other food.

The Inuit, my people, only hunt to feed and clothe our selves. For generations we have looked to nature as both our friend and sometimes our enemy. The natural world that we call home feeds and shelters us, but also challenges us to survive the harsh and desolate winters.

We live by the seasons. We believe that if we remain attentive to the stirring of life around us and respectful of our environment, the seasons will always provide for us. It is our custom to share and it is through sharing that we all survive. Our responsibilities to one another come first and we pride ourselves on discipline and endurance in the face of the arctic elements. But we also love to play and joke and it is laughter that binds us together best.

The summer months of June and July are greeted with great joy. Birds arrive from other climes as they migrate and we gather goose and duck eggs for a little variety in our diet. The clear running rivers and open lakes are free of ice and fishing is easy. Life would be perfect if it weren’t for the bugs! I guess they like the summer months too because they sure like to show up in thick swarms and “bug us.”

In August we pick juicy berries and catch lots of fish to smoke or dry and store for winter meals. By October, it is time for us to move further inland and start the caribou hunt. Dried caribou meat will be a mainstay of our winter menu and the fat will be used to make candles.

Caribou are more difficult to hunt than seals. My father and I usually have to walk for many days before we spot their distinctive tracks leading off into the distance. If we have been hunting a long time without reward my father will take out his pocketknife and respectfully cut around the caribou hoof print. He will carefully pick it up and replace it so that it faces the opposite direction and then prayerfully call, “Let the caribou return!”

We build igloos from ice blocks for the winter and spend most of December, January and February inside. It starts out ok. We all play games and sing traditional Inuit songs. The songs are usually tales of hunting adventures and relate heroic deeds in the face of the bitter and dangerous elements. The stories are powerful and are given greater strength by the drum dancer. Occasionally, if the weather allows and the signs are right, the men might go out on a caribou hunt. But after a while the days wear on and boredom sets in. I think you can imagine how impatiently we wait for the spring day that will release us from the confines of the igloo.

So Yippeee!!!! Here I am, with my trusty huskies, gliding over the ice under the smiling sun! What could be better?