DENVER MUSEUM OF NATURE & SCIENCE REPORTS DENVER MUSEUM OF NATURE & SCIENCE REPORTS THE FORTUNATE OF A MUSEUM LIFE NATURALIST: ALFRED M. BAILEY

NUMBER 13, MARCH 10, 2019

WWW.DMNS.ORG/SCIENCE/MUSEUM-PUBLICATIONS Denver Museum of Nature & Science Reports 2001 Colorado Boulevard (Print) ISSN 2374-7730 Denver, CO 80205, U.S.A. Denver Museum of Nature & Science Reports (Online) ISSN 2374-7749

Frank Krell, PhD, Editor and Production VOL. 2 DENVER MUSEUM DENVER OF NATURE & SCIENCE Cover photo: Russell W. Hendee and A.M. Bailey in Wainwright, Alaska, 1921. Photographer unknown. DMNS No. IV.BA21-007.

The Denver Museum of Nature & Science Reports (ISSN 2374-7730 [print], ISSN 2374-7749 [online]) is an open- access, non peer-reviewed scientifi c journal publishing papers about DMNS research, collections, or other Museum related topics, generally authored or co-authored The Fortunate Life of a Museum Naturalist: by Museum staff or associates. Peer review will only be

arranged on request of the authors. REPORTS Alfred M. Bailey

The journal is available online at science.dmns.org/ • NUMBER 13 MARCH 10, 2019 Volume 2—Alaska, 1919–1922 museum-publications free of charge. Paper copies are exchanged via the DMNS Library exchange program ([email protected]) or are available for purchase from our print-on-demand publisher Lulu (www.lulu.com). Kristine A. Haglund, Elizabeth H. Clancy DMNS owns the copyright of the works published in the & Katherine B. Gully (Eds) Reports, which are published under the Creative Commons Attribution Non-Commercial license. For commercial use of published material contact the Alfred M. Bailey Library &

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A.M. Bailey near Juneau, Alaska, 1920. Photograph by Muriel E. Bailey. DMNS No. IV.BA21-874. DENVER MUSEUM OF NATURE & SCIENCE REPORTS NUMBER 13, MARCH 10, 2019

The Fortunate Life of a Museum Naturalist: Alfred M. Bailey

Volume 2—Alaska, 1919–1922

Edited by CONTENTS Kristine A. Haglund1 1 Alaska, 1919–1922 2 Elizabeth H. Clancy & Southeastern Alaska, 1919–1921 3 Katherine B. Gully1 4 8 Among Alaskan Islands 15 17 19 21 21 25 Forrester Island 26 Admiralty Island 28 29 Killisnoo Island 30 Southern Islands 31 Alaska: The Far North, 1921–1922 32 33 Cruise of the Bear 35 36 38 39 41 43 The Arctic Cruise 44 51 59 64 65 1Alfred M. Bailey Libary and Archives Dogsled Journey to Bering Strait, March 1922 71 Denver Museum of Nature & Science 73 2001 Colorado Boulevard Cape Lisburne 85 88 Denver, Colorado 80205-5798, U.S.A. 93 [email protected] 99 100 Bailey

Alaska, 1919–1922 for he gave us letters of introduction to the teachers of southeastern Alaskan schools and (of even more value) After serving as curator of birds and mammals at the a year and a half later, when planning for Arctic work Louisiana State Museum in New Orleans from 1916 for the Colorado Museum of Natural History, he arranged into 1919, as a result of a summer cruise among the that I should make my headquarters in schoolhouses at bird islands off the Louisiana coast, I received two offers Wainwright, 100 miles down the coast from Barrow, the of employment—one an invitation from J.D. Figgins, northernmost town in Alaska, and at Wales, the western- Director of the Colorado Museum of Natural History in most village in North America at the extremity of Seward Denver, to serve as curator of birds and mammals. With Peninsula. Mr. Lopp, over years of experience in Alaska, us on the launch Alexandria, for the work among the was the leader of the hardy band that drove reindeer over bird islands, was biologist Edward Kalmbach of the U.S. the tundra from the Bering Sea the hundreds of miles Biological Survey. On his return to Washington, he wrote to Point Barrow, the animals to be used as food by the me a special delivery letter, saying that Dr. Edward W. stranded whalers whose vessels were crushed in the ice Nelson, Chief of the U.S. Biological Survey, had asked him in the great disaster of 1897–1898. to recommend a fieldman to be the representative of the This narrative of nearly three years of fieldwork is U.S. Biological Survey in Alaska, and that, if interested, divided into two parts: 17 months of fieldwork in south- I should come to Washington at government expense eastern Alaska (including a short winter trip into the for an interview—and Kalmbach suggested I not take a interior) for the U.S. Biological Survey and 18 months salary of less than $250 a month. doing work in eastern Siberia and Arctic Alaska for Den- Within two weeks I was called to Washington and ver’s natural history museum. interviewed by Dr. Nelson, who had collected specimens As the first representative of the U.S. Biological from 1877 through 1881 along the shores of the Bering Survey in southeastern Alaska, I was to report upon Sea while stationed at Saint Michael’s at the mouth of the fur-bearing and game animals, serve as a warden, the great Yukon River. His publications on Alaskan birds and collect specimens. In the Far North for the Denver are among the finest of early day accounts of work in museum, I collected birds and mammals for large the Far North. Kalmbach had briefed him on my field habitat groups to be installed in ecological displays in experiences, and Dr. Nelson asked questions regarding the new Joseph M. Standley Memorial Wing erected in my mid-Pacific Laysan journey in 1912–1913, which 1918. Fieldwork in the vicinity of Juneau and among had been sponsored by the Biological Survey—and he the islands of southeastern Alaska from November also was interested in my three years in the marshes 1919 through March 1921—visits with natives and and coastal islands of Louisiana. He asked how soon I whites and encounters with varied forms of wildlife in would be available, agreed to the $250 a month (twice the midst of almost untouched wonderlands—proved my Louisiana salary), and then arranged that my wife most interesting. The same was true of work in the and I should return to Washington later in the summer Far North in 1921 and 1922, the reports of birds and for several weeks of training. mammals observed and specimens collected having In late August, we visited Washington and then been covered in numerous publications, the most note- returned to our home in Iowa City for a month. My worthy being Notes on the Mammals of Northwestern journal entry for November 1, 1919, mentions that Muriel Alaska (Bailey & Hendee 1926); Notes on the Birds and I had arrived in Seattle en route to Alaska. During of Southeastern Alaska (1927); the Denver museum the following several days we stayed with classmate C.J. publications Birds of Cape Prince of Wales (1943) and Albrecht and his wife Carma and became acquainted Birds of Arctic Alaska (1948); and Field Work of a with W. “Tom Gorah” Lopp, chief of the Alaskan Division Museum Naturalist (1971), a lengthy account of my of the Bureau of Education, a most important contact, three years in Alaska.

2 DENVER MUSEUM OF NATURE & SCIENCE REPORTS | No. 13, March 10, 2019 Life of a Museum Naturalist vol. 2

Southeastern Alaska, 1919–1921 seen but whether American or Red-breasted I could not tell. One Western Grebe was observed The journey northwest to Alaska was on the old SS Jef- and four little diving birds which I took to be ferson for the cruise up the “Inside Passage,” a staunch auklets. One of the gulls, the Glaucous-winged, little vessel, well fitted for passenger service (Fig. 2.01). seemed the most abundant. We were off Port My wife and I left Seattle November 6, 1919, and my Townsend in the early evening. notes mention: The morning broke beautifully clear, with white- The day has been raw and drizzly, with the sun capped mountains showing behind green foothills. struggling to clear itself now and then from the Hundreds of grebes, large and small, were riding the waves clouds. The Olympic Range loomed up blue, and diving as the Jefferson approached. There were many snow-covered crests standing in bold relief cormorants and mergansers. Our course took us into against the dark sky. Mist, haze, and blackness Seymour Narrows at 8:30 a.m. and then into Johnstone were occasionally dispelled, and wonderful Strait—the scenery along the way outstanding. Killer cloud effects were visible, with circling gulls whales and porpoises were noted moving southward, the behind our vessel. Several species were noted, former with the great dorsal fins fully exposed. eager for any offal thrown overboard, and The passengers aboard the Jefferson were an the grace with which they circle the ship is interesting group—teachers with years of experience a marvel to behold. Many mergansers were in remote Alaskan villages, miners who had traversed

Figure 2.01. Muriel E. Bailey on SS Jefferson en route to Alaska, early November 1919. DMNS No. IV.BA21-1062.

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out-of-the-way places, and businessmen from some of Juneau to the north, was originally called Harrisburg the larger communities. Two youngsters who seemed for Richard H. Harris, who, with another miner, Joseph interested in the waterbirds amused me. When a band Juneau, discovered gold nearby along Gold Creek, the of grebes was off our bow, one called to his companion, change of name to Juneau occurring in 1881. “Hey Bob—come see the ducks—they are duckin’.” Our first few days after arrival were filled with We had rain early November 8, which soon changed activities. Rooms were rented in the Cliff Apartments to snow, so the firs along the passage had a mantle of situated on a steep escarpment facing Gastineau white. The channel was narrow, with precipitous slopes Channel, with Douglas Island conspicuous across the with great scars indicating where slides had torn out the narrow passageway. I called on Governor Riggs, who was trees. Heavy clouds concealed the mountaintops and great, to prove a friend in many ways, his first help being to blue shadows filled the dark recesses of the cliffs. Few birds arrange for my use of the Bureau of Fisheries boats on were noted during the day, but gulls continued to follow the field trips among the islands. As the representative of the vessel, circling, circling. The Jefferson reached Ketchikan Biological Survey, it was necessary that I work with ter- at midnight—a thriving fishing community. ritorial officials and become acquainted with the animal The cargo was unloaded, and after taking on pas- life of the vast region. sengers, we were soon headed northward. The morning During the next year and a half, I was in the field dawned bright and cool, the mountaintops of the coastal almost constantly, except when necessary to remain range being bathed in gold and silver with great bands in Juneau, the following narrative of personal expe- of fleecy clouds hanging low over valleys filled with blue riences being a condensation of my 1971 published haze. The vessel arrived at Wrangell in the afternoon, report (Bailey 1971). a village of about 400 people, the population of all of Alaska in 1919, natives and whites, being less than Up the Copper River 60,000—Juneau, the capital, numbering 3,060 and After a short launch trip among the islands of southeast- Anchorage only 1,860. Muriel and I followed the plank ern Alaska, I made (at the request of Dr. E.W. Nelson, Chief walks through Wrangell’s small business district to the of the Survey) a sled trip to the interior of Alaska north- native settlement where there were excellent totem poles ward from Chitina to note winter game conditions and carved by skilled Tlingit Indians, the seafaring coastal record the scant birdlife. Transportation was arranged people of southeastern Alaska. on the SS Alameda which sailed from Juneau December We reached the fishing village of Petersburg at 3:00 3. The next day was spent crossing the Gulf of Alaska en a.m. the morning of November 13 and had a beautiful route to Cordova, with a long groundswell rolling in the clear day as the Jefferson ran northward and crossed the early morning that caused serious doubts on my part Taku Inlet well before sunrise, continuing on up Gastin- whether or not I should go below for breakfast. I circled eau Channel, a narrow 19-mile passageway between the the deck repeatedly, drew deep breaths to convince myself mainland and Douglas Island off our port bow. Soon the that I did not have a touch of sea sickness, and finally lights of Juneau were noted ahead against the precipitous summoned the courage to descend the swaying stairs to wood slopes of Mount Juneau (3,576 feet), immediately the dining room. There had been a strike of seamen, so beyond, and Mount Roberts (3,819 feet), to the starboard, the black waiters were all new, and they looked green as the vessel slowly made for the dock. The tide was out as they tried to keep their balance on the moving floor. and the gangplanks nearly horizontal when we landed One handed me a menu, and I looked it over without with our hand baggage, and there was great activity as the enthusiasm, finally requesting hotcakes and coffee. stevedores immediately started unloading cargo. In due time a platter of cakes and the drink arrived. I Juneau, the capital city of Alaska, with its spec- smoothed warm butter over the cakes, picked up a syrup tacular location at the base of Mount Roberts and Mount container, pushed back the cover, and poured over my

4 DENVER MUSEUM OF NATURE & SCIENCE REPORTS | No. 13, March 10, 2019 Life of a Museum Naturalist vol. 2 food—a handful of cockroaches. Evidently, someone the sun for four months of the year; it is a in the galley had left off the top of the container, much log cabin affair, nicely fitted for the conve- to the delight of the roaches which often infest vessels. nience of travelers. Somehow or other, I was no longer hungry. The vessel docked at the thriving city of Cordova Our journey the next morning to Kenny Lake road- early December 5, and a heavy rain fell all day. A tele- house was a short one of 12 miles, the day being clear gram was sent to territorial warden Ed Young at Chitina with no wind and the temperature ten below zero. The that I would be arriving the next afternoon, and then I trail was across a flat plateau grown with small spruce, holed up in the hotel to await the departure of the Copper through which a fire had cut a broad swath, and in the River and Northwestern train the following morning. The burned area, many White-winged Crossbills were noted. journey the next day often was along the shores of the We were on our way at daybreak from Kenny Lake, Copper River, about 150 miles from Cordova to Chitina following the well-marked trail without encountering as the crows fly, but half again as far following a tortuous Indians or whites or seeing game, arriving at Copper path through rugged country. Center in midafternoon. My notes mention: “Went up Ed Young, an Alaskan pioneer of many years’ to McGinnis’ fox farm and found him to be the most experience, met me at the station. We left Chitina at cheerful liar I have met, who evidently enjoys hearing 9:00 the next morning, December 7, both of us walking himself talk.” or trotting alongside the horse-drawn sled as we headed So far the trip had been a disappointment in that up the snow-packed Fairbanks Trail. Very few birds were I had expected to encounter caribou and moose, and seen—only occasional Canada Jays and little bands of travel the next day was equally unproductive. Notes Redpolls, my journal entry that night recording: of December 10 jotted down that evening report: “Left Copper Center at 7:35 and mushed steadily. Stopped at The mountains were snow-massed, and Tazlina Hill, where we built a fire and boiled a pot of I tried an exposure of Mount Drum near tea. Took photos of Mounts Wrangell, Drum, and Sanford 14,163-foot Mount Wrangell, the latter (16,232 feet). Weather clear and cold, 25 degrees below being “smoking mountain.” The sun came this morning. On the 25-mile hike—on a bright, quiet up at 10:30, and we stopped at George Bull’s day—I saw not a single bird, although there were many fox farm an hour or so later and had a ptarmigan and rabbit tracks. Passed an Indian boy with good talk with him, getting a useful line of his team of dogs, and he reports ‘halo’ (no) caribou. information. The going along the trail was Made the little settlement of Gulkana before dark.” easy. It was dark at 4:00 except for a colorful Travel during the next two days consisted of putting sunset and a glow on Drum and Wrangell one foot in front of the other as we trotted alongside the to the east. Both were bathed alternately sled pulled by the rather leisurely pace of our strong in bright pink gradually changing to gold, horse. We stopped the first night with Jim Doyle, a fox while distant valleys showed deep purple rancher, and had an early start next morning, the trail and blue, in contrast to the gleaming following along the Gakona River. Much of the vegeta- mountains. A light haze crowned the tops tion had been demolished by forest fires, so there was of Wrangell, so it was difficult to see smoke little to support animal life, not a bird or mammal being curling from the crest. seen, although lynx, wolverine, fox, and tracks of one We arrived at Nefsted's roadhouse at moose were crossed. Shelter that night was made in an Tonsina after dark, about 4:30, and stabled empty log cabin on the banks of a small stream. “The our horse, having made about 16 miles woods nearby are beautiful,” I noted, “with the sky a from Chitina. The roadhouse does not see crimson flame partially concealed by veils of snow. We

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can see the greens of the glaciers on Mount Drum and of us jogged along trying to keep up with the malamutes. Mount Sanford. Repaired our sled which has been taking The river was shallow, and occasionally the ice was a beating; there is a stove in the cabin, so we are comfort- frozen to bed level, causing overflows through which we able. Made 19 miles today.” had to wade for short distances. We were off about 9:00 the morning of the 13th and Snow blown by a strong wind drifted over the traveled steadily for six hours, facing into a light snow, trail, but the wise dogs picked their way. At noon we to the trading post of John Paulson (Chistochina John) stopped to boil the kettle, had tea and doughnuts, and on the shores of the Copper River, a journey of 18 miles then continued on until well after dark, having some (Fig. 2.02). He had a well-stocked store, and two days difficulty finding our way. Our destination was Ollie were spent with the hospitable trader. The weather was Swanson’s cabin on the shores of the Copper River. Ollie a bit on the cool side—35 degrees below on the 14th and was at home, and soon our dogs were cared for, staked 54 degrees below on the 15th, absolutely calm and quiet in the lee of the cabin, and we were inside enjoying the and too cold to travel. Additional supplies were secured hospitality so customary wherever one traveled in Alaska. from John, and he agreed to take us up the Copper with Our host was a prospector and trapper, but he reported his fine sled dogs. few furbearers or game animals in the near vicinity and The next morning the temperature was much said the natives of the region were having a hard time milder, rising to 38 degrees below zero, and we hit the securing fresh meat. trail through the woods to the river, all five of the dogs We lingered with the hospitable Ollie on the 17th settling into their harness as they pulled the sled along until nearly 10:00 and then followed a trail along the a well-beaten path, which led out to the ice, and then Copper, facing into the wind to Batzulnetas, a village headed upstream. The Copper was a good-sized river; the of possibly 25 Indian families, where we stopped in the ice was smooth, and excellent time was made as the three neat, two-story log cabin home of Batzulnetas Billy,

Figure 2.02. Chistochina trading post with trader John Paulson, Copper River, Alaska, mid- December 1919. DMNS No. IV.BA21-850.

6 DENVER MUSEUM OF NATURE & SCIENCE REPORTS | No. 13, March 10, 2019 Life of a Museum Naturalist vol. 2 who was headman, and were soon made comfortable, above the crest of the mountains for a brief interval, all the natives greeting John Paulson as an old friend. the little clouds being edged with gold. It snowed most of That evening, the majority of the adults gathered in the the day, and the new-fallen snow upon the ice of the river log cabin schoolhouse, sitting on the floor, the room made hard pulling for the dogs.” lighted by a single lamp and the glow from the logs The return journey from Chistochina with horse in the fireplace. John told them the news from down and sled took five days, with stops at night at Gakona, the trail, and all the natives of the area were having a Tazlina Hill, Copper Center, and Kenny Lake, Christmas rather poor trapping season, the same condition being being spent at Tonsina. The weather was excellent, encountered by our hosts. The Indians asked about the averaging about 30 below zero, the only birds seen white school teacher who had taught in their school being a few Canada Jays and White-winged Crossbills. the summer before, knowing that she had gone to Arriving in Chitina the afternoon of December 26, Copper Center to have a child. John said yes, she was I spent the next day securing information on game fine and had had twins. There was studied silence after conditions from government officials. Among those this information; the Indians did not know the word. boarding the train the morning of December 28 were John explained, “Twins, two babies.” Still, there was no 15 people headed for Cordova hoping to make connec- response, and then I could see by Billy’s expression that tion with the SS Alaska scheduled to sail at midnight. It he understood, as he said, “Twins—two babies all same was a pleasant train trip south through the snow-clad time—ah, all same moose.” hills with congenial company; we arrived at the thriv- The village on Batzulnetas Creek was the end of ing little seaport at 5:00 p.m., secured tickets, checked our journey, and the return December 18 in 30-degree- baggage, and climbed aboard. My notes for the next below temperature started our destination to a cabin four days were brief: on Selina Creek, where we arrived just at dusk. As was usual, the cabin was unlocked, and there was a supply December 29: Alaska did not sail until 11:00 of kindling wood so a traveler could immediately start a a.m. Day hazy. Saw Oldsquaws and scoters fire, the unwritten law of the North in those days being around Cordova. that anyone was privileged to use shelter, but before he December 30: Had smooth sea all day, left, the cabin should be put in order, with a new supply arriving off entrance to Icy Strait at 4:00 of wood to replace that which had been used. p.m. just as darkness and a blinding snow- The day had seemed intensely cold, but soon the storm set in. Unable to find the entrance to fire warmed up the cabin, and our evening meal was the Strait, the vessel lay to during the night. prepared. During the week, the weather had ranged from December 31: Still at anchor. Fog and 54 degrees (at John’s) to 25 degrees below zero, and I heavy seas prevailed. Seas were high and a had the surprise of my life 30 minutes after our fire was miserable time experienced by all. started, to hear and see blowflies coming from the cran- January 1, 1920: Fog lifted in the nies between the logs and circling about the room. I had forenoon and showed the Alaska was in a not realized the ability of the flies to hibernate. precarious position a few hundred yards The notes of December 19 record: “Left the cabin from exposed reefs. The entrance to Icy Strait and followed the dogs steadily down the Copper to ominous in morning light, obscured as it Chistochina, where we were soon comfortable in John’s was with fog and low-lying clouds. It was a trading post. Took a few pictures en route, but the day was great relief when the vessel was safely inside. without incident, seeing not a bird or mammal. There Arrived in Juneau at 8:00 p.m., 40 hours was a fine sky effect for an hour or so when the sun edged overdue from Cordova.

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Juneau Environs The city sprawled over hills adjacent to Gastineau Juneau in 1919 and 1920 was a pleasant place to live Channel, with wooded Douglas Island across the narrow in that the community was small, and as it was the passageway. Mount Juneau was to the north, and the village capital of the territory, there were numerous govern- was at the base of Mount Roberts, the crests of both peaks ment agencies, and many of the staff members had rising nearly 4,000 feet above the sea—climbs which I often kindred interests, the families often getting together on made to observe the animal and plant life above timberline. social occasions. My wife soon had a wide acquaintance Gold Creek, where gold had been discovered in the 1880s, with the nurses of the government hospital and with the drained the valley down a canyon between the two moun- Juneau teachers. There were probably more activities in tains. It was an all-day hunting trip, starting with the steep Juneau than any other community of Alaska, and soon I climb up the west face of Mount Roberts to above timberline, became a member of the Mount Juneau Masonic Lodge down the other side, and back along the tumbling stream. and made friendships which endured through the last As bird skins in the U.S. Biological Survey collec- half-century. Soon I acquired two field companions, tion from southeastern Alaska were few, one of my duties Governor Rigg’s secretary, George Folta, who had the was to secure a representative series of specimens, and reputation of having had more scrapes with brown my journal entries made during the year and a half we bears than any other of the community, and John (Jack) lived in Juneau constantly refer to the birds observed, Young. The latter had an inheritance which allowed him collected, and prepared (Fig. 2.03). From these various to lead a life of leisure, so he was always available to go field trips, I compiled numerous reports for the Survey on trips. The Youngs, Stella and Jack, and George Maud, and later published an extensive account of the birds of captain of one of the Fisheries launches, and his wife southeastern Alaska (Bailey 1927). A rather typical entry Helga were neighbors and all became close friends. in my notes of January 14, 1920, mentions:

Figure 2.03. A.M. Bailey preparing bird specimens, Hoonah Sound, Alaska, May 1920. Photographer unknown. DMNS No. IV.BA21-1028.

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Went up into the basin with Young—a I soon became acquainted with many of the trap- wonderful place somewhat cluttered with old pers and hunters who were based in Juneau, one of their mining shacks. There is a trail up Gold Creek; favorite gathering places being Jim Russell’s Gun Shop. great spruces tower skyward, and the tangle The men would crowd about the potbelly stove and spin of devil’s club, cranberry, blueberry, and yarns of encounters with grizzlies. On one occasion, other shrubs and vines makes travel difficult we were chewing the fat when Dick Willoughby, a well- in places. The snow had covered all depres- known character, came in. He slumped into a chair and sions, so we plowed along knee-deep. Climbed announced, “Boy, I sure had a close call today!” Pressed to timberline, rounded the horn, and on to for details, he said, “I was walking along the shore of the big flat on the treeless summit. Birds the channel and came on a windfall where a big spruce seemed abundant for winter in Alaska, Pine lay half in the water. I was just going to cross it when I Grosbeaks being most numerous. They were heard a crash in the bushes, and here comes a big brown feeding along the creek bed on cranberries. she-bear. Well, I saw I was cornered and took to the water. Saw a Hairy Woodpecker, a flash of White- You know, that old bear walked the bank for two hours winged Crossbills, and several ravens. before I could sneak out!” A skeptical listener asked, “But can’t a bear beat a man swimmin’, Dick?” “Well, yes,” During the next two weeks, excursions were made the old trapper said as he scratched his head reflectively, in areas adjacent to Juneau to observe the wintering bird “Yes, but he can’t dive.” population, although stormy weather prevailed much of Accounts of close calls with brown bears of the the time—“rained all day” being a frequent comment islands and coastal areas were topics of conversation in my journal. On February 12 there was snow and rain, when sportsmen gathered together, yarns usually greatly but Young and I went up Salmon Creek, seeing only one exaggerated. But rather regularly there were occasions passerine, a Song Sparrow. The next morning, we crossed when a hunter or traveler came to grief. The nurses of Gastineau Channel to Douglas Island, where Jack’s Aire- the native hospital were friends of my wife, and in a tele- dale Queen treed a porcupine, and the only small birds phone conversation, one mentioned they had an Indian noted were kinglets and chickadees. Entries for February boy from Sitka who had been badly mauled. George Folta 15, 16, and 17 start off with: “Rained all day, but the joined me on a visit to the hospital where the native with 18th was a ‘varied’ day with rain, semi-rain, and cloud a badly torn face rather ruefully explained that he had effects galore.” The 19th was the “first beautiful day of the come upon the bear along a stream and had wounded month, clear and warm with a cloudless sky.” it with his 30-30 caliber rifle. The bear charged him, A launch trip was made among southwestern knocked him down, chewed on his face and shoulder, islands from February 22 to March 15, and on our return, and then, fortunately, gave up the attack and disappeared I worked in the vicinity of Juneau, often on the tidal into cover (Fig. 2.04). flats of migrants or tramping through knee-deep snow Our home in Juneau was an ideal base for study, up Gold Creek to Perseverance Mine, where the little- for not only were there many water and shorebirds along known Dixon Rock Ptarmigan, still in white plumage, Gastineau Channel, but also nearby were interesting were numerous. Notes of April 8 state: “The sun was just trails leading up small streams between steep hills. Late peeping through the haze as I rounded the horn. Very May and early June was a time of great activity for pas- stiff going. Found ptarmigan tracks numerous, especially serines with fieldwork, the last three days of May proving in dwarfed vegetation of the flats. The birds were tame especially interesting. Following up the government trail and conspicuous, working along rapidly as they fed on along Salmon Creek, Muriel and I, on May 29, noted buds of alders. When still, they are inconspicuous; when many Golden-crowned Sparrows and Pileolated War- crouched, they almost defy detection.” blers. A nest of a Three-toed Woodpecker was 20 feet up in

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Field trips, usually intended to be of short dura- tion, often resulted in our dragging home long after dark. The last of May, we had an early start up Gold Creek Basin following along the tumbling stream where dippers were diving off waterworn boulders into the turbulent stream, and one sleek gray bird, barely under water in a shallow place, walked upstream with outstretched wings, pearl-like bubbles trailing behind. Again there were many migrants passing through, thrushes particularly, and a female Oregon Junco was noted carrying nesting material into a little cavity beneath overhanging moss. It was late in the afternoon before we headed back down the trail. Beautiful Mendenhall Glacier was ten miles north- Figure 2.04. Tlingit boy who had been west of Juneau. Planning to spend a couple days in the mauled by a bear, Juneau, Alaska, October 4, vicinity, my wife and I, on June 3, an overcast day with a 1920. DMNS No. IV.BA21-1072. favoring southwest wind, launched our canoe in Gastin- a dead hemlock, the trunk so slippery I could not climb eau Channel at near high tide, picked up a tow from a it, so we had to be satisfied with watching the pair busily friendly Indian with a 30-foot launch, and were pulled to at work. Tree Swallows, too, were active at a crevice. an island off the mouth of Mendenhall River (Fig. 2.05).

Figure 2.05. Muriel E. Bailey at Mendenhall Glacier, Alaska, June 4, 1920. DMNS No. IV.BA21-833.

10 DENVER MUSEUM OF NATURE & SCIENCE REPORTS | No. 13, March 10, 2019 Life of a Museum Naturalist vol. 2

The native cast off our line, and we headed toward the to be a massive affair with great crevasses distant wooded shore. Muriel handling the bow paddle, throwing deep shadows up its steep walls. we worked our way through the myriad of channels, The easternmost source of the river rushes the stream becoming narrow and swift-flowing between from the sides of the glacier and tumbles mud banks lined with fallen trees. Game trails led along through a narrow gorge of rock. Flowers both shores through dense tangles of alder and devil’s were very abundant—lavender lupines on club, little parklike openings on the bends occasionally the southern slopes which were lacking on giving splendid views of the glacier, its transparent blue northern exposures. A striking yellow flower color standing out in contrast to the grim slopes of the grew along the numerous streams pouring mountains on either side. from the foot of the great ice sheet. The river current proved too formidable, and when We noticed a distinct scarcity of birds, an area of low banks with little vegetation was reached, a few warblers and thrushes being seen—the we landed. Muriel took the stern paddle, and I tied a line woods strangely silent. Numerous Arctic Terns to the gunwale about one-third back, she backing water circled the extensive gravel flats in front of to keep the bow headed into the current, and I pushed. the glacier, and it seemed quite possible there When tracking through rather long grass with head down, were nesting terns scattered across the little a wildlife episode occurred which stands in memory. A sand island isolated by swift streams. little Forbush’s Sparrow had darted into cover within two feet of me. Looking up, I saw a Sharp-shinned Hawk, June 5, according to my notes, “Up at 8:00 a.m. some 25 feet above, swerve off. There was no doubt in my to tune of drizzling rain,” which delayed our return to mind that the sparrow had deliberately sought refuge at Juneau, but the weather cleared the following afternoon, my feet from the dive of the small predator. and we dropped down the river and bucked the tide all We were fortunate as dusk settled over the moun- the way home. Paddling strenuously against the wind, tains to find a cultivated area along the shores of the river we were both thoroughly soaked and chilled with little with a vacant home. The former tenant had left a bed with enthusiasm to observe the hundreds of scoters continu- springs upon which we spread our sleeping bags, and in ously rising before us or the occasional Bald Eagles that the garden was a fine growth of rhubarb, so soon a pan of sailed from wooded shores, gave us a brief scrutiny, and the fragrant plant was stewing on our little gas stove. then returned to places of sanctuary. With an early start, we hiked up the Mendenhall A territorial bounty had been placed upon eagles River to the glacier the next morning along bear trails, because of their supposed predation upon fish and game, pushing through tangles of vegetation, often pausing and I made inquiry regarding their habits of every where outstretched limbs framed the vista ahead with knowledgeable person. The information received invari- the glacier the center of interest. The ten-mile round-trip ably tended to confirm my belief that the birds were proved arduous for Muriel, who was wearing hip boots. primarily scavengers. One trapper, who regularly shot My rather sketchy notes written that night do not dwell eagles for the bounty, said he had killed 500 the previous upon the rigorous hike but, instead, mention briefly the year, 100 in a couple of days where they were feeding on glacier and surroundings as follows: live tomcod, considered nonedible for man. Another interesting glacier near Juneau was Taku, a The great flat in front of the ice sheet is 27-mile-long river of ice with its face only 15 miles (as the covered with a dense growth of cottonwoods crow flies) from our own home. A short trip on the Fisher- or some kindred species, small spruce, and ies launch was arranged, and my wife and I left Juneau the tangles of berry bushes. The river at its source morning of June 27 with Captain Jess Neville and engineer was lined with boulders, the glacier proving Paul Viles. En route, a stop was made at the abandoned

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Indian village of Taku, built above a picturesque shelving crawled in, and then, after the adults started settling, beach at the mouth of Taku Inlet. The houses of hand- we realized there were great numbers of young scattered hewn lumber and the burial huts had crumbled, a painted over the expanse of the moraine. As the parents landed, wooden sign on the floor of one indicating the resting fuzzy babies appeared from the shelter of nearby vegeta- place of “Mary, daughter of Ben, Chief of the Takus.” The tion; at one nest they were tumbling all over themselves moldering remains of a child were in one burial shelter, to be the first to crawl under the old one’s drooping wings the colored coffin having been broken open, showing bits to the warmth and dryness offered. Journal notes record: of bones in a confused heap. Taku Inlet, facing into Stephens Passage, 13 miles The colony of Arctic Terns is situated in the southeast of Juneau, had wooded shores and steep slopes, midst of picturesque scenery, the great Taku V-shaped valleys running back from the shoreline to bald Glacier ahead of them a short distance and a mountaintops above timberline, the crests white with dead glacier to the left, the breeding grounds newly fallen snow. I entered in my journal that night: being the terminal moraine. Blue flowers (lupines) served as a foreground for the Taku Glacier, some 20 miles from the mouth of colony of graceful, darting forms, while the the Inlet, is about a mile in width; it is irregu- gigantic walls of ice and the grim peaks sur- lar and crevassed, ice continually dropping rounding were in contrast. into water. To the left is “dead” Norris Glacier, The nests are simple depressions in the about as large as Taku, but rapidly receding, sand as with other terns, the nesting pits being backed up by snow-crested 4,125-foot-high evident even after the young have left. It was Norris Mountain. noted that a parent did not hover the young- When we entered the inlet, Arctic Terns sters where they crouched under vegetation were noticed fishing—small, dainty flashes but, instead, settled on the nest and called of gray in the poor light, each little, feathered them to her. It would be difficult to estimate dart uttering its peculiar note. They came the number of birds, but I should place it at from the direction of the glacier in scores, 3,000. Eggs quite variable. Terns pugnacious. an endless chain of terns, every one making detours here and there in search of food. How Trips to Forrester Island off Dall Island at the different was the flight of the returning bird! southwest extremity of the archipelago in July and to Each one flew directly, as though on errand Glacier Bay in August kept me away from Juneau for bound, and the glasses revealed the shining several weeks, but whenever I was at headquarters, some little fish held in the bright red beak, each bird fieldwork was accomplished each day. Juneau had a small returning home with a dainty morsel. It was population, and within a few minutes, we could walk to then that I knew we would find young. the edge of the town and into interesting collection areas. Salmon Creek, three miles northwest of Juneau, was one The west side of the Inlet was worked the next of our favorite spots. In midsummer, dog salmon were morning. The day was foggy with a light drizzle, and the fighting their way up the current, and the hillsides were peaks of the surrounding mountains were obscured by a covered with blueberry bushes where many quarts of the veil of haze. There were many Arctic Tern nests on bare fruit were picked and canned for winter use. ground with occasional small twigs for adornment, a Entries in my journal for the first week of September few with eggs, but the majority had hatched, some of the start with, “Rained all day,” typical weather for south- young being downies and others three-fourths grown. eastern Alaska. During the next two weeks, however, Jack The photographic blind was set up, and Muriel and I Young and I were afield regularly. On consecutive days, we

12 DENVER MUSEUM OF NATURE & SCIENCE REPORTS | No. 13, March 10, 2019 Life of a Museum Naturalist vol. 2 climbed to the tundra country—Mount Roberts, Septem- Living in Juneau we were often privileged to meet ber 9, going above timberline, where we saw eight grouse leading naturalists. As mentioned previously, Dr. E.W. and four Rock Ptarmigan. There was a mountaintop Nelson, Chief of the Biological Survey, had been a noted migration on, many hawks being noted—Cooper’s, Sharp- fieldman, collecting specimens along the shores of the shinned, and Pigeon, also several Bald Eagles. The next Bering Sea and adjacent tundra areas over a period of five day the trail up Granite Creek was followed and on up to years (1877–1881). He visited Alaska in late September the highest ridges, finding Dixon Rock Ptarmigan among and stopped five days in Juneau, and the first night after big boulders and rock slides, several flocks being noted in his arrival, Muriel and I were invited to Governor Riggs’s flight as they circled like so many doves. On September 11: home, where Dr. Nelson gave an interesting account of “We started for Salmon Creek basin; made the dam in two his early day activities at the mouth of the Yukon River. hours and the summit of the mountains in another two. The next evening he had dinner with us, and in talking It was difficult climbing to reach the crest. Marmots were over my fieldwork, he requested that I visit some of the abundant, and both bear and goat signs were noted. Saw fox farms and send information to the Survey regarding ptarmigan, one grouse, two Sparrow and Pigeon Hawk, the activities of the ranchers, resulting in a short run Fox Sparrows, pipits, and rosy-finches. Did not get back to among the islands late in September. headquarters until 8:00 p.m., dog tired.” On Armistice Day 1920, George Folta and I made Early the morning of September 17, George Folta a trip up Lemon Creek, its mouth being about five miles and I took a car to Mendenhall Bridge about 12 miles northwest of Juneau, an old mining trail overgrown with north of Juneau. We hiked up the river some three miles berry bushes and devil’s club was followed, the creek and then followed an old trail along McGinnis Creek terminating in a glacier with a steep face, the rocks on basin, which was ascended to its head. Bear signs were either side and below worn smooth with great striations abundant, and a large female with two cubs had crossed running parallel to the course of the ice. From the the trail so recently that the melted frost from their foot stream, the glacier seemed quite small, but when the pads was still wet. Realizing the bear must be close, we mountaintop was reached, the four-mile length of the ice took our rifles from our backs and put cartridges into the river could be seen as it wound its tortuous way below. chambers to be ready should we come upon the animals The source was a smooth snowfield, while halfway down suddenly. Making as little noise as possible, considering were various foldings and ledges indicating the annual the rough going, we had not progressed more than 50 snowfalls of the years past. The mountains at the head feet when, to our right within 15 feet, there was a crash of the valley showed the effect of the glacier upon the in the bushes. We both whirled, guns half raised, and saw climate, for the vegetation was more stunted than at a big male porcupine on the ground which had tumbled similar elevations away from the ice sheet. from an overhanging limb. Our sudden arrival had given In one of the spruces were several Chestnut-backed him the scare of his life, resulting in his fall, and he had Chickadees feeding and cheerfully keeping up a continu- caused our hair to stand on end. ous conversation. We rested quietly for some time, and Our original plan was to climb to the summit of then I “squeaked” them, arousing their curiosity. Gradu- the 4,000-foot peak looking for mountain goats, but we ally they worked to nearby twigs to observe the intruders dawdled too long observing bird and mammal life. It on their domain. At tree line, a raven, black against the grew late, a drizzling rain set in, and we changed our sky, flew overhead; a Three-toed Woodpecker was noted in minds. The vegetation was wet on the return journey, so a dwarfed hemlock; and on the alpine tundra of the moun- we waded along the edge of Montana Creek to avoid the tain on the right side of the glacier, were numerous Rock heaviest of the devil’s club (a most pernicious, sharp- Ptarmigan in their full winter dress, the white plumage of spined plant)—and just at dusk jumped a bear too close the males relieved by the black of their eye patches. Their for comfort. calls could be heard from all parts of the snow-covered

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terrain. A Bald Eagle circled, its white head conspicuous and, liking the capital, settled there and built a hospital against the blue of the sky on this perfect Alaskan day, in an open area overlooking Gastineau Channel. In addi- and when the bird of prey swooped, the air was filled with tion, the nurses at the native hospital were all personal flying ptarmigan, singles and pairs, five being the most friends, so Muriel was certain to have more kind attention noted together. I wondered whether they had spread out than had we lived elsewhere. On the evening of the 28th, for feeding, or for protection. That evening I recorded: it was evident that the happy event was near. I visited the “The habitat of the Rock Ptarmigan was picturesque, to hospital until 10:00, returned home and stretched out on say the least, and on this day, wonderfully beautiful. The a cot under the telephone. It rang at 2:00 a.m., and in cloudless sky was deep blue, the horizon a white line of minutes I was on the run down the middle of the street, the mountaintop, and the winding Lemon Creek Glacier, a beautiful moon lighting my way. The occasional dogs a colorless snowfield at the summit, was a seamed and that rushed from houses were not fast enough to keep rugged ice field below us with its characteristic mixture up with me. I reached the hospital at 2:20, joining Dr. of blue and white—sunlight and shadow.” Dawes and two nurses at the bedside. Our Beth arrived The rest of November was spent in Juneau, with five minutes later, a red-fisted, seven-and-a-half-pound trips in the near vicinity of a few hours’ duration. My wife bundle of energy. accompanied me on short hikes only, for we expected an Following days were stormy, but occasional hikes heir toward the end of the month and were extremely were made up Granite Creek or other near localities. On fortunate in having Dr. Dawes as the physician. He had December 9, as naturalist-parent, I recorded: “Muriel made a visit to Juneau from Chicago ten years earlier returned home with our baby. Both are wonderful.” And

Figure 2.06. Jerry, the Airedale, retrieving a cormorant, Emma Harbor, Siberia, July 1921. DMNS No. IV.BA21-004.

