What little wind there was blew from the south and the three wolves moved off upwind in a tight little group. As they reached the level tundra they broke into a trot, following one another in line, not hurrying, but trotting easily through the groups of caribou. As usual the deer were not alarmed and none took evasive action except when the wolves happened to be on a collision course with them.

The three wolves paid no attention to the caribou either, although they passed many small herds containing numbers of fawns. They made no test runs at any of these groups, but continued purposefully on their way until they were almost abreast the niche where I was sitting. At this point Angeline stopped and sat down while the other two joined her. There was more nose smelling, then Angeline got up and turned toward the ridge where George and the pups still sat.

There were at least two hundred deer between the two groups of wolves, and more were coming constantly into view around the eastern shoulder of the transverse ridge. Angeline’s glance seemed to take them all in before she and her companions began to move off. Spreading out to form a line abreast, with intervals of a couple of hundred yards between them so that they almost spanned the whole width of the valley, they now began to run north.

They were not running hard, but there was a new purposefulness to their movements which the deer seemed to recognize; or perhaps it was just that the formation the wolves were using made it difficult for the herds to avoid them in the usual way by running off to one side. In any event herd after herd also began to turn about and move north, until most of the caribou in the valley were being driven back the way they had come.

The deer were clearly reluctant to be driven, and several herds made determined efforts to buck the line; but on each occasion the two nearest wolves converged toward the recalcitrant caribou and forced them to continue north. However, three wolves could not sweep the whole width of the valley; the deer soon began to discover that they could swing around the open wings and so resume their southerly progress. Nevertheless, by the time the wolves were nearing the ridge, they were herding at least a hundred deer ahead of them.

Now for the first time the deer showed real signs of nervousness. What had become an almost solid mass of a hundred or more animals broke up into its constituent small bands again, and each went galloping off on its own course. Group after group began to swerve aside, but the wolves no longer attempted to prevent them. As the wolves galloped past each of these small herds, the caribou stopped and turned to watch for a moment before resuming their interrupted journey south.

I was beginning to see what the wolves were up to. They were now concentrating their efforts on one band of a dozen does and seven fawns, and every attempt which this little herd made to turn either left or right was promptly foiled. The deer gave up after a while, and settled down to outrun their pursuers in the straightaway.

They would have done it, too, but as they swept past the clump of willows at the end of the ridge a perfect flood of wolves seemed to take them in the flank.

I could not follow events as well as I would have wished because of the distance, but I saw George racing toward a doe accompanied by two fawns, then, just as he reached them, I saw him swerve away. He was passed by two pups going like gray bullets. These two went for the nearest of the two fawns, which promptly began jinking. One of the pups, attempting too sharp a turn, missed his footing and tumbled head over heels, but he was up on the instant and away again.

The other pups seemed to have become intermingled with the balance of the deer, and I could not see what they were up to; but as the herd drew away at full gallop the pups appeared in the rear, running hard, but losing ground.

A single fawn now began outdistancing its pursuers too. All four pups were still running flat out, although they no longer had a chance of overtaking any of the deer.

What of the adult wolves meanwhile? When I swung my glasses back to look for them I found George standing exactly where I had seen him last, his tail wagging slowly as he watched the progress of the chase. The other three wolves had by now returned to the crest of the ridge. Albert and the Stranger had lain down to rest, after their brief exertions, but Angeline was standing up and watching the rapidly retreating caribou.

It was half an hour before the pups came back. They were so weary they could hardly climb the ridge to join their elders, all of whom were now lying down relaxing. The pups joined the group and flopped, panting heavily; but none of the adults paid them any heed.

School was over for the day.

22

Scatology

As SEPTEMBER slipped into October and the white nights hardened the muskegs and skimmed the lakes with ice, I would have been glad to spend all my time afield, living the life of a pseudo-wolf to the fullest. However, I did not have the freedom of the wolves. An immense backlog of scientific trivia awaited my attention at the cabin. On the theory (my own, and not my employers) that my time should be spent observing living wolves, I had deliberately neglected the innumerable peripheral studies which had been ordained for me by Ottawa. Now, as the time grew short, I felt I should at least make a gesture of compliance to authority.

One of the sideshows with which I had been saddled was a vegetation study. It consisted of three parts: first I had to make a collection of all the species of plants in the area; then I had to make a “cover degree” study, to determine the ratios of various plants one to the other; and finally I was expected to do a “content analysis,” to determine the nutritional value of the vegetation from the point of view of the caribou.

There was no time left to do all these things so I compromised by tackling the “cover degree” study.

This involved the use of a Raunkiaer’s Circle, a device designed in hell. In appearance it was all simple innocence, being no more than a big metal hoop; but in use it was a devil’s mechanism for driving sane men mad. To use it, one stood on a stretch of muskeg, shut one’s eyes, spun around several times like a top, and then flung the circle as far away as possible. This complicated procedure was designed to ensure that the throw was truly “random” but, in the event, it inevitably resulted in my losing sight of the hoop entirely, and having to spend an unconscionable time searching for the thing.

Once the hoop was found, misery began in earnest. I was then expected to pluck every plant, no matter how minute, which lay within its charmed circle; identify and count the number of species; and then count individuals belonging to each species.

It sounds easy? It is not. Barren Land plants are small in any case, and many of them are almost microscopic. My first attempt with the circle cost me the best part of a day, gave me severe eyestrain, and resulted in a seizure in the lumbar region as a result of spending too many hours crouched like a demented rabbit over the circle, while plucking plantlets with a pair of tweezers.

I had discouraged Ootek from accompanying me on my Raunkiaer expeditions, since I simply did not feel capable of explaining what it was all about. However, during my third day of torture he appeared over a nearby ridge and bore happily down upon me. My greeting was a little sour, for the milk of human kindness was not flowing in my veins. Painfully standing erect I picked up the circle and made my next throw, while he watched with interest.

The circle did not go very far, for I was weary and discouraged, and there was no strength in me.