Читать книгу So Few on Earth - Josie Penny - Страница 18

7 Springtime and Shifting Outside

By the end of March, we were getting spring fever, the feeling of wanting to be outside. Our faces were turning brown from the sunlight, wind, and snow. The springtime sounds of warm breezes whistling through the forest and birds chirping happily in the trees were captivating. Spring had its own smells, too. One of the most compelling aromas was when the snow melted into the ground, leaving it exposed to the hot spring sunshine and releasing the distinct fragrance of mud, sawdust, and wood chips. That unique scent filled our nostrils as we played joyfully around the cabin. We had such fun randying down the hills. Sometimes we had our own komatiks. Other times we used a piece of sealskin or anything else we could find.

“Can ya make me a komatik, Daddy?” I asked as my tiny hands wrapped around his legs.

“Awright, Jimmy, I’ll makes ya one tomarra,” he said, tousling my ringlets.

The next morning Daddy took my hand and we went into the woods. He selected two little trees with natural bends in them to make the runners, and two small straight trees to make the crossbars. As soon as we got home, he cleaned the bark off with his pocket knife and tied the pieces of wood together.

“Oh, Daddy, tis some nice, hey?” I said, bounding for the hillside.

We also had fun wind-sailing on the ice, which thawed during the day and froze again as smooth as glass overnight. All we had to do was stand on the ice, raise our coattails over our heads, and fly across the steady. Another joyful activity was going scittering (sliding on the ice). I don’t know where that name came from, but that was what we called it. The trick was to run fast until you reached the patch of ice, then glide across it, getting as much distance as possible.

“Whee!” I squealed with glee as my sealskin boots slid effortlessly across the pond.

In the dead of winter it was usually too cold to snow. However, once March came the temperature warmed up enough to snow, and snow it did! Mounds of dense windblown snow created ideal