14 DENVER MUSEUM OF NATURE & SCIENCE REPORTS | No. 13, March 10, 2019 Life of a Museum Naturalist vol. 2 on December 11, as naturalist only: “Made a long climb its victim upon the sands. It was our White-winged Scoter, up Lemon Creek—saw no birdlife. Rather disagreeable and I venture that we are the only hunters who ever had southwest wind blowing and plenty of snow. Got back to a Bald Eagle as a retriever. headquarters after dark.” Four days later, on a trip to That same week an errand took me to the dock at Perseverance Mine, I “followed the trail to the Red Mill, Juneau, and I observed a fine Airedale sitting alongside a then ascended Mount Roberts to about 2,500 feet. Snow launch (Fig. 2.06). I had seen the dog before and knew too deep. Out five hours and only few birds observed.” that he led a precarious existence, begging for food from Consulting with territorial officials regarding fur cooks of the launches, and that he had been abandoned and game conditions and routine business affairs filled by a diver who came north to work on the remains of the following weeks, interspersed with short launch trips the Princess Sophia, a Canadian vessel which had been in December and January and an occasional hike in the wrecked in Lynn Canal some time before. I walked over to hills near Juneau. On February 16 I noted: “Made trip to the dog, scratched him behind the ears, and then started Granite Creek with Young. About six feet of snow, seem- back home, and much to my surprise, he followed me. I ingly, as the tips of alders were barely visible in places. The encouraged him occasionally with a pat on the head, and day was warm, almost raining, and very quiet, a soft haze a little later, Muriel gave him the leftovers from dinner. blending the snow-laden slopes of the mountains and the He endeared himself the next morning when my misty sky into a curtain of gray. No sound of birds other wife went shopping, little Beth in a pram with runners than raven calls. The only sign of life was the blocky trail instead of wheels. When the grocery was reached, the dog, of a wolverine where he had broken through the snow whom we named Jerry, sat alongside the sled and did not crust, working back and forth on the steep slopes, but on move until they all started home. Sometime later, Young our return from the willows, we flushed four White-tailed and I were along the channel with Jerry and Jack’s Aire- Ptarmigan, the first of the species I had seen.” dale, Queen. A bufflehead was shot far out in the channel We had good friends with whom we could park our and both dogs started for it, Jerry the stronger being the Beth, now a husky youngster of two months, so Muriel first to reach the duck. He swam back and gently deposited was able to take short trips. One nice afternoon the latter the specimen at my feet without ruffling a feather. part of February, we launched our canoe and paddled Fieldwork adjacent to Juneau was concluded in out into the middle of Gastineau Channel, as Dr. Nelson March 1921 with occasional short jaunts along Gastin- wanted a couple White-winged Scoters collected for the eau Channel. The narrative which follows covers launch Survey. Many of the species were in the channel, and trips among the islands of the archipelago extending when a pair flew by, I dropped the male. Unfortunately, from November 1919 to January 1921. it was only winged, and the heavy bird hit the water with a splash and dived. Muriel was paddling in the bow, but Among Alaskan Islands no matter how we maneuvered, I could not get another Many journeys were made among the picturesque islands shot. The scoter would come up in range, but by the time of southeastern Alaska, the first only four days after our I could pick up the gun, down the bird would go. We arrival in the capital, thanks to Governor Riggs, who finally headed for the gravel shores of Douglas Island, arranged for my wife and me to leave Juneau November landed, and were walking up the beach when we noted 15, 1919, aboard the fisheries boat Auklet with Captain a Bald Eagle circling a half-mile away, about where the Jess Neville, engineer Paul Viles, and Pat Smith the cook. scoter was lost. We watched fascinated as the bird of prey The crews of government vessels might be expected to dropped on folded wing, seized something in its talons, resent having a woman aboard, but I found the opposite and then, heavily loaded, came our way. We crouched true in both Louisiana and Alaska, for whenever my wife motionless, and as the eagle passed over the shore, but accompanied me, the men went out of their way to see well out of range, I fired at it. The startled bird dropped she enjoyed the trips—possibly because she was small,

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did not take up too much room, expected no favors, and were heard each night and morning. The vegetation of was an exceptionally good fieldman. Keku consisted mainly of hemlock and spruce, with jack The launch rolled in the trough of the waves down pine in the muskeg, a few yellow cedars on the hillsides, Gastineau Channel, and numerous icebergs from Taku and a tangle of blueberry, devil’s club, and alder along Glacier were noted, wonderfully colored with transparent the streams. In the upland muskeg, where the stunted blues. Captain Jess anchored for the night at Taku Harbor, jack pine was predominant, the only birds observed were at the mouth of Taku Inlet, 26 miles below Juneau. occasional Steller’s Jays, bands of chickadees, and few The November 16 journal entry mentions White- wrens and song sparrows. winged Scoters about the boat at Taku Harbor, numerous The Auklet was pointed toward Wrangell on Novem- American Scoters in deeper waters, a pair of Mallards, ber 24th, the 65-mile journey against strong winds being several bands of Buffleheads, and a couple Oldsquaws, a rough one. At the wharf, a quarantine officer was not concluding with: “Rained all day, southwest breeze too going to allow us to land as word had been received we strong to travel.” Jess Neville’s ability as a pilot was proven the next day. He headed for Frederick Sound in a pouring rain that turned to snow and was caught in open channel, with no visibility, the thermometer around 29 degrees with a stiff wind blowing. He pulled out his charts, guessed where we were, drew a line to the Tlingit village of Kake on the northwest coast of Kupreanof Island to get his compass bearing, and then ran into the island-dotted passageway. Visibility ended at the bow of the Auklet, but Jess put down the window in front of the steering wheel, stuck his head out in the snowstorm, and listened for echoes which might indicate an island ahead. Certainly, someone had His hand on Jess’ shoul- der, for we somehow missed all the many islets that dotted the waterway, and after what seemed hours, shelter was made in the lee of the salmon cannery at Kake where we tied up for the night, much to the relief of five thankful people. At daybreak the next morning, the Auklet was shifting to the native village dock when two Indians in a dugout canoe warned us away, saying the town was under quarantine, 15 people down with smallpox—and no doctors. We backtracked down Keku Strait to Big John Bay, where numerous specimens were collected for the Survey, and during the next week, we covered much of the near vicinity, especially Keku Island, to record depredations by wolves upon deer. The remains of two were located, Figure 2.07. Kicksetti Totem and Sun House, but on an entire day’s survey, we failed to see a live deer, Wrangell, Alaska, November 28, 1919. DMNS numerous tracks indicating they were working toward No. IV.BA21-480D. high country. The wolves were in packs, and their howls

16 DENVER MUSEUM OF NATURE & SCIENCE REPORTS | No. 13, March 10, 2019 Life of a Museum Naturalist vol. 2 had been at Kake with its smallpox epidemic, and it was which could be dropped on either side to keep the vessel only after considerable argument that he was convinced in an upright position when grounded (Fig. 2.08). Tides we had not landed there. were exceedingly high along the coast, so whenever a The next several days at Wrangell were all too stop was made at a given place for a length of time, short. We were guests of the Nevilles for dinner on such as at Oliver Inlet, we edged the Tonic shoreward at Thanksgiving Day. Hours were spent tramping adjacent extreme high water, put down the legs, and were on dry hillsides, and we photographed the Indian village with land with the receding tide, an advantage in that it was its interesting old-time totems, revered symbols of the unnecessary to use the skiff for short excursions ashore. Tlingit people which depicted various forms of animal When traveling on schedule, however, the launch always life (Fig. 2.07). After a stay of four days, the northbound was anchored in deep sheltered places. Seattle was boarded at 3:00 a.m., November 29, for the At low tide, the great flats were of constant interest journey back to Juneau. because of the marine life left exposed and the birds that worked along the sands following the retreating water’s Oliver Inlet edge. An all-day rain on the 4th and strong winds the next December and January passed quickly, and I became few days were most disagreeable, but we hunted from acquainted with Dick Harris, son of the discoverer of gold morning until dark and collected numerous waterbirds near Juneau, who had a seaworthy launch, the Tonic, for the Survey. On February 7 Young and I took the which I was to use often. On February 3, Jack Young and skiff down the inlet with a favorable tide. The bottom I started a six-day trip down channel with Dick, our des- of the shallow channel was covered with thousands of tination being Oliver Inlet on the north end of Admiralty sea urchins, and on the east side of the inlet were con- Island, only about 12 miles from Juneau. spicuous barnacle-covered rocks, the favorite roosting Like the majority of small gas boats in southeast- places for hundreds of birds, including Harlequin Ducks, ern Alaska, the Tonic was equipped with “legs,” supports scoters, and guillemots.

Figure 2.08. The Tonic in ice, Alaska, February 1920. DMNS No. IV.BA21-1075.

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Due to a strong southeaster with driving wet snow coming down from the Stikine River, which had its the next day, hunting on open water was impossible, so mouth a few miles to the north of Wrangell. In just a I worked the beach, while Young and Dick were more moment the placid waterway turned to a froth of white, practical. They took spades and collected a bucketful of the wind so strong that we dared not turn broadside to fine-eating clams, which were greatly appreciated by our head for shore. Instead, I held the bow into the wind, wives when we returned to Juneau the following morning. Muriel paddling on one side and then the other to help keep us straight, and we were blown backward until Southeastern Islands eventually reaching shelter. It was an unpleasant expe- A three-week trip among the islands of the southern rience, the suddenness of the change of weather being part of the archipelago was arranged several days later, typical of southeastern waterways. the first leg to be on the mailboat City of Seattle to Sitka Repairs on the Auklet completed, Captain Jess and Wrangell, and then with Captain Jess Neville on his headed across Stikine Strait early on March 2 and into Auklet to out-of-the-way areas. My wife and I left Juneau Two-tree Pass, where there were hundreds of murres at 4:00 a.m. February 23 for ice harbor on the mainland and murrelets. Fewer birds were seen in Sumner Strait across Lynn Canal from Shelter Island, a beautiful land- as we skirted the north end of Prince of Wales Island, locked inlet surrounded by high, spruce-clad mountains. After a short tie-up, as soon as supplies were unloaded at the large salmon cannery, the vessel continued on into Peril Strait to Dead Man’s Gulch, where anchor was dropped for the night and, with an early start the next morning, on to Sitka with a fleet of fishing vessels, massed close to the dock (Fig. 2.09). We hurried ashore and had barely reached the old Russian church when the half-hour whistle was sounded to indicate an almost immediate departure, giving little time to photo the beautiful snow-covered cone of Mount Edgecumbe in the distance. It was about a 12-hour journey through Peril Strait, into Chatham Strait, and across Frederick Sound to Petersburg, and after a brief stop at midnight, the mailboat continued on to Wrangell. We were met at daybreak at the dock by Captain Jess Neville of the Bureau of Fisheries with news that the Auklet was shelved for repairs, necessitating a layover before starting our trip among the islands—not a hardship, for we had looked forward to photographing the Indian village and people working the near vicinity for birds. Repairs took longer than expected, but the time was well spent. Several canoe trips were made to observe waterbirds—murres of two species, Pacific Loons, Marbled Murrelets, and scoters being noted. My Figure 2.09. Sitka, Alaska, with Muriel E. wife always handled the bow paddle, while I the rear, and Bailey in foreground, February 24, 1920. on one occasion, we were caught when far offshore in DMNS No. IV.BA21-483C. Stikine Strait by a wind of almost gale force suddenly

18 DENVER MUSEUM OF NATURE & SCIENCE REPORTS | No. 13, March 10, 2019 Life of a Museum Naturalist vol. 2 with rugged Kupreanof Island to the starboard and white trappers spent the evening aboard and reported 65-mile-long Kuiu Island dead ahead. About noon, as numerous deer and wolves on their island, the main Kuiu was neared, Jess made an abrupt port turn down furbearers being beaver, mink, and marten. south and tied up at Shakan fish trap on the northwest As Captain Neville had business in many little out- coast of little Kosciusko Island. Taking the canoe, Muriel of-the-way places, we were able to do fieldwork in areas and I paddled along rugged shores where birds were not previously visited by naturalists. Included in our itin- abundant, including White-winged and Surf Scoters and erary was a stop at Craig for a visit with George Willett, my a Red-necked Grebe, a new species to my Alaskan list. The companion for three months in 1912 and 1913 on remote shallows along the pass were filled with invertebrate life Laysan Island, who was studying the birds of the Craig —barnacles upon the rocks, sea urchins and spongelike area. My wife wrote a narrative of our trip, published in growths in the clear shallows, and many starfish, five- the Iowa Alumnus (Bailey, M.E. 1920), and her account of and multi-rayed, exposed on the reefs at low tide. the journey’s concluding days is as follows: Jess pulled anchor the next morning and back- tracked to the Tlingit Indian village of Kake, where we It was delightful traveling slowly along the were so abruptly warned away a few months previous protected Alaskan waterway where the trees because of the smallpox epidemic. There were about 400 were mirrored in the quiet depths, wildfowl natives, mostly fishermen. On asking one young fellow were continually passing on silent wing, to pose for a picture, he curtly refused, and when I asked and occasional natives were met. Often we why, he said, “You want to put it on a postcard and laugh saw little islets with small, neat huts erected, at me.” The next couple of days were spent climbing the the burial places of the Tlingit Indians, and wooded hills to census Sitka deer, the small black-tailed time and again we passed their homes of race of southeastern Alaska. Most of the snow had disap- rough-hewn lumber. Eagles were noted peared along the coast, so the animals had retreated into commonly as we ran along the shores of the hills, but we saw several, the bucks still retaining Prince of Wales Island toward the deserted their antlers, Jess complaining there were few deer in Indian village of Tuxekan [Fig. 2.10]. The comparison with the numbers observed several years totems at this place were among the most back. Three wolf kills were noted, bones and scraps of famous of southeastern Alaska, but they hide scattered in the snow. were falling into decay, and some had small The Auklet was headed back for Shakan, the after- evergreens growing from the weathered noon of March 6, the sun blurring through the clouds. seams, and the buildings of the villages Apparently, the spring migration had started for there were were crumbling upon their foundations. It more shorebirds along the pebble beaches than had been was not a cheerful spot for one could not seen previously; a large flock of a hundred or more Rock help visualizing the village in days of native Sandpipers flew close to the launch, the whistling of their prosperity. That evening we stopped at the wings first attracting our attention. There were unusual little town of Klawock for a few hours. cloud effects over Kosciusko as we ran down Sumner Strait It is said the village was named by a to Shakan and on through Dry Pass, a picturesque narrow bird. An Indian was lost on the island and strip of boulder-strewn waterway with towering hills on a raven flew overhead, calling dismally either side grown with hemlock, spruce, and cedar. “Klawak, Klawak.” For want of something At dusk, the Auklet was tied to the dock at Dew- better to do, the native followed the direction eyville, a little settlement in Sarkar Cove on the west the bird took and came upon the beach at coast of Prince of Wales Island, and the entire population an Indian encampment, and so the village of two whites and six Tlingit Indians welcomed us. The received its name!

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Suemez Island, we picked up a guide and ran to his camp, where he had been stormbound for several days, not daring to attempt the passage home in his little open dory with all his equipment. He had been eating beans for three days and had smoked all his tea! Then after towing Mr. Willett to Craig and a few days in that vicinity to carry on the work of the Bureau, we headed for the native town of Hydaburg. This quaint little place was one of the most advanced of Indian villages. It was clean and had well-built streets and homes, and the natives were a progressive lot. They were taciturn and inclined to be surly with unknown whites, but when they became acquainted, proved to be fine friends. Leaving Hydaburg early the following morning we stopped at the old village of Sukkwan, the former home of Haida Indians. They were more warlike than the Tlingits and originally came from the Queen Charlotte Islands, migrating (so they said) because the ravens told them to take land from the Tlingits. Many battles ensued before they were finally able to hold their homes in peace. This village was so old that fair-sized spruce trees, as at Tuxekan, Figure 2.10. Totems of the deserted village were growing from the totems. of Tuxekan, Alaska, March 8, 1920. DMNS No. We ran northward toward Wrangell, IV.BA21-481D. going through Dry Pass and out into Sumner It was an hour’s run from Klawock to Strait. The Auklet slipped alongside the SS Craig, and as we coasted close along shore, Mariposa which had been crushed upon the we were amazed at the number of eagles. We rocks sometime before, and we noticed how counted 21 in a single tree and over 300 in one thoroughly the ship had been plundered, mile! Alaskans have a bounty on eagles, which scarcely a window glass remaining, and even should be repealed, for the birds which con- the signs on the doors removed. A storm and a gregate in such numbers are merely carrion three-minute miscalculation in time are said and fish eaters. Alaskans claim the eagles eat to have caused this fine boat to be wrecked. edible fish and kill the young of game animals. It was a rough trip to Wrangell, another Possibly this is true, but as long as thousands of the old-time Alaskan villages, where we of tons of herring are used each year for fertil- stopped overnight, then wound our way izer, surely we can spare the eagles a few. through the picturesque Wrangell Narrows At Craig (March 11) we inquired for to Petersburg, and then on all night toward Mr. Willett and finding he was encamped on Juneau. When dawn broke we were well along

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Admiralty Island, the home of the gigantic stream where bears had been working. Numerous wolf brown bears, its snow-whipped crests bathed tracks were on the sandy shore, and there were occasional pink in the early morning light and the beaver cuttings. A pair of Dippers worked busily in the wooded shores aglow, while on the mainland swift rapids, now diving from sight and again perching slopes the dense growths were black in shadow. upon a water-washed boulder. It was an enchanting area The Auklet chugged on over smooth waters, with towering spruces on the hillsides, while the ground across the Taku into Gastineau Channel, and was carpeted with a thick layer of moss over which I on to Juneau. Our little trip among Alaska’s walked with scarcely a sound. Upon my return to Parrot’s wooded islands was over. in the late afternoon, after about as perfect a day as a fieldman could hope for, the little launch was pointed Stikine Flats downstream for the trip back to Wrangell, and I caught When in Wrangell in early March, I arranged to make the SS Seattle at midnight for the short run to Juneau. a visit to the mouth of the Stikine River with a Mr. G. Parrot, who had a small farm nearby, to collect a few Hoonah Sound specimens of the large Canada Geese, which were sup- On May 6, with Dick Harris on his Tonic, Young and I posed to be resident in the area. I returned to the village rounded the southern tip of Douglas Island and Point April 17, and although there was a strong southeaster Retreat on Admiralty Island and then ran down Chatham blowing, Parrot and I started off the next morning in his Strait, a 45-mile waterway separating Chichagof Island small launch into a bad chop across Back Bay. Finally, from Baranof to the south. A stop was made at a cannery after a couple of hours of hard going, we headed into a on Baranof where Young, on the bow of the Tonic, struck little creek cutting the Stikine Flats, tying to the small the sharp end of the pike pole into a piling to pull the dock near where Parrot had built his home. As there bow around. The end came out, and Jack lost his balance, were still a few hours of daylight, I put on hip boots and falling backward head over heels into the bay; he was started across the delta dotted with fallen trees which pulled aboard, a very wet and sheepish individual. As had washed down the Stikine River on floods and become the night was perfect weather wise, Dick pushed down stranded. It was a pleasant evening, but no birds were to Patterson Bay near the entrance to Hoonah Sound on collected, although a flock of about a hundred of the Chichagof Island, dropping anchor late the next after- presumed resident race of Canada Geese was observed noon. We had been 24 hours en route. out on a barren gravel bar. Lower Chichagof, especially along Peril Strait The next morning I cut west, crossed a little tribu- and Hoonah Sound, had luxuriant vegetation—yellow tary of the Stikine and slopped on through shallow water cedar, spruce, and hemlock along the shores and on the to Farm Island, so called because Parrot cultivated a hills—the entire region a waterbird paradise. Thousands considerable acreage there. The southeaster had blown of geese were in migration, the small dark-breasted B. c. its course. The weather was ideal, and small migrants minima being the most numerous. Scoters, both Surf were numerous. Robins were abundant among the berry and White-winged, were more common than I had seen bushes; Varied Thrushes, chickadees, kinglets, and cross- elsewhere and shorebirds were on every sandbar. We bills were common; and a flock of about 250 geese was pitched tents in an area free of snow, intending to do flushed from a river bar. That afternoon I took a stand fieldwork in the near vicinity during the next two weeks, behind the roots of a great spruce. Numerous geese in using a canoe for transportation. Dick left for Juneau pairs and bands began flying across the delta, and soon with instructions to return for us on May 23. the desired specimens were secured. The following two weeks held great interest, my My last day was spent on the west side of the Stikine daily notes giving accounts of bird records for the area, River along a well-worn trail close to a small mountain all being incorporated in my compilation of observations

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in southeastern Alaska (Bailey 1927). The journal entry Pectoral, and Baird’s Sandpipers and four of May 8 states: “The northern slopes of the mountains Black-throated (Arctic) Loons. are snow-covered with little vegetation showing, but the May 18: Rained all day ... Two new plants on southern exposures are tinged with green. Skunk birds observed—Golden-crowned Sparrows cabbage is up. Jack and I walked along the big muskeg and 14 Hudsonian Curlew. back from camp without seeing deer or bear signs and then May 19: Semi-clear with fog and cloud paddled to Moses Island and skirted along the beaches, effects. Took canoe to head of Patterson Bay. seeing no game or tracks. An eagle’s nest was located 20 Got caught in a heavy hailstorm en route, feet up in a spruce, the old bird circling overhead, but as it most disagreeable with rain and wind to was raining we did not try for pictures.” contend with. Coming back against a stiff On the shores of Patterson Bay there were numer- wind, stopped at an Indian shack near where ous snowslides, and on one, high up, a brown bear with we found a nest of Fish Crows in a small a single cub was noted (May 10). Billy Dixon and Sam hemlock. There were five eggs, the nest of Brezee, two trappers who had a shack at the head of the dried twigs being lined with deer hair. bay, reported they had seen several bears. After being with them for some time, Billy gave us a haunch of Unfortunately, stormy weather prevailed during the venison, remarking that, at first, they thought we were next few days, but many migrant birds were observed. Dick game wardens. One of the inconsistencies of my work in did not show up on May 23 as planned, but he arrived the southeastern Alaska was that I was a warden and at the next morning in a drizzling rain. We packed our wet tent, same time was collecting specimens. However, in those loaded our equipment on the Tonic, and were on our way days, it was an unwritten law that men in the bush were at noon and into Chatham Strait before dark, with unusual privileged to shoot for food, so consequently, we grate- cloud formations and choppy seas. The passage up the strait fully accepted the gift. that night and the next day across Icy Strait was excellent, The weather was disagreeable most of the time, running into fog in Stephens Passage that alternated with which made us appreciate occasional bits of sun. Under brilliant sunlight. Just before reaching Marmon Island, I date of May 14, I noted that we were up at 5:30 on a clear identified a large loon as the Yellow-billed, a species not morning with a southwest wind. There were beautiful previously reported from southeastern Alaska. Rare to nat- cloud effects as we worked the north end of Moses Island uralists, it was presumed to nest in Arctic Alaska, with its and up a valley where there were many deer tracks, fall migration route down the Alaskan coast, across Bering several animals being noted on the hillsides. There was Strait, and then southward along the Siberian shores. no snow and little underbrush, and a creek poured down Unfortunately, the loon was too elusive for us. It dived at a rocky valley in a series of small cascades, making a our approach and easily kept its distance. As Gastineau wonderfully picturesque scene. A steady downpour and Channel was entered, however, another was seen, which many mosquitoes May 15 made fieldwork disagreeable, I collected, a large female in full adult plumage. (In the and the next morning it was still raining, but the weather spring of 1922 I was fortunate to be the first naturalist to cleared in the evening, giving us a fine sunset. The see the species on its nest—on a lagoon near Mint River journal entries for the succeeding days were: at the extremity of Seward Peninsula within a few miles of Bering Strait—and to collect its egg.) May 17: Day dawned clear, but a heavy fog Juneau was reached at noon, concluding three soon settled, followed by a drizzling rain weeks of fieldwork among the southwestern islands at which continued intermittently all day. the height of the spring migration, the highlight, of Went to the head of Patterson Bay, but no course, the securing of the Yellow-billed Loon, at that bear signs. Observed many birds—Spotted, time considered one of the rarest of waterbirds.

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Glacier Bay that Young and I took the canoe a short distance up the Glacier Bay, projecting northwest off Icy Strait, was a waterway between precipitous slopes of the inlet with its scenic wonder of southeastern Alaska. Few naturalists densely wooded shores. Along the beach, several Dwarf had worked the area and Chief of the Biological Survey, Hermit Thrushes were noted catching insects exactly as Dr. Nelson, suggested that I make two or three trips there do flycatchers—jumping into the air and taking them during the summer of 1920 to observe the changes in on the wing. animal life over a period of time. Dick Harris’s 30-foot The Glacier Bay entrance was dotted with pan launch Tonic was chartered (for ten dollars a day) for ice and small bergs as we cruised northward, stopping the first visit. Dick, Jack Young, and I started at noon June at Bartlett Cove on the mainland side where an Indian 10, rounded Marmon Island, and ran into a disagreeable family had made a lean-to shelter covered with a piece of rolling sea in Stephens Passage with waves breaking canvas. A wrinkled old man said many birds were nesting white, a stop being made at Skull Rock where numerous on Beardslee and other islands, and he mentioned that Harlequin Ducks, scoters, murres, and guillemots were he and other Indians made annual trips to Glacier Bay noted in the waters nearby. As we continued on, many to gather eggs. We ran toward four-mile-long Willoughby loons, Black-throated and Red-throated and a pair of Island just offshore, east of Finders Bay, noting en route the rare Yellow-billed, were swimming close along the many Glaucous-winged Gulls and Pelagic Cormorants shores of Admiralty Island, the latter very conspicuous as sitting on ice cakes and small bergs, and in the water they dived and then emerged half out of the water, their were Kittlitz’s Murrelets feeding and diving among hun- strikingly colored beaks thrust skyward. Dick headed the dreds of the common Marbled Murrelets, Horned Puffins, Tonic around Point Retreat into Lynn Canal, and the and other birds. water becoming very rough, we ran to Point Couverden The quiet gray sheen of the bay was almost oil- on the mainland and into Canoe Pass, where the launch like, with deep reflections of spruce and hemlocks along was anchored in a sheltered harbor. the shore, the rugged snow-covered peaks of the distant Hardly were we underway the next morning, June horizon being mirrored almost perfectly. Off Willoughby 11, when the Tonic became firmly wedged on a reef, neces- were several huge icebergs, their shadows of an intense sitating a long delay as we waited for a rising tide, enabling blue as they drifted with the outgoing tide. The western us to do a bit of fieldwork in the near vicinity that was slope of Willoughby, where the gulls were nesting, was very well worthwhile. I was watching a Dwarf Hermit Thrush precipitous, a quick trip ashore being made by way of a on the sunny side of a bluff along the open beach when I little harbor set off with small stranded bergs. Several deer saw a hummingbird settling on her nest 20 feet up in an were noted in heavy brush. Hermit and Varied Thrushes overhanging branch of a spruce. It proved to be a Rufous, were singing subdued twilight songs as we hurried to make the smallest Alaskan bird and only the second record of a survey. Many gulls, puffins, and guillemots were seen but the species nesting in the Territory. She sat close and did no eggs found. The natives had visited the island before not flush until nearly touched. There were two eggs in the us. The next morning we ran to a small harbor where an beautiful little nest, and immediately on our backing away Indian launch was anchored. Ashore were half a dozen she settled down to resume her incubation. The hummer men, their shirts stuffed with eggs. So thoroughly had they was so colorful that I mistakenly recorded the bird as a completed their work that we failed to find an occupied male in my notes since I had never seen one before. nest. I was pleased, however, to flush several Willow Ptar- The rising tide lifted the Tonic off the ledge, and migan, a new species to my list of Alaskan birds. Dick ran into the rough waters of Icy Strait to Excursion Dick headed the Tonic to the west shore in the late Inlet on the mainland shore, where anchor was dropped afternoon and anchored in Berg Bay, where bear signs at midnight. After six hours in our sleeping bags, all were numerous along a swiftly flowing stream. Late in hands were on deck the next morning, the area so inviting the afternoon, a large black was seen on the flat on the

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other side of a creek. I waded out, the water nearly to the surface to the waters below, and the constant top of my hip boots. The rocks were so slippery the strong surging of the waters is the result of the current took me off my feet, and I was washed down- impact of such large masses of ice. stream, trying all the time to hold my gun out of the water. Eventually, I reached an eddy and waded ashore, Herring, Glaucous-winged, and Short-billed Gulls rather the worse for wear. The bear, a male now in the were apparently nesting on the sandy moraines, and Survey collection, was a fine specimen. the alpine nature of the landscape was indicated by the Several days later, on June 19, we made an early numerous Leucostictes and Snow Buntings. Spotted start for Muir Glacier (discovered by the great naturalist Sandpipers and Semipalmated Plovers ran over the John Muir, in 1879), an ideal run, for there was little sands, while the usual Harlequin Ducks and scoters ice except along the left shore. The mountains bordering were at home in the waters in front of the ice sheet. A Muir inlet were precipitous, and long scars marred their pair of Pacific Eider, my first observation of the species, sides, snow filling the gashes along the rugged crests. flew close to the Tonic as we dropped southward for our Clouds often obscured the summits, and bands of fog intended anchorage at Willoughby Island. drifted slowly about halfway to the mountaintops. As We left early June 20 for Juneau over glassy seas the great ice sheet was neared, the glacial nature of the to Mud Bay at Chichagof Island, where Young and I country became more evident, the boulders and sands of explored a wide valley with wooded hills on both sides, the moraines being conspicuous. flowering plants, strawberries, shooting stars, and Anchor was dropped in a little bight not far from lupines at the height of their beauty. Lowering skies and Muir Glacier. The sun obligingly emerged resulting in drizzling rain soon stopped our wandering, and anchor spectacular clouds over the west bank of the inlet, the was pulled, adverse weather continuing through the shadows throwing the deep crevasses into strong relief. night and all next day, our arrival in Gastineau Channel There was a constant sluff of ice down the steep walls of near Juneau in the evening coinciding with a change in the glacier, some masses so large they sent white-crested weather as the sun tried to break through the mantle rollers toward us. That night I entered in my journal: of clouds cresting Douglas Island. I was so intrigued by the beauty of the region, I recommended to Dr. Nelson The “dead glaciers” are well named, the that Glacier Bay should be set aside as a National Monu- ice being dirty and stained, often with dust ment. Whether my suggestion had anything to do with upon their surfaces. The moraines before the it I do not know, but the bay was so named by an Act of glaciers are of the usual small, worn glacial Congress five years later. stones, few large boulders being in evidence. A ten-day trip with Jack Young and George Folta as There are five dead glaciers at the head of companions was planned with Captain George Lund of Muir Inlet, their great ice fields filling the the Bureau of Fisheries, primarily to note the midsum- valleys to the summits of the distant moun- mer bird population, for few ornithologists had been in tains. They are gradually melting away, and the area at that time of year. We left Juneau late in the the waters enter Muir Inlet by many different afternoon of August 7, anchored for the night in Swanson channels which pour forth torrents of milk- Harbor at the mouth of Lynn Canal, and were on our colored water. way at daybreak down Icy Strait. According to my notes, Muir Glacier is at the head of Muir hundreds of Northern Phalarope were in flocks, a dark Inlet, extending back into the distant valleys phased Pomarine Jaeger was noted pursuing a Glaucous- in three distinct branches. The glacier is winged Gull, and I trolled briefly, catching a 25-pound dropping considerable ice, and the distant red king salmon, all we needed for our noon and evening rumblings are due to bergs crashing from its meals. A stop was made at Mud Bay for a look-see, but

24 DENVER MUSEUM OF NATURE & SCIENCE REPORTS | No. 13, March 10, 2019 Life of a Museum Naturalist vol. 2 bear signs were few, and Bartlett Cove in Glacier Bay was the mouth of Lynn Canal. Because of engine trouble next reached just as dusk was settling over the landscape. morning, the tide over the bar was missed, delaying our During the following eight days, there were no dull arrival at the dock in Juneau until after midnight. moments. Rushing streams through wooded areas were Six weeks later, the changing colors of the leaves perfect settings for occasional encounters with black bear of shrubs along Salmon Creek in early October indicated where they were a taking toll on salmon ascending to that autumn was well underway, and it was time to make spawn. There were open expanses ablaze with wildflowers a third trip to Glacier Bay to observe the fall migration of many species, and ripe wild strawberries to be had for through that picturesque region. Dick Harris was glad the picking. Nearly grown Willow Ptarmigan, still in family for another charter, and as usual, Jack Young accom- groups along the shores of the bay, were feeding upon the panied me. The launch was loaded with gas and water berries, their crops often so gorged that, when specimens at the Standard Oil Company dock, and we were on our were collected and held by their legs, strawberry juice would way down Gastineau Channel the morning of October 7, run from their mouths. The young birds were delicious around Douglas Island, and then west through Stephens eating. One afternoon, while skinning a few ptarmigan Passage, where there were many waterbirds, including the and a couple Short-eared Owls aboard our little launch, Red-throated, Black-throated, Common, and (of special I asked Folta to make me a cup of coffee. He obliged, but note) six Yellow-billed Loons scattered over a wide area used salt water from the bay, much to the amusement of which, as we ran toward them, pattered away, literally our associates. Later he was repaid, however, for when I running over the water as though too gorged to fly. fried the young ptarmigan for our evening meal, I also Southeastern Alaska is one of the finest areas in the cooked the two owls, which were the same size. The owls world for observing diving birds, for there are few places were placed nearest to George as the food was passed to where four species of loons may be seen with one sweep him; he ate the two owls and enjoyed them. of the binoculars. Years later, on May 13, 1948, when on a Many nearly full-grown young Red-Breasted cruise in the same area, I secured the only known speci- Mergansers were noted, and on one occasion, along a men of the Green-throated Loon from the archipelago stream, I watched an old female with her brood of nine. (Bailey 1953). I wonder how many other fieldmen have They were almost as large as their mother, and when she collected four species of loons plus the Green-throated dived for trout and emerged, they were ready with mouth race G. a. viridigularis. open, each one hissing and flapping its wings. The young At Skull Rock, in mid-channel, there were numerous literally mobbed her in their effort to be first served, and shorebirds—several Black Turnstones, Rock Sandpipers, she finally climbed the bank to escape their attentions. and Wandering Tattlers, the latter my first observation Most of our collecting was in the lower part of the of the species since becoming acquainted with them on bay, but we ran up the inlet one bright afternoon to take my sojourn at Laysan island. They flew off low over the advantage of the late sun on the front of Muir Glacier, passage, giving their characteristic rattling cries. and all of us had a somewhat chilly swim among the When a southeaster started to blow, we took refuge floating ice cakes. A few Kittlitz’s Murrelets were seen en in the lee of Horse Island off the east coast of Mansfield route, and many Arctic Terns and their large young were Peninsula on the north shore of Admiralty and were flying over the moraines. The last day in Glacier, August stormbound most of October 8. It rained steadily all day 16, was spent among the Beardslee Islands where many and night with winds of gale force, which lessened in the Willow Ptarmigan, Long-tailed and Pomarine Jaegers, early morning hours. Dick piloted the Tonic out of the Short-eared Owls, and Rough-legged Hawks were seen. harbor at noon and entered Lynn Canal, but when about It was with reluctance that we headed for home later in 4:30 the winds again increased, the southeaster rolling the afternoon, out of the bay, into Icy Strait, and then us so the decks were awash, we were glad to drop anchor eastward, anchoring for the night off Couverden Point at behind Couverden Point.

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Eventually, the turbulent weather subsided, and landscape. When approached closely, they squatted October 10 was an ideal day. We were on our way at daybreak instead of flying, apparently depending upon nonexistent through Icy Strait, keeping rather close to the mainland protective coloration, but it was a different story in the shores, wooded hills extending upward to timberline, the afternoon, for we ran to one of the Beardslee Islands in snow-crested peaks reminding us that the season was the midst of a heavy snowstorm, the first of the year at growing late. Of great interest were the numerous Yellow- sea level. The landscape was massed with white, and the billed Loons, one in a dive off our bow giving us the chance many ptarmigan so blended with their surroundings that to observe with what grace it darted along under water, they were not seen until flushed from underfoot. The wings half spread and feet kicking rapidly. Eleven were seen storm was over before dark, and safer anchorage was on the run from Point Couverden to Glacier Bay, two at the made in Bartlett Cove. bay’s entrance and an immature at Bartlett Cove, where the A stop was made at Lemesurier Island during hook was dropped for the night. the forenoon of October 15, on the return journey to My notes for the next few days record numerous Juneau, but a strong north wind creating a rolling sea species of birds. Fifty Cackling Geese were flushed from made it advisable to keep along the lee shore to Point the shore of the outer Beardslee Island, and a flock of Couverden. The highlights, from a naturalist’s viewpoint, a hundred Snow Buntings upon the beach which, when were the numerous waterbirds observed, especially seven disturbed, swirled away like wind-driven snow. In the bay Yellow-billed Loons close to the launch and a flock of were many American Goldeneyes, Green-winged Teal, and 23 Whistling Swans in flight, etched against a blue sky Mallards, and Young flushed five Willow Ptarmigan from just above white-crested mountaintops. Up before break a parklike area, birds in almost white plumage that were of day October 16, we were home before noon, ending shedding into their winter dress at approximately the the three journeys into this rugged, glaciated region. same time as the Rock Ptarmigan above timberline. Now, more than 50 years later, there is a lodge in Glacier On October 12 Young and I followed up the creek Bay with excellent accommodations built in 1966 by the into the big valley opposite Willoughby Island to find that National Park Service, and one can fly in the morning birdlife was exceedingly scarce. Although six hours were from Juneau to Bartlett Cove in time for a boat trip to the spent in the wooded area, we saw only a single Steller’s Glacier and take the evening flight back to Juneau. Jay and a Bald Eagle. There were goat tracks on the mountainsides and a few bear and comparatively recent Forrester Island wolf signs along the gravel bars of the creek. In midaft- About two weeks after the first run to Glacier Bay on July 1, ernoon the anchor was pulled, and the launch headed up I started for Forrester Island off Dall Island at the south- Glacier Inlet to Muir Glacier through fairly open water, west tip of the Territory to join George Willett, who was the cool weather of autumn possibly having kept bergs financing his own ornithological studies by fishing for from sloughing off the face of the great ice sheet. From salmon. The first leg of the journey was on the SS Alaska the standpoint of an ornithologist, the trip was of little over a smooth sea all the way to Ketchikan, arriving the interest—no Kittlitz’s Murrelets, only a few Marbled and next morning, where Karl Hauser, a commercial fisher- occasional Glaucous-winged Gulls—but the scenery was man, agreed to take me to Forrester on his launch, Lief. outstanding, the snow-clad mountain crests conspicuous We left Ketchikan at noon July 8, anchoring off the south- against skies of dark blue causing us to linger into the ern end of Dall Island for the night, reaching Forrester, 20 twilight hours before heading back to Sandy Cove, a deep miles out in the Pacific in midmorning the next day, the indentation on the east shore of Glacier Bay. sea so rough that both the captain and I were under the On an early morning hunt in open expanses back weather. Willett, his wife, and son George had a nice cabin of the cove adjacent to the wooded hills, many ptarmigan on a wooded slope (Fig. 2.11), and with them as a guest were noted, their white plumage highlighting the drab was Sid Peyton, a well-known California ornithologist.

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Figure 2.11. George Willett’s cabin on Forrester Island, Alaska, July 1920. DMNS No. IV.BA21-1141. The Forrester Island Reservation consisted of three On Petrel Island off the south end of Forrester, main islands and several precipitous bird rocks, the Beal’s and Forked-tailed Petrels were nesting, their nesting places for many interesting species. On July 10 burrows in dry soil occurring from above shoreline to Willett and I took a trail over Forrester through stands the top of the island. The tunnels were close together, of salmonberries into meadow-like parks grown with three of the Forked-tailed containing young from downy stunted hemlocks. On the west slope in a tall spruce was to almost fully fledged size, but the Beal’s had just started a Bald Eagle’s nest with a nearly grown young, and in nesting. Each species had but one egg. The birds appar- a depression of a mossy bank close to the base of the ently were not greatly disturbed by the opening of their tree a female Orange-crowned Warbler was flushed from homes, for when placed upon the ground, they usually her three eggs. On steep slopes nearer the water were waddled to the first burrow entrance and scrambled in. the nesting tunnels, four to ten feet deep, of Rhinoceros The Petrels are nocturnal, going to their feeding places Auklets. It was difficult to excavate the birds, but six long after sundown, returning to the nesting tunnels adults were located, one covering a downy young and the before the break of day. others on well-incubated eggs. Whenever weather permitted, Willett attended to The gale-force winds continued to July 16, his salmon fishing, trolling from his powerboat. I often during which time Willett and the other fishermen accompanied him, but after pulling 15- to 20-pound could not launch their dories. Each day was of inter- salmon aboard for a few hours, the novelty wore off. est to me, however, for Willett, Peyton, and I covered Arrangements were made with Ollie Swanson, another Forrester well, visiting various colonies of Cassin’s fisherman, to take me to Waterfall, a cannery on the and Rhinoceros Auklets and Ancient Murrelets in west coast of Prince of Wales Island 13 miles from Craig, wooded areas, and Tufted Puffins, Pelagic Cormo- hoping, at Waterfall, to catch a mailboat to Wrangell or rants, Pigeon Guillemots, and California Murres on Ketchikan. We were on our way early July 18, with a head precipitous ledges. tide and in a dense fog. When about seven miles from

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Forrester, the engine broke down, and we floated help- bear had a well-worn trail through dense stands of lessly for several hours, on our way to Japan, apparently. thimbleberry bushes. We could see where the animals Suddenly there was a rift in the fog, and I saw vague had been stripping the bushes of luscious fruit. Salmon outlines of trees. Kind Providence had drifted us back were spawning, and bear and deer signs were abundant to Forrester, and the lifting of the fog at the right time on all hillsides. Although it was a disagreeable day, cloudy enabled us to get our bearings. Fortunately, the sea was and foggy with visibility at a minimum, good time was smooth; I took the skiff back to the landing dock and made to above timberline. Deer were located, eight in one Willett gave Ollie a tow. band, and a doe and fawn only 100 yards away. With my July 21, three days later, passage was secured, binoculars, I watched as Folta stalked the female and her and according to my notes: “I arrived at Craig at 9:00 young, and as he slowly made his way through scrub veg- p.m., tired and cold.” Luckily, Game Warden J. Foster etation, I could note his progress by keeping the glasses was on an inspection tour, and he agreed to take me to on the doe. She raised her head, took a few cautious Wrangell in his 26-foot motorboat. We started at 5:00 the steps forward and then, thoroughly alarmed, bounded next evening and ran until after midnight, getting lost into cover, closely followed by the fawn. We worked the in a passage behind Tuxekan Island. Fog and the usual hillsides carefully, counted 24 deer, and then called it engine trouble which besets gas boats, prevented an early a day, returning to the launch after 15 hours of rather start on the 23rd, but we made it through Dry Pass at half strenuous going, 5:00 a.m. to 8:00 p.m. tide and, in the late afternoon, reached Shakan, a former Anchor was pulled, and we dropped down channel Tlingit Indian village on the northwest coast of Kosciusko about six miles the following forenoon. Folta and I Island, where my wife and I had stopped briefly March 6. ascended a salmon stream to a series of parks and then, Continuing on all night down Sumner Strait, we skirted over the divide, the fog had lifted, and from a prominent along the north shore of Zarembo Island and reached lookout, we scanned nearby hillsides seeing numerous Wrangell in time for breakfast. Two days later I caught deer and an especially fine buck standing partially the Jefferson and, after various stops en route, was back concealed among the alders. As we watched, a brown in Juneau the morning of July 28th. bear emerged from cover. He stopped on a little ridge, silhouetted against the sky, looked around, and either Admiralty Island saw us or caught our scent, for he literally skidded down In late August, less than two weeks after the second Glacier the mountainside. Folta had to be at Governor Rigg’s Bay trip, I persuaded George Folta to accompany me to office by the last day of the month, so we returned to the Twin Points on Glass Peninsula, a slender 50-mile-long launch at dusk, and Bill wound up his motor and started projection from the northern tip of Admiralty Island on for Juneau. According to my notes: “We pulled the anchor the west side of Stephens Passage, just a short run south- a little after dark and ran into Stephens Passage but, east of Juneau. The rugged area was one of the favorite when in mid-channel, stripped the gears of the engine.” hunting grounds for sportsmen and natives alike, and I We were helpless. The weather was calm, so a lantern was had looked forward to a few days in the vicinity to note tied to the masthead to prevent our being run down by a game conditions. We secured the services of Bill Harris, large vessel, and we then turned in, hoping to pick up a formerly a sheriff in Juneau and known affectionately as tow after daybreak. “Six-shooter Bill,” along with his 30-foot gas boat and, While half dozing in my bunk and listening to the late the afternoon of August 28, we ran down Gastineau gurgle of water lightly tapping the bow, about 2:00 in the Channel, anchoring in a sheltered bight off the Penin- morning August 31, I felt a few long swells. Immediately sula at midnight. I was wide awake and called Bill and Folta. We hurried The next morning, Folta and I followed up a small on deck to try to put up the sail, but before we could get creek about two miles below Twin Points where brown lines fastened, a strong southeaster struck us. It was a

28 DENVER MUSEUM OF NATURE & SCIENCE REPORTS | No. 13, March 10, 2019 Life of a Museum Naturalist vol. 2 nip-and-tuck battle to raise the canvas. We were unsuc- Holkham Bay along the mainland shore about 45 miles cessful, and the boat drifted toward the steep cliffs of from Juneau. The bay’s entrance was six miles wide with Admiralty Island. two forks, Endicott and Tracy Arms. The two anchors were thrown overboard. They took hold and stopped the launch within 50 feet of the September 26: Started on Tracy Arm at 6:00 precipitous walls. We donned life preservers and held a.m. and ran to within sight of the glacier but onto the rolling deck, and I have memories of searching could go no farther because of the discharge (despite pitch darkness) the wave-lashed cliffs for some of ice. The cliffs overhanging the arm on spot where we might get a handhold. It was high tide, and either side were very precipitous, and I agree we fully expected the anchors to drag. Out of the darkness, with John Muir in classifying the scenery we heard Bill breathe the equivalent of a prayer as he said, as among America’s greatest. Saw two Red- “Boys, I’d give $500 and this damn boat to be on shore.” throated Loons, a flock of Pintails, and All ended well. The anchors held and winds less- several cormorants. No goats observed, and ened, so about noon, not willing to risk another blow with there were only a few bear tracks along the frayed anchor lines, the skiff was loaded with sleeping shores of a little stream Jack and I ascended. bags, a tent, and grub, and a sheltered camping spot was found behind projecting rocks of Glass Peninsula. As we The anchor was dropped off Holkham Bar for the were still marooned at daylight September 1, I took the night, and next morning we visited J.A. Yorke on mile- skiff and rowed down channel six miles for help, sighting and-a-half-long Sumdum Island in Endicott Arm where an Indian with his launch on the beach, but he was high he had maintained a fox farm for 19 years. He and his and dry and could not get off. Some time later I saw a wife and children had a well-constructed cabin in a large launch approaching and rowed to mid-channel to sheltered nook, and from their welcome, we judged they head it off. Soon we were back at our camping place, and rarely had visitors. He started his ranch October 6, 1901, the friendly members of the crew gave us a tow for the when 20 pairs of blue foxes were turned loose to shift for 30-odd miles to Juneau, where we arrived at dusk. themselves. That night I recorded: When Folta failed to show at his office on August 31, Governor Riggs phoned my wife asking where we Yorke said at first he fed his foxes oil cakes, had gone. She gave the correct information, and the horse meat, and fish, but of recent years Governor, fearing we were in trouble, sent a subchaser to he gives them fish only—fresh heads in search for us. By about 4:00 in the afternoon the vessel summer and salted in winter. He soaks the was in mid-channel of Stephens Passage (we saw it from salt out before feeding, and the foxes do well our campsite), but instead of running along Glass Pen- on the restricted food. They gather berries insula, they cut left into the Snettisham on the mainland and roots in summer. He bought the “native side, and (as I learned later) then went deer hunting, rights” to the island from the Tlingit Indians sending word back they could find no trace of us. and has been paying rent to the government under a forest reservation grant for the last Holkham Bay six years, although he feels his 19 years One of my duties was to report on the activities of men residence should have given him ownership raising foxes on islands in southeastern Alaska, and of the island. I arranged a trip with Dick Harris on his Tonic. Sup- He improved the breed of his stock plies were purchased, and Young and I put our duffle by culling out animals which did not run aboard the morning of September 25. Our course was true to type, those with whitish hairs called down Gastineau Channel to Stephens Passage and on to “creoles.” He cited the case of one female

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creole, however, raising seven kits, all good rocks. He blended into the surroundings so perfectly it color. One typical female had a litter of 12, was necessary to use the glasses to determine which way all past the danger point when he inspected he was lying. them. The animals dig their own dens and We made the mistake of shooting the deer so far are not inspected during the breeding from camp, for he had to be pulled up over the mountain season. Neither does he interfere with or crest and down the east slope. The going was very steep, limit the amount of food consumed at night. and on one occasion, Young lost his footing when an He was not willing to talk about the profits alder broke to which he was clinging. He slid 30 feet, of the business and gave evasive answers to landing on a narrow ledge, where he tottered momen- questions concerning the number of foxes tarily, finally regaining his balance. We worked our way marketed last year or during the 19 years, or down into a box canyon, coal black by 6:00, so dark that, how many foxes were now on his island. although we were close together, we kept up an animated conversation for the benefit of any prowling bear. Finally, After sharing a midday snack of pancakes and we reached the beach and were soon in the warmth of the coffee with the friendly Yorkes, we ran back to Holkham launch, too tired to eat or to sleep. Bar, stopping briefly to note the many species of shore- Although it rained continuously October 1st, two birds. Dick then pointed the launch across Stephens interesting places were visited in Seymour Canal, the Passage, rounded the south end of Glass Peninsula into first being little Swan Island, where recent beaver signs Seymour Canal, and dropped anchor in a nice harbor were noted, and the other Dome Island, three-fourths by along Admiralty Island. It was now nearing the end of half a mile in size, where Eric Larson and Jim Peterson September, and we decided to get our winter supply of had just started a fox farm. They were erecting a build- meat as the deer were in prime condition. ing and had only five females and four male blues, but We were stormbound the next two days, the 28th expected to release more. The island was nicely wooded, and 29th—strong winds, heavy rain, and fog-topped and the men said there was an abundance of fish in mountain crests making fieldwork impossible. The the nearby waters, so they seemed optimistic about the overhead tended to break on the morning of the 30th, future of their project. although there was a continuous drizzle, but believing Typical weather of the archipelago continued, low- the weather might improve, we started up the mountain ering skies, rain, and considerable wind. We headed out —optimists, for it rained all day at lower elevations and Seymour Canal along the east coast of Admiralty. The tip snowed on top. Both of us were soaked to the skin before of Glass Peninsula was rounded into Stephens Passage, going 50 yards through dense blueberry thickets, and the distant mainland shores vaguely seen through the we found the going extremely hard into tangles of small rain and mist. Young and I joined Dick at the wheel as hemlock, devil’s club, and blueberry. After two hours’ we started north for the run back home in a pitching sea. work, tree line was reached, where it was snowing, but We were off Taku Harbor at midmorning and tied up at there were some of the finest park areas I had seen. the dock in Juneau some four hours later. We scanned the landscape along the crest with our glasses. A brown bear was located on dry ground where Killisnoo Island a snowslide had cleared all vegetation. He was on a little After our return from the third trip to Glacier Bay, on promontory slightly above us and apparently scented October 23, supplies were put aboard Dick Harris’ new us as we tried to approach, for he stood momentarily launch, the Inez, and next morning we crossed Menden- silhouetted against the sky and then slid down to heavy hall Bar and bucked swells to Point Retreat in Lynn Canal cover and out of sight. Several deer were seen, including on the north end of Admiralty. The Inez rolled ‘round the a big buck about 200 yards away, stretched out among Point, but the winds lessening gave us a smooth trip of 23

30 DENVER MUSEUM OF NATURE & SCIENCE REPORTS | No. 13, March 10, 2019 Life of a Museum Naturalist vol. 2 miles south, where anchor was dropped long after dark in Southern Islands the calm waters of Hawk Inlet. Our course next morning With Captain Jess Neville aboard the Murre in mid- was down Chatham Strait along the coast of Admiralty January, I went on an inspection trip southward to visit into strong south winds, heavy seas, and tide rips for seven fox farms in Hobart Bay and on Walter Island, along hours to tiny Killisnoo Island, shelter being made on the the mainland shore at the end of Stephens Passage. The east side of the Tlingit village named after the island. There launch was anchored for the night in Portage Bay on were about 250 people in the little settlement, the majority the northwest corner of Kupreanof Island, and then fishermen. Nearby on Admiralty was Angoon village where, we ran to a nearby little island where Jim Chaslik had next morning, we talked to Vincent Sobiloff, proprietor of a successful fox ranch. One of his female blues had the Kootznahoo Trading Post. He was a rugged individual- produced 12 kits, and he expected to get $600 a pair as ist who complained about the Indians killing deer, one breeding stock in the fall. That afternoon at Scow Bay man recently selling 17 to the Chatham cannery, which on the east side of Wrangell Narrows, many waterbirds the superintendent processed for friends “below” (the term were seen, including a string of 50 Arctic Loons passing used when referring to any of the states). across the horizon. After conferring with Fisheries In the late afternoon, a visit was made to Henry officials at Petersburg, we began the return to Juneau, Perham’s camp up Kootznahoo Inlet, a narrow, six-mile but were held back by a heavy Stikine wind and a blind- passage. He had built a nice headquarters and store with ing snowstorm, but were fortunate to reach shelter in an excellent trapping terrain nearby, and he confirmed Portage Bay for the night. The next day there were high that the natives were taking game out of season far in seas that forced us to ascend the Snettisham after dark excess of their own needs. My notes read: “Perham took and spend the night at Speel River, but the following me on a trip (October 27) among the reefs of the inlet morning, after looking over the pulp mills there, we soon after breakfast. They remind me of the Everglades of made the last leg of the trip without incident, tying up Florida with their moss-draped trees—Harlequins, Old- to the wharf in Juneau shortly after noon. This brief squaws, Buffleheads, Mallards, and Pintails abundant. five-day journey southward as far as Ketchikan was my Saw no deer. Left Perham at high water slack and headed last for the U.S. Biological Survey. up the coast of Admiralty toward home. As ‘the devil had At the conclusion of my Louisiana narrative, his slippers off,’ we had nice going and pounded straight I recorded that J.D. Figgins, Director of the Denver through to Hawk Inlet, arriving at 9:00 p.m.” museum, in 1919, prior to my accepting the position We tried to secure a deer at Point Retreat, several in Alaska, had offered me a curatorship in his museum being seen, but did not get a shot, and after the night at with an opportunity to do fieldwork in many places to Barlow Cove, we slipped over the bar at high tide and collect specimens for exhibits in an addition erected were back in Juneau after a week among some of the the previous year. I had been corresponding with Mr. most picturesque areas of the archipelago. Figgins throughout 1920, and as a result of my Alaskan My longtime friend George Willett moved from experiences, he renewed his offer early in 1921, saying Craig to Wrangell to continue his studies of the birds of he would like me to do fieldwork far north of the Arctic southeastern Alaska, and I joined him the last of Decem- Circle to collect groups of polar bear, caribou, seals, and ber. It seemed appropriate we should see the old year out walruses to be installed in the new Standley Wing, a most and the new in, for we had been together on a similar enticing suggestion. The “hitch,” of course, was that I occasion eight years previously on little Laysan island. enjoyed being the first naturalist to collect in many areas Our get-together was not particularly hilarious, for we of southeastern Alaska. A fine working arrangement had had been all day at the mouth of the Stikine on a rather been established with territorial officials and the Bureau strenuous survey and were glad to turn in at 10:00 and of Fisheries, and I had had many appreciative letters let the New Year’s arrival be celebrated by others. from Dr. Nelson and others of the Survey.

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The most important drawback to going into the necessary, but until comparatively recently it was the Arctic, however, was that our new addition to the family duty of naturalists not only to record the life history was only two months old, and so Muriel could not expect habits of species of interest but to preserve specimens to to go north with me. And at that time there were no authenticate their observations. radios or airplanes, all communications in winter being Arctic Alaskan birdlife was little known half a carried by dogsled. Nevertheless, there was something century ago at the time of the Denver museum’s fieldwork about the way Mr. Figgins worded his letter—far north along coastal areas. Therefore, extensive collecting was of the Arctic Circle—that appealed to my itchy foot. After imperative, and the results of our work and specimens days and weeks of hesitation, we decided the experience received during the next 25 years from men we trained in the North was worth the sacrifice entailed, and that it there have been reported in many articles. was logical to return to museum work for which we both Originally, it was planned that I would go north were trained, and especially to have the privilege of living alone, but the trustees of the Museum and Director J.D. in Denver, an ideal place to make our future home. Figgins decided I should have an assistant. My associate Consequently, in late February 1921, I wired my was Russell W. Hendee, just graduated from the Univer- resignation to Dr. Nelson to take effect not later than sity of Iowa—a most fortunate choice, for not only was April 1, suggesting Ernest Walker, former head of the he capable, but we formed a friendship which lasted Bureau of Fisheries, as my replacement and was pleased until his untimely death on an expedition in Indochina to receive a wire the next day asking me to reconsider some seven years later. Collecting in Arctic Alaska more my decision to resign. March was a busy time winding than half a century ago required months of planning. up affairs, but we still made short trips into the hills and It was necessary to go north in summer and spend the other areas adjacent to Juneau. Mr. Walker arrived on winter to be on hand for the spring migration, and sup- March 25, and I was able to go over uncompleted busi- plies had to be purchased and shipped by freighter to ness with him before our departure on April 5. Teller, above Nome, where they could be transferred to a We took an apartment in Denver for a month while northbound vessel. making arrangements for the northern journey, and This chronicle of fieldwork in Arctic Alaska is not then, on June 1st, went back to Iowa City where my wife intended as a story of adventures, but rather an account was established in a home near her parents and sisters to of museum men collecting specimens upon which are await my return from the Far North 16 months later. based reports of the many interesting species of birds and mammals now in the study collection or on display in the habitat groups in the Denver museum. No attempt has Alaska: The Far North, 1921–1922 been made to dramatize or narrate in detail events which are vague in memory after the passage of so many years. The lifeblood of natural history museums has been Museum men usually have definite objectives and, in the fieldwork, whether in local or faraway places. Speci- course of their labors, have interesting experiences, often mens collected for display or study, and data secured, routine because of circumstances, without deliberately have resulted in publications ranging from short notes exposing themselves to unnecessary risks. to scientific monographs. It should be noted that only Hendee and I carried everything that we felt nec- by collecting through the years has it been possible to essary for a year and a half of work in the Far North. acquire accurate information upon which are based the The trip ran off on schedule, and our activities during thousands of publications portraying the geographic 1921 and 1922 are summarized in the following pages, distribution of plants and animals. Museums now have the narrative being based on my journal notes made in extensive series of specimens from all parts of the world, the field and condensation of Museum Pictorial no. 22, and general collecting in well-known areas is no longer published in 1971.

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Journey North had observed an oil seepage east of Barrow, near Cape The old SS Victoria, which for years had been making the Simpson, and aboard the Victoria were representatives of run from Seattle to Nome, was packed with passengers two oil companies intending to file claims. as it pulled from the dock June 9, 1921. Hendee and I Perfect weather prevailed as the “Vic” plowed were perturbed to find that our “stateroom” was way northward. We were at the entrance of Unimak Pass on below decks. There were six other people crammed in the June 15 with flocks of murres, puffins, gulls, and fulmars limited space, lighted with one globe in the ceiling, but cruising about the ship, while off to the starboard on a quick trip to the purser enabled us to change quarters Unimak Island was active Shishaldin Volcano (9,372 feet), to an upper cabin. a cone of unusual symmetry and beauty, known locally Charles Brower, noted trader of Barrow who had as “Smokey Moses.” The view was one which stands out lived in the North since 1884, was the most important in memory and, as a consequence, this spectacular scene person aboard, from my standpoint (Fig. 2.12). Meeting was used on the panoramic background of the Peninsula him was the start of a friendship of long duration. He Brown Bear Group installed in the Denver museum. collected many specimens for the Denver museum in The Victoria arrived off Nome near midnight June following years, and on his occasional trips “below” he 17, while the sky was still golden from the glow of the always visited us, and to our daughters, he was “Uncle setting sun. As I stood at the railing looking shoreward Charlie.” With Brower was another well-known Alaskan, toward the old mining town, one of the black crewmen Tom Gordon, who had a trading post far east of Barrow asked me the time. Glancing at my watch, I replied that at Demarcation Point, eight miles west of the boundary it was twelve o’clock. There was a moment of silence, between Canada and Alaska, and was returning from and then he inquired, “Twelve o’clock—nighttime or his first trip “outside” in 20 years. In 1887, Brower daytime?”

Figure 2.12. Charles D. Brower with whale baleen plates, undated photo. Photographer unknown. DMNS No. IV.BA21-792.

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Pale streaks of light soon announced that day- When we returned to the nest the next morning, break was near, and a short time later the sun shone clouds of mosquitoes rose from the grass and circled from above Anvil Mountain. We were lightered ashore over the young; each little owl had his eyes closed to to Nome, which, with a population of less than 900, the merest slits because of the bright glare, and fringing was only a skeleton of the once flourishing community the eyelids were rows of mosquitoes, the abundance of of more than 12,000 in 1900 when miners gathered insects possibly being a definite limiting factor in the along the gold-bearing sands of the Bering Sea, but nesting success of some species of tundra birds. On this it still remained the leading city of the North and was occasion, the parents were not so fierce as previously but the outfitting and starting place for the Arctic and the now and then sailed overhead and subsequently alighted gold country above the Yukon. In its well-stocked stores, on a distant hummock. supplies were abundant, and the accommodations for The highlight of our visit to Nome was meeting the travelers and outfitters were of the best. famed Norwegian explorer Roald Amundsen (Fig. 2.13), The Golden Gate Hotel was made our headquar- who, with six companions in his sturdy 70-foot Gjøa in ters, and as it was still early, we took a walk before 1906, completed a three-year journey over the top of breakfast, locating a nest of robins in a pile of drift- North America, the first to navigate the ice-filled North- wood which had been piled on end above high tide mark along the shores of the Bering Sea. A pipit, many Longspurs, and sandpipers were noted on the tundra. The next morning, we accompanied Frank Dufresne, a naturalist who later became an authority on Alaskan animal life, on an all-day hike over the rolling expanse of tundra. Anvil Mountain and nearby foothills back of Nome were snow seamed, but the tundra plants were growing luxuriantly. Among the birds encountered were many Red Phalarope and golden-plover and a pair of Snowy Owls with young. The nest of the latter, a mere depression in the moss scantily lined with willow leaves, contained three addled eggs and four ungainly and homely young, their eyes tightly closed against the brightness of the northern light. As photographic subjects they were most unsatisfactory, for they huddled together with their faces hidden, looking like so many pieces of cotton. The adults made things interesting. At our approach, they had soared to a distant mound, but soon the male, a beautiful white specimen, sailed overhead, uttering his hoarse “who-who,” and then circling, darted toward us, his wings whistling and talons outstretched. He dropped from the sky on folded wing with great speed, and time and again I caught myself dodging his onslaught. But most of his attention was given to Jerry, my bewildered Figure 2.13. Roald Amundsen, Nome, Alaska, Airedale, who crouched in the grass with a slit ear, not June 1921. DMNS No. IV.BA21-420A. knowing from where the attack came.

34 DENVER MUSEUM OF NATURE & SCIENCE REPORTS | No. 13, March 10, 2019 Life of a Museum Naturalist vol. 2 west Passage. Five years later, he discovered the South Pole (December 11, 1911). During the winter of 1920 and ‘21, adverse currents carried his polar ship Maud (which was endeavoring to reach the North Pole) toward the Siberian coast, where it was caught in the ice. Amund- sen secured passage across Bering Strait on the trading boat Herman, arriving in Nome June 17, in the hope of getting help to free his vessel from the Arctic pack. I was privileged to talk with Amundsen on several occasions, and in response to my query, he reported numbers of the rare Ross’ Gulls off the Siberian coast earlier in the month. He was a friendly man, and an excerpt from my Figure 2.14. Russell W. Hendee and Jerry, notes of June 18, 1921, reads: Icy Cape, Alaska, September 1921. DMNS No. IV.BA21-432F. Captain Amundsen arrived in Nome yes- terday on the Herman from Cape Serdze, There were many interesting people in Nome—oil Siberia. He is accompanied by two Eskimo men rushing toward the Arctic to stake claims, miners children, both strikingly dressed in reindeer in search of gold, school teachers on summer vacation, parkas, almost pure white, with collars and a few of the old-time prospectors who had decided of young polar bear. They wore deerskin to remain in the North. Hendee asked one miner about mukluks. Amundsen is a tall, fine-looking weather conditions and was told that they had “nine man with a very pronounced hooked nose, months winter and three months doggone late in the light hair, and a rather light complexion for fall.” One character we encountered had been spending one who is exposed to all sorts of weather. some time with Eskimos of the Diomede Islands in the The tight fit of his coat reveals the great middle of Bering Strait. He said he was an archaeologist, strength of his developed arms and chest, and when he learned Hendee and I were museum men, and his rather ambling, shuffling gait, as he he cautiously whispered to us, “Say, I know a wonderful leans slightly forward, indicates his ability cemetery that ain’t been picked.” as a musher. Cruise of the Bear Amundsen, in the summer of 1922, with Lieuten- Originally Hendee and I planned to travel north on a ant Omdal of the Norwegian Navy, was the first to take trading vessel from Nome to the little Eskimo village of an airplane to the Arctic coast at Wainwright. I had Wainwright, our proposed headquarters, 100 miles south- left the village by dogsled, traveling down the coast to west of Barrow, but while still in Denver, I learned that the Wales village in Bering Strait before their arrival, but captain of the U.S. Revenue and Coast Guard Cutter Bear, my assistant, Russell Hendee (Fig. 2.14), remained at which had been making annual runs for many years to Wainwright for summer collecting and became well Point Barrow, was C.S. Cochran (Fig. 2.15). Years previ- acquainted with Amundsen and Omdal. They built a ously, I had been with him in Hawaiian waters on the house which they christened “Maudheim” and planned Revenue Cutter Thetis, and a wire to the captain brought to fly their plane to Spitsbergen, an attempt they were a reply that he not only would take us and our several unable to make. I think my sled driver, Upiksom, was the tons of supplies to our winter base at Wainwright but also first Eskimo to go up in a plane as a survey was made of on the summer cruise aboard the famous Bear to islands the nearby Arctic tundra. in the Bering Sea and to the Siberian coast.

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For many summers the famous Bear had bucked the ice of the polar seas to reach Barrow, the north- ernmost settlement of Alaska, with mail supplies and medical aid, bringing law enforcement to that vast region bordering the Arctic Ocean and aid to many shipwrecked sailors. The vessel, built for duty as an Arctic whaler in Dundee, Scotland, in 1874, was purchased ten years later by the U.S. Navy to accompany the Thetis and the Alert on the Greely Relief Expedition. In 1921 the Bear had been in Arctic service for 35 years, and Captain Cochran, one of the most popular “ice captains,” completed his seventeenth trip into the Far North. Hendee and I boarded the Bear the afternoon of June 26 for the start of the cruise to some of the islands of the Bering Sea and to the Siberian coast, and we were comfortably located in the captain’s cabin. Four other passengers were stowed away in the Ward Room, including a well-known sportsman, John Burnham; Andy Taylor, a guide on one of the early climbs of Mount McKinley; Mr. Watkins of the U.S. Geodetic Survey; and Mr. Dupertius of the Alaska Division of the Bureau of Education, another of the many representatives of the Bureau to whom we were indebted for advice and help. Figure 2.15. Captain C.S. Cochran and his He was on his way to oversee the construction of a new border collie, Thor, on the Bear, June 1921. schoolhouse on Saint Lawrence Island. DMNS No. IV.BA21-340C. The sun was still high as the Bear left Nome, The Bear arrived off Nome the last week in heading in a generally northerly direction along the June, and our equipment was put aboard. Eight years coast, the mountain ridges far back across the tundra had passed since I had last seen Captain Cochran being mirrored in glassy waters. Occasional bands of after the conclusion of enjoyable trips with him to Pacific Kittiwakes drifted ahead, and Tufted Puffins skit- and from Laysan and Midway at the north end of tered over the surface, their grotesque yellow tufts and the Hawaiian Leeward Islands. I was pleased that red beaks showing plainly in the twilight of the northern the “Officer of the Day” of the Bear was Lieutenant evening. The sun barely dropped below the horizon. The Clement Todd, an old acquaintance, for he too had night was cool and clear, and the steep cliffs of Sledge been on the Thetis on the Hawaiian cruise. He was a Island loomed dark against the rosy west as we passed native of Colorado and had attended high school in along the Alaskan shore. Wheat Ridge, just west of Denver. A school classmate of his, M.A. Ransom, was a newly appointed officer King Island. Rugged King Island was reached in the on the Bear, who later, as a lieutenant commander, grayness of early morning, and although a chill wind published an account of our Arctic voyage under title created quite a slop, the natives put out from land in of the Sea of the Bear (Ransom 1964) in which he their little skin kayaks, handling the fragile skiffs with made numerous references to the activities of “the amazing dexterity. Soon the deck of the ship was crowded museum men from Denver.” with smiling, good-natured Eskimos, who brought

36 DENVER MUSEUM OF NATURE & SCIENCE REPORTS | No. 13, March 10, 2019 Life of a Museum Naturalist vol. 2 carved ivory and walrus tusks to barter. Quite a brisk The Eskimos had had a very successful season, trade developed, the sailors swapping anything they had, having taken many walrus, 12 polar bear, and a whale from chewing gum to sweaters, for the trinkets offered. which had been found dead. The diet of the people con- The island, about two miles wide and possibly 600 feet sisted mainly of meat, although they purchased flour, high and extremely precipitous, was crowned with great sugar, and other supplies from passing trading vessels. jutting boulders among which were myriads of nesting Above the village, Hendee and I climbed over the birds. A landing was made at the village of about 150 broken boulders which formed the nesting grounds of Eskimos, the houses placed precariously against the steep Least Auklets; far down in the crannies could be heard cliffs, their fronts ten or more feet from the ground sup- their guttural cries, while a cloud of the fast-flying birds ported by poles held by lines of walrus hide fastened to swarmed overhead. Snow Buntings were abundant, the boulders (Fig. 2.16). Some structures were of two rooms, males singing from prominent perches, and equally the front of canvas and the back a couple of layers of numerous were Alaskan Longspurs and small sandpipers walrus skins, the amount of wall space being dependent on the grass-crowned top—and by way of contrast, a few upon the size of the hides. The natives were vigorous and attentive mosquitoes made their presence known. healthy, few reporting to the Bear’s doctor for care. Only A cool breeze blew toward the distant range of hills one serious case was encountered, a little boy who had to the east that marked the mainland shore, while far off to broken his leg and had been without aid for three weeks the north could be seen a great sheet of ice which had been except for the primitive attempts of the islanders to set near the island the day before. The blowing of a siren cut the bone. He was in poor condition, and Captain Cochran short our climbing. We hurried down the slopes and back held the Bear over so the youngster could be given all the to the ship, the anchor was lifted, and the Bear headed attention possible. south toward Saint Lawrence Island. Pack ice was skirted

Figure 2.16. Village on King Island, Alaska, June 27, 1921. DMNS No. IV.BA21-450F.

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all night, the vessel bucking into pans here and there near the island in 1778 and 1779, Otto von Kotzebue in where ice impeded our progress. The sea was calm with a 1816, and Captain Beechey with HMS Blossom in 1826. silver sheen. Scarcely a breath of wind stirred the rigging, Anchor was dropped the following morning, June 29, off and strings of Pacific Eider straggled so close to the surface Gambell village (named for Presbyterian missionaries of the water that their images were mirrored, while ice Mr. and Mrs. V.C. Gambell, who were on the island from cakes on the distant horizon were miraged into fantastic 1894–1898), but owing to the fog, we could see only a shapes, sometimes like high slender columns projecting short distance. Umiak-loads of grinning natives came into space, and again as large masses of ice balancing on aboard, each one carrying carved ivory for barter. Even pinnacles. In the early morning, the cutter worked slowly the smallest skin-clad tot would draw alongside with in a dense fog, but as the sun warmed to its work, the mist several pieces held out for inspection, hoping to secure gradually thinned and the rugged crest of Saint Lawrence sticks of chewing gum in exchange. The Eskimos carried Island loomed ahead, its worn slopes still covered with a on a lively business with the sailors, the noisy natives mantle of snow that extended to the shoreline. Snowdrifts packing the boat until Lieutenant Todd drove them off filled the valleys, some hanging suspended against steep by the simple expedient of shoving them toward the cliffs like miniature mountain glaciers. gangway and shouting, “G’bye.” Hendee and I ran ashore with a load of departing Saint Lawrence Island. A stop was made off the villagers and trudged across the wide-open, pebble beach reindeer camp of Savoonga June 28, for the captain desired to the straggling collection of igloos comprising the a supply of meat. We landed in an umiak near the ruins of village. The houses were built of planks or of driftwood Kook’alook, where there had been a great famine in 1878, with roofs of walrus skins. Drying racks of whale jaws a tragedy caused, the Eskimos said, by two hunters who were appendages of many of the igloos and split walrus caught a walrus and skinned it alive. The more realistic skins on caches were stretched and drying in the sun Captain Cochran explained it otherwise. He said natives of (Fig. 2.17). The natives were a friendly lot, full of fun the village had secured whiskey from traders and were kept and always good natured. Some spoke English, especially drunk at the time when they should have been providing the younger generation, as the Alaska Bureau of Educa- for their winter needs, with starvation the inevitable result, tion had maintained a school on the island, and so we 200 people dying during the winter. Their old huts, merely had no difficulty on our tour of the village. I knocked a jumble of whale ribs and walrus bones, were all that on the door of one igloo and was surprised when a voice marked the site of the former village. called out, “Come in and take the rocking chair!” — the The reindeer herders had a camp on the gentle slope only English the old man knew, evidently picked up from of the harbor, their sharp-eared Siberian dogs staked some person with a sense of humor. close to the tents. A few reindeer were grazing nearby, but As we desired specimens from Saint Lawrence the main herd was far back in the hills. The querulous Island, Hendee remained to do fieldwork when the Bear notes of many Least Auklets, nesting beneath boulders of left that evening, plowing westward through loose ice a cliff adjacent to the camp, could be heard, and there along the edge of a great floe. A red sunset threw the was a continuous going and coming of the swift-flying jagged peaks of the Siberian shore into sharp relief, the birds. Oldsquaw Ducks were upon every pond, and a small dark masses, devoid of vegetation, solid black in the half- band of Emperor Geese swung so close we could see their light of the northern midnight. The weather was calm white heads and black-edged feathers. when the cutter turned into the entrance to Providence The 95-mile-long treeless island, the largest in the Bay, the Chukchi Peninsula shoreline having the general Bering Sea, is about 50 miles from the Siberian coast and appearance of the Alaskan Peninsula with snow-topped a little more than 100 from Alaskan shores. It was discov- mountains skirting the coast, the slopes dropping pre- ered by Vitus Bering August 11, 1728. Captain Cook sailed cipitously to the beach. The bay was a large fjord with

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Figure 2.17. Gambell village house, St. Lawrence Island, Alaska, June 29, 1921. DMNS No. IV.BA21-501. numerous branches, one of which, Plover Bay, was nearly would confiscate them. As a consequence, Andy Taylor enclosed by a sandspit. Ten miles farther on was Emma (with a .45 handy) had to spend the day perched upon Harbor, still choked with ice, but the season being late, the duffle (already unloaded), while diplomatic proceed- the Bear rammed into the rotten floes and anchored. ings were going on. Since the Russian did not know from whom to get a permit for collecting, and Burnham was Emma Harbor, Siberia. An American trader, Billy without credentials for working in Siberia, he was forced Thompson, had a shack in the village but was encamped to seek another place as a base. along the shore near his schooner so he could be on hand Our anchorage in Emma Harbor was a landlocked when the ice should go out. We visited him the morning of fjord with steep, unworn slopes which, even that late in June 30, and his first question concerned the Bolshevists, the summer, were snow covered. The melting ice went out who ruled that part of Siberia. Some of the natives thought of the harbor on the third day, carrying the Bear with it, the United States must be at war with Russia since the but the cutter steamed back, the fires were drawn, and the Bear was in gray paint, but that did not prevent the whole task of cleaning the boilers was started. While this work population from turning out. Our visit was less than four was being accomplished, there was ample opportunity for years after the Bolshevik revolution of late 1917, resulting me to carry on biological investigations in the near vicin- in a civil war which extended into 1920. ity, without the consent of the Bolshevik in charge. In charge of the settlement of possibly 20 people Fortunately, I secured a Chukchi assistant, A-a-one was a Russian, a tall, slender man, inclined to be difficult. by name, the owner of a small, handy rowboat made from Burnham and Taylor were representing the U.S. Bureau a single walrus skin stretched over a well-made frame of of Biological Survey in an attempt to secure a presumed driftwood, and I agreed to pay him one pound of tobacco undescribed species of mountain sheep from the rugged for each half day of work (Fig. 2.18). This Siberian, a Siberian mountains, but the official would not allow picturesque fellow dressed in deerskins, his glossy, black Burnham and Taylor to land their supplies, declaring he hair trimmed about the crown, carried a knife dangling

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big brown bear. Me ‘fraid. Me run home. Gun break, me die. Me young man, no want die. Old man no care. Me ‘fraid.” And he concluded his story with a good-natured grin. On our return that first evening, he asked as further pay that I give him a deck of cards. “No,” I said, “You want to play poker. You want to gamble.” “Oh, no!” he protested, “Me no savvy poker. Me no gamble. Me makum two pair. Me ketchum straight.” On one occasion he was rowing through drifting ice, the steep walls of the harbor mirrored in quiet waters. I was lolling in the stern with a gun across my knees and a paddle alongside and was watching a band of Pacific Eider floating some distance away. A-a-one interrupted my reverie by asking, “Your papa a rich man, huh?” To my natural query of, “Why do you think so?” he replied, pointing at the unused paddle, “Oh, you no work.” That was when I learned a white man was expected to do his full share of labor. Other natives at Emma Harbor spoke English —men who had accompanied whaling ships into the Arctic as crew members. According to custom, they were dropped off as the vessels returned on the southward journey in the fall, but occasionally ice conditions along the Siberian coast were so bad that the Eskimos were carried “outside,” to California or elsewhere. One old native, proud of his English, told me that he often Figure 2.18. A.M. Bailey’s Chukchi assistant, sailed northward and, due to heavy ice, could not return A-a-one, Emma Harbor, Siberia, July 1921. home. He described his travels by saying that he had been DMNS No. IV.BA21-003. to Seattle, to San Francisco, to Honolulu, to Guam and then, running out of names, he concluded by throwing crossways from his belt in front and the usual sealskin his arms upward in frustration and exclaiming, “Me, I pouch for the ammunition of his Winchester rifle. been all over hell.” A-a-one and I worked far up the harbor, taking a few Fairly numerous in the waters of Emma Harbor were eider, and we bounced up on one cake of ice and down Pacific, King, and Steller’s Eider, and the downy young of a another until I had a healthy respect for the strength of pair of Rock Sandpipers were photographed on the tundra. that light, skin craft. The males of the Pacific Eider were wonderfully fine birds, My companion was of a talkative disposition, being the iridescent color of their heads and necks contrasting proud of his linguistic ability. He told me he spoke “native, with the white of the upper body plumage. white man, and Russian” and was very frank as to his lack Time passed rapidly, working in such an interest- of bravery. Accompanied with appropriate gestures, he ing region. On July 6 Burnham, Taylor, and I made a trip described his meeting with a Siberian grizzly bear. across Providence Bay to climb the mountains in search “Me go down valley by dogsled. You savvy dogsled? of mountain sheep, but no recent signs were discovered. Me see bear, no white bear, no white bear. He all right. Him The rugged hills were barren, and the only tracks found

40 DENVER MUSEUM OF NATURE & SCIENCE REPORTS | No. 13, March 10, 2019 Life of a Museum Naturalist vol. 2 were those of an Arctic fox and of small ground squir- Whalen, Siberia. The easternmost point of land rels, and there were a few Snow Buntings. In my notes, in Siberia, East Cape, was a bold, rugged mountain, I recorded: “Found a nest and six eggs of the Swinhoe’s and the little Eskimo village of Whalen, just to the Wagtail; fell 20 feet with it, breaking the eggs and, northward, was built on a gravel bar backed by a fine almost, my neck. The nest was in a little crevice up in a saltwater lagoon. The Siberian people were prosperous crumbling rock cliff facing the water. It was made with for that part of the world, for they caught a considerable grass and mud and lined with feathers. Had a miserable number of walrus, and traders were accustomed to using trip back, rowing against a cold north wind.” the settlement as a base. The task of “blowing the boilers” being completed, Mr. Byschoff, the Russian commissioner, and the Bear dropped down Providence Bay and headed back his assistant were in charge of affairs, and Captain to Saint Lawrence Island to pick up Hendee the next Cochran arranged for Hendee and me to go ashore to day. The fine work of the Bureau of Education among secure the collecting permit for Burnham. With the aid the natives of Alaska was emphasized by a comparison of an interpreter, I finally made the young commis- between the Eskimos of Saint Lawrence Island and those sioner understand what I wanted, a permit to collect of the Siberian coast. Captain Cochran told us he had sheep. He replied that he could not give me one “as witnessed a great improvement in the Saint Lawrence there are no sheep.” He finally compromised by grant- Islanders during the many years he had known them and ing a permit to collect any species of mammal. (Later, added that it was the direct result of education. in Nome, I delivered the permit to Billy Thompson, he The mountain sheep hunters Burnham and in turn giving it to John Burnham and Andy Taylor on Taylor, with supplies, were landed on Saint Lawrence Saint Lawrence Island. They had Eskimos take them Island July 8, and arrangements were made with the to the Siberian coast, and in late July or early August natives to take them back to the Siberian coast. I agreed 1921, they collected five mountain sheep which are to secure a permit for them from Russian officials at in the U.S. National Museum (U.S.N.M. nos. 242245 Whalen, Siberia, if possible, and to forward it with Billy through 242249). Thompson of Emma Harbor, whom I expected to see at We were fortunate in that we met a white trader Nome. Certainly, all this was a roundabout way to obtain who interpreted for me. He had spent many years along a hunting license. the Siberian coast and was an interesting fellow with a As the Bear pulled away from Saint Lawrence Island, wealth of stories of that wild region. He volunteered the a wireless was received expressing anxiety concerning the information that he had lived in Nome, in fact, had spent safety of Amundsen’s vessel the Maud, and Captain Cochran a restful year in the jail there for selling liquor to natives, immediately started north to give aid, if necessary. That and he wound up his life history by adding, “I’d a whole evening there was a severe blow which caused the Bear lot rather be in jail in Nome than live over here.” to toss and pitch in the short, choppy waves of the Bering There was a cold wind blowing steadily off the ice Sea, the wind whistling through the rigging and across the to the north, and the gray, sullen clouds obscured the deck with appalling force. After a disagreeable night, a lee sun, making the day cold and disagreeable for us but was made north of East Cape where, on July 10, we rode not for the thousands of buoyant Red Phalarope nesting out the worst storm of our trip, along with the trading boat in the sheltered waters. Immense flocks would rise, Herman and also the Maud, which had finally worked sometimes flying almost out of sight and again swinging clear of the ice. The crew of the latter staunch little vessel low, as erratic in motion as Tumbler Pigeons. We worked was relieved to see the Bear, for the Maud’s round bottom, along the beach to observe the phalarope feeding close built for ice work, was not fitted to sail against the swift, to shore, and as we walked along, those nearest flew up northward-moving currents on either side of the Diomede against the wind, passing within ten feet, a continual Islands in the middle of Bering Strait. rising of the graceful birds.

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During the night, the wind switched to the south- Maud in tow. The cutter headed through Bering Strait west, and the next day was bright and warm. Early in the and passed east of the Diomedes, the American and morning, we heard the popping of guns in the village Russian islands with the International Dateline and, from the Bear, could see the natives shooting eider. passing between. When near Saint Lawrence Island, Captain Cochran sent us ashore with a volunteer crew, the Maud, with some of the shipwrecked sailors picked and Hendee and I ran into an unusual experience in up at Whalen, was turned loose to make her own way duck hunting. The village consisted of the typical huts toward Dutch Harbor, where further help would be of Siberian natives, round igloos or barabaras covered given her, and we made for Nome, arriving there the with walrus skins weighted down with large stones tied morning of July 15. together with hide lines. The eider of four species fol- lowed the shoreline in flight, cutting across the sandspit directly over the settlement to the ocean beyond. It was an exceedingly picturesque setting. The Chukchis did not hide. They whistled, jumped up and down with waving arms, and made all the noise possible just before the eider were overhead. Instead of rising, as most frightened birds would, the whole flock usually dived downward into range, and all the natives in the vicinity fired their home-loaded, black-powder shells. The Siberians fired promiscuously, and the falling birds rained down, sometimes bounding in the air when they landed on the skin houses. Not all the hunters were armed with guns, for some of the boys and men used bird bolos with good effect (Fig. 2.19). These were round pieces of ivory or bone, each on a rawhide thong, the ends of which were bound together. When a native hurled the primitive weapon into the air, the balls would spread out umbrella-like, and the strings would entangle any bird unfortunate enough to be in the way. When not in use, bolos often were carried bound around the natives’ heads. King and Pacific Eiders were the most common, although there were flocks of Steller’s and Spectacled. Most were males, changing into the eclipse plumage, returning from their breeding grounds farther north, where the females still remained to attend to the housekeeping and the responsibility of raising the young. Seven shipwrecked Americans were at East Cape, three from the schooner Gertrude, which had been broken by the ice a few days previously, and four from Figure 2.19. Chukchi boy with bolo wrapped the Casco party that had been stranded in Siberia around his head, Whalen, Siberia, July 12, for two years. They all were given passage when the 1921. DMNS No. IV.BA21-766. Bear left East Cape July 13 with Amundsen’s schooner

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Saint Michael. At Nome, the Bear remained anchored patches, and down steep slopes, now and then flushing offshore only a few days until the SS Victoria arrived flocks of Willow Ptarmigan. We watched a pair of circling from Seattle with mail, and then it headed for Saint Rough-legged Hawks which, without too much difficulty, Michael on the south coast of Norton Sound, northeast climbed to their nest on an overhanging cliff where the about 100 miles from the mouth of the Yukon River, to three naked youngsters, panting in the direct rays of the take on coal and fresh water for the northern cruise. The sun, posed for the first photographs to be taken of the village, with about 350 inhabitants, mostly Eskimos, was Siberian race of the species. built along the shores of a shallow bay. Numerous rocky In his account of this summer cruise of the Bear, islets and jutting peninsulas broke the shoreline, while M.A. Ransom (Ransom 1964) recorded: small, cone-like mountains on the horizon, old volcano craters, relieved the monotony of the rolling tundra. It At Golovnin Bay, we were at “all hands” was the fate of many cities of the Far North that the glory again as we lowered our boats with the of their past was greater than their importance at the landing parties. time of our visit. This was true of Saint Michael, an old As usual, Mr. Watkins trundled ashore Russian trading post, a thriving place when the gold rush with his pup tent and instruments. Also in that to Nome was at its height. As a reminder of days gone boat were the two young men we’d picked up by were two old Russian blockhouses with gun openings earlier in Nome, Alfred M. Bailey and Russell pointed seaward, and a steamship cemetery lined the W. Hendee. As biological specimen hunters, beach, a sad sight of many fine, old-time, Yukon stern- they were out to collect specimens of birds wheelers pulled above the high tide to slowly rot away. No and animal life for the Denver Museum of longer would they ply up the great river with a cargo of Natural History. Consequently, each time supplies for the interior and with miners, trappers, and the Bear stopped long enough for a landing pleasure seekers aboard. party, Bailey and Hendee were the first in Like Nome, Saint Michael had many abandoned the boat, away to hunt and to trade with buildings, houses, and stores, the Northern Commercial the natives for odds and ends of the region, Company being about the only thriving establishment. which they would use in their intended The American military base, with a contingent of about display of northern life. With them, too, was 150 soldiers and officers, was active, and we were invited a husky brute of an Airedale dog who thrived into several homes, our impression being that the men on ship life and hunting on the tundra flats, were enjoying the frontier life, and the wives were much to the dismay of poor Thor (Captain anxious to get going to any place but Saint Michael. Cochran’s dog). The morning of July 26, anchor was dropped in Now, after having been placed ashore, Golovnin Bay, a beautiful, sunny day for a change, and they began to hunt, and soon we could hear almost immediately a native came alongside, his skin the reports of their guns echoing across the canoe loaded with salmon, a welcome addition to our bogs and ice-encrusted bays. Before long, food supply. The precipitous cliffs forming the harbor they rowed back to the Bear and climbed were bright in sunlight, and a cool breeze tugged at the aboard ship with triumphant grins and arm- flags of the Bear and rippled the calm surface of the bay. loads of treasures. This time, they had some The sailors spent the day taking water from a small, clear ivory, a few bones of seals and walrus, and stream and transferring it to the cutter by the simple some seabirds. They immediately headed for method of filling one of the boats and towing it to the the well where they skinned their catch, then ship. Hendee and I enjoyed our first swim in the Bering treated the feathers and hides for packing Sea and then hiked over the barren hills, through alder and later shipment to the outside.

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“I don’t get it,” said Happy, shaking they found he could pick up a silver dollar from the his head. “There they are, buried up to their wardroom floor—and they then tried a dime, which the elbows in blood, gore, and chemicals, and yet enthusiastic Jerry promptly lapped up and returned to they’re having the time of their lives.” an outstretched hand. Whenever there was a landing, the “Does seem strange,” I agreed. “But wise old dog seemed to know it, and when a sailor took then maybe they think we’re loco for being a tarp from one of the boats, Jerry would bound onto the sailors. Anyway, you’ve got to agree, they’re railing and into the cutter, often sitting in the stern for good-natured, and they also provide us with two hours until the craft was lowered for the trip ashore. a few laughs now and then.” Jerry was a valuable retriever, among his prizes later in the fall being Ivory and Ross’ Gulls, and the first North My dog Jerry was the “husky brute of an Airedale” American specimen of the Baikal Teal, which would oth- mentioned above, my constant companion in the field erwise have been lost. Often he pulled in the harness on (Fig. 2.20). I had acquired him in Juneau earlier in the my long dogsled trip from Barrow to Wales at the western year, and he proved such an excellent hunter I decided tip of the continent; and he left descendants in villages to take him north with us. Jerry endeared himself to all from Demarcation Point to Bering Strait, much to the the men on the Bear. He lived forward [on the boat] and annoyance of the owners of the malamutes. made the rounds of the mess tables, the bosun claiming Jerry was the best man he had. The sailors often kept The Arctic Cruise. The anchor was dropped at Nome the dog busy by tossing items for him to retrieve, and in the early morning of July 27, and the Bear set out the next afternoon for the Arctic cruise. Port Clarence was reached at daybreak, and we rowed to Teller, a small village consisting of a lighterage company, a store, and a post office. Captain Beechey, in 1827, visited the location and reported some Eskimos had established themselves at the point for the purpose of catching and drying fish. Our three tons of supplies had been sent from Seattle to Teller on the Ruby, but the Lady Kindersley, a trading vessel of the Hudson’s Bay Company, had arrived ahead of us, so it was necessary to wait for the use of the lighter to load our shipment and the school supplies for Wainwright and Barrow, that had been stored in the warehouses. This work consumed a day and a night, and the crew of the Bear put the time to good use by going through their various drills, ending with target practice. After leaving Teller, the cutter followed along the south coast of Seward Peninsula to the Eskimo settlement of Wales, a little over 100 miles above Nome, arriving at 6:00 the evening of July 30. Wales, the westernmost village of Alaska, situated on a peninsula on the shores Figure 2.20. A.M. Bailey with Jerry, of Bering Strait, was strategically located for the hunting Wainwright, Alaska, 1921. Photograph of walrus and whales on their northward migration. probably by R.W. Hendee. DMNS No. Some of my supplies were put ashore and stored in the IV.BA21-032. schoolhouse under the care of Arthur Nagozruk, the

44 DENVER MUSEUM OF NATURE & SCIENCE REPORTS | No. 13, March 10, 2019 Life of a Museum Naturalist vol. 2 headman of the village, as it was my intention to travel crowned in the sullen mantle of black clouds, loomed for- the 650 miles from Wainwright, our winter base on the biddingly as we scudded past with all sails set. Its rugged Arctic coast, to this point by dogsled the following March cliffs dropped sheer into deep water, and small crannies and to make the vicinity of Cape Prince of Wales the field and gullies spouted little streams being fed by the falling of my spring work. rain. Eight months later, I was to travel over the sea ice The stopover at Wales was brief, time only being with my dog team at the base of the towering walls. allowed to bring aboard Dr. Henry W. Greist and his family, Point Hope, the long protruding sandspit, was who were going to Barrow to take charge of the Presbyte- rounded about noon, and anchor was dropped in the rian mission and hospital. The trip through Bering Strait sheltered waters. In the afternoon, the rain slackened, into the Chukchi Sea (Arctic Ocean) and off to the right changing into a veil of mist and intermittent drizzle, into Kotzebue Sound on August 1 was a pleasant one, the giving all hands an opportunity to go ashore and enjoy water being so shallow that the Bear had to anchor about the hospitality of Dr. and Mrs. Thomas, who had charge of 12 miles south of the village of Kotzebue. the mission. The Eskimo village of Tigara consisted of sod A point on Baldwin Peninsula extending into Kotze- igloos built upon the end of the sandspit, a desolate setting bue Sound was named Cape Blossom by Captain Beechey in devoid of vegetation, except for moss and small grasses, 1826 for his vessel, HMS Blossom, on his voyage of explo- across which the wind often swept with great violence. Nev- ration to the Kotzebue Sound area. The area was historic ertheless, the site of this Eskimo village was one of the best grounds, ornithologically speaking, for Joseph Grinnell hunting areas in all northern Alaska, for the ice shifted and several other prominent scientists had collected there back and forth, allowing some open water throughout the many years before. I wanted to work the vicinity briefly, year, and the long peninsula gave shelter for boats, no and Captain Cochran kindly allowed a volunteer crew of matter from which direction the wind blew. five men to accompany us to the Cape, merely a high part Tigara was a very old village. The dead, for gen- of the tundra rising with abrupt, mud-covered slopes to erations, had been exposed on racks, and as the wooden some 30 feet above the sea. No rocks were visible, the solid platforms disintegrated, the remains scattered over the ice showing at the surface where the banks had caved. tundra. A few years previous to our visit, all the people The tundra was covered sparsely with willow, but grasses were enlisted to collect the bones of the former inhabit- grew in profusion, the white heads of Alaska Cotton, blown ants. A huge pit was dug and into this single grave, we gently by a cool breeze, making the summer flats look were told, were put more than 1,000 skulls. The spot was like shimmering snowfields. Placid lagoons dotting the marked by a large cross and enclosed with a fence made broad expanse mirrored hurrying fleecy clouds, and often of whale ribs, with corner and gate posts formed by the resonant, echoing kok-ar-ow calls of Red-throated Loons enormous jaws of a bowhead whale. At the time of our were heard. Several coveys of ptarmigan were flushed visit, there were still many human skulls lying half-buried and enough collected for our evening meal, so we were in the sand. Ancient implements of stone and ivory were extremely popular with our shipmates. found commonly around the old “burial” places, and the Soon the Bear was on course toward Point Hope, natives made a practice of gathering these curios for barter discovered by the Russians in the late 1700s and named with the sailors. So flourishing was the trade that several August 2, 1826, by Captain Beechey in honor of Sir experts in the manufacture of “ancient relics” developed William J. Hope. There were a fair wind and a dirty sea, among the natives. They became skilled in making “old the waves rolling so high an occasional breaker washed ivory” by boiling the new in coffee and then sold their the deck, and by next morning, the coastline was dimly work to the gullible crew members. visible to starboard through the curtain of mist and rain; Sandpipers feeding along the little pools which all was gloomy and uninviting. Precipitous Cape Thomp- covered the rain-soaked spit were abundant on that stormy son (named by Captain Beechey), its overhanging crest afternoon. Red-backed, Pectoral, and Baird’s Sandpipers,

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Red Phalarope, and golden-plover swirled around in from a pond, her brood of small young, unable to fly, flocks, while several bands of pintail ducks flushed from fluttering over the water. Jerry spent a busy half hour the grass-bordered edges of the ponds. Murres passed at retrieving them; he would grab a downy youngster, swim sea by the thousands en route to their breeding grounds on to the bank, carefully lay it down, and return to catch the sheer cliffs of Cape Lisburne, while Snow Buntings and another, the recently deposited duckling promptly fol- Alaskan Longspurs hopped about almost underfoot. lowing the dog back into the lake. Jerry retrieved ducks We were on our way the following morning, August until he was exhausted. 3, the revenue cutter sailing along the bold 1,500-foot On the way northward from the Corwin coal mine, walls of Cape Lisburne about 40 miles northeast of Tigara there was little ice, although the Bear plowed through —the Cape, discovered and named by the great English occasional fields where, well offshore from Icy Cape, herds explorer Captain James Cook on August 21, 1778, being of walrus were congregated upon many of the pans. These known to travelers of the coast as a dangerous place both were historic waters, for Captain Cook, on his last journey in summer and winter because of the severe winds which of exploration in 1778 searching for the Northwest arise so suddenly. The stratifications of the rocks with Passage, terminated his northward journey off the cape. their bell-shaped anticlines were plainly visible, while He recorded on August 15: “The eastern extreme forms a dense growths, evidently of alder or willow, were seen in point which was much encumbered with ice; for which some of the valleys. Murres and puffins, which nested on reason, it obtained the name Icy Cape.” (Orth 1967) With the cliffs, skittered over the surface of the ocean from Cook was master navigator Bligh, later to gain fame as all directions, a few kittiwakes hovering alongside the Captain Bligh of The Mutiny on the Bounty. ship. Lisburne was rounded and anchor dropped some 25 It was in this area in the summer and fall of 1871 miles to the east off the Corwin coal mine, so called by that 29 vessels, accustomed each season to work the ice- Captain C.L. Hooper because his ship, the Cutter Corwin, filled waters in search of bowhead whales, met disaster. secured 20 tons of coal there in 1881 from exposed seams The captains of the vessels, which were caught firmly in along the ocean, back in the days when whaling vessels the ice, held a conference, and on September 14, all hands swarmed over the Arctic waters. abandoned their ships and worked their way southward Extensive beds of coal are exposed along many of through narrow leads or hauled their boats over the rough the rivers draining into the Arctic Ocean northeast of Cape ice, eventually reaching open water near Icy Cape, where Lisburne, especially those heading into Wainwright Inlet, they boarded other vessels standing by to give aid. where we expected, later in the fall, to secure a supply for The Bear, cruising in the same waters a full half- our winter needs. I was intrigued that such deposits of century later, encountered little ice off the Arctic village lignite should occur and wondered when climatic condi- of Wainwright, 47 miles up the coast from Icy Cape, late tions were suitable for an accumulation of vegetation so in the evening of August 5. It was there that Hendee and far north of the Arctic Circle. Later I queried Dr. Robert F. I were to spend the winter, and naturally, we were eager Black of the Department of Geology and Geophysics of the to go ashore. The people of the village gathered below the University of Wisconsin, and he advised me (Black 1970) bank skirting the ocean—hardy, friendly Eskimos clad that, “The coal of the Wainwright Inlet area is Mesozoic, in skin parkas and sealskin boots—to bid welcome to us probably Cretaceous in age,” and was described first by and to the new schoolteacher, Mr. Ward, and members of Smith and Mertie in 1930 (U.S.G.S. Bull. 815). the crew. The schoolhouse and Jim Allen’s trading station Hendee and I, with a volunteer crew, made a seemed to tower in the sky, in contrast to the cluster of landing at a little igloo near the Corwin home, where sod igloos, 30 or more, inconspicuous in the drab tundra. many waterfowl were noted on the extensive lagoon Adjacent was the typical, slightly rolling, Arctic prairie with running inland, and the adjacent tundra teemed with solid ice only a few inches under the scant soil, the worn birdlife. My old Airedale flushed a female pintail duck surfaces glistening along banks facing the ocean.

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My associate, Russell Hendee, remained at Wain- my friends, Jim Nichols and his wife Helen, whom I had wright, while I continued on with the Bear early the known at Juneau. next morning, a cool, delightful day with a fair wind Barrow village, at the extremity of Cape Smyth and choppy sea for our run to Barrow. Several herds of (named by Captain Beechey in September 1826 in honor walrus were observed at close range, a mother and her calf of William Smyth, mate of HMS Blossom), within ten miles coming up alongside the vessel, the old one rising half out of the northernmost point of Alaska, is on a point of land 30 of the water, apparently out of sheer curiosity. No ice was feet above the sea (the native name for the settlement Utki- to be seen toward the distant horizon, an unusual condi- avik meaning “high place for viewing”). There was nothing tion for Arctic waters, and rapid time was made to Barrow, to break the horizon of the broad expanse of tundra to the the most northern Alaska village, home of 13 white people south except the white-painted church, the schoolhouse, and 400 Eskimos in the summer of 1921. and scattered buildings of the trading post, and the incon- Off Barrow the evening of August 6, all who could spicuous sod igloos of the natives (Fig. 2.21). The site was went ashore and enjoyed the warm hospitality of the one of the most desirable locations of the whole coast for native and white residents, but unfortunately for the hunters because of the Arctic foxes, polar bear, walrus, and crew, it was necessary during the night to unload sup- bowhead whales taken each year. In earlier days, Barrow plies for the government school, for Captain Cochran was the most famous of whaling stations, and the history was anxious to set off for Demarcation Point near of Arctic Alaska contains much of interest dealing with this the International Boundary Line far to the eastward. once remote village, for it was there that many whalers Among the passengers of the Bear who were to be were icebound in ‘97, and explorers of renown in follow- stationed at Barrow were the medical missionaries, ing years made Barrow their headquarters. Dr. and Mrs. Greist, with their small son David; Miss The most interesting person in the entire North Dakin, a nurse who, with the Greists, was to staff the Country was Charles D. Brower, in charge of the trading hospital; the teachers for the government school; and station at Barrow, a man who, in 1921, had already

Figure 2.21. Point Barrow, Alaska, October 1921. DMNS No. IV.BA21-848.

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lived there 38 years and was to remain until his death in A vain attempt was made August 10th to make a 1945. He had come to Barrow in 1885 when the natives landing along the shores of Beaufort Sea at a point where were still using primitive weapons of bone, ivory, and Captain Cochran desired more data on the coastline. stone. Brower learned the language of the Eskimos and Lieutenants Parker and Todd and I, with a crew of five probably understood the natives better than any other men, started early. The weather was blustery, but with a white man. Associated with him at the trading post fair wind, very good time was made until we realized it during our visit was an old shipmate, Fred Hopson, who would be impossible to land because of the shoal water had not been “outside” for over 20 years, and Mr. and and strong surf. For hours we tacked back and forth, Mrs. Harry Blumfield. taking aboard wave after wave, all hands drenched to Brower’s trading post was built on a little knoll, the skin and utterly miserable by late afternoon when we and adjacent were well-filled warehouses where a line returned to the ship. of general merchandise was handled, while half a mile The next day, the Bear worked through the Arctic to the south, separated by a salt lagoon, was a school pack en route to Demarcation Point, occasionally through building, the church and manse, and a modern hospital. open stretches at full speed ahead, again slowly winding The Mission at Barrow was in a position to do practical along tortuous leads, now bucking across a narrow work, for the Presbyterian Church had built the fully bridge of ice, and again being inside the main pack. So equipped hospital, manned by a competent physician close inshore had the ice been held by the unfavorable and nurse (Dr. Greist and Miss Dakin), the only medical northwest wind that we were forced into three fathoms of help within 800 miles at a time when all winter travel water off two-mile-long Cross Island, one of a chain of was by dogsled. low, dandy spits with scant vegetation. About sundown, Windblown ice often occurred off Point Barrow by upon passing Challenge Island, we saw the schooner the middle of September, and many a captain found, to Teddy Bear (Captain Joe Bernard), which had been for his sorrow, that he had delayed his departure too long. the previous four years “frozen in” off Banks Point. The season of 1921 was a remarkable one, however, for Scarcely 20 miles were made during the night little ice could be seen on the horizon, although large because ice conditions were difficult. The fog cleared floes had been present a few days before our arrival, and the morning of the 12th off Flaxman Island, which was the natives had killed many walrus and seals. higher than Cross Island but scarcely more inviting. The With Mr. Watkins of the U.S. Geodetic Survey, who day was a repetition of the preceding one except that the had traveled on the Herman from Nome to Barrow, we going was better until a heavy fog set in about 4:00, and set sail on the evening of August 8 to the eastward, going a head-on collision with a berg stopped progress for the through considerable ice after rounding Point Barrow. night. Next morning anchor was pulled at 4:00, and fine The next day was cool and bright, except for a little fog headway was made at half speed. While writing in the in the morning, the Bear working through the pack ice, cabin, I heard the strident cries of an Arctic Tern and, on occasionally turning to escape a cake or to follow an investigating, found it darting at a Gyrfalcon trying to open lead. Often floes were scraped or struck head-on, alight on the mast. A little later, two Oldsquaw ducks with the cutter quivering as, with engines reversed, her bow a brood of half-grown young were observed, the adults rose high in the air. About midafternoon the ice grew so taking wing, while the youngsters dived, finally coming thick that, with no apparent openings ahead, we were up at a distance. forced to turn and work back, anchoring for the night off A shot was heard in the afternoon, and Captain Cape Halkett, a conspicuous point of land which formed Cochran brought the Bear to a standstill, and a whale- the northwest entrance to Harrison Bay. All day wildlife boat loaded with natives and a chap named Lowen, all had been scarce, only a few gulls, a jaeger, some seals dressed in skins of mountain sheep, soon emerged from and, in the morning, two polar bears being noted. the fog. Lowen, who had been living along that part of

48 DENVER MUSEUM OF NATURE & SCIENCE REPORTS | No. 13, March 10, 2019 Life of a Museum Naturalist vol. 2 the coast for seven years, was desirous of a little “white All the next day, the wind blew half a gale, and such man’s grub” in exchange for the skins of Arctic fox. He a heavy swell developed in the sea clear of ice that it was was a unique character who whiled away his monoto- impossible for Gordon to go ashore until evening. We nous hours by building igloos along the coast, a practice then ran down to the International Boundary Line, eight which the natives appreciated, for they took possession as miles east of Demarcation Point, and anchored among soon as he abandoned them. the loose ice. The great explorer, Sir John Franklin, wrote Fog settled early as the anchor was dropped off the on July 31, 1826: “Point Demarcation ... has been so trading post of Tom Gordon four miles to the west of Demar- named from its being situated in longitude 141° W, the cation Point. Tom, whom I had met on the Victoria en route boundary of the British and Russian dominions of the to Nome, came aboard in an ugruk (bearded seal) skin northern coast of Alaska” (Orth 1967). canoe with the usual band of native followers, and almost Lieutenant Todd, Captain Watkins, and I made a immediately, the wind, which had been blowing hard, landing the next morning with the help of an officer increased to a gale and kicked up such a sea that they could signaling from the crow’s nest the direction for our not return to shore. Gordon said that mountain sheep and boat to take through the narrow leads, and I was able to caribou were plentiful in and near the mountains rising 15 make an interesting photograph of the Bear at anchor miles to the south. His post the winter before had taken in in a picturesque setting (Fig. 2.22). Inshore were great 1,000 foxes but very few polar bear, and he reported that bergs of old ice that made difficult the finding of an walrus rarely migrated that far to the eastward, the natives open channel. On the tundra were many shorebirds, depending upon the skins of ugruk to make their umiaks. especially Baird’s and Pectoral Sandpipers, as well as

Figure 2.22. The Bear at Demarcation Point, Alaska, August 15, 1921. DMNS No. IV.BA21-005.

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Rock Ptarmigan, Snow Buntings, and Savannah Spar- rows, and over the numerous lagoons were Glaucous Gulls and Arctic Terns. A metal post about five feet high had “Canada” and “United States” marked on their respective sides (Fig. 2.23). The northernmost boundary marker was within 100 yards of the Beaufort Sea. Inland, the monotonous, flat, lagoon-studded tundra stretched to the distant mountain ranges, while at sea was the Arctic pack with the trim little Bear almost “hull-down” among the bergs of old ice. Except for the Thetis, it was the farthest east in the Arctic that a Coast Guard cutter had cruised. Our work accomplished at Demarcation Point, the return journey to Barrow was started early on August 16, with a strong wind out of the northwest and very large swells rolling in from the open Arctic. We cut through the pack near Griffin Point, not too far from present- day Prudhoe Bay, anchored, and made a trip ashore to investigate the condition of the natives at that place and at the Eskimo village near Humphrey Point, 35 miles from Demarcation. Only old women were at home, the Figure 2.23. A.M. Bailey and Jerry at remainder of the inhabitants being busy some miles away Demarcation Point, Alaska, August 15, 1921. catching white fish in their gill nets. An asphalt lake had Photograph probably by Lieutenant Clement been reported from that vicinity, and so, to get informa- Todd. DMNS No. IV.BA21-471. tion, we showed a piece of tar to one of the women, who pointed across a lagoon and said, “Mani” (there), but our Sandy (A.M.) Smith and R.O. Adams, with whom we had time was too limited to attempt to find it. become well acquainted on the Victoria out of Seattle The Bear worked through the ice during the next and at Nome, had been staking claims in that vicinity two days, anchoring off Cape Simpson, the northwest tip during the previous few weeks, and that particular area of Smith Bay, the night of August 19. Thomas Simpson has been claimed by at least three different groups, and on July 28, 1837, wrote: “We encamped on the extremity also by all members of our shore party. of this well-defined point which, as a testimony of sincere In my Birds of Arctic Alaska (Bailey 1948), I wrote: respect and regard for the able and indefatigable Gover- “All of us from the Bear placed our names on stakes nor of all the Company’s (Hudson’s Bay) territories, we and protected the notices with tin cans; we were about name Cape George Simpson” (Orth 1967). a quarter of a century too early, for it was in 1944 that A landing was made down the coast next morning drilling really started. It seems probable that great oil to examine an oil seepage, which, according to my notes, fields will be opened in the region in days to come.” Now “is on a rise or elevated portion of the tundra, and runs in 1976, more than a quarter of a century after we staked from the crest to a large lagoon,” where the shores were claims, Atlantic-Richfield and Humble Oil and refining coated with a thick residue. Charles Brower visited the companies have drilled wells near Prudhoe Bay between area in August 1886 and made the original report of the Kuparuk and Sagavanirktok Rivers (more than 100 oil, and he told me of seeing caribou and eider mired miles east of the seepage visited by our party), resulting in the sticky deposit. Several other parties, including in estimates that the discovery will develop into a reserve

50 DENVER MUSEUM OF NATURE & SCIENCE REPORTS | No. 13, March 10, 2019 Life of a Museum Naturalist vol. 2 of many billions of barrels of oil. Conservationists are hardy people. At that time, more than half a century ago, greatly concerned that recovering the oil via a 700-mile there was a population of about 100 natives who were in pipeline, which is now being laid from the Arctic coast to a transition from a hunting to a pastoral stage, for the Valdez, may result in damage to the Alaskan tundra. It Bureau of Education encouraged the raising of reindeer. should be noted the area where we staked claims was set Successful herds had been established near the majority aside as a naval oil reserve. of Arctic villages, but in the following years, the supply of Our field party returned to the Bear from the oil reindeer moss diminished, and the natives lost interest seepage by noon August 20. Anchor was pulled, and soon and failed to watch over their herds, resulting in many the cutter was en route to Barrow, arriving just before of the domestic animals drifting away with wild caribou dark. The mail and a few passengers for the “outside” and the consequent raising of few reindeer in northern were taken aboard, and immediately we were underway. Alaska. Hendee and I made our headquarters in the attic The season was growing late, and Captain Cochran was of the schoolhouse, where we were comfortably installed, anxious to be on his way south. thanks to my friend, Thomas Lopp, head of the Alaska The incoming pack was skirted during the night, Division of the Bureau of Education. and a fog settled low over the coastline by early morning, Jim Allen, the genial Irishman who ran the August 21, causing considerable trouble in locating trading post at Wainwright, had lived along the coast Wainwright. There was quite a swell running off the for 30 years hunting bowhead whales and trading with village, but the natives managed to launch their skin boats through the surf, and I was landed to carry on, with Russell Hendee, our fall and winter work at the little Eskimo settlement. Soon the Bear was only a speck on the distant horizon.

Autumn in the Arctic Our base at the Eskimo village of Wainwright, along the shores of the Chukchi Sea, proved to be ideal for fieldwork. Five miles down the coast was Wainwright Inlet, and on the northeast point was an old igloo known as “Tuktuavik” (place of the caribou), where Jim Allen (Fig. 2.24), the trader at Wainwright, had stationed armed guards in 1917 and ‘18, during the great influenza epidemic, to turn back travelers from the south. As a result of his quarantine, he prevented the disease, which had been so destructive to the native population of Alaska, from spreading northward to his village and beyond to Barrow. The sod and driftwood igloos of the little settle- ment, with the government school and Allen’s trading post dominating the landscape, straggled along the tundra 25 feet above the ocean, exposed to the fury of winter gales—typical locations for people of Arctic Figure 2.24. James Allen with darting gun Alaska who made their living from the sea and, hence, used in whaling, Wainwright, Alaska, 1921. had their homes close to the source of food supply. DMNS No. IV.BA21-180. Hunting, fishing, and trapping were the pursuits of these

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the Eskimos from Point Hope to Barrow. His two-story open in an onshore wind which caused a big post, with adjacent warehouses, was a branch of the San surf to break on the beach. They foolishly Francisco Liebes & Company post at Barrow, and we were waited ‘til dark before attempting to come greatly indebted to Jim, his native wife Eleanor, and their in and were upset. two children Alice and Kate, for many favors during our Jim performed a feat of heroism which Wainwright sojourn. Eleanor made our fur clothing so should give him a Carnegie medal, though necessary for life in the Far North—two parkas of rein- no one outside has probably ever heard of it. deer skins, an inner one with hair to the body and another The crowd was all out watching the boat try one with hair out, over which was pulled a “snow shirt” to get in, and they could barely make the sail of white canvas to keep snow and dirt away from the hair. out in the gathering darkness as it scudded Deerskin pants, socks, and boots completed the costume, into the foam of the breaking surf. When the except that sealskin boots were used on salt ice. sail disappeared, they all knew the boat had The white traders in the Arctic in the early part of capsized. Jim went about crazy, and had not the century had a difficult and uncertain means of making several natives held him, he would have been a livelihood. They provided a market for the furs of the drowned as well as his son. The natives came Eskimos and, in exchange, supplied arms, ammunition, with about fifty fathoms of walrus skin line food, and necessary medical supplies, giving services that and tied it on Jim, and then they walked up previously were furnished by personnel of the whaling and down the beach, and when they saw a vessels during the golden age when fleets followed the body floating, he went out into the icy water, bowhead into Arctic waters. Unfortunately, during years of saving the lives of two of the men, and bring- fur scarcity when the Eskimos had poor hunting success, ing in one who was dead. The pitiful part of it there were no profits for the white traders. was he never could tell if he had his boy or not Allen’s trading post was in his home, half the ground ‘til he got to shore, for all he could do was to floor being devoted to the store, and the other to kitchen, grab him, and then be hauled back. He heard dining, and living rooms. On my first visit, I noted there his boy call, “Papa,” twice, but could never were no windows on the south side of the house, and some locate him in the darkness. Jim found him the time later I asked him, “How come?” He rather reluctantly next day about six miles down the beach. said that, after their son Billy’s death, his wife used to sit Jim is one of the best fellows I have for hours looking out the window towards Billy’s grave on ever met, with the sweetest little native wife a knoll some distance away. Consequently, Jim had rebuilt and two fine little girls who mean the world the house with no south windows. and all to Jim now. The other day, Sunday, I He then told me of the tragedy a couple years previ- went over to see Jim, and one of the natives ously when his son and several other boys had returned pointed up on the hill, saying, “Jim, he go up from a 50-mile umiak trip from Icy Cape, which I nar- there every Sunday. His boy there.” rated in a letter to my wife that evening under date of August 30, 1921(Bailey 1921): The trading post was well stocked with food, but we had brought ample supplies with us, except for a few Jim has had a bitter experience which luxuries. Hardtack substituted for bread. We had various makes him the most careful man in the dried fruits, usually with a pan simmering on the stove. world, and consequently one of the safest Caribou, reindeer, ptarmigan, and various species of for me to travel with, and that was the loss wildfowl furnished the meat, and we ate beans three of his son two years ago by drowning. [Billy] times a day. Our larder included 100 pounds each of navy, and three other boys got caught out in the lima, and red beans. Toward the winter’s end, Russell

52 DENVER MUSEUM OF NATURE & SCIENCE REPORTS | No. 13, March 10, 2019 Life of a Museum Naturalist vol. 2 mildly protested that he was “kinda tired of beans,” preserve their meat, and we froze many specimens, laying remarking that he looked forward to the time some nine away work to be completed during the dark days of winter. months away (when he returned to Nome) to get some The harvest season was in full swing when we arrived in good, fresh vegetables from “outside.” Time has a habit Wainwright. The natives were hunting spotted seals that of passing, and when Russell finally reached Nome and were leaving the lagoons for their journey to the Bering was perched in front of the counter of a lunchroom, he Sea. Walruses were being taken in small numbers on the scanned the bill of fare in bewilderment there were so drifting ice of the open ocean, and hundreds of birds were many luxuries—and finally, in frustration, he blurted shot for winter food. It was an active time for us, for often out, “Bring me a plate of beans.” we accompanied the natives at their daily tasks so that we Red Phalarope and golden-plover were common might secure specimens needed for our exhibits. upon the tundra together with Snow Buntings and Their usual quota of walruses was taken, and Alaskan Longspurs, while occasional loud-calling then, as the herds of sea mammals disappeared because Kokarows—Red-throated Loons—passed overhead to unfavorable winds had driven the ice far from shore, the and from their breeding grounds. Arctic Terns worked Eskimos turned their attention to the migrating birds as the shallow water adjacent to a large bar at the mouth of an addition to the winter’s food supply. One of the favor- the Inlet where many young were learning to fly, and a ite hunting places for Black Brant was near Icy Cape, 50 few eider and bands of Black Brant were seen daily, along miles down the coast, where the small geese gathered with many Oldsquaws, Glaucous Gulls, and jaegers of in large flocks. Jim Allen and some of the Eskimos were two species. Shorebirds came like scurrying drops from a accustomed each fall to spend several days hunting in passing shower, small flocks of a kind being present one the area, and on September 5, Hendee and I joined Jim day and absent the next, but at no time during the fall and his associates on the three-day whaleboat trip. was there an abundance of species, although individuals Great strings of Black Brant had been migrating often were common. far offshore, flying close to the water, and they were My notes of September 2 mention that the wind assembling to feed in the broad lagoons back from the was offshore. Great swells were rolling in, and drifting Cape before continuing their southward journey. We foam covered the bar at the mouth of Wainwright Inlet. battled adverse winds all the first day, tacking far out in The sky was clouded with the sun shining through so the ocean and then shoreward again, and by nightfall that the sandspit was a mere line of black against a had made little progress. The wind increased in violence silvered sea. Birds seemed scarce, Red Phalarope, Pacific as dusk came, and by the time our tent was pitched and Red-throated Loons, and a few Steller’s Eider being upon an exposed sandspit, a half gale was blowing, snow seen. As I stood along the shore, a small duck headed my and drifting sand hurrying us to shelter. Camping with way. I collected it, and it proved to be the first record of Eskimos was usually rather enjoyable, for they were the Asiatic Baikal Teal for the North American continent. great storytellers and delighted in spinning yarns, but Fortunately, my Airedale retriever Jerry secured the speci- on this particular evening, we were only too anxious to men before it drifted away. crawl into our deerskin sleeping bags. Mosses, lichens, grasses, and sprawling dwarfed There were bands of scurrying wildfowl in the half- willows, which attained a height of three feet or more light of the gray morning, all intent on making speed inland along streambeds where sheltered from the strong southward. Great flocks of Brant skirted the shore of the winds by high banks, were typical of the Wainwright area. wide lagoon extending inland from our camp; golden-plover The rolling tundra, with its sparse vegetation, numerous drifted along the beaches, and Glaucous Gulls cruised by in lagoons, and small ponds, stretched off to the horizon. a continuous chain. Far offshore were occasional groups of The scant soil close to the beach was underlaid with ice Yellow-billed Loons in migration, flying close to the water, many feet thick in which the natives dug ice cellars to and many young Arctic Terns worked down the coast.

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The whaleboat was pulled across the narrow sand- rivers hundreds of miles south. I have often wondered how spit to the lagoon, and as the wind was directly ahead, with the currents could have brought quantities of wood through a long line attached from the bow, three of us at a time the narrow passes from the ocean into the lagoons to be pulled our way southward. The snow of the evening before deposited in that particular cove of the coast. had melted leaving exposed the dwarfed willows, trees six The next evening, we reached the small village of to eight inches in height, and the mosses and lichen, which Utukok (meaning old or ancient place), commonly called covered the Eriophorum vaginatum grass. The Arctic Icy Cape, about 50 miles southwest of Wainwright. Few prairie seemed devoid of life at first glance. The vegetation people were at home, for the majority were inland with the was scant and dwarfed, but the shores of every little tundra reindeer herds or shooting Brant. Here was a branch of Jim pool were lined with phalarope and sandpipers, and the Allen’s trading post in the charge of Upiksom (Fig. 2.25), large lagoons were dotted with eider and other ducks, and who was later to become a close friend and my guide on Brant. Two abandoned igloos called Mitliktavik, the site of the first part of a long dogsled journey. He accompanied a former village, were reached at noon. us to a broad lagoon where camp was pitched near that For a couple of hours, good time was made by of Sagaluk, an old Eskimo who had a small round tent for sailing, but the wind died down as evening approached. summer use with adjacent racks upon which were Brant The surface of the lagoon gleamed like glass, and the sun, tied in pairs and hung over poles without being cleaved, almost hidden in masses of dark clouds, threw soft reflec- none seeming to spoil in the cold, dry air. Upon the brown tions on the small ripples which eddied from the bow of hillsides were many reindeer, their antlers being in the the boat. The balmy air, the occasional flocks of migrants, and the “slick ca’m” prevailing made it seem like a day along the lagoons of Louisiana rather than along the ice- bound Arctic coast. As no more headway could be made with the sails, we pulled for shore, and as we approached, the boom of black powder shells could be heard, and at each report, a dark wavelike mass rose above the horizon, sailed along for a distance, and then dropped from view again. “There’s your Brant,” Jim said. “I guess the natives knew what they were talking about.” Soon we saw an Eskimo installed in his blind of piled-up turf, and out in front of him was a group of dead Brant with heads propped up to serve as decoys. A crippled eider swam 100 yards out from his shooting place in such shallow water we could not secure it with the whaleboat, so my Airedale was put overboard. He quickly captured the bird and swam to land. When the native walked to the water’s edge to take the duck from him, old Jerry looked the Eskimo over and then waded back into the water, swimming to the boat with one of the rarest of ducks, a Spectacled Eider. We made camp that night near a pile of driftwood, the largest accumulation I saw along the Arctic coast. This drift Figure 2.25. Upiksom, a guide for A.M. must have floated through the ice from the Mackenzie, far Bailey, Alaska, 1921. DMNS No. IV.BA21-405. to the east of Barrow, or from the Noatak, Kobuk, and Yukon

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Figure 2.26. Russell W. Hendee with natives’ Black Brant harvest, Icy Cape, Alaska, September 9, 1921. DMNS No. IV.BA21-043. “velvet.” Mammal life was scarce in the vicinity of our from a reindeer camp a couple of miles down the coast, camp, although there were many beautiful spotted seals and a few minutes after each bombardment, bands of in the lagoon, and ground squirrels and lemmings were Brant were sure to appear. Time and again they alighted numerous upon the tundra. among the dead decoys, where we would watch them There were thousands of Black Brant congregated through an opening in our blind. They were suspicious in the vicinity, and the roar of black powder shells could of their unresponsive relatives, however, and usually be heard in the late evening as the Eskimos shot into the took wing. massed flocks. While the natives put our effects in shape, After a supper of boiled Brant, a dish which did not Hendee and I walked half a mile to one arm of the bay arouse much enthusiasm, we walked over to Sagaluk’s. where there was an old shooting blind of turf built on His malamutes, fine sled dogs, were tied near camp, while a little point. The sun was just curving behind the blue off on the hill a herd of reindeer was grazing. Several knolls to the west when we circled behind the shelter, magnificent animals with large antlers still in the velvet, my old Airedale alongside quivering with excitement. posing statuesquely, were mirrored in the quiet waters of The musical “lik-lik, lik-lik” of Brant well satisfied with a tundra pool. The natives were skinning a young bull, the world could be heard in the distance, and soon a so it was no longer necessary for us to eat boiled Brant. flock, low over the water, came into range so close that Sagaluk had had excellent success securing his winter there was no difficulty in collecting specimens, while supply of Brant, if we were to judge by the rack of dead their startled comrades hastened to parts remote. Jerry ones (Fig. 2.26), but he said, “Lik-lik pechuk,” which dragged the birds ashore, and we propped them up to translated means “No Brant,” adding that when a north serve as decoys. There were constant reports of guns wind should blow, Brant would come aplenty.

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During the next two days along the lagoon, many followed the coast for the most part, though occasion- fine specimens were collected, and then the umiak was ally 20 or 30 would circle high in the air like so many loaded, and all hands headed back toward Wainwright frigatebirds, some crossing below the village to the inlet in the face of a north wind, the “nigik” of the Eskimo. and following upstream out of sight. Many of the natives Hendee and I huddled out of the wind as much as possi- made blinds of turf along the embankment facing the ble, while Jim and our native crew tacked back and forth ocean and took toll from the migrating flocks. from 11:00 until dusk without making much headway. During the next few days, collecting proved As the waves piled higher and our progress became unproductive, for the majority of local birds had long slower, we decided to camp for the night on a gravel bar. since started the fall trek toward their favorite wintering The wind continued from the north, accompanied by grounds. Although numerous Yellow-billed Loons passed driving snow, and we then knew why Sagaluk had said well offshore September 19, a walk to the mouth of the “no Brant” until the north wind, for now, they were in inlet was unproductive, only a Red-throated Loon, a great numbers. We had never seen such a flight of birds. Snow Bunting, a Red-backed Sandpiper, and three flocks They came in big bands and small flocks, some high and of Black Brant being seen. others low, but all of them in a hurry and carrying on a While Hendee and I were having our usual continuous conversation with others of their kind. When breakfast of baked beans, hardtack, and coffee the it grew dark, one band passed between our tents, so low following morning, a native (John Peter) dropped we could almost touch the birds, and we heard them as by to inform us he and several others were going up long as we remained awake. Wainwright Inlet to secure an umiak-load of coal. We On September 13 we were up by 3:30 for an early immediately arranged to go with them and had all start. The wind had abated, the ground was covered with our duffle ready by 10:00. As there was a headwind, snow, and eventually, the sun shone vaguely through five dogs were fastened to a towline of ugruk skin, and the hurrying black clouds, with strings of Brant making John, in the rear of the canoe with a paddle, kept the dark silhouettes against the lighted sky. Upiksom, who bow from the bank. Many Oldsquaws and at least 50 had decided to return to Wainwright with us, made an Yellow-billed Loons were seen en route, and several of early hunt, while we were breaking camp, and shot the latter were collected. 17 Brant with two loads. Although numbers of these About eight miles from Wainwright, we saw a coal small geese were killed in the vicinity of Icy Cape half a ledge, but we continued on a few hours along the tundra century ago, little toll of the migrating birds was taken shores until we arrived at more extensive outcroppings. elsewhere, for the migration in both spring and fall Our tent was pitched in a little windswept hollow, and usually was far from land. while the Eskimos “mined” (Fig. 2.27), we searched the Soon we were on our way toward Wainwright with tundra for the beautiful Willow Ptarmigan, which were a good offshore wind, although it was necessary to tack in their changing dress in flocks of 50 or more. It would the entire 35 or more miles. All hands were miserably seem that in their mottled plumage they should be con- cold when the village was sighted in the late afternoon, spicuous on the drab Arctic prairie, but they alighted in the usual group of smiling natives being on hand to pull clumps of the white, tufted grass, “Alaska cotton,” where the whaleboat up on the tundra bank. it was impossible to see them until they sprang into the All ponds and shallow lagoons were frozen within a air at our approach. few days after our return from Icy Cape, and birdlife was The next morning, when we were lying in our bags, confined to the shores and open ocean. On September a flock of the Yellow-billed Loons began calling, their 16 there was a big migration of old and young Glaucous characteristic note sounding clear-cut and resonant. The Gulls which started at daybreak and lasted well into wailing “Oh-o-o-oh” of an Arctic loon could occasionally the afternoon, an endless chain of graceful birds. They be heard, and the mournful sound evidently recalled a

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Figure 2.27. Coal mining near Wainwright, Alaska, September 20, 1921. DMNS No. IV.BA21-202. feast in the village a few days earlier when the natives rapidly, reaching peak numbers along the Arctic coast had eaten spoiled seal meat, for one of them muttered, at the time of our visit and during the next ten years, “Um, him got belly-ache.” when it was estimated there were over half a million in John and his helpers were routed at 4:00 a.m., and Alaska. Unfortunately, the Eskimos did not take to a pas- after a leisurely breakfast, the Eskimos started filling toral existence, and a few years later, numbers declined more sacks, while Hendee and I hunted ptarmigan. The due to overgrazing, lack of care, mingling with the wild first good snow of the season spotted the tundra, the storm caribou, and destruction by predators, and by 1950 there lasting throughout the day. The return trip to Wainwright was less than 30,000 head. was made September 22, starting at 8:00, with the dog Many lines of work were undertaken in late Sep- towing the heavily loaded umiak against a headwind. En tember. The women combed the beaches for driftwood route we stopped for tea and then hiked the remaining 18 which had floated for hundreds of miles, possibly from miles, reaching the village at 4:00 in the afternoon. the Yukon or the Mackenzie, and the men cut cakes of ice Autumn was fast drawing to a close, and as the from the freshwater lagoons and made stacks near their days grew shorter, there was great activity in Wainwright. igloos so that they might have an easily accessible supply The reindeer herders brought their animals nearer to the to melt for drinking water during the long dark days. village and erected corrals of ice slabs so the animals Then a few weeks later, when traveling snow had packed could be counted and earmarked (Fig. 2.28). For days we the barrens, sleds started in all directions for distant had an Arctic rodeo with the natives lassoing the antlered trapping grounds so the natives would be ready when the animals and grouping them into little bands. Dr. Sheldon season opened. It should be noted that, although there Jackson, a Presbyterian minister, was responsible for the was no possibility of enforcing game laws in that remote importation of reindeer into Alaska from Siberia about region, the Eskimos of the North Coast were so reliable the turn of the century, and the animals increased they carefully obeyed regulations.

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Figure 2.28. Reindeer in ice corral, Wainwright, Alaska, late September 1921. DMNS No. IV.BA21-080A.

There were many caribou inland from Wain- Kogmuk had been instructed by Jim Allen to keep a wright, animals averaging smaller than those south close watch upon his companion and not to allow him out of the Brooks Range and the northernmost mountains of sight, for there were few landmarks upon the rolling of Alaska. Mammals of North America (Hall & Kelson barren grounds. A female caribou and a young of the year 1959) listed all caribou of Alaska, including those of were collected, when the hunters were ten days inland, so the Arctic Slope, under the scientific name of Rangifer there was ample food for the dogs and the men, and a t. stonei, except animals from a limited area west of few days later, others were shot some distance from camp. Anchorage and on the Alaskan Peninsula which they call Kogmuk took the sled to pick up the game, leaving Russell R. t. granti. Numerous specimens of the latter in our behind. About noon, a magnificent bull, with an unusual Museum collection are much larger than those collected rack of antlers for the small northern race of caribou, near Wainwright in 1921. appeared on the horizon, and Hendee immediately stalked Specimens of the small barren ground caribou the animal. It kept moving away until, just at dusk, (known to the natives as tuktu) were desired, and as Russell was able to approach within good range. The fine soon as snow conditions were suitable (on October 7), specimen fell after several shots, and Russell immediately Hendee and old Kogmuk set off southward toward the started skinning his trophy, for it would be frozen by foothills. They had seven fine dogs to pull their scanty morning. By the time the task was completed, the barren camping equipment to the headwaters of Wainwright ground was in total darkness. Russell wrapped himself in Inlet and on up the Kuk and Kaolak Rivers and into the hide and prepared to spend the night, but about 10:00 the tundra country to the eastward. Russell knew little the moon broke over the horizon, and Hendee was able of the Eskimo language, and the native could speak no to follow his tracks in the snow the approximately eight English, but on their return 33 days later they under- miles back to camp, to find an anxious Kogmuk waiting stood each other perfectly. on the highest tundra knoll with a lantern.

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My associate, Russell Hendee, was a remarkable sky was lead-colored, and the sea drab, both young man. On the Alaskan trip, he showed perseverance matching in tone, so the gulls were very hard and ability, which he later displayed as a member of our to make out, the black penciling of the pri- Museum staff from 1922 to 1926, also in South America maries being the most conspicuous feature. in 1926–1928 for the British Museum, and in Asia as a There were about 30, seemingly all young of mammalogist for the Kelley-Roosevelt Field Museum the year, and they did not utter a sound. expedition. Those of us who knew him well realized the I took my handkerchief and waved loss to the scientific world when he died of a virulent form it to see if the birds would decoy and was of malarial fever in Indochina on June 6, 1929. rewarded by having the whole flock circle During Russell’s absence, I was having the com- over the freezing slush ice. With the offshore paratively easy time of keeping track of migrating birds wind, it was almost useless to shoot, but I and making a 200-mile round-trip sled journey to Barrow, dropped two about 30 feet from shore, pulled the northernmost village of Alaska. Collecting in the very my belt tight, hoping my deerskin pants late fall was not too productive, but we were successful and boots would be watertight, and waded in securing specimens of the rare and little-known Ross’ through the slush and ice-cold water. I held Gulls, which few naturalists had been privileged to see my parka up to keep it from getting wet but in the field. E.W. Nelson (1887) collected the first North was soon soaked to above the waist, learning American specimen near Saint Michael on October 10, by firsthand experience that when salt water 1879, and seven were taken over the polar pack by natural- freezes, it is getting cold. Later the thermom- ist Newcomb of the ill-fated Jeannette, which was crushed eter was checked at eight below zero. in the ice near Herald Island in June 1881. (Newcomb The birds were retrieved; I dropped them 1888) Newcomb carried three during the months the and my gun on the beach for Jim to carry back crew of the stricken vessel pulled their whaleboats over and ran the mile to headquarters, well satis- pressure ridges as they laboriously made their way toward fied with securing my first two Ross’ Gulls. the Siberian coast. Murdoch (1885) secured numerous After warming up, I again worked Ross’ Gulls at Point Barrow in September and October along the beach, taking Jerry with me, and 1881, about the time Newcomb was struggling to reach saw a flock of 20 Ross’ Gulls. Secured three, the Asiatic coast, and E.A. McIlhenny took two at Barrow which the old Airedale brought from the in September 1897 and a summer specimen June 7, 1898. slush ice, the dog not showing discomfort None had been recorded in the following 23 years to the from the cold water. time of our work along the Arctic coast, but knowing of the records, I patrolled the beach regularly and, consequently, Trip to Barrow was greatly pleased when a few appeared off Wainwright. The sled trip of 100 miles to Barrow was a simple one in My notes for mid-October will give some idea of collecting that I traveled with Jim Allen, who was a veteran of many so late in the season: Arctic trails. We left Wainwright early the morning of October 24, following along the coast wherever possible. October 12: Went down the beach toward the Jim had 11 of the finest dogs in the North—sharp-eared, Inlet this forenoon with Jim Allen to look for wolf-like fellows, eagerly straining in the harness. The ptarmigan, leaving my Airedale at home, as weather was fine, our load light, and the trail excellent. The it was bitter cold, and I did not want him to dogs trotted along, scarcely pulling at their traces, while go into the freezing salt water. No success on we rode, occasionally getting off at bad places or when we the ptarmigan, but on our return saw my felt the cold. The fall had been an unusual one, for with first flock of Ross’ Gulls, far offshore. The offshore winds prevailing, the pack ice had been driven far

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beyond the horizon, and not a speck was to be seen on the only partially successful, for my bed, within a few hours, ocean except thin, young ice along the beach. A heavy surf felt like a steam bath. All Arctic travelers know better, and welled and broke, grumbling against this sheet of slush, so did I, but we were so near Barrow that a wet sleeping and an occasional flurry of snow drifted down, while the bag seemed of little consequence. sun blurred through a gathering mantle of clouds. Progress the next day was through deep snow, So late in the season, birdlife was scant, only an occa- a monotonous hard grind. When about eight miles on sional Glaucous Gull winging his solitary way, a few bands our way, the dogs broke into a gallop, following a trail of young King Eiders, and fewer yet of the rare Ross’ and of “nanuk,” a polar bear and two cubs. Gone was our Ivory Gulls. On one occasion, a dozen of the rose-breasted tired indifference. The rifle was loosened in its case for Ross’ Gulls were noted over a line of breaking surf, and four instant use, and we trotted by the sled to hasten our Ivory Gulls joined them from the blue distance—magnifi- progress. The bears led us a long chase, up one coulee cent birds and well named, for their immaculate plumage and down another, sometimes going inland, but finally shone out, even in the poor light, colored like the wet tusks returning toward the beach along the high banks of the of walruses against the gray of old ice. Walakpa River, 11 miles southwest of Barrow. Far out In three short hours, we reached Atanik, a cluster of on the distant, snow-covered flat were moving objects, a dozen igloos 20 miles on our way. The dogs had warned black against the snow; a dog team and Eskimos, and us of our nearness by their accelerated pace, and the fresh our yelping dogs brought us to the end of the trail. Two tracks of numerous reindeer upon the beach showed that Eskimo boys, scarcely 15, had killed the three animals we were nearing a herd. Soon the curling smoke of the and were even then turning the snow red as they peeled village and the straggling, antlered animals nearby were off the fine skins. sighted. All the Eskimos poured out of their huts to bid We reached our destination just at noon and us welcome. Their dogs joined ours in the “malamute dashed up to the schoolhouse at a gallop, for no matter chorus,” and we were soon under shelter, drinking soup how tired the dogs were, they always made a grandstand from our Thermos bottle and partaking of Kok-alas as the finish when arriving in a village. All the malamutes at natives called the hard bread of the North. Barrow tugged at their chains as they stood on their hind Above Atanik a few miles, the coastline was ter- legs and howled mournfully, while the natives poured minated at Point Franklin, named by Captain Beechey from their igloos to bid us welcome. I stopped at the August 15, 1826, for Sir John Franklin. To the south was schoolhouse, for the teacher and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Peard Bay, and below the bay was a lagoon which ran James Nichols, were old friends of southeastern Alaska inland many miles, with a broad mouth opening into days, while Jim went on to the “station,” as the trading Peard. Combers rushing through the pass prevented ice post was known. from forming, and as a result, it was necessary for us to The largest Eskimo village on the Arctic coast, make a detour south following the banks of the lagoon to Barrow, is ten miles to the south of the tip of Point Barrow, the mouth of the Kugrua River, where we headed north- the northernmost extremity of Alaska. About 400 natives, east toward our destination. The ocean was open except all living in sod igloos at that time, called the little for freezing shore ice. Occasional Ivory Gulls were seen settlement home, but each winter, many families were over the dark waters, and back on the tundra, bands of outfitted by Charlie Brower at the station and departed Willow Ptarmigan were flushed. for the interior or along the coast, where they trapped The third night of the 100-mile journey to Barrow Arctic fox and hunted the polar bear. Barrow was one of was spent in a little, vacant, sod house, with a single gut the most important whaling stations in Alaska during the window, where we were able to keep very comfortable, days when a single whale was worth a fortune. Thirteen with Jerry curled between our bags. Here I slept in my wet white people, at the time of our visit, were living there as clothes in the hope of drying them, an attempt which was one happy family, for they were congenial and hospitable

60 DENVER MUSEUM OF NATURE & SCIENCE REPORTS | No. 13, March 10, 2019 Life of a Museum Naturalist vol. 2 without exception, and during the week Allen and I were at Barrow, we had get-together meetings at the school, hospital, and trading post. Of special interest to me was that, on October 30, approximately 100 Ivory Gulls worked over the shore ice at Barrow. The sea was clear except for masses of old ice which lined the beach and drifts of pan offshore, while the sun shone from a cloudless sky, making an ideal day of observations. The gulls, in general flight against the light, were difficult to distinguish from Ross’ Gulls, having the same habit of circling and suddenly dropping close to the surface of the ocean. Several specimens were collected, and the rugged Airedale promptly retrieved them, although the government thermometer registered 18 degrees below zero. The sea was frozen far out from shore the next day, and only three Ivory Gulls were seen. The trip to Barrow was made to see Charles Brower (Fig. 2.29), long the white trader at that northern village, hoping to interest him in collecting natural history speci- Figure 2.29. Charles D. Brower, Chicago, mens for our Museum. He was in a position, with the help Illinois, 1929. DMNS No. IV.BA21-431. of his sons and the Eskimos, to secure specimens of Arctic animals and thereby make outstanding contributions to My visit to Barrow in late October of 1921 was the our knowledge of northern birds and mammals. Later in continuation of a friendship with Brower that started the winter, Brower sent his son, Dave, to Wainwright, and on the Victoria on our way to Nome the previous there we taught him to prepare specimens; he, in turn, summer. On many occasions in the following 24 years, passed the information to his brothers Tom and Bob, and my wife and I had the privilege of having “Charlie” and as a result, hundreds of interesting birds and mammals his sons as guests in our home. He kept a diary through were taken through the years, which are in this Museum, the years, and on one of his visits, in either 1929 or The Chicago Academy of Sciences, and other collections. 1930, he gave me a typed copy of his compiled journal Brower, in 1884, had gone north to work in the of experiences in the Far North, from which I cut three Corwin mine near Cape Lisburne and, that winter, was the magazine articles under Charlie’s name which were first white man to travel the coast by dogsled from Point published in 1932 in The Blue Book. Later (in 1942) Hope to Point Barrow. After he established his trading Messrs. Philip J. Farrell and Lyman Anson collaborated post at Barrow, he was the host, through the years, of with Brower in compiling his autobiography, Fifty practically every explorer along the Arctic Alaskan coast, Years Below Zero (Brower 1942), a fascinating account and he cared for many stranded men, among them of adventure, of the lives of the Eskimos, and short the crews of whaling vessels crushed in the ice off the notes regarding the many explorers who were Brower’s northern point in the great disaster during the winter of guests through the years. 1897-1898. Among his noted guests were Amundsen, on Brower’s typewritten journal gives in detail the the completion of his great voyage through the North- events of the shipwreck year of 1897, including his west Passage in his little Gjøa in 1906, and Stefansson, account of the Navarch, the first of the vessels to be Anderson, Michelson, Rasmussen, Dr. Stuck, Leffingwell, caught in the ice. An article on the reindeer drive pub- and Sir George Hubert Wilkins in later years. lished in Arctic caused me to scan again, after nearly 40

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years, the pages of Charlie’s manuscript and to quote a pay. Calling them all in, I explained this to few paragraphs which, with the passage of time, seem of them, promising to make it up to them in special interest (Brower 1863–1928). some other way. At the same time, I wanted In July of 1897, Brower traveled down the coast, all the hunters to go in the country and try with several natives, to Icy Cape, where he hoped to estab- and get as much meat as they could for the lish a branch of his trading post. Anchored at the edge of white men. This they were only too willing the ice was the Navarch under Captain Whitesides, who to do. There was an abundance of all kinds requested that Brower accompany him north, Charlie’s of ammunition at the station; they were sup- Eskimo companions to return to Barrow overland with plied with all that I could give them, and all their dogs and sleds. The vessel was caught in the ice in went away promising to do their best. I had the vicinity of the Sea Horse Islands, and after drifting others go to the rivers to fish, while some of northeast for several days, Captain Whitesides decided on the younger ones were kept to run sleds in August 2, far offshore of Barrow, to abandon ship. case there was hauling to do. Brower led a party of 32 men to clear a trail through They certainly worked steadily. I the pressure ridges, the Captain, with the remaining crew had 1,200 carcasses of caribou and 30,000 members, to follow, dragging a boat and bringing provi- pounds of fish hauled into the station that sions. Unfortunately, Whitesides and his men returned to winter; this was all we could use. No one was the Navarch, leaving Brower and his companions adrift short of meat, and what small stores we were on the ice pack. Brower relates how, one by one, in the short of did not hurt them any. There was ensuing eight days, men became exhausted and were no sickness in the crowd around my place, unable to continue, and how, after the more than a week and only two deaths in the whole outfit until of exhausting travel without food along the edge of the spring. One man froze to death, and another drift, the survivors boarded a big slab of ice, only 16 men died aboard the Belvidere from some sick- of the original 32. After 12 days without food, they were ness. In the spring, one man died of heart picked up east of Barrow by the Pacific Steam Whaling failure at the station, and another died Company’s vessel Thrasher. Charlie’s concluding line in aboard the Jeannie. his narrative was to the point, “Twelve days without food or rest is a long time.” The men survived the winter with little hard- During the ensuing months, other vessels were ship. Brower describes (p. 82) how: “As the holidays caught in the ice, and the task of caring for more than approached, the men in the bunkhouse got up an 200 shipwrecked sailors fell to Brower, and he gives a entertainment, giving their show Christmas night. detailed account in his journal of the 1897 tragedy of Everyone had a big dinner with all kinds of fixings I the numerous trips to the icebound whaling vessels, the had saved from our own stores. I don’t think there were taking of the men to Barrow, and their stay there. He wrote any more satisfied men in civilization than the crowd on pages 79–80 of his manuscript (Brower 1863–1928): that day; the show wound up with a prize fight. It was some fight as long as it lasted. A Negro and one of the When most of the wrecked men had been white sailors from the Jessie Freeman mixed, and we housed, their rations for 12 months figured had to separate them at last, as there was no making out, things settled down for the winter. My them quit when time was called.” Eskimos that worked for the station were Brower’s journal contains interesting, sometimes most all around. It was impossible that I humorous, accounts of the events of the shipwreck year. could give them (the Eskimos) the food “The sun returned January 21st,” wrote Charlie (p. 84), stuff they had been getting as part of their “then the weather became good and cold. Desiring a

62 DENVER MUSEUM OF NATURE & SCIENCE REPORTS | No. 13, March 10, 2019 Life of a Museum Naturalist vol. 2 heavy parka, one day I asked Toctoo (Charlie’s wife) to notice of them until they pulled up alongside find it for me. Then, for the first time, I heard a good of me; then one man spoke and, to my sur- yarn. It seems that while I had been adrift on the ice prise, it was Lieutenant Jarvis, and with him last summer, Toctoo (who still retained some faith in the was Dr. Call. Both were from the Cutter Bear. devil doctors) had paid a shirt to one that had promised The first thing that I thought was that the to bring me home. He was busy at his endeavors in my Bear was lost, and they had come to me for room, using his drum and going on with his talk to the shelter. But Jarvis soon told me different; they devil, making all kinds of noises. Fred Hopson (trading were on a relief expedition, bringing a deer post associate) happened to hear him and, going inside, herd from Wales, Port Clarence, and where he hauled him out of the room, then threw him out of Nome is today. They had been all winter on the house. The old fellow stood and cursed Fred for some the journey. The deer would arrive in a day time, putting all kinds of devils on him. He stood in the or so in charge of Mr. Tom Lopp. snow with my parka on and with upraised arm called on the Tondrah to keep Fred from ever killing a whale. Fred Brower then recorded briefly the account of the was our luckiest whaleman. Anyone inclined to supersti- overland drive of reindeer, that they might be used as food tion might find evidence of the medicine man’s power, by the stranded members of the whaling fleet, Lieutenant for Fred never caught another whale.” Jarvis and Dr. Call having traveled up the coast by dogsled, As spring approached, Brower started plans for the while Tom Lopp and his Eskimo helpers had the difficult whaling season, hoping to have 12 umiaks out along the task of herding the reindeer northward. Lieutenant Ber- open leads when the bowheads arrived. He recorded (p. 85): tholf had remained at Point Hope to care for any men who might be sent down the coast. Two days after Jarvis and Besides the boat building, we had to haul in Call reached Barrow, Lopp arrived with the herd, leaving meat, sending large quantities to the ships, two days later with a dog team for Wales, taking 21 days but just as soon as the whaling started, the for the 750- or 800-mile journey. (Nearly a quarter of a ships would have to do their own carrying. century later in March 1922, I made the same dogsled trip Teams were coming in every day from inland, from Barrow to Wales in 23 traveling days, except that I bringing from 10 to 20 caribou at a time. I followed the coast instead of going inland.) never saw so many deer as we had around In his narrative, Brower states (p. 88): “Shortly after that winter. The most of them were hauled Lopp left, Charlie (Eskimo reindeer herder with Lopp) a distance of 50 miles or more. We had all started killing deer; they were so poor that they were not our ice houses full, and the ships made ice fit to eat, so Jarvis had them hold off until later, we having houses in the heavy sea ice. Not only were on hand all the meat we could use. Sometime later Jarvis there many deer, but other animals were had killed something over 100. No one ever ate any of also numerous. McIlhenny could not have the meat, as they were nothing but skin and bone after picked a better year for his work, for nearly their hard drive, during which time they had no chance every sled brought him some specimens to graze. When the herd stopped for the night, they had to from the interior; the country was alive with rest so they would be able to travel, and the only chance lemming of both kinds. they had to feed was while they were traveling.” On the morning of March 28th, I was Although Brower and associates had successfully standing alongside our canoe rack, talking provided for the needs of the shipwrecked men during to Captain Sherman, and I saw two sleds the long severe winter, all familiar with the history of coming from the south. Thinking they were northern Alaska must agree that the successful drive of some of the men from Wainwright, I took no the reindeer overland was a remarkable achievement

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and that Jarvis, Call, Bertholf, and Lopp deserve all credit railroad, and then over the rails to Nenana or Fairbanks, given them. Brower, I am sure, expressed the sentiment then down the Yukon River by dogsled hundreds of miles of all knowledgeable people when he stated on page 213 to Unalakleet, and from there ten days or more by sled (Brower 1942): “This whole expedition, from the fitting to Kotzebue, the distributing point for Arctic Alaska. The out of the Bear to the final delivery of the deer to us, last leg of 500 or more miles from Kotzebue to Barrow upheld the finest traditions of Arctic rescue work.” was probably the most difficult scheduled mail route in As Hendee and I had met the explorer Amundsen the world. The men were constantly gambling with their in Nome, and I had seen Amundsen’s famous little sloop, lives, but the Eskimos were so capable that few accidents the Gjøa, on the sands at San Francisco in 1913 after our happened. The mailman was supposed to transport a load return from Laysan island, I was especially interested in of 200 pounds for which he received $350.00 round-trip, the following few paragraphs in Brower’s book (p. 238), but there was a special allowance of excess for which the notes written in 1906 regarding the arrival of the Gjøa driver received one dollar a pound. The route was along at Barrow: an uninhabited coast, except for an occasional occupied igloo, which the carrier tried to reach for shelter from Viewed broadside, she seemed about seventy the constantly menacing storms. Dog food was a serious feet long. Certainly, she looked worse for problem, and yet the mails had to go through on time. It wear, as if her home port—wherever that should be noted that at the time of our work in the Arctic, may be—were a long way off. the winter mail cost two cents an ounce! I can’t say what first suggested it— The trip, with Jim Allen, down the coast from perhaps several slightly foreign-looking details Barrow in northernmost Alaska southward to Wainwright that caught my eye—but suddenly I knew. in November 1921, was to be the first leg of my dogsled I should have guessed sooner. Hadn’t I journey, which would continue in March (after the return seen the newspapers last winter when word of the sun) to Wales village on the shores of Bering Strait had first been flashed out of the wilderness at the extremity of Seward Peninsula, the western tip of to an astonished world? land in North America—a total sled journey of 750 to No matter. Here she was before my eyes. 800 miles. Probably few other people now alive, if any, The Gjøa—the little sloop which in three for- have covered all the coastline by dogsled from Barrow to gotten years had painfully accomplished what Wales, for shortly after my trip, the airplane came into navigators had been attempting for centuries. active use, and no one in his right mind would undergo Strange that I should come so long a 23 traveling days by sled when the journey could be made way to dodge the turmoil of historic events, in three or fewer hours by plane. only to be the first to congratulate Roald The Eskimo mailman, Kyakpuk, started south from Amundsen as he completed his epoch-making Barrow November 1 on his more than 1,000-mile round- Northwest Passage right here at Point Barrow! trip. He was to pick up the northbound mail at Kotzebue December 1 and return to Barrow by Christmas, if on The Arctic Mail schedule. Jim and I decided to follow Kyakpuk’s tracks, In the days immediately prior to the arrival of the airplane but a two-day blow kept us under shelter, so all sled trails to Arctic areas, all mail was carried to northern Alaskan were obliterated by the time we started down the coast. settlements by dogsled three times each winter—a letter Our journey back to Wainwright was without special posted in New York reaching Barrow 80 to 90 days later, incident, other than two days of the hardest work I have if it made it through connections—and six months, had the misfortune to encounter. The weather the last possibly, if it did not. The mail was carried from Seattle day was wonderful, however—cold and clear with no by steamer to Seward, the terminus of the Government wind blowing. We had spent the night in an unoccupied

64 DENVER MUSEUM OF NATURE & SCIENCE REPORTS | No. 13, March 10, 2019 Life of a Museum Naturalist vol. 2 igloo and were up so early it was necessary to sit around to the southward at noontime was the only break in the for an hour waiting for daylight. When finally on our long night. Our village Eskimos returned from their trap- way, the mail sled trail was located and followed to the ping grounds far out on the tundra; the reindeer herders beach, with overflows frozen smooth and so slippery the brought their animals closer to the coast; and the people, malamutes could scarcely pull, but as soon as the sled was young and old, prepared for the holiday season—for the moving, the dogs had to hustle to keep from being run weeks of darkness, far from being a period of inactivity over. The lagoon which had caused us so much trouble and depression, were given over to visiting, dancing, and on the way north also was frozen, so with a straight shot feasting. The days shortened to an hour of gray twilight across Peard Bay for three hours to Pingashugaruk, a when the tundra seemed a shadowless blending of sky long-abandoned site of a very old and large settlement, and horizon a short distance ahead of our stumbling and then on to Atanik, we were well on our way. feet. Hendee and I spent many evenings with the Allens We had an hour’s rest for lunch with natives at the and Eskimo friends playing cards, and a day or two village, which gave us the courage for the last 20 miles before Thanksgiving, when we were in the trading post, a home, and although darkness caught us a long way out, woman came in proudly carrying a baby not many days the dogs knew the trail. I will always remember that old (Fig.2.30). We all admired the new arrival, and Jim, night—clear and cold with ribbons of light from the who made a practice of giving presents to mothers of new aurora overhead crossing the sky from east to west, just youngsters, asked the baby’s name. The woman shook pearl bands of lighted mist, ever changing; the pad-pad her head to indicate no name had been given, and Jim of the dogs’ feet; the crunch of the runners; and the dull said, “Good! We call her Muriel after Bill Bailey’s koonee.” boom of the surf against the new ice. And then our home- coming—the sudden start and the howling of our dogs as they scented the village, the answering cries of other malamutes, and the lighted gut windows of the igloos throwing their beams into the inky blue of the Arctic night. The natives came running from every igloo, each one shouting his welcome, and we made our way into the warmth and comfort of Allen’s home, well satisfied with the 60 miles we had made for the day.

The Long Night Gradually, the sod-covered igloos of our little Arctic village were hidden by drifting snow as the sun dipped lower. In late October and in November, Ross’ and Ivory Gulls cruised low over the slush ice that was forming in the ocean, and flocks of Willow Ptarmigan worked near the coast, picking the last of the leaves clinging to the gnarled branches of willows—dwarfed trees which sprawled close to the tundra as though to escape the force of the winter’s blasts. The days grew shorter, the sun disappearing below the horizon November 20 to remain Figure 2.30. Native woman and baby Muriel, out of sight until January 26. Ice formed upon the ocean Wainwright, Alaska, early January 1922. DMNS farther than man could see, and a few days later, almost No. IV.BA21-467. before we were aware, a slight lightening of the horizon

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(I hope at Wainwright, or elsewhere along the Arctic hair was unduly long, would take turns barbering. On one coast, there is a more-than-50-year-old woman named occasion, I had finished on Hendee what I considered a Muriel who has had a not too difficult life.) work of art, and just as the task was completed, Upiksom, During the darkness of the long night, onshore who had been down at Icy Cape, returned from his 50-mile, winds blew. The level sea ice buckled and piled into dogsled journey. Without knocking, according to the enormous, chaotic masses, and there were grindings and custom of the natives, he came into our room, the hood of sharp reports, like all the machine shops in the world his parka and his eyebrows rimmed with frost. After brush- working in unison, as the great blocks were crushed. ing his hand across his face to clear his vision, he looked The ice grounded far offshore, and as the seaward ice at Hendee in astonishment. “Russell,” he asked, “who cut was forced against it, the broken cakes piled higher and your hair?” Then, without waiting for a reply, he added, higher into jagged, snow-covered ridges. “Get the scissors—I fixum.” We really became acquainted with our neighbors We often took our dogs for an enjoyable run across during these dark days, for we visited and photographed the tundra when the moon rode high in the heavens them in their warm sod igloos and learned how they throwing a ruddy glow upon the wind-whipped snow. Even used their native lamps of stone with the moss wicks the storms were interesting. I remember a sullen day when submerged in seal oil and how the women made their fur there was scarcely any lightening of the sky at noontime. clothing and boots. Our Eskimo friends visited us regu- A steady north wind was blowing, and snow drifted over larly. On one occasion, my favorite sled driver, Upiksom, the tundra like a veil, but then in the blackness of midaft- seemed particularly intrigued with some photographs ernoon, the wind dropped, not a breath of air stirred, and we had made of old Kootoo and his wife, and I asked the mournful howls of uneasy malamutes could be heard Upiksom if he would like a copy. He examined the picture across the village. The silence was so intense that the thoughtfully and then shook his head as he replied, “Oh, cracking of the ice far out on the ocean was as loud as gun- no. I see him every day.” shots. The night turned clear, and the deep-set stars shone My photographic equipment was limited to an brilliantly from the moonless sky. Then, without warning, Eastman Kodak with roll film and a 5x7 with a Protar the wind shifted to the south, and in a few moments a hur- lens, using cut film, necessitating a changing bag to load ricane of driving, swirling snow was blowing so thick that the holders and do tank development. I developed the the Eskimos did not dare leave their igloos to go to their negatives, and one of the difficulties was drying the film caches a little distance away without a line to guide them after repeated changes of water to eliminate the hypo, back to safety. It was not cold, as Arctic weather goes, being for if the temperature of our room fell below freezing, less than 20 degrees below zero, but it was impossible to reticulations formed which ruined the negatives. When keep our room warm. Our little sheet-iron stove was red traveling by dog team, it was always necessary to partly hot, and we sat so close to it we singed the fur on our unpack the sled to get at the tripod and rather bulky car- parkas, yet our offside hands were so cold. rying cases for the 5x7 and film. We were always repaid by electrical displays over- During the winter night, we prepared specimens head after the winds had passed, however. It was after which had been collected in the fall and preserved in the ice such a gale in early December when the driving snow cellar—hundreds of birds, for we had the pick of all that obscured everything a few feet away, that the wind the natives had taken for food, and we saved the skinned dropped suddenly. My notes for December 12 read: carcasses for them. They knew the birds well and always brought unusual things for our inspection. Ours was a lei- There was a wonderful aurora last night, the first surely and enjoyable existence, fieldwork being restricted to I have seen showing colors other than pearl and the near vicinity of the village during the noontime twilight mist green. The rapidity with which the flaming hours. We usually prepared two meals only and, when our area of light changed from mere streams of

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mist to rolling scrolls crossing from the west whole not high in the heavens, but as a toward the east was wonderful. The stars shone passing cloud a few hundred yards in the air. coldly and brilliantly out of a sky of darkest An awesome but wonderful spectacle. blue—blue-black—while the three-quarters- full moon lighted the snow-covered tundra with Time passed quickly. Russell and I joined the a greater brilliance than any of the dark, sunless Allen family and some native friends for a caribou roast days of winter. It was snapping cold and quiet. Christmas dinner and then played cards for many hours The crunch of snow and howl of the malamutes (Fig. 2.31). As we returned to our quarters, our way was carried for long distances, while the lights from lighted by a half moon. The temperature was a mild 35 the gut windows of the igloos blurred orange in below. There was no wind, and most of the northern sky the velvet blueness of the Arctic night. was ablaze at times with a flaming aurora. The most Above, the aurora played, whirling vivid displays were a little west of north—curtains of fire from transverse arcs to perpendicular bars, appearing abruptly from nowhere and traveling across showing the delicate colors of the rainbow the sky toward the east. The scroll-like waves sometimes but with green and pearl prevailing. Suddenly, sent shafts of colored lights downward, as do skyrockets from the northwest came a scroll of brilliant when bursting in the air, except the beams were not from light in vivid colors—purplish and magenta a single point but suddenly thrown down from a whole arc but with blue and then spots of yellow—the of light. It was a Christmas night to remember.

Figure 2.31. Christmas dinner at the home of Mr. & Mrs. James Allen, Wainwright, Alaska, December 25, 1921. Left to right: Upiksom, two native boys, Russell W. Hendee, James Allen, A.M. Bailey, and native boy. DMNS No. IV.BA21-464.

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Figure 2.32. Return of the sun, Wainwright, Alaska, January 26, 1922. DMNS No. IV.BA21-096.

The first winter mail was delayed due to stormy village to attend the festivities. There was to be dancing weather until December 30, when we received an in the schoolhouse and reindeer and dog racing at the accumulation—the first word from my wife—her last edge of the village, with alarm clocks and Thermos letter dated August 24, over four months on the way. The bottles to be given as prizes by the white men to the postmaster at Kotzebue dropped me a note to the effect winners of the races. All night the musicians pounded that no mail from the September and October sailings of their sealskin drums, and the moccasined feet of dancing the Victoria had been forwarded from Nome. men and women kept time to the chanting. A few hours Violent storms were to be expected during the height before the sun was scheduled to peer over the horizon of the Arctic night, but we were not prepared for a January on January 26, the athletic events began. Reindeer ran thaw. For three days during the middle of the month, the over a five-mile course, their frozen breath rising like thermometer rose to 25 degrees above zero. While this was steam as they plunged along, pulling the sleds to which well below freezing, the snow upon the tundra became too the excited natives clung. soft for traveling, and it was a relief when the customary The moment old Sol was due, we had scheduled 30 below was once more over the land. the final event of the day. Fifteen dog teams of seven We prepared to welcome the return of the sun with malamutes each were entered in a three-mile race—a suitable ceremony as our long night drew to a close (Fig. mile and a half over the snow-covered tundra to an 2.32). Doughnuts were fried in deep seal fat, caribou was abandoned igloo and return. There was great excitement roasted, and Eskimos from far and near trooped to the as the straining dogs were led to the starting line and

68 DENVER MUSEUM OF NATURE & SCIENCE REPORTS | No. 13, March 10, 2019 Life of a Museum Naturalist vol. 2 the teams placed 40 feet apart. The drivers stood on the runners of their sleds, whip in hand, ready for the start, while an Eskimo held the lead dog of each team to keep them in place until the crack of the gun. It was a race such as had never been run before in that part of the Arctic. The 15 teams and crowd of fur-clad people made a picturesque showing as the sun, seeming to bless the contest, threw its first glinting rays of light across the drifted snow. The gun cracked and the race was on. The malamutes lunged into their harness with eager yelps, and with snow flying under their fast-moving feet, they tore ahead, the sleds careening behind them. The drivers cracked their whips and shouted words of encourage- ment for a few brief moments. Then my old Airedale, who had been quietly standing beside me, tore out in front of the racing dogs—the leaders of all 15 teams headed for Jerry—and in another moment, all 105 sled dogs, the Airedale, and 15 swearing Eskimos were in the midst of the finest dogfight it has ever been mortal man’s fortune Figure 2.33. Native ice fishing, Wainwright to witness. And on the distant horizon was the sun. It was Inlet, Alaska, February 18, 1922. DMNS No. the end of a perfect night. IV.BA21-063. The temperature ranging from 20 to 40 degrees below zero, with occasional strong winds and drifting and when the gut window in the top of their igloo was snow, averaged colder after the return of the sun. The raised, there was the old nanuk at the cache ready to take natives traveled far out upon the sea ice hunting seals a frozen seal. A well-aimed shot turned the great beast and polar bear, or they erected windbreaks of blocks into a museum specimen (Fig. 2.34). of snow on the smooth ice of the inlet, cutting holes I paid the natives $65 for the bear. A woman care- through six feet of ice in order to catch fish. The old fully removed all grease with her triangular-shaped people were the ones with patience, standing hour after knife, the ulu. The blood was washed away, and then the hour crouched behind their barricades, gently raising wet hide was taken outside and frozen in the far-below- and lowering the whalebone lines, each with a wiggling zero temperature, the stretching of it requiring six men. ivory hook. Hendee and I were afield every day, but the Children took the skin and skidded down snow banks, returns for our efforts were scant, considering the hours thus removing all grease from the hair. Then the speci- of tramping involved. Journal entries were brief, such as men was lashed, fur down, over a canoe frame (elevated the one for February 18: “Took photos of men fishing on beyond the reach of dogs) and allowed to dry and the Wainwright Inlet (Fig. 2.33). Clear, 30° below. Sundogs hair to bleach. conspicuous around the sun.” The second winter mail arrived during a storm on Few polar bear were along the coast, for offshore February 22. Kyakpuk had passed within 100 yards of winds kept the “old ice” far from land, although several Upiksom’s igloo at Icy Cape the day before, and neither fine animals were taken. The big male now in our he nor the sled dogs had seen it. The second batch of mail Museum group was killed by a 16-year-old girl at Icy in less than two months after the first was a break in Cape. In the dim light of early morning, the natives had winter routine; a letter mailed from my wife on Decem- heard their sled dogs making an unusual disturbance, ber 3 was 78 days en route.

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Figure 2.34. Colorado Museum of Natural History original exhibit of polar bears that shows them on ice pack near Wainwright, Alaska, 1923. DMNS No. IV.00-2210B. Clear weather prevailed after the storm, and fields. Few naturalists have been privileged to witness changing winds blew snow back on the tundra. There such flights, but Hendee saw the great northern migra- was a wonderful aurora effect the next night with great tions of eider of four species, loons, and other interesting arcs of light massing the northern sky. Two horn-shaped forms. While waiting for the whales, the Eskimos took flames were stationary, one in the east and one in the many birds and Hendee had his choice of the beautiful west, with the tail near the horizon and the wide part high plumaged specimens. Accounts of his interesting high in the heavens. An arc formed high in the sky and observations of different species of birds and mammals slowly worked overhead; then, as it diffused, other vivid have been recorded in Birds of Arctic Alaska (Bailey bands similar to those in the north, but more intense, 1948), and our report on bowhead whales, seals, wal- flamed directly above. The lower edge suddenly seemed ruses, and other mammals of the North was published frayed with streamers of light as though from a multi- in the Journal of Mammalogy (Bailey & Hendee 1926). tude of colored ribbons dropped from a lighted balcony. Time passed quickly, and for Hendee one of the high- I tried to photograph the display, but the 40-below-zero lights of his experiences was the arrival of the famous temperature crystallized the cement of my Protar lens. Roald Amundsen, whom we had met at Nome the previ- There were 12 hours of daylight by March 1st, and ous summer. Amundsen and his pilot, Lieutenant Omdal, preparations were made for my long dogsled trip down intended to use Wainwright as a base to attempt the first to Bering Strait. I left by dogsled March 12, and Hendee flight over the Pole to Spitsbergen—an effort which due remained at Wainwright to collect specimens and go to a variety of causes ended in failure. Hendee was privi- whaling far out on the Arctic ice with the Eskimos. As leged to become well acquainted with the noted explorer soon as there were open leads six to ten miles offshore, during their weeks of association. Russell accompanied the natives as they hauled their Captain Cochran and the Bear arrived in August, and umiaks on sleds over the ice to water, set up camp along the Museum specimens, which had been carefully packed, the edge of the “flaw” and awaited the coming of the were loaded into umiaks and transferred to the revenue bowhead whales. The early bird migrants followed the cutter, and Hendee and the collections were transported to open waterways, far out over the leads through the ice Nome, and the specimens then shipped on to Denver.

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Dogsled Journey to Bering Strait, March 1922 farewell to our friends watching from a snowbank, and During the fall and winter of 1921, in the vicinity of the then continued on the trail down the coast. little Eskimo village of Wainwright, Hendee and I not The prevailing winds during the winter months had only had secured complete habitat groups of the various been from the northeast, but now a strong southwest wind species of seals, polar bear, and Barren-ground Caribou blew directly in our faces, with a 25-degrees-below-zero for exhibition, but also had taken specimens and made temperature. The wind was bitter cold, but our clothing migration notes on many interesting species of birds, of deerskins gave ample protection, except for our faces. including two—the Baikal teal (Anas formosa) and Fur clothing was a necessity, and we wore double artegas the Siberian Lesser Black-backed Gull (Larus fuscus of reindeer skin—the inner one of light fawn with the taimyrensis)—new to the North American List (Bailey hair in, and the outer parka of summer reindeer with 1948). We still had one large group to acquire, that of the hair out—over which was a shirt of white drilling the Pacific walrus, and then the major objectives of our as protection from flying snow. Pants, socks, boots of expedition would be completed. reindeer, and wolf skin mittens completed the costume. Great herds of walrus migrate through Bering The sled was loaded with about 300 pounds, so when Strait into the Arctic Ocean and on north past Wain- the trails were good, Upiksom and I took turns hopping wright to the vicinity of Barrow each summer, but their on for a short ride, and as Allen’s dogs were among the appearance in northern areas depends on the direction finest along the coast, our journey was made in as near of the winds. They associate with the ice fields, and if comfort as possible. Anxious to make good time, we ran offshore winds prevail, the floes are driven far from land, alongside the sled, hanging on to the handlebars until and walrus are few. Consequently, there was too much our breath gave out, and then jumping onto the sled risk to depend on obtaining the animals at Wainwright, until we regained our wind. The trip from Wainwright to and as mentioned above, it was planned that Hendee Bering Strait proved to be the equivalent of more than a should collect at Wainwright in spring, securing walrus 650-mile cross-country run. if possible, while I made a more than 650-mile dogsled The scenery of the first day’s journey was journey down the coast to the Eskimo settlement of monotonous. The flat tundra extended to an indefinite Wales on Bering Strait. Thus we would have two parties pearl-colored horizon made indistinct by the veil of drift- hunting the much-desired walrus. All preparations were ing snow. Five miles below the village upon the banks of completed in late February. I had arranged with Allen to Wainwright Inlet was a small igloo. We descended to the use his fine malamutes, and Upiksom agreed to accom- wide-stretching bar where we saw the only vegetation of pany me the first 350 or more miles to Kivalina and then the day, a few snow-whipped wisps of dried grass protrud- return with Jim’s team after I secured another relay. ing from the protecting mantle of white. The inlet was The morning of March 12 was cold as the dogs crossed, and the dogs headed for the beach, which was were harnessed for the start of the trip to Wales, our made apparent only by the ridge of ice piled high which Eskimo friends and Jim Allen and Hendee helping us. had been thrown up by onshore winds. Patsy, the lead The last goodbyes in such an out-of-the-way part of the dog, followed an old trail. The everlasting wind pounded world, where one does not expect to return, are difficult. us in the face, and the drifting snow obscured all from But the final “so longs” were said, the snubbing line was sight beyond a few hundred feet. The country was slightly loosened, and our 11 dogs started the heavily loaded rolling with no high hills to vary the scenery, and no sled, my old Airedale racing alongside and barking his wildlife was seen. enthusiasm. The continual winds had driven the snow We came to a great lagoon, formed by a sandbar back and forth until, with the help of an occasional thaw, thrown up by waves of the ocean, and followed along the it was firm for spring travel. We followed a well-beaten narrow barrier rather than on the ice of the lagoon. It path southward, turning a half-mile away to wave a last seemed simple to follow along the coast, but in fact, due

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to the poor visibility, it took a traveler of experience, and and at 9:00 the dim light of Upiksom’s snow-covered Upiksom was thoroughly familiar with the country. After house at Icy Cape could be seen, and in a few minutes a couple of hours, the remains of an old village, Kila- our destination was reached. The dogs were unhitched, matavik, were passed, just a clutter of ruined huts and and we were made comfortable inside with the supper old caches, and an hour later we reached two little igloos that had been awaiting us, baked Brant, rice, and coffee. upon a slight rise which the Eskimos called Milik’tavik. We had covered 50 miles in ten and a half hours travel- (Milik means spokeshave, so no doubt the name was ing time, starting at 25 degrees below zero, and ending given because of driftwood which was abundant there, with 40 degrees below, with far greater comfort than the used by the natives for canoe frames.) One of the houses same distance which took us three days in a whaleboat was abandoned, but in the other was a family of three, during the previous September. A’onruk, his wife Ataknaruk, and a little girl. We stopped All night from the south the wind blew and, in for a pot of tea with our Eskimo hosts, and the malamutes the morning, continued from the same direction. As and Jerry were given a lunch of two fishes each. the thermometer had dropped to 44 degrees below, it A’onruk’s little igloo, entirely covered over with was decided to lay over a day to rest the dogs and save snow, was characteristic of most of the mud and drift ourselves a hard trip. houses of the coast. Access was gained on hands and Early in the morning of March 14, Icy Cape was knees through a tunnel (the kanechuk). Two doors behind us; the dogs were well rested by the day’s layover, barred the way, and the room inside was barely high and good time was made down the beach. The eastern enough to stand erect, except where the gut window in sky became pink, and as the round globe slowly lifted the roof afforded a slight elevation. A stove had been above the unclouded horizon, it colored the sea ice in fashioned from a discarded washtub, and a series of tin warm tints, while the tundra against the rising sun cans, ingeniously fastened together, formed a chimney. looked somber by contrast. It was a wonderful day, In one corner was thawing walrus meat, while a rusted only 15 below, and Upiksom and I were soon wet with frying pan nailed to the wall served as a seal oil lamp. perspiration from our exertions. We peeled off our outer The day of the primitive was gone. The white man had artegas, doffed heavy mittens, and ran on, rejoicing in been too long on the Alaskan coast for his influence not the fine weather. The trail bordered the ocean the entire to be felt in every home. distance between Icy Cape and Point Lay, and as the The trail led southward skirting the beach and country was similar to that on the other side of Icy Cape, lagoon, the only variations in the windblown flats being extensive lagoons with the narrow barrier sandspits, the several snow houses which A’onruk had built as bear scenery was unvaried and monotonous. In two hours, traps. In these, he set guns with seal meat for bait and, the hunting camp of Sugalak and his wife Miugruk was so far, had taken one “nanuk.” It blew hard late in the reached, the igloo, typical of those along the coast, being evening till we feared a storm, but fortune was with us, almost buried in snow. Miugruk was at home, and as she and as the sun dropped beyond the horizon far out on the had seen us several miles down the trail, water for tea icebound ocean, we saw the moon rise behind us, three- was hot. Had I been collecting Eskimo curios, I could quarters full. The wind veered slightly from dead ahead, have started a young museum from that one igloo, for and the trail improved. It was a wonderful evening, which the people were “ipanee” (old timers) and had many would have been enjoyable had we not been so tired. The implements of their own making. round moon threw orange highlights upon every ridge of Soon we were on our way; the sky clouded about snow, the blue shadows blurring into blackness. Nothing 1:00, and snow began to fall gently, the blurring sun but the rhythmic pad-pad of the dogs’ feet, the heavier giving a moonlight effect. The soft shadows upon the crunch of men running, and an occasional cheering call tundra and the brilliance of the newly fallen flakes to the dogs was heard. But all journeys have their ending, made the prospect ahead resemble, in general affect,

72 DENVER MUSEUM OF NATURE & SCIENCE REPORTS | No. 13, March 10, 2019 Life of a Museum Naturalist vol. 2 the beauty of a well-prepared platinum print. Several I breathed deeply of the gasoline, contrasting the odor trees, which had drifted from parts unknown, had been with that of thawing seal and the drying deerskin and erected by the Eskimos as observation posts and as sealskin clothing. Just as I was drifting off, I heard the markers for the Utukok River 20 some miles down the Eskimos mention my name. Upiksom nudged me and coast from Icy Cape, a broad stream which we crossed said, “Bill, more better we put your bag out. That bag of before reaching an occupied igloo at Naparuacheak, all yours, the natives say the smell, it make ‘em sick.” that was left of an old village. Early in the morning, Sumarum had the fire started Each igloo along the coast had a name, and my and coffee made, while we were still stretched out, a late Alaskan chart recorded places which no longer existed. start being planned owing to the shortness of the run (25 While having our lunch of soup and tea, the kindly miles) to our next stopping place. After a breakfast of deer native woman attended to our wet deerskin shirts and meat, Towenga’s ice cellar was examined; it was filled with inspected our boots to see if they needed repair. Leaving ringed seals, a couple of polar bear carcasses, and several the hut, we both looked forward to our night’s stopping hundred birds, including King Eider, Glaucous Gulls, place near Point Lay, for we were tired. Fresh snow had Snowy Owls, Yellow-billed Loons, and Pallas’ Murres. covered the trail, so the dogs too were losing their spirit. The sun was obscured as we pulled out at 11:00, The sameness of the scenery—the dead gray of the land- March 16, and headed for the beach, but an intense light scape without shadows—made travel tedious, the only was thrown from the snow, and dark glasses were used break in the monotony being our overhauling a native to relieve the glare. The trail was down the spit, which with his nine malamutes and the exhilarating dogfight formed the outer bank of an extensive lagoon, and over which took place when we tried to pass. soft snow, which made the going heavy. We just loafed along, stopping now and then to climb some of the obser- Point Lay. An igloo at Point Lay was reached and vation posts which the Eskimos had erected. A dim speck our gear carried into the home of Towenga, his wife loomed on the far horizon which Upiksom said was our Sumarum, their two children, and the aged mother destination, and toward dusk, the lagoon was crossed to of Sumarum. The hut was slightly crowded with six the inland shore. The natives—Tommy Knox, his wife Eskimos, a white man, and an Airedale dog. A large seal with a child on her back, and her father and mother was thawing before a stove made from a five-gallon coal —were waiting to greet us and to help with the dogs. oil can. A pile of clothing in one corner served as a bed Instead of an igloo, I was surprised to find Tommy’s home for the two children, and Jerry was soon fast asleep on a to be a small, neatly kept frame house which had been sealskin. Half of the 20-by-20-foot room was made into entirely drifted over. The room had a glass skylight with three sleeping bunks, the wrinkled grandmother occupy- a thin layer of clear ice fitted over to prevent the window ing the lower, her personal property propped in the near from being frosted. Tom and his wife spoke excellent vicinity. Overhead were drying deerskin shirts, boots, and English, and that night they entertained us with records socks. We pulled ours off to be replaced with dry, and of Caruso, Harry Lauder, and Negro minstrels. Sumarum took possession to see that they were properly The Kukpowruk River, which we crossed before dried and mended. She was a middle-aged woman of the reaching Knox’s place, flowed into the Kasegaluk Lagoon old school. She spoke no English and had three tattooed about nine miles below Point Lay. Tommy told me that lines on her chin, a fashion which was out of date among there were coal outcroppings within a couple of miles of younger Eskimo women. his place and along this stream. When the sled was unpacked, a little gasoline had As we descended the bank from Tommy’s place to been spilled on a sack of spare clothing which I used as the lagoon the following morning, the distant foothills a pillow at night. Upiksom and I cleared a space on the to the southwest were blurred, blue ridges showing floor for our sleeping bags, and stretching out in mine, through the haze, and the sky was partially overcast. The

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sameness of the going was tiresome, the same grind for ridges difficult to cross. Occasionally, there were clear several hours, the only relief being trotting alongside the stretches where the going was excellent, and on one was sled, then jumping on for a ride. Tracks of Arctic foxes a seal before its hole. Upiksom put on his white hunting were numerous, the little p’shukok (“run around”) shirt and tried a stalk, but the dogs barked and fright- showing he is well named. One of the malamutes grew ened the animal. From Cape Beaufort could be seen the tired in the middle of the afternoon, so my Airedale was rounded hills bordering Pitmegea River, in spite of fog harnessed, his first experience as a sled dog. He was quite and unfavorable conditions for observations. A deserted disturbed at first and inclined to buckjump, going back hunting camp (Ikkikitshik) was passed, and we headed and forth over the towline, but he finally settled down on for the Pitmegea River which flows from the De Long and pulled as well as an old-timer. Mountains into the Chukchi Sea at Cape Sabine. In the The trail grew noticeably better when near wide river valley between rolling hills were three other Ann-ukok’s place (Ned’s), and our pace increased abandoned igloos nestled at the base of a ridge, and as accordingly. The little igloo was finally sighted with its the dogs pulled alongside, the sun broke through masses motley collection of dogs, the cache, and skin canoes, of wind clouds over Cape Lisburne to the west, the latter and our team tore along at a gallop, old Jerry barking showing up blue and indistinct. The cleanest of the huts in his excitement. The shelter proved to be a little affair, was chosen, and soon our supper was underway. only about five feet high, made of a rough timber We were awake at 3:30 the following day, March framework, with sod piled up for walls, and the whole 19, and it was ‘way below zero in the igloo. The stove was well buried in the snowdrift. The tunnel (kanechuk) started, and we had our breakfast of rice, dried apricots, was so small that we had difficulty getting inside, and and coffee in comfort without crawling from our bags. the floor space of the igloo was so limited that there The dogs were harnessed, and we left Pitmegea, having was little room for us. I was always impressed by how a fine trail along the beach until it petered out at a neat the Eskimo women kept their limited quarters and blowhole. Then there were difficulties; a great crush of their willingness, even though greatly inconvenienced, ice had piled in confusion, and as we tried to find a way to provide shelter for travelers. through, the sled was subjected to such a pounding that We were up early the following morning, March 18, I feared it would break. We worked through the rough and killed time getting breakfast until 7:00 before hitting ice for several hours and then traveled on the tundra to the trail. The sky was overcast. A light snow was falling, the site of a former village, Initkilly. One would naturally and the sun just reddened the East. Ned accompanied us suppose that the tundra would be covered with a deep as he wanted to pick up his traps. He was taking the lead layer of snow, but the reverse was true because of the across the gray waste when his dogs gave a sudden lunge, usual violent winds, and as a consequence, the dried upsetting the sled and spilling him. He had trapped a red grasses were fully exposed, except for a thin layer of ice fox, which the dogs spied. The sea ice was piled high in which had formed from a thaw. many places with great pressure ridges along the beach, After leaving the little igloo at Initkilly, the frozen while in others, there were clear places. As Cape Beaufort ocean was tried again, but near the Corwin coal mine, we was neared, the first high land observed for eight months, were glad to follow sled marks into a valley and over the a Snow Bunting and four Redpolls, the early stragglers of hills skirting the coast. A couple of frame shacks marked spring, were observed. Later numerous Willow Ptarmi- the attempt to develop the Corwin mine. The hills were gan tracks were noted. staked for miles around, but no means of working the out- The trail to Cape Beaufort was difficult, but it was croppings and transporting the coal had been found. We not a circumstance to that encountered after reaching had soup from our Thermos bottle near the shack and then the point where the steep walls were too precipitous to cut up a valley, following far back, but as Upiksom did not work along and the sea ice a chaotic jumble of pressure know the way, the dogs were headed down the next valley

74 DENVER MUSEUM OF NATURE & SCIENCE REPORTS | No. 13, March 10, 2019 Life of a Museum Naturalist vol. 2 to the beach. The same old grind began all over again, the that the trail ahead was “ah-regah.” We traveled for an trail being close under snow-packed precipitous walls. hour, crossed a point of land, and came to a big lagoon In the distance, a black speck was observed which clear of snow. Here, one of the dogs gave out, so he was suddenly developed wings. As it took flight, the black turned loose and Jerry harnessed in his place, the old changed to a flash of pearly white in the dim light of fellow settling into the traces with a will. It was hard for the hidden sun, and we recognized the Snowy Owl which the dogs to keep their feet, but good speed was made, both looked far from snowy against the light. On one occasion, of us riding for the first time during the day. Eventually, Upiksom reached for his rifle, always lashed in an acces- two little igloos were sighted on the edge of the lagoon. sible place, and then pointed, saying, “P’shukok.” He put The malamutes increased their pace, and soon we were the gun back in its case when he saw the little Arctic fox alongside and unloading at the home of Tadrioluk and was already the property of someone else, for it was caught his wife, Kipwana. This little settlement did not differ in a trap. The animal was put out of its misery and left, from the others. The natives were the same kind-hearted the usual custom among the Eskimos who had a saying to people who gave freely of their best. Jerry, however, met indicate ownership: “It was caught in your trap.” unusual treatment, for when he started to follow me into Three sleds were noted coming through the rough an igloo, a female malamute with pups in the kanechuk ice a short time later, and the half-dozen natives greeted flew at him and caused the hardened old Airedale, who Upiksom as an old friend and gave the cheering news rarely backed from a fight, to beat a hasty retreat.

Figure 2.35. Wevok village, Cape Lisburne, Alaska, March 20, 1922. DMNS No. IV.BA21-033.

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Figure 2.36. Museum sled in rough ice rounding Cape Lisburne, Alaska, March 20, 1922. DMNS No. IV.BA21-179.

Cape Lisburne. Known to the natives as Iogatuk, the meat for his dogs, I made a photo of the little settlement, two igloos were at the end of the broad lagoon, backed a desolate picture in the grayness of the fog with the dim by hills a couple of thousand feet high. The valleys were slope of the mountain behind, and then ten minutes later seamed with hard-packed snow, while the slopes were kept there was a break overhead. I saw the blue sky and what clean by the ever-blowing gales. Cape Lisburne stretched a wonderful contrast! Instead of mud igloos, there were off to the west; it was a bold headland so feared by travel- picturesque homes of a hardy people. Sunshine changes ers that its rounding always caused a sigh of relief. What one’s mental attitude. It had cleared away the fog, reveal- hardy people were these Eskimos to live under the very ing the mountains with their snowy slopes glistening and walls of such a storm beacon as Lisburne. Often, a man their crests pinnacled with spires of rocks. could not leave his home, even to go to his cache. The sun climbed higher, and there was the promise We were up at 4:00 on March 20 and on the way. of a wonderful day, as was needed when traveling around Sled tracks led along the beach, an excellent hard road Cape Lisburne, reported to be the worst “blowhole” in of powdered snow over which the dogs pulled the load Alaska (Fig. 2.36). Many interesting stories have been with ease. It was a warm, foggy morning. The bases of told of the experiences of various men rounding the hills showed faintly, but no idea of the distance could be Cape. Suffice to say that loaded sleds were often blown gained. After a little more than an hour’s travel, we came away, and wise men made no attempt to round Lisburne to Wevok (Fig. 2.35), a village of hardy hunter folk, which in a southeaster. From Wevok the trail hugged close to the proved but a collection of typical igloos hovered together rugged walls. At the extreme point, we met some hunters at the base of a snow-covered hill three miles from the and their dog teams who had been out on the ice for end of Cape Lisburne. While Upiksom bartered for seal polar bear. They said that the trail was “ah-regah,” and

76 DENVER MUSEUM OF NATURE & SCIENCE REPORTS | No. 13, March 10, 2019 Life of a Museum Naturalist vol. 2 it may have been so for a lightly loaded sled, but for ours on a high bank where, to our dismay, were seven sleds the going was difficult. Our experiences with ice work that had preceded us and at least 30 people expecting that day were many and varied, from chopping trails to sleep in the little snow-covered hut. When we were through pressure ridges to cracking through rubber ice assured that Joe Tuckfield, a white man who had hunted of a newly frozen lead. the bowhead whales with Eskimos in earlier days, was Due to a constant shifting of the sea ice, even in at his home on the sandspit near Point Hope, the weary the depths of winter, caused by currents and heavy gales, dogs were started down the hill and out on the sea ice. often there may be open water anywhere along the coast. There, old Dick, our faithful leader, followed a track of But usually, the natives can tell where such places exist sleds invisible to us in the darkness. because the normal skies over snow-clad tundra and The stars gleamed coldly out of a clear sky, while frozen ocean are light, and where open water prevails, the North Star was almost overhead, and a great flaming there is a dark pall above. The Eskimos are able to locate arc of an aurora ran from east to west out of the north- such fine hunting places from shore where seals are ern sky. The dogs appeared as mere black masses without likely to occur and, consequently, polar bear, which feed line or detail. The crunch of the sled runners, the upon these marine mammals. padding of our moccasined feet, and Jerry’s occasional Open leads last briefly. They are quickly frozen, but barks were the only sounds to break the stillness. Thirst travelers on sea ice must watch carefully. Upiksom was had bothered me all day, and the quantities of snow I experienced, and as Cape Lisburne was rounded, we were ate did not seem to help. After a long time, the north in areas where there had been shifting ice. On the occasion coast of the peninsula was reached, and we were at a of encountering “rubber ice” mentioned above, we were loss which direction to take to Tuckfield’s igloo, for no making good time over a flat stretch. My dog Jerry was in trail could be discerned. We listened, but no howl of dogs the harness, the left wheel dog (nearest the sled at the left). was heard. Our old leader, Dick, solved the problem by I had been running and, out of breath, had jumped on the striking off on his own initiative, and soon we saw that sled to rest momentarily, while my companion held onto he was following the tracks of two sleds. For half an hour the handlebar at the rear as he trotted along. Suddenly he continued, and we began to discuss the advisability Upiksom noted a wide area of new ice ahead. He yelled a of crawling into our bags until daylight, sleeping where warning and let go of the bar, and I jumped, sliding just we were, when the call of the North, a band of mala- to the edge of the slightly frozen lead. Jerry looked over mutes in song, was heard from directly ahead. We had his shoulder as I left the sled and set all four feet to stop, arrived at Joe Tuckfield’s at last. A husky Eskimo boy, Bob but the other dogs continued on, quickening their pace Tuckfield, whom Captain Joe had adopted, came out and and pulling him along as the thin rubber ice bent under helped Upiksom with the dogs, while I went below, for the them. Fortunately, their momentum carried the sled across frame building was completely buried from sight. There the 40 feet of sagging ice, the rear of the runners cutting I found the Captain, a whaler 70 years of age who had through to water just as the team hit solid going. Had the been in the country for 30-some years. He soon had tea dogs stopped, undoubtedly the heavily loaded sled and the and bread before me. I drank quantities of water, and entire team might have been lost. after the usual formalities—“How’s the trail?”, “Are you Below Cape Lisburne there was a series of precipi- getting any foxes?” etc.—I crawled into my bag and then tous walls that were broken by occasional valleys leading oblivion, for we had been on the way 18 hours and had inland, with rounded hills showing in the distance. The covered more than 50 miles of difficult going. frozen ocean was an intricate network of ice ridges. Joe was the only white man met on the first 300 Progress was slow, and darkness overtook us near the miles of my trip, so that alone was enough to make me reindeer camp of Ahkalurak, 17 miles short of our goal glad to see him. His wife “Sunshine,” as he affectionately at Point Hope. The team raced toward the igloo situated called the old Eskimo woman who had shared his ups and

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downs for many years, and his adopted son, made things natives had placed their dead on platforms, and as the as comfortable as possible for us, and Joe had saved his last bodies disintegrated, the bones were scattered all over handful of coffee to share with me. It was with regret that the sandspit. A few years previously, the missionary had we bade them goodbye the following morning as we left for many of the old racks torn down and the cemetery built. Tigara, the native village at the end of Point Hope. A pit was dug in the center, a cross erected, and most of the bones picked up. A thousand skulls, I was told, were Point Hope. A strong southeaster was blowing, placed in that one grave. and Bob pointed toward Lisburne and remarked, “It’s In the old days, Point Hope was a famous whaling lucky you came last night—you no stand up up there place, and many people of different nationalities lived now— your sled blow away.” When I thought of those there, carrying on the precarious and sometimes 30 people huddled in the little igloo and our own dogs profitable business. The little settlement of whalers, without food, I was glad that we had gone on in spite because of the people with different jargons, became of our weariness. The blow carried considerable snow, known as “Jabber Town.” Inevitably I thought of the but as it was not directly ahead, the going was easy. stories Charles Brower and Jim Allen told me of their Jerry grew inquisitive at one little hummock and found experiences at Point Hope. Charlie had spent the spring himself caught in a fox trap, but he was soon freed and of 1884 there and in his book, Fifty Years Below Zero, no damage was done. gives an interesting account of his experiences. Years At Tigara we stayed at the school which was in later, Jim was at Point Hope with many other hardy charge of a young Eskimo, Tony Joule, who had attended individuals, making his home with the Eskimo medi- the Dwight L. Moody School in Massachusetts (Fig. 2.37). cine man of the community, and was intrigued on one The night of the 21st was clear and cold, with an aurora occasion when a sick boy was brought in for treatment. flaming in the north, and in the morning, there was a The native took something from his medicine box in strong north wind blowing. As noted in the narrative of a corner of the igloo, placed it on his knee, and then our summer visit to Tigara, the cemetery was unique, put the ailing youngster on top of the object, made a being fenced with the ribs of whales. Formerly the few incantations, sang a short song, and then handed

Figure 2.37. Tigara village, Point Hope, Alaska, March 23, 1922. DMNS No. IV.BA21-301.

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Figure 2.38. Mail carrier Kyakpuk with dog team near Cape Thompson, Alaska, March 22, 1922. DMNS No. IV.BA21-446. the child back to his parents. Jim’s curiosity caused him a perfect day. Kyakpuk, the mail carrier, had waited for us at the first opportunity to lift the lid of the box. The and followed our dogs closely, and I could not help but ceremonial object proved to be a copy of Punch. think he had learned to drive dogs by practicing on mules. The following morning, March 21, the wind blew (Fig. 2.38). His language was picturesque and effective. strongly from the north with drifting snow, so at Tony’s We kept up an even pace all morning, stopping en route suggestion, we were glad for an excuse to rest for a day. within a mile of Cape Thompson at a large igloo, com- After photographing about the village in the afternoon, pletely buried, to have a bit of soup from our Thermos. we attended a dance held in our honor that night in a The natives always welcomed us. In this case, only the large igloo, access to which was gained by a door in the woman was at home, but she carried on a lively conversa- top of the kanechuk with a ladder descending. The hut tion with Upiksom, for all news of happenings elsewhere was large and commodious, lighted by two seal oil lamps was passed on by travelers up and down the coast. with sizzling blubber in the container. About 40 good- Twenty-six miles on our way, we reached Cape natured natives crowded into the room and carried on Thompson, a bold headland dropping sheer into deep water. the dances with which I had become familiar during the (Fig. 2.39). The ocean was frozen solidly against the base, winter nights at Wainwright. with great ice areas extending high up on the walls where Early the next morning, the dogs were headed down the spray from pounding waves had frozen. There was a the trail for the trip around Cape Thompson. The wind constant trickling of rocks down from the steep walls, and had dropped and the sun shone clear so, all in all, it was many of these rocks contained fossilized invertebrates. A

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snow and large pebbles scattered about indicated the strength of the winds which usually blew. The trail was excellent, and good time was made to Kivalina, a village of about 90 people situated upon a sandbank between the sea and the ten-mile-long Kivalina Lagoon. The snow- covered igloos were dotted by the dark figures of natives who were watching our approach. I was pleased to find at the schoolhouse James A. McGuire, an official of the Alaska Division of Education and a friend of southeastern Alaska days, who was on his way north on his annual inspection of the schools along the coast. We had been in correspondence the previous summer regarding my trip to Wales, and he advised me he had arranged that I should stay in Kotzebue with the Traftons, teachers at the village. Upiksom secured his cousin, Eleapuk, with 14 dogs, to relay me to Kotzebue, and we started off at 9:30 on March 24. It was with regret that I bade Upiksom goodbye and waved a last farewell to Mr. McGuire and the kindly people at Kivalina. The day was almost too warm for the dogs to work well. Behind us came Elektura, one of the Eskimos who drove the deer to Barrow for relief of the shipwrecked whalers in 1898. He had only six dogs, but Figure 2.39. Rounding Cape Thompson, they strained eagerly at the harness, keeping close on our Alaska, March 24, 1922. DMNS No. track along the beach, which often became sandbars on IV.BA21-178. the seaward side of extensive lagoons. The long foothills in the distance were colored light tints of lavender as good series was collected, which added considerable weight cloud shadows passed along, and the sea ice glistened to our load, and I was not surprised a day later to find that white. The trail was monotonous, and we pushed on to they had unaccountably been lost. a couple of abandoned igloos called Kilikmak, 15 miles We traveled on for about seven miles after round- north of Cape Krusenstern, where we camped for the ing the Cape, finally reaching a cluster of igloos along night, making ourselves comfortable by burning a few Ogotoruk Creek, where hospitable natives welcomed drift logs in an old rusted stove. us—Upiksom, mail carrier Kyakpuk, and some old We were up at 3:30 on March 25, had a breakfast friends, having a pleasant evening together. After a of rice and deer meat, and were underway with an early delayed breakfast, we started down the beach, enjoying start on the long run to Kotzebue, following along the good going and a fine cold day. The sun threw a broad sandy coast in the dim early light. A strong east wind reflection upon the glistening snow, making a beauti- drifted a veil of snow, and our double artegas were needed ful effect since the dogs, sleds, and native drivers were even while trotting beside the sled. Well-marked tracks massed black against the light. A chain of hills extended led along the beach, with distant low foothills aglow immediately below the igloos, and across a valley stood across the lagoons, until near Cape Krusenstern, and the a lone mountain, a snow-covered cone. Wide-stretching trail cut across the wide stretch of tundra forming the flats led back to distant hills, and the striations in the point. A few miles farther was the igloo of Charlie Allen

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(Akanakluk, son of Tutiksuk), who agreed to take me The white owners of the four trading posts were from Kotzebue to my destination, the village of Wales on an interesting lot. One was a bushy-haired, blue-eyed, the shores of Bering Strait. shaggy-browed individual who was talkative on the We traveled on after a cup of tea and some hard bread, future of Alaska, “the greatest state in the Union.” now along Kotzebue Sound. The sun was dazzling bright, the According to him, in four more years, no wheat would reflections thrown from the snowfields being almost blind- be sent to Alaska, but it would be exported instead. Coal ing. Distant foothills loomed conspicuously, with the sky a would be sent to Pennsylvania at $2.00 per ton cheaper dark blue contrasting with the whiteness of the sun-touched than it could be secured there, and the vast oil deposits crests. On the southern slope of one of the small hills along of the Arctic and southeast Alaska would compete with the sound were some bushes about three feet high. A few those of the States. This man (one of the other traders miles farther on in the distant valleys were vague bands of told me), on one occasion, received a wire from his black shadows, which Eleapuk said were the spruce forests partner outside telling him to quit buying muskrat skins of the Noatak, the first trees I had seen in nearly a year. Soon and to sell out. When the handwritten message was deliv- numerous caches were passed, all made from logs evidently ered, he remarked, “Huh! They can’t fool me. I know my felled for the purpose and not picked up on the beach as pardner’s signature!” drift. They were well-constructed frames upon which rested I purchased two skins of barren ground grizzly the umiaks, kayaks, nets, and other hunting paraphernalia bears from this trader, beautiful specimens which of the Eskimos. The trail became excellent by the time we were later mounted by the Museum’s veteran pre- dropped down the low tundra bank and cut across to the parator, Albert C. Rogers, and now are exhibited in a opposite shore of Hotham Inlet, where the Eskimo village habitat group. The stay of two days and three nights of Kotzebue straggled along the beach. This native settle- at Kotzebue were not only enjoyable to me but also a ment differed from those up the coast in that the homes blessing to Jerry, my Airedale. He was so tired after his were constructed of logs floated from the Noatak and Kobuk long journey that he crawled behind the stove in the Rivers, rather than from rough driftwood. Trafton home and could not be inveigled out except at Arriving just at dusk at Kotzebue, a village of some meal times. 230 Eskimos and whites at the head of Kotzebue Sound, A clear sky and a strong southeast wind greeted I went directly to the large schoolhouse of the Bureau of me on March 30. I bade the hospitable Traftons “so Education, where I was given a warm welcome by Mr. and long” and with two teams, one of nine dogs and the Mrs. Trafton, who made the three nights spent in their other of eight, started down the coast with Charlie village pleasant ones. Allen (Akanakluk) and George Washington (Kilitmak) The Eskimo settlement was named Kotzebue when as drivers, both capable Eskimos with fine dogs. The the post office and a mission of the Society of Friends drifting snow and strong wind made it almost impos- were established in 1899. A mission herd of reindeer was sible to face directly ahead. The malamutes were in brought from Siberia, and from the original 120 females fine condition, however, since they had had several and the necessary number of males, some 3,000 animals days’ rest, and good time was made on a well-defined had been distributed to the natives. Many had been used trail along the beach with deep snow on either side for food at the mission, and some 200 were still on hand. that sent the dogs floundering when they strayed from The white population of the village at the time of my the beaten path. A flock of Willow Ptarmigan was visit was in the midst of a local election, and I enjoyed flushed from among some scrub willows, their white listening to the electioneering of the candidates for the plumage glistening cream-color in the strong spring local school board. For a settlement registering about 30 light. As they rose with a fluttering of wings, low over votes, the excitement was intense, for each candidate had the tundra, the dogs followed with eager yelps ‘til they a row to hoe and sought to profit in some way. were soon beyond their depth in deep snow.

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The land skirting the Sound was like other parts of April 2 our course led across snow-filled valleys the coast, the same monotonous expanse of drifted white. south of Cape Espenberg, where willows were fairly Cape Blossom, where I had hunted the previous summer, abundant. There were numerous tracks of foxes and loomed ahead, but the sled tracks led inland and then ptarmigan, a lone Snowy Owl was noted on a hummock, back to the coast, and as we wound between tundra ridges, and two Snowflakes were resting upon an abandoned several more bands of ptarmigan were flushed. The beach cache. The trail improved along the beach, and rapid was skirted all afternoon, and at sundown, camp was made progress was made the last eight miles to an unoccupied in a little cabin, a frame shack put up by the government igloo, where camp was made for the night in large and as a refuge station. A good range, firewood, and a sleeping non-crowded quarters. After staking out the dogs, my bag were in the hut, besides a few utensils, such a building Eskimo companions regaled themselves with frozen, raw, being of great value to stormbound travelers. seal meat dipped in seal oil. The trail, the following morning, cut off from Choris At daybreak April 3, we were on our way across Peninsula (named by Kotzebue in 1816 for Louis Choris, a broad lagoon toward pressure ridges in the distance a member of his expedition), to an extensive bay and led that indicated the shoreline. The day was so warm that over smooth ice ‘til we rounded a cape and saw mile-long the snow melted on our boots and the trail so soft the Chamisso Island out in the strait which joins Eschscholtz dogs went slowly, and running along the side of the Bay with Kotzebue Sound. Following the path of two sleds sled proved hard work. We came to Shishmaref Inlet. that passed the day before, we continued south across the Offshore the narrow bands of black in the sky indicated rough sea ice. The wind became more northerly, and the open water, and inland the clouds occasionally lifted to sun felt warm on our backs. Tracks of sled deer showed allow glimpses of low mountains, but of more interest where a reindeer team had crossed the Sound. A few fox to me, little Sarichef Island at the mouth of the Inlet tracks circled about, and a raven hovered over Chamisso and the village of Shishmaref with a population of Island, where multitudes of seabirds would nest in a few about 150 people. more months. Reaching the southern shore of the Sound, Charlie Menadelook, the native school teacher, the trail turned toward the west. The weather was perfect, invited me into his home, while my drivers visited with the dogs were working well, and long before sundown, the friends. Charlie was a young man of 30, or thereabouts, cluster of wooden shacks of the town of Deering on the who spoke good English. He had an enrollment of 57 north base of Seward Peninsula loomed ahead. children but was not holding school due to a mild epi- The little mining settlement of fewer than 100 demic of mumps. people was not very prosperous at that time. There were We were on our way the morning of the 4th. The one store and a roadhouse run by a Japanese who served sky was overcast, and a light snow was falling. In an us a meal of reindeer meat and ptarmigan. Provisions for hour the snow fell so thickly that the trail was obscured, the trip to Wales were secured at the trading post, where and due to the poor visibility, our world ended with the there was a telephone over which they were getting the lead dog ahead and the sled in the rear. Occasionally, latest news from Candle, a luxury in pre-radio days. bits of driftwood blurred on either side as the teams Leaving Deering at 7:30, April 1, a shortcut was followed along the rough ice which guided us on our taken through the hills over a well-beaten path behind way. It was a day of monotonous weary plodding, for Cape Deceit to the coast beyond and across Good Hope as soon as the trail became covered, the dogs refused Bay, thus saving many a weary mile had we plodded to move faster than a slow walk. We pushed and pulled along the beach. After ten hours of hard travel, the rein- till dark, eventually reaching a large igloo, after a deer camp of Konelalaruk was reached, where we spent weary grind of 45 miles plus 12 hours of hard work the night in a little seven-by-twelve igloo, the three of us behind us. Someone had left a mammoth tooth in the crowding in with a family of seven. abandoned igloo.

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Wind and snow squalls blinded us the following we floundered on, just putting one foot in front of the day, and the heavy trail made it necessary for one of other. All trails eventually come to an end, and there is us to run ahead of the dogs. Several abandoned igloos no need to tell of the pleasure in reaching the village were passed, and a few ringed seals were noted on the and the hospitality of Mr. and Mrs. Tom Killeen at the ice. An uninhabited hut was reached about 2:00, and my school building. I soon was made comfortable; slippers companions wanted to spend the night as the dogs were were brought for my feet, a big warm supper for the inner tired. The snow had stopped falling, and the great storm man, and a bath. What a luxury to straighten out in a cloud which had covered Wales Mountain slowly dis- tub of good, warm water and just soak. A fire was built persed revealing the rugged outlines of the cliffs near the in the attic room for me, and after we had chatted ‘til village of Wales; I decided against any stop short of my midnight, I retired but lay abed reading my mail from destination. We had plodded all day in a storm, and now home until 2:00 in the morning. that it had cleared, I had no intention of sitting down and resting, especially as it might blow on the morrow. Cape Prince of Wales. My long dogsled journey “Oh, no, it fine tomorrow,” Charlie insisted, but after a down the Arctic coast of Alaska of nearly 800 miles by cup of tea we were underway, the men a little resentful trail from Barrow to Wainwright (in October) and from and inclined to think back on the muk-tuk which the Wainwright to Bering Strait (March 12 to April 5) took Eskimo women had provided them. 27 days, 23 of actual traveling. The settlement of Wales, The last ten miles across the deep drifted tundra at the extremity of Cape Prince of Wales on the end of were the longest I have ever covered. After sighting the Seward Peninsula, is the westernmost village of North vague dark dots which indicated igloos, they seemed America and had a population of nearly 500 people to retreat as darkness gathered. The light was so poor in 1890, the year in which the Congregational Church that it was impossible to tell hollows and ridges, so established a mission there (Fig. 2.40). Reindeer were

Figure 2.40. Wales village, Alaska, April 1922. DMNS No. IV.BA21-132.

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introduced four years later, a post office was started in days, but it was the north and south migration of birds 1902, and years later, a public school. As at Wainwright, and mammals, rather than the eastward movements of I was privileged to make my headquarters in the large humans in remote ages, that interested me during my two-story school building. stay at the extremity of Seward Peninsula. The current Less than 150 people lived at Wales in 1922, partly flows strongly northward in spring through the narrow due to the influenza epidemic a few years before that was passageway between the two continents, and thousands so disastrous to the native population. Dwight Tevuk, of birds and sea mammals travel regularly from the then a boy of about 12, lost both of his parents. Four dog Bering Sea to the Arctic Ocean and back again in the teams, with natives and the U.S. Commissioner William fall to their wintering places at the edge of the floes. N. Marx, brought food for the stricken people “and dug When winds are favorable, there is an interchange of a big hole to bury all the dead.” As the community was bird species between continents. Off to the north from paralyzed, it was suggested that the remaining men and the village stretched Lopp Lagoon, a large shallow body women choose new mates and adopt the orphans. The of water fed by numerous meandering streams, and advice was followed, the families were formed, and the about 20 miles away was the little willow-bordered Mint life of the village was renewed. River flowing into the northern end of the lagoon, both Adjacent to the schoolhouse was the manse with a favorites of tundra-nesting birds. memorial plaque dedicated to Dr. Harrison R. Thornton, The Wales area was one of the most interesting in one of the early missionaries who had built his own North America to observe birds and sea mammals, and I two-story frame house against the lower slope of Wales was the first naturalist to spend an entire spring at that Mountain, well away from the village. I have not seen western point. I hope the following account of my day-to- a published account of the tragedy which occurred, but day field activities will give an idea of museum collecting according to my native friends who were familiar with with Eskimos more than half a century ago in the region the story, three boys knocked on the door, and when adjacent to Bering Strait. Dr. Thornton answered, they killed him with a whaling Stormy weather still prevailed at Cape Prince of bomb. The uncles of the youngsters started up the hill- Wales on my arrival in early April, and there was little side to execute them and, one boy, when halfway up, fieldwork possible except within walking distance of the complained he was thirsty. He was allowed to return to village. I became acquainted with the people of Wales, the village, get water, and then rejoin the group. particularly Arthur Nagozruk, who was the leader of Behind the village, was Cape Mountain, and my the little community, and arranged to accompany him first exploratory trip was to climb a few hundred feet to and his boat crew on offshore excursions when the one of the spurs where the natives had buried many of weather became suitable for walrus hunting. There their dead. There was no vegetation, no grasses or shrubs were half a dozen stalwart hunters, each with a skin apparent, just a wind-slicked surface of snow and ice umiak and crew, but Nagozruk was the only one who which made passage most difficult. It was a clear day, and had a portable motor which he could attach to the plainly visible 25 miles to the west, nearly in the middle end of his skin boat for emergency use (Fig. 2.41). The of Bering Strait, were Fairway Rock and the two Diomede others had to depend on sailing their crafts when winds Islands (Little and Big) discovered by Vitus Bering on were favorable. August 17, 1728, Little Diomede an American possession During the first week, Bering Strait was clogged with and the other Russian. The International Date Line ran floes, the grounded shore ice extending for half a mile out between the two, and in the hazy distance, 56 miles from from the windblown beach of sand. The pan ice, drifting my vantage point, was the rugged Siberian coastline. northward with the swift current, had been held solidly Bering Strait was one of the routes traveled by against the flaw (the wall where the sea ice broke away prehistoric man from Asia to our continent in early from the grounded) by the westerly winds, so the natives

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the week was nice, and it clouded up in the afternoon with a strong southeast wind. The ice was carried offshore by a two-day northeast wind early in the week, but with a return to the south late in the evening, the ice was back by morning, leaving very little open water for hunting. The week was not without its inter- est, however, for I saw my first eiders, several flocks far offshore on April 20th, and one of the natives shot five. A single gull, a large one and probably a Burgomaster (Glaucous), was too far away to be identified. The next couple of days many eiders were offshore, but no chance to reach them. The flocks were working both up and down the coast, so it is probable that the regular migration has not started as yet. April 25: Continued to blow, but not drifting as yesterday, when I could hardly see along the open water. I went to the edge of the ice this a.m. and saw a flock of King Eider Figure 2.41. Arthur Nagozruk with his swimming; collected three and a Pigeon Guil- Evinrude motor, Cape Prince of Wales, Alaska, lemot, but Jerry refused to swim for them so May 1922. DMNS No. IV.BA21-194. the specimens were lost. Several flocks raised, had no opportunity to hunt, and food was becoming but none circled over the ice. Blowing too hard scarce. The first whale of the season was seen in a patch of for the natives to take out the whaling canoes, open water April 13, and another, the next day. and too cold for boat work anyhow. Shifting winds occasionally opened narrow leads, April 28: Still blowing today, but a which gave promise of better hunting. I was afield each day, cheerful sun made the day more pleasant. sometimes adjacent to Cape Mountain searching for ptar- Yesterday I collected a pair of King Eider from migan, and again along the edge of the flaw when there was a flock in the water along the shore ice. Jerry open water. On April 20 a Glaucous Gull and several flocks retrieved the male, but I had a hard time of eider and numerous bands of King and Pacific Eider were getting the old dog from the water up the steep noted. The weather continued unfavorable, but on April 25 ice wall. Finally snaked him out by the scruff three Mandt’s Guillemots were collected along the edge of of the neck. There were several flocks of eider, the shore ice, and I was able to recover the specimens from a dozen cormorants, a few guillemots, and an the top of a 15-foot ice wall by the use of a native contrivance Oldsquaw. Still blowing, but went to the edge called a “nixik,” a ball of wood with sharp hooks attached to of the flaw and collected a Mandt’s Guillemot, a line. My journal entries for the last of April are as follows: and a Kittlitz’s Murrelet in winter plumage. The native with me, Jesse, said the latter nest on April 23: The past week has not made any top of Wales Mountain, so I shall take a look apparent change in climatic conditions, for the next month. Saw several murre, several bands weather continues stormy and below freezing, Oldsquaws, eider, and cormorants. There were with no break in view. Only one day during many white whales.

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The strong northwest winds, which had been West winds closed the strait the next day, May 6, blowing for two weeks, calmed on May 5, and the strait so I hiked back in the valley and over the first ridge was fairly clear of ice for two miles out, making it possible of Cape Mountain, searching for ptarmigan without to go on our first offshore hunt. About 9:00 Nagozruk and success. As the weather improved May 8, with offshore his boat crew hitched dogs to their umiak, dragged it to winds opening a narrow channel, a long day’s hunt was open water, and with the motor going, we put out for the made with the Eskimos out on Bering Strait. Many King middle of the channel. Scarcely were we aboard when a and Pacific Eider were seen, but they were rather wild large flock of King Eider flew overhead in a long line, not due to another crew shooting before the birds reached swerving when they saw us, and several birds were taken. us. An ugruk (bearded seal) dived at our approach, and As other bands of eider passed, the natives took toll and as we waited for him to reappear, I heard a strangling cry, then spent the time between flocks picking up cripples. The which the natives said the ugruk makes under water. The eider flew very swiftly, their front ranks sometimes being seal came to the surface several times and looked very 100 or more yards long, just a wavering string of ducks large as he curved up to sound, showing his whole back which often were followed by several other lines. Time and like a white whale (beluga). He did not go out of sight again the sky seemed massed with flying birds. The ducks with that contemptuous flit of his hindquarters that the followed open channels of water, and the Eskimos worked nukchuck (ringed seal) gives. along leads as narrow as possible so the birds would pass Many Glaucous Gulls made their way leisurely over the umiak. Flocks would be flying high, but when northward along with flock after flock of eider. About noon they saw us, they usually dropped low within range, the we hauled the umiak up on a big pan and floated north- bands passing on either side of the skin boat. As there had ward with the current, waiting in hope of game. Nagozruk been little opportunity to hunt in April, the natives were killed a little seal about two months old, and the men pleased to secure numbers of eider. took several shots at a white whale without success. In Cormorants and a few Glaucous Gulls were seen the evening, the wind dropped and the water grew glassy, during the day. In the late afternoon, the breeze died but we were forced to pull the skin boat out on the ice on until there was a slick calm, and the shore ice was mir- several occasions because of the shifting of the pack. Many rored in the quiet waters. Gradually, the sun lowered into seals were seen, but none was taken, so my collection for a red haze extending far along the horizon. the day consisted of but two murres, an Oldsquaw, an Fairway Rock and the Diomedes to the west were American Scoter, and four female King Eider. dark silhouettes, and Cape Mountain to the east took on A heavy fog prevailed over the Strait May 12, but a pinkish glow which changed to delicate tints of violet, conditions on land adjacent to Cape Mountain were ideal while the masses of ice along the flaw towered high for fieldwork. The weather at Wales varied from one hour to with the same beautiful colors. The eider increased in another, the winds from the north often sweeping around numbers, and the men shot until out of ammunition, a corner of the Cape so there was a lee along the southwest our boat taking 124 since food was badly needed by slopes. On this day many species of birds were migrating, the villagers. Hunters in two other umiaks killed about and a band of about 70 Little Brown Cranes flushed from 150, and I picked the best specimens for our collection. the mountainside, straggling off in two V-shaped flocks, It should be noted that the division of birds was on a protesting in their guttural way. They swung along the percentage basis, the shooters securing the most, and spur of the mountain and followed the highland westward the paddlers, a smaller share. There were eight men in toward Siberia. When they entered the fog, I could hear our crew and only four guns, and my take for the day their bewildered notes as they circled, finally emerging in consisted of one cormorant, three Pallas’ Murres, and clear air over the tundra. Several other flocks of cranes nineteen King Eider. We returned to the village at 1:30 seen during the morning lost their sense of direction when a.m. after more than 16 hours afield. trying to penetrate the fog mass.

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The snow was disappearing. The lower shoulders The next two days were stormy, so typical of Wales of Cape Mountain were clear of snow, but on the higher with its reputation for the worst weather in Alaska, but slopes, the drifts seemed little affected by the 20-hours- May 22 was ideal. I carried all my gear over the melting a-day sunshine. I climbed over the hillsides with little shore ice to our seagoing umiak, and soon our crew was difficulty, above the many migrating cranes as they sailing over open water toward the middle of the strait swung below along the mountainside, and located four and the Diomede Islands. When far offshore, we met Rock Ptarmigan, all in winter dress. A male, which I col- Mike’s returning umiak. Nagozruk asked about game, lected, had a few brownish feathers in the neck. and Mike replied, no others venturing a question, but all During the next several days, stormy weather pre- leaning forward in their eagerness to get the news—the vailed, and it was not until the morning of May 17 that killing of a walrus, the first of the year. we made our next offshore trip. The sea was clear of ice During the morning, many ugruk were seen, and near the flaw, the edge of the grounded shore ice, and the Ivory Gulls were fairly common and very tame. They Eskimos sailed our umiak to the pack and drifted with it. circled close to us time and time again, giving their A pair of Spectacled and a few King Eider were seen, and querulous, strident cries similar to those of Arctic Terns. a bearded (ugruk) and three ringed seals were taken. Thousands of eider were moving northward, flying low, The wind switched to the south in the afternoon, and and when close to the Diomedes, a Long-tailed Jaeger immediately there was a fine migration of birds, many passed near the umiak, and there were several small eider going through. Wind and snow made collecting so flocks of Least and Paroquet Auklets. Numerous ringed difficult, however, we returned to the village, hauling the seals were hauled out on the ice, giving the Eskimos umiak up on the ice at 2:00 a.m. many shots. Eleven ringed and an ugruk were killed, so The wind shifted from the south to north May the men were well satisfied with their hunt—although 19, and the weather turned springlike. Three umiak disappointed that no walrus were seen. I asked Nagoz- loads of hunters started offshore in the afternoon with ruk a silly question when he was rather bemoaning the sail set, and Nagozruk headed our skin boat towards scarcity of walrus. I said, “Which kind of meat do you the Diomede Islands and the pack, but within an hour, like the better—seal or walrus?”—to which he grunted, a great cloud with a black forbidding sky obscured the “Walrus—more meat than on seal.” The late afternoon Cape. The natives read the signs aright and started wind blew strongly, and there was an overcast, so the back home as snow began to fall—a strange sight to umiak was headed for Wales. see the clouds advancing from the south with snow Disagreeable weather continued with strong winds blown by a north wind. The storm continued for some for several days, and the tundra and mountain slopes time, and then the white crest of Cape Mountain remained frozen with no sign of a breakup. The wind pierced the cloud mantle. The sun broke through, the was still from the north the morning of May 28 with a wind switched to the south, and the water became as drizzling rain, so I had to be content to watch the migra- glass. The wind had changed from the south during tion of many species of birds from the edge of the flaw. the morning to the north, blew from that direction Unfortunately, the shore ice started crumbling, scarcely two hours, and then came again from the making it too dangerous to work along the seawall, south. As the wind was unfavorable for sailing, we although the great numbers of waterfowl migrating paddled back along the shore ice, passed the Cape, northward tempted me. There were Black Brant, Ivory and stopped on a floe to make tea, but hardly had Gulls, numerous Arctic Terns, Long-tailed Jaegers, and our drink been downed when the wind switched once occasional shorebirds which I could not identify. Later more to the north, making a record-breaking variety in the day, I climbed to a bench clear of snow on Cape of weather. We returned late, and I crawled into bed Mountain and collected a Great Knot (Calidris tenuiros- just before dawn. tris) which nests in Siberia—my specimen still the only

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record for North America—and a Bristle-thighed Curlew, especially abundant, Red-backed Sandpipers having a bird I knew well from my three-months’ stay ten years arrived in great numbers just overnight, others observed previously on little Laysan island. In the more than half- being Pectoral, Baird’s, and Rock Sandpipers, the latter century which has elapsed, no other Bristle-thighed have fairly abundant. Finally, the village was reached and been reported from Wales. the umiak pulled up on the sea ice about 6:00 in the There was a fine migration along the Cape May 29, evening, the end of an interesting 30-hour hunt between and I started up the mountain, but noticing the wind Wales and the middle of Bering Strait. had changed from the south to the north, I hiked back May 31, the following day, was a perfect one for to the village in time to go offshore with Nagozruk and fieldwork. Numerous species of birds, including Long- the other men of the crew, making the mistake, however, tailed Jaegers and Short-eared Owls, were flying low over of dressing for warm weather. Scarcely had we started bare spots on the tundra. Back of the village, passerine when the wind shifted. It was cold with a miserable, wet and sandpiper calls filled the air. Spring seemed to be fog. Steller’s and Pacific Eider, and numerous Kittiwakes, just around the corner. I walked to the shores of still- Glaucous and Vega Gulls, and a single Bonaparte were frozen Lopp Lagoon, the shadowless, snow-covered flats seen. It was evident the spring migration was at its being set off by a dark gray sky, while the little pools height, for many pipers and passerines were occasionally of snow water were transparent blues and greens. The numerous out over the ice, and there were straggling brown of dried grass appeared here and there through flocks of Pomarine Jaegers. the snow, and flocks of sandpipers lined the pools. Wavies The skin boat was pulled up on an ice cake at dusk, (Snow Geese), calling loudly, circled as though looking and we floated northward all night. My Eskimo compan- for open water, and little Brown Cranes were numerous, ions sat in the umiak with arms inside their artegas and some flying north, and others west across the Strait, slept the hours away, while I had to walk back and forth on heading toward Siberia. the floe to keep warm. In the early hours of May 30, walrus The afternoon of June 1st, the big umiak was dragged were heard in the direction of the Diomedes, but we were to the edge of the shore ice, and with motor running and unable to go after them on account of the heavy fog. sail set, we headed for the Diomedes. There was a rolling The morning was quiet with scarcely a movement sea which caused the skin boat to pitch badly, and the of air, and gradually the white mantle of mist cleared, wind blew strongly from the north. Many birds were in showing the dark Diomedes to the west and Fairway flight, especially Pacific Eider, a few Kings, Spectacled, and Rock to the south. There was not enough wind to use the Steller’s. Jesse’s boat started out first and had a good lead sail, so Nagozruk started the motor and headed toward on us, but as our sail was larger, we overtook him in a the ice fringing the islands, and en route the men shot couple of hours. The sea was clear of ice between the Cape two large female bearded seals. One had had an encoun- and the Diomedes, and the only game noted was a cow ter with a polar bear. Old nanuk had left marks of his and calf walrus on a small floe to the north of the islands. claws all over the poor old ugruk. The bearded seals were Jesse’s boat passed to the south of us and on westward, very large in comparison with the ringed and were about and later, through my binoculars, I could see them taking all two men could haul over the snow. In midafternoon, down the mast and starting to shoot. We later learned they we drifted with the ice in the middle of the Strait near killed five bull walrus out of six. the Diomedes where numerous Mandt’s Guillemots In the late evening, our umiak was pulled up on a and several seals were seen, but as hunting was poor, large pan. We made tea and then, about midnight, started Nagozruk started for home, and on the way back, many west toward the Siberian shore. Soon a cow walrus and birds were noted—Oldsquaws, Spectacled and Pacific calf in the water were seen a short distance ahead. They Eider, several flocks of Emperor Geese at rest on the dived and came up within three feet off our starboard ice cakes, and Snow Geese in flight. Shorebirds were bow, and both were collected and saved for specimens

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(now in the Museum group). Nagozruk headed our craft Finally, all the animals fell asleep, except this one old back and forth all night among floes of ice between the fellow. They were packed so tightly on the ice that they Diomedes and Siberia, and early the next morning, June piled one on another. When the obstreperous bull finally 2, three Ivory Gulls and a pair of Kittlitz’s Murrelets were decided that he too would take a nap, it was necessary noted. Gradually working eastward, we ran along the to sprawl across the others, where he hung with head snow-seamed walls of Little Diomedes and landed, made slightly down and his great tusks gleaming. the climb to the village in its picturesque setting, and After all were asleep, the natives paddled slowly learned from the natives that many walrus had been seen ahead, reached the ice, and to my surprise, the men and a few taken the day before. climbed out within plain sight of the herd. The animals The Diomedes were still clothed in winter dress, downwind from us were in a turmoil, many taking to their white-covered sides seamed here and there with the water and others throwing their heads high, all ridges of worn rock running from the crest to the shore the time grunting like so many elephants. When the ice. The summit was cloud topped, as indeed it always Eskimos were ready, they started shooting but killed only seemed to be. Birds were numerous along the cliffs, and two which stayed on the ice, flippers hanging over one flying over open leads were murres, Least and Paroquet edge of a small cake and great heads over the other. The Auklets, many cormorants, and Pigeon Guillemots. remaining walrus rolled clumsily into the water, and Continuing westward, we hauled out on the ice we followed them in the umiak, having great beasts all halfway between the two Diomedes, made tea, and tried around us. The shooting was promiscuous enough, but without success to get a shot at a cow and calf walrus little damage was done. Four animals were killed in the which had cruised within 50 feet of us. Nagozruk climbed water and harpooned with a float attached, as we were a high cake of ice and looked around with the glasses. afraid of their sinking. Soon he began to talk to the other Eskimos, and turning, To pull the walruses onto the ice for skinning was to me said, “Plenty walrus over there.” The men, quietly a difficult task. We had such a large amount of game it excited, launched the umiak and headed toward distant was impossible to carry it all, so the skins and the best of floes. The walrus appeared as mere black specks on the the meat, the intestines, and stomach contents only were ice, and the natives said there were “mebbe 500.” When saved. The animals had been eating invertebrates which near the animals, we pulled up the white hoods of our resembled sea cucumbers to some extent, and clams. The snow shirts so we would blend into the background and stove was started, and soon we had all the ingredients of a paddled slowly forward. clam chowder as we drifted northward on the pan ice. The walrus were scattered on the ice over a rather After a hard hour’s work, the boat was packed, wide area, a great band of cows and calves with a few and the men made their way back to the big bulls we enormous bulls being on the other side of the floe, and had collected. Unfortunately, the natives refused to skin downwind, while quite near, were some huge bulls on the beasts, taking only the huge ivory tusks, saying the a small pan ice. They reared back and forth without weather was too stormy to carry more of a load across the paying the slightest attention to us. Indeed, the natives Strait. I asked them to skin the animals and leave them talked loudly, telling me they did not care if the walrus on the Diomedes to be picked up next trip, but they only saw them so long as the beasts did not get their scent. replied, “Ice mebbe come in, and no get back.” The larger males seemed very quarrelsome, one being Close to the islands, two whales, a bowhead and a particularly pugnacious. He would raise his head with “devil” (possibly a California gray whale), were sighted, his great tusks in an almost horizontal position, striking the latter curving well out of the water and sounding whatever animal happened to be in his way. A few Vega in a leisurely fashion with tail lifted high as it slowly Gulls hung about, and “walrus birds,” as fulmars are disappeared close to our umiak. The crew was a bit called by the Eskimos, flew low over the water and ice. nervous with the huge creature so close. Many walrus

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were seen about 5:00 in the afternoon as the umiak Gale force winds continued for two days, so I was headed eastward across Bering Strait toward Cape worked on the high tundra where pairs of Rock Ptarmi- Mountain. When near the end of our journey at 5:00 the gan were carrying on their courtships, the real breeding next morning, the sea became glassy, and there was an plumage being white, for few dark feathers were evident. unusual cloud effect back of the mountain. I expressed The males would rise in the air with rollicking, jarring my regrets about our leaving the fine specimens of bull cries and then drop back to a prominent perch before the walruses behind, and Nagozruk commented, “When it females, as though to invite applause or criticism. get real nice here, it is time to be home.” One of my most pleasing experiences was to watch The 40-hour hunt in ice-filled waters between two the antics of three Whistling Swans on the snow-covered continents had been interesting. Daylight was almost tundra. They walked about with arched necks and out- continuous, the sun just dipping beneath the horizon stretched wings, occasionally bowing to each other and at midnight, and many migrating birds were in sight at quivering their wings, all the time calling loudly. Small all times—large bands of eider of all four species, with birds were abundant, Longspurs and Snowflakes being Spectacled and the small Steller’s well represented. Arriv- busy everywhere. Long-tailed Jaegers worked the barren ing at Wales, the work of transporting the skins from parts of the tundra, and there were many Red-backed, the edge of the flaw was left to the village natives, and Baird’s, and Rock Sandpipers. a difficult task it was, for the hides were so heavy that it A fog had settled down June 8, and by afternoon, took two men to drag one. As the members of the crew a continuous drizzle was falling which made an offshore were dead tired from nearly two days and nights offshore, hunt impossible. Rain fell the next morning and then the specimens were buried in a snowdrift to be attended turned to snow in the afternoon, but I took a long hike to later in the day. back from the village and observed that many Gray- I was glad to turn in and, after sleeping five cheeked Thrushes had come in overnight. Red-backed and hours, again started afield, hoping to collect a few of Rock Sandpipers were quite numerous, and Red Phala- the migrating birds, but unfortunately, Nagozruk’s rope, a few Northern Phalarope, Emperor Geese, cranes, weather prediction proved correct. The wind from the and several Pomarine Jaegers also were seen. southwest increased, and the scattered ice that had The next two days continued stormy with snow during been massing in the middle of the strait was forced the night and morning of June 10. The schooner Herman against the grounded shore ice. Large herds of walruses came in sight about 10:00, anchored off the flaw, and I floated by the village, dark against the white of the went aboard with the Killeens and secured much-needed drifting floes, and the bellowing of the bulls carried by supplies, including some fresh fruit—apples, oranges, the onshore winds could be heard clearly far back on and grapefruit—quite an addition to our usual northern the tundra. fare. The Herman left about 7:00 in the evening for the The walrus skins saved for our museum group Diomedes. Captain Pedersen reported there was heavy ice to were turned over to five native women. The weather the southward, that the Bear had arrived in Nome, and the being so cold they could not work outdoors, so we rigged Victoria was due in a few days. Of ornithological interest, I up a place under shelter. They split the bulky skins to collected a Red-spotted Bluethroat on the tundra late in the a quarter-inch thickness starting near the outside edge, evening, one of the seven seen, an Asiatic species new to my running the inside of the skin over a rounded board. A Alaskan list. In my report upon The Birds of Cape Prince of stirrup for the right foot was attached to the thicker inte- Wales (Bailey 1943), I mentioned that the Bluethroats were rior skin, which drew the hide tight against the board. It fairly common on June 10 and 11 on the higher benches of took an entire day to split an adult cow and half the time Cape Mountain and that a set of eggs with birds had been for the young, and I worked on the heads and flippers collected at Barrow, indicating the species probably “nests and attended the final salting. in suitable places from Wales to Barrow.”

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According to my notes, June 11 was a “rather nice June 14 was a repetition of previous days with the day”—actually a red letter one for an ornithologist, for I south wind so strong it was difficult to make headway. I collected two more Asiatic species, a Mongolian Plover and worked along the base of the mountain and observed the a Rufous-necked Sandpiper, both first definite continental usual species of pipers, jaegers, a pintail, and a couple records for North America, the two plovers previously of pairs of Rock Ptarmigan, and on the return to the reported from Choris Peninsula in the summer of 1849 village found a nest of Red-backed Sandpipers with four probably having been taken in Siberia (Bent 1927, 1929). fresh eggs in a depression in the marsh grass on the low Three days later, June 14, I watched a pair of Rufous-necked tundra, the hollow lined with a few leaves. The female Sandpipers as they worked around in the grass at the foot of jumped from directly underfoot and flew off to its mate the hill. The female finally entered a little tussock, stand- along the pond, where it fed unconcernedly. Although a ing on her “nose” and fluttering her tail and wings. Soon heavy fog swept over the Cape June 15, I hunted birds’ the male pushed his way inside also, and after a few more eggs nearly all day. A nest of a Rock Sandpiper was found rustlings about, they both took to wing. I found a little nest by flushing the incubating bird. It fluttered off and cavity in the grass which they were lining with leaves. (This did not return, even after I had made an hour’s hunt observation of the nesting activity of this Asiatic species was elsewhere. On the higher slopes of Cape Mountain were the first for North America.) Subsequently, Dwight Tevuk a few Rock Sandpipers, Longspurs, and Snowflakes, and collected six sets of eggs with the adult birds, as has been I located a Longspur nest with three eggs which would noted in my Birds of Arctic Alaska. have been sheltered by a little willow when the shrub Toward evening, the wind turned to the north but finally assumed its protecting leaves. switched in an hour to the southeast and blew hard all Following along a ridge, I heard many calls night and all day the 12th. It stopped suddenly about 6:00 which reminded me of home in the early spring, for the in the evening and swung to the north. In 15 minutes the combined totals sounded like the singing of many little wind was again in the south and blowing hard. Although grass frogs in a meadow pond. They were the songs of the wind continued from the south all day the 13th blowing Baird’s Sandpipers. A little female was flushed which a half gale, I went far back along the mountain where fluttered away, uttering cries of distress, but she soon there was a lee. Birds of many species were carrying on returned and settled down on her nest, the male, hover- their courtships. The golden-plover were flying high, just ing about, making his little frog-like peeps. At times he lopping slowly along, all the time uttering a musical “we would rise high in the air, in the way so characteristic of and we” in the sing-song Whippoorwill way, and several the male Spotted Sandpiper, give forth his call, and then Willow Ptarmigan were noted rising from prominent sail down to perch. perches giving their “come back, come back” call. The Toward evening the weather cleared, and the first set of eggs of the Alaskan Longspur was brought in Eskimos decided on a hunt, hoping the wind would change by a native boy. The nest, on the side of a hummock on so we could get offshore for walrus. We launched the the high tundra, consisted of dried coarse grass with the umiak and followed the flaw down the coast against the inner part lined with white ptarmigan feathers. wind with the aid of the motor. The evening was rather From a bench of the mountain, I heard walrus and nice until midnight, and then fog settled, and I was cold could see a large herd of several hundred on the ice. The in spite of all my heavy clothing. Many birds were flying, men tried to go offshore, but the wind was too strong, Red-throated and Pacific (Arctic) Loons, a few ducks, Har- making 11 days of weather unsuitable for hunting, and lequins, Oldsquaws, King, Steller’s, and Pacific Eider being the season was growing late. The natives were beginning seen. Kittiwakes and Pomarine Jaegers were migrating in to do some worrying. Whereas I needed a bull walrus great numbers. The men pulled the umiak onto the shore to complete my museum display, they were concerned ice about four miles below Tin City and, in the next few about their winter’s food. hours, shot several spotted seals.

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The wind became strong the morning of the 16th advantage out on the tundra with the discovery of seven driving the ice against the shore (Fig. 2.42). It was evident nests of sandpipers, three Western, two Red-backs, and two the umiak could not be launched for some time, so I Rocks. The nest-finding procedure was the same in each decided to cut across the shore ice to the beach, a matter case. The incubating bird slipped off its nest, betraying of an hour’s hard going, and walk the 15 miles back to the anxiety, and I would stretch out on the tundra and watch village rather than lose a day. The trail was not so difficult through my binoculars. The sandpipers usually quickly as I had anticipated, although it was a little close to the returned to their eggs which were beautifully camouflaged end of the cape where the ice had broken off leaving a to match lichens and grasses, blending perfectly with their cliff without handholds. The wind blew so strongly with surroundings. My notes mention that the wind blew so ter- accompanying rain that I did not enjoy going around that rifically on June 19 that I had to return to headquarters point. Soon after I reached the settlement, the weather because of the cold, and that on June 20, rain and snow turned worse, and the gale continued from the south- made collecting almost impossible. east throughout June 17. I tried to do fieldwork on the The weather showed promise of improving the 21st, tundra and located additional nests of Baird’s and Rock and as hunting had been poor all spring, the Eskimos Sandpipers, but the winds at times were so strong it was were anxious to launch their umiaks. After an arduous necessary to lean forward and brace myself to keep from haul over the shore ice to the flaw, our crew started up being bowled over. There were continuing strong winds the coast about 10:00. There were many birds in flight from the south June 18, but my time was spent to good —Least and Crested Auklets, Arctic Terns, an occasional

Figure 2.42. Hunting crew and umiak, Cape Prince of Wales, Alaska, June 16, 1922. DMNS No. IV.BA21-327.

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Glaucous Gull flying its solitary way, and the usual strings umiak was launched and headed for the middle of the of eider with all four species represented. Many spotted Strait. After reaching the first drift, the ice crushed in, seals (kasageuks) and one ribbon were noted in open threatening to burst the skins of the canoe. Consequently, leads. We did not get very far from the end of the cape by on several occasions, the men were forced to portage the late evening because of an extensive unbroken ice field, umiak across to open water. After half an hour of hard doubtless shore ice from somewhere below. At midnight going, we hauled out to watch from an ice cake, and Johnny the men sighted a cow and calf walrus, and we gave chase. shot a medium-sized bearded seal, the skin of this species The old one looked exceptionally large in the dim light as being prized by the natives for the making of waterproof she rose half out of the water, seeming to tower above the boots. Soon we were on our way again, for the wind died low pan ice immediately around her. Both animals were to an absolute calm, and for the first time since my spring collected, and they were saved for specimens, as it was work began, I had what might be called fine weather. now very late for females and young. The evening was beautiful, and good progress was We had drifted far to the northward by morning, made, the Eskimos occasionally getting shots at seals on 20 miles according to Nagozruk, when the wind switched the ice but without any success. One time, when Nagozruk suddenly from out of the south so strongly we could sighted many on a flat pan, we pulled up our snow-shirt not paddle against both the wind and the northward hoods and paddled slowly, coming from behind a large current through Bering Strait. I watched as Nagozruk cake in nice range of the whole band. Seals were flopping patiently tried to make the motor “take hold.” He would in every direction, and the hunters were pumping lead. wind up the cord and give a quick pull—there would One big kasageuk was knocked down, and then, after be a wheeze—then silence. With his parka hood back all the other seals had dived into the water, this fellow and perspiration running down his face, he continued started again, going laboriously because badly hurt. his efforts, while the rest of us watched anxiously as we Then every native in the boat was shooting, and I could continued to drift northward toward the Arctic Ocean. I see where the lead was hitting all around the poor old expected Nagozruk at any moment to explode in a flow fellow, but he kept on and finally tumbled headlong into of picturesque Eskimo and English. Finally, he paused, the water and was not observed again. The Eskimos then pulled out a red bandana, wiped his wet brow, and then piled out on the cake and took stations around to pot any with a sigh said, “Oh, my.” unwary head stuck above the surface of the water, and Finally, the motor started, and we threaded our one small spotted seal was shot. I had not taken my gun way southward through ice and were halfway back to from the case and regretted it when I realized that four the cape by late afternoon when the wind switched fair species were in the herd—a ribbon, a young ugruk, and from the north. We continued on, however, until offshore several spotted and ringed seals. from the village where the seals taken on the hunt were Going on, a big ugruk was noted stretched out on cached along the flaw. At 8:30 that evening Nagozruk a small cake. He would doze off for a few seconds and again started off into the Strait, running through scat- then alertly look up and around, his neck rather slender, tered ice until within sight of the Diomedes. Again the more so than I thought such a huge seal’s would be, and wind changed and blew strongly from the south, and his back line seemed above his raised head. Occasionally, we had to make tracks for Wales, getting in at 6:00 in he lifted his hind flippers, moving them back and forth, the morning of the 23rd after two nights out—a rather both at the same time. We tried the same procedure with unsuccessful hunt halfway between the two continents, a him as with the others and approached into nice range, great disappointment to me, for I still needed a large bull but again the men failed to connect. A short distance walrus to complete my habitat group. on, a young ugruk was seen on a cake, and this time, The morning of the 24th, the wind was still from the every native on the boat put a bullet into it (Fig. 2.43). south, but the sky seemed light around the Cape, so the I observed how erratically the Eskimos shot, sometimes

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Figure 2.43. Dragging bearded seal (ugruk), Cape Prince of Wales, Bering Strait, Alaska, late June 1922. DMNS No. IV.BA21-395G. hitting a seal’s head at 100 yards and again missing returned to Fairway Rock, and we again climbed a couple a walrus at 25. On this hunt, I marveled at what poor of hundred feet, this time to obtain a view of the ice field to marksmen they could be on occasion. the south. Seeing no walrus, the hunters decided to work Toward midnight we were close to Fairway Rock. the floes between the islands and Cape Prince of Wales. The low-hung sun over the Siberian coast burned red The day was fine. There were a few clouds, the sky was through light clouds crowning East Cape, throwing a light blue, the water like glass, and the ice pack rather streak of silvered light out onto the strait. The sun dipped light. Another herd of seals was noted on rough ice, and below the horizon and rose again a short time later to with a consequent bombardment, one was taken. Being a usher in a new day, June 25. Thousands of seabirds were little “mucky” (tired), I dozed off for an hour and awak- encountered near the Rock. There were many Crested, ened to find the men were stalking another ugruk, but this Least, and Paroquet Auklets, and Tufted and Horned fellow did not wait for the customary barrage. Puffins. Kittiwakes were very plentiful, and a few Burgo- We came to a large space of open water in the ice masters (Glaucous Gulls) hovered overhead. Then, as we floe. Soon Nagozruk began to mutter in Eskimo and entered the shadows of the Rock, rows of murres lined finally turned to me and said, “Plenty walrus over there.” every little ledge, and hundreds of auklets swarmed on the With the glasses, I could make out several bands in the cliffs. The air was filled with birds, and the water seemed water with just their dark heads exposed, while in the air alive with swimming divers. We stopped for a while and above them hung a black cloud of vapor, one of the crew climbed the cliff to see if nesting had started. The Pallas’ explaining, “Smoke walrus breath.” With the motor on at Murres had a few eggs, but the Pacific Kittiwakes were half speed, the skin boat was pointed toward the swim- sitting on nests so high they were out of reach. ming animals, but when the natives saw numerous long We had a favorable breeze as the skin boat was fins of a school of killer whales following the main herd of headed west past the south end of Big Diomede toward walrus, they veered off, claiming to have seen the killers Siberia. After a few hours of sailing westward, the men attacking the huge sea mammals, and they did not want

94 DENVER MUSEUM OF NATURE & SCIENCE REPORTS | No. 13, March 10, 2019 Life of a Museum Naturalist vol. 2 our umiak to be mistaken for a walrus. Apparently, there Consequently, when finally the village was reached, was a great migration through Bering Strait, for other I was pleased that my walrus hunting was over and that bands of walrus were noted swimming between the cakes the year’s work was more or less of a success. June 25th of drifting ice. A big bull was located, and we chugged had been a red-letter day. Now that all the specimens of our way toward him. He rounded a cake of ice and, as walrus were collected, the next several days were spent we swung after Nagozruk, shut off the motor. The walrus overseeing the preparation of the hides. Five women split was floating upon the water with his head down, and we the skin of the bull walrus, taking two days to complete drifted within 20 feet. As he raised his head, everyone fired, the task (Fig. 2.44). and with a surge, the huge fellow disappeared under the During the next week, adverse weather conditions great pan of ice and was not seen again. prevailed. On July 3 Nagozruk hauled a skiff across the What a disappointment to see the main figure of tundra to Lopp Lagoon so that we might visit the Mint the walrus group I had been trying so hard to collect River area, an excellent place for nesting waterfowl. almost within my grasp only to lose him. Another band surrounded by ice was swimming some distance away, and the men headed their way when, within 100 yards, Nagozruk started shooting to make them dive. Finally, a big bull surfaced nearby, and all the natives shot. The walrus lunged forward with a bellow, floated briefly on top of the water, dead, then slowly sank, tail foremost, bubbles coming from his mouth as he disappeared in spite of a harpoon which Nagozruk hurled at him. Another chance for my group’s completion gone—killed within 20 feet and yet lost. About 200 yards away, in more open water, were three other bulls. As the Eskimos’ guns were empty, they shouted for me to shoot. My first bullet fell 50 yards short, the next was a few feet beyond, but then fate decided to smile upon me, for a lucky shot hit the largest bull of the three in the head from at least 200 yards. The natives grabbed paddles and were soon alongside the floating animal. He dived when Nagozruk put a harpoon into him, but he surged to the surface within a few feet, and the fine specimen now on display in the Museum was collected. The huge beast was hurriedly towed to a cake and, with block and tackle, pulled up on the ice where measure- ments were taken and his hide was peeled. It was all the whole crew could do to get the skin aboard the umiak. The return trip to Wales was a struggle all the way, for the gasoline gave out and there was a southeast wind as well as a strong current to buck. All hands paddled Figure 2.44. Women splitting walrus hide, for six hours into fog, wind, and spray, and everyone was Wales, Alaska, late June 1922. DMNS No. miserably wet. We were turned around in the fog and had IV.BA21-020. a tough time in general.

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Nagozruk, fourteen-year-old Dwight Tevuk, and I left near the water’s edge, so we replaced them for photos, Wales at 10:30 that night, using two dog teams to pull a beautiful setting with the snow-seamed mountains our camping equipment to the shore. The lagoon was looming in the background. A flock of seven Little Brown still frozen, except for a channel where the ice had melted Cranes was on the tundra nearby, and we were serenaded along the tundra edge, and the water so shallow that often by a pair of Yellow-billed Loons, apparently building their it was necessary to drag the boat across ice, a heavy job, nest on the shore of an adjacent pond. with the three of us tugging at the shoulder straps. The We left camp along Mint River about 9:00 the morning of July 4 was ideal for fieldwork, Wales Mountain morning of July 13, our clothes wet and food gone. The to the south showing clearly and the Potato Mountains Evinrude was balky, and a high wind from the southwest to the north standing out boldly, their dark shapes blued almost reached gale strength at times. Occasionally the by distance and the brown tundra at their feet alternately engine consented to help out a bit, off and on, and about changing to warm pinks and purples. 15 miles were made by 7:00 in the evening. The lagoon There was no difficulty in collecting specimens, was crossed to the entrance of the first river, 13 miles several Yellow-billed Loons and flocks of Emperor Geese from Wales, and we continued downstream to the open noted during the day. As the wind became too strong, water of Bering Strait and then to the left along the coast camp was made on a bar at the foot of some high tundra until forced ashore by masses of ice. The skiff was pulled above the mouth of the second river. My field notes for up on the tundra. We cached our specimens and equip- the next week, which have been published at length in ment, then hiked the 11 miles along Bering Strait to Birds of Cape Prince of Wales (Bailey 1943), mention Wales, arriving at 6:00 in the morning utterly exhausted adverse weather conditions and our experiences with after 21 hours of hard work. various species of Alaskan birds. Fieldmen are always Southwest winds prevailed the latter part of July, interested in unusual records, and at that time no during which time all specimens were packed for ship- ornithologist had observed a nest of the Yellow-billed ment on the mailboat due to arrive in early August Loon. In 1920, in southeastern Alaska, I recorded the from Kotzebue en route to Nome. On July 22 there were first birds of the species from that archipelago, and now I strong south winds, but I climbed Wales Mountain in the hoped to find nests adjacent to Mint River. The area was afternoon, sketching, photographing, and collecting a attractive because of its willows, some ten feet tall, where few plants. On top, all was clear, and I could see King numerous Redpolls were nesting. On July 9 a drizzling Island to the south, the Diomedes in the middle of the rain fell all day, but we worked the tundra and saw six Strait, and the distant Siberian shore. Very few birds were pairs of Yellow-bills, a pair on each of a string of lakes observed on the mountain: a few Snowflakes, Longspurs, at the foot of the Potato Mountains. It was evident that a single Willow Ptarmigan, and a Baird’s Sandpiper, the the loons should be nesting in the vicinity, so each body latter evidently with young on the high tundra, although of water was approached carefully, and from a distance, I could not locate them. we scanned the shores with our binoculars. On the last From the 22nd through July 27, the wind blew from pond visited, I located a sitting loon about 500 yards the south, making it impossible to launch an umiak. I away and, on inspection, found an empty nest, and then intended to make another trip to the Diomede Islands, but 20 feet farther on, undoubtedly where the Yellow-billed with adverse weather, I had to be content with occasional Loon had been, a single egg in a mud nest, the first, so forays near the village, where several species of shorebirds far as I know, to be found by a naturalist. congregated in numbers along tundra pools. The evening of July 11, two days later, Tevuk and I Two vessels, the Sea Wolf (the mailboat) and a located a nest of Whistling Swans on an elevated portion three-masted schooner (the Fox or, possibly, the Lady of the tundra. It consisted wholly of moss, no down being Kindersley), passed on their way north through Bering used as a lining. The downy young were about 25 feet away Strait on the 26th. The men of the Sea Wolf tried to land,

96 DENVER MUSEUM OF NATURE & SCIENCE REPORTS | No. 13, March 10, 2019 Life of a Museum Naturalist vol. 2 but the wind was too strong, a disappointment to me, The first few days of August the weather conditions for it seemed ironic to have my mail come thousands of improved. As usual, I climbed to a high promontory of miles, get within a few hundred yards, and then have the the cape each day and late the afternoon of the 4th saw boat pull away again. With good luck we could expect the the Sea Wolf close inshore to the northward. The whole return of the mailboat from Kotzebue within a week, and village was alerted. All my specimens and the personal as there was no way to anticipate its arrival, it was just effects of the school teachers, Mr. and Mrs. Tom Killeen a case of wait, hope for a north wind which would make (to whom I was indebted for continuous favors during a stop at Wales possible, and be on hand, for the little my four months’ stay with them) were on the beach vessel would pause only a short time. Consequently, after ready for loading. Fortune favored us for, with a gentle three days I climbed Wales Mountain regularly to watch north wind, there was calm water, and all baggage was to the northward for a first glimpse of the returning Sea put aboard the Sea Wolf and lashed firmly on deck. But Wolf. Excerpts from my concluding journal entries made we were dismayed to find the little vessel loaded with pas- at Wales are as follows: sengers and no bunk space available. A sled was fastened to the deck for Mrs. Killeen, bundled in furs, to sit out the July 29: Yesterday was a really fine day with a normally one-day journey to Nome. light southeast breeze. I climbed the moun- The night was clear and weather calm to Teller, tain to “see what I could see” and took a few where several hours were spent, our vessel leaving that photos. The Siberian shore loomed plainer little village at 4:00 p.m., August 5. As we left, a strong than I have seen it previously, and the southeaster hit the Sea Wolf necessitating taking shelter mainland mountains to the south showed behind Sledge Island—two miserable days of rain and for a long distance. Toward evening the wind high waves, during which time Mrs. Killeen was covered became stronger, however, and by 11:00 the with a tarpaulin, and several of us huddled miserably water of the strait was fairly rough. An umiak on mailbags below deck, subject to constantly drip- full of natives, about 15, with 20 dogs and a ping water that leaked through the seams. The Sea load of plunder, started for Epik to hunt rein- Wolf arrived off Nome at 10:00 a.m., August 8, and the deer. It was drizzling, with a heavy swell on baggage was landed safely in spite of a running surf. the beach. We rather look for the mailboat The walrus skins were examined and repacked and all today but don’t know whether we can get boxes strapped and made ready for shipment to the through the surf. Our grub is all but gone, so Museum, bringing to an end the field expedition of the it is a case of making the mailboat or taking Denver Museum of Natural History to northern Alaska, an umiak for Teller. I do not like the idea our last frontier, to secure habitat groups for exhibit in of the latter either, carrying my specimens the Joseph Standley Memorial Wing. along the coast in an open skin boat. During the next week at Nome, I became well July 31: Wind changed to the north, and acquainted with photographer and author C.W. Scarbor- we have had a good sunny day, the second ough, who had just returned from a difficult journey with since July 10th. Too big a surf running all day Joe Bernard on his schooner Teddy Bear in an attempt to to go out in an umiak; however, the sea is rescue people on Wrangel Island off the Siberian coast. gradually calming down. Have everything The explorer Vilhjalmur Stefansson had placed four packed now and hope for decent weather to young men and an Eskimo woman, Ada Blackjack, on get away from here. Yesterday Tevuk and I Wrangel in the summer of 1921 and had sent a wire to took a long hike without any results what- Bernard at Nome requesting him to remove the party. ever. The wind blew so hard that we could Scarborough was most disappointed in the failure to not face it. reach Wrangel Island.

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When I left Nome en route to Denver on August 16, Fulmars low over the ocean, indicating that possibly Scarborough went to the dock with me and presented me there were nesting colonies not too far away. Our course with an 8-inch-by-10-inch photo of a King Island woman was eastward some 250 miles inside the Semedi Islands with a child on her back. Seven years elapsed before I and on through Shelikof Strait to Uganik Bay, on the heard about Scarborough through my friend Charles north coast of Kodiak Island, where we were to take on a Brower, who visited me in Chicago in the fall of 1929. load of herring. It was a fine landlocked inlet with water Scarborough had gone north on the schooner Duxbury so quiet that nearby hillsides were mirrored perfectly. in the summer of 1923 and lost his life during a storm. Work of loading was of short duration but long enough The vessel was crushed in the ice far east of Point Barrow, for us to take a quick look at the little settlement, talk and the crew was able to make a cache on shore. In 1925 to some of the dockworkers about brown bear, and eat Brower took a launch eastward, picked up the cache, and salmon berries which were growing in profusion close returned to Barrow. Among Scarborough’s belongings to the shoreline. was his 1922 manuscript, The Voyage that Failed, which Latouche, a copper mining community on a small Charlie brought to me, along with his own 600-page island off the south coast of Kenai Peninsula, was our journal telling of his experiences in Alaska from 1884 to next port-of-call. We pulled out from there the morning 1927, a most remarkable historical account. of August 25 for herring salteries in the near vicinity, The Scarborough manuscript reposed in my files stopping at Sawmill Bay, where salmon were running for more than 40 years. Finally, I wrote a lengthy fore- up a small stream headed by a fine waterfall. Glaucous- word with quotes from Brower’s journal telling of the winged Gulls were waxing fat on dead herring, which tragedy, the story being published under Scarborough’s literally lined the coastal shore. Sawmill Bay was our name in (Scarborough 1974). The photo of the King last stop. The Cordova ran southeast across the Gulf of Island woman, which Scarborough had given me in Alaska and, days later, reached Seattle, where my wife, 1922, was used as the frontispiece. daughter Beth (now a year and nine months old), and My nearly three years of fieldwork in Alaska behind our college friends, John and Carma Albrecht, met me me, I headed south from Nome on the freighter Cordova. at the dock. Three days were spent at Saint Michael loading ore, and Now, 50 years later, looking back over a lifetime of the next three en route to Akutan on the east coast of fieldwork in many places, I believe the majority of field- Akutan Island in the Aleutians, the half a dozen men pas- men will agree that enjoyment of tasks in distant places sengers killing time by playing cards. One, who had been can never equal the thrill of returning home. prospecting along the Yukon, was a bit nostalgic when he learned that I was on the staff of the Denver museum in City Park, for he had gone to school in Denver, had visited the exhibition halls, and said that on Arbor Day each year his teachers “marched us little kids to the Park and made us plant trees.” There was an excellent harbor at Akutan with numerous fishing vessels tied to the wharf, and one, the Eider, was filled to capacity with the salted skins of fur seals from the Pribilof Islands herds. Supplies were unloaded, a small amount of cargo taken aboard, and the Cordova worked south through the Pass, and then eastward, well offshore from the Aleutian Peninsula, past Sanak Island, to our port with hundreds of Pacific

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Appendix The many interesting birds collected on the Museum Fieldwork along the Alaskan coast and adjacent tundra, expedition of 1921–1922, as well as those resulting from from Cape Prince of Wales northward to Point Barrow, training our friends in the North to prepare specimens, and beyond to Demarcation Point in 1921–1922, as and all the men strategically situated for observing described in the above narrative, resulted in the collect- species unusual in their respective communities, added ing of four groups of large mammals and three notable greatly to knowledge of the distribution of birds of the exhibits of birds now on display in the Denver Museum coastal and adjacent tundra areas of northern Alaska. of Natural History as follows: At the conclusion of our work in 1922, the compiled list of birds for the Wainwright and Barrow areas amounted Walrus Group (with three species of seals)—Diomedes to 83 species. During the ensuing years up to the publi- Islands (background) cation date of Birds of Arctic Alaska (Bailey 1948), the Polar Bear Group—on Arctic ice pack Browers added more than 50 species and subspecies—a Barren Ground Grizzly Bear Group—on tundra of Arctic notable contribution—and my statement about them Slope does not seem an exaggeration: Barren Ground Caribou Group—tundra of Arctic Slope The late Charles D. Brower and sons (Thomas P., Fairway Rock Group—nesting seabirds in Bering Strait David K., Robert T., Arnold T., and Harry K.) have taken Bering Sea Migration Group—Cape Mountain (back- hundreds of birds and their nests and eggs at Barrow ground) and adjacent areas. Through their efforts more has been Tundra Bird Group—tundra nesting birds near Wales added to the knowledge of the distribution of Arctic birds than through the combined work of all other collectors In addition to collecting habitat groups, many who have visited the Far North. birds were taken for the Museum’s study series. Hendee As Birds of Arctic Alaska is nearly out of print at and I taught Charles Brower and his sons of Barrow, Jim the time of this writing, it seems advisable to mention Allen, and natives at Wainwright, and Arthur Nagozruk that included among the specimens collected as a result and Dwight Tevuk of Wales to prepare specimens, and of our work in 1921–1922 and the efforts of our friends as a result, hundreds of birds were collected during the at Wales, Wainwright, and Barrow, there were 12 species, next 25 years which were sent to me and others listed mostly Asiatic, not previously recorded in the A.O.U. below. Catalog numbers indicating where specimens are Checklist of North American Birds. Breeding records deposited are as follows: were obtained for four Asiatic birds and specimens of eight North American species, which were taken in No initial Denver Museum of Natural History Alaska for the first time, as well as many far north of C.A.S. Chicago Academy of Sciences their normal range. H. Wilson C. Hanna Collection, San Ber- The first records for continental North America are: nardino County Museum, Blooming- Baikal Teal ton, California Siberian Peregrine Falcon L.B.B. Dr. Louis B. Bishop Collection, Field Mongolian Plover Museum of Natural History Dotterel M.V.Z. Museum of Vertebrate Zoology, Univer- Siberian Whimbrel sity of California Great Knot P. Dr. Max Peet Collection, University of Commander Rock Sandpiper Michigan Rufus-necked Sandpiper S.D.M. San Diego Museum of Natural History Siberian Lesser Black-backed Gull Siberian Cuckoo

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Chinese Wryneck References European Barn Swallow Nests were found at Wales of Green-throated Loons, Bailey, A.M. 1921. Letters to the Egg. Denver Museum of Northern Rock Sandpipers, and Red-throated Pipits, and Nature and Science, A.M. Bailey Library & Archives, at Barrow, a Dotterel in breeding condition. IA.501.Bailey.62. Among the A.O.U. Checklist birds collected for the Bailey, A.M. 1927. Notes on the birds of southeastern first time in Alaska were: Alaska. 3 Parts. Auk 44: 1–23, 184–205, 351–367. Stilt Sandpiper Bailey, A.M. 1943. The birds of Cape Prince of Wales, Dovekie Alaska. Denver, Colorado Museum of Natural Purple Martin History. Proceedings of the Colorado Museum of Giant Red-winged Blackbird Natural History 18 (1): 113 pp. Brewer’s Blackbird Bailey, A.M. 1948. Birds of Arctic Alaska. Denver, Colorado Common Grackle Museum of Natural History, Popular Series No. 8: Western Tanager 320 pp. Scarlet Tanager Bailey, A.M. 1953. Green throated loon (Gavia arctica viridigularis) in Southeastern Alaska. Auk 70: 200. A Bean Goose (A. f. serrirostris, male, 26811), new Bailey, A.M. 1956. The bean goose and other birds from to the A.O.U. Checklist, was collected by Lawrence Kuluk- St. Lawrence Island, Alaska. Auk 73: 560. hon on Saint Lawrence Island May 8, 1952, and sent to Bailey, A.M. 1971. Field work of a museum naturalist, me by Dr. Everett L. Schiller of Anchorage (Bailey 1956). 1919–1922. Denver Museum of Natural History, See also Birds of Arctic Alaska (Bailey 1948) for Museum Pictorial 22: 192 pp. other important records from the Far North. Bailey, A.M. & Hendee, R.W., 1926. Notes on the mammals of northwestern Alaska. Journal of Mammalogy 7: 9–28. Bailey, M.E. 1920. Among Alaska’s islands. Iowa Alumnus 17: 375–377. Bent, A.C. 1927. Rufous-necked sandpiper. Life histories of North American shore birds, pt. 1. United States National Museum Bulletin 142: 215–217. Bent, A.C. 1929. Mongolian plovers. Life histories of North American shore birds, pt. 2. United States National Museum Bulletin 146: 253–256. Black, R.F. 1970. Letter to Bailey on coal of the Wain- wright, Alaska, region. Denver Museum of Nature and Science, A.M. Bailey Library & Archives, IA.501. Bailey.66. Brower, C.D. 1863–1928. Journal. Denver Museum of Nature and Science, A.M. Bailey Library & Archives, IA.501.Bailey.67. Brower, C.D. 1942. Fifty Years Below Zero. New York: Grosset and Dunlap, p. 238. Hall, E.R. & Kelson, K.R. 1959. Mammals of North America. New York: Ronald Press, pp. 1017–1021.

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Murdoch, J. 1885. Birds. In: Report of the International Polar Expedition to Point Barrow, Alaska. Wash- ington D.C., Government Printing Office. Nelson, E.W. 1887. Report upon natural history collec- tions made in Alaska in the years 1877–1881, Part 1. Birds of Alaska. Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, pp. 55–56. Newcomb, R.L. 1888. Our Lost Explorers: The Narrative of the Jeannette Arctic Expedition. Hartford, Con- necticut: American Publishing Company. Orth, D.J. 1967. Dictionary of Alaska place names (Geological Survey Professional Paper 567). Wash- ington, D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office. Ransom, M.A. 1964. Sea of the Bear: Journal of a Voyage to Alaska and the Arctic, 1921. Annapolis: U.S. Naval Institute. xiv, 119 pp. Scarborough, C.W. 1974. The voyage that failed. Alaska Journal 4: 49–59. Smith, P.S. & Mertie, J.B. Jr. 1930. Geology and mineral resources of northwestern Alaska (Geological Survey Bulletin 815). Washington, D.C.: U.S. Gov- ernment Printing Office.

Note: All images in this publication not otherwise credited were taken by Dr. Bailey.

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DENVER MUSEUM OF NATURE & SCIENCE REPORTS DENVER MUSEUM OF NATURE & SCIENCE REPORTS THE FORTUNATE OF A MUSEUM LIFE NATURALIST: ALFRED M. BAILEY

NUMBER 13, MARCH 10, 2019

WWW.DMNS.ORG/SCIENCE/MUSEUM-PUBLICATIONS Denver Museum of Nature & Science Reports 2001 Colorado Boulevard (Print) ISSN 2374-7730 Denver, CO 80205, U.S.A. Denver Museum of Nature & Science Reports (Online) ISSN 2374-7749

Frank Krell, PhD, Editor and Production VOL. 2 DENVER MUSEUM DENVER OF NATURE & SCIENCE Cover photo: Russell W. Hendee and A.M. Bailey in Wainwright, Alaska, 1921. Photographer unknown. DMNS No. IV.BA21-007.

The Denver Museum of Nature & Science Reports (ISSN 2374-7730 [print], ISSN 2374-7749 [online]) is an open- access, non peer-reviewed scientifi c journal publishing papers about DMNS research, collections, or other Museum related topics, generally authored or co-authored The Fortunate Life of a Museum Naturalist: by Museum staff or associates. Peer review will only be

arranged on request of the authors. REPORTS Alfred M. Bailey

The journal is available online at science.dmns.org/ • NUMBER 13 MARCH 10, 2019 Volume 2—Alaska, 1919–1922 museum-publications free of charge. Paper copies are exchanged via the DMNS Library exchange program ([email protected]) or are available for purchase from our print-on-demand publisher Lulu (www.lulu.com). Kristine A. Haglund, Elizabeth H. Clancy DMNS owns the copyright of the works published in the & Katherine B. Gully (Eds) Reports, which are published under the Creative Commons Attribution Non-Commercial license. For commercial use of published material contact the Alfred M. Bailey Library &

Archives at [email protected]. WWW.DMNS.ORG/SCIENCE/MUSEUM-PUBLICATIONS

A.M. Bailey near Juneau, Alaska, 1920. Photograph by Muriel E. Bailey. DMNS No. IV.BA21-874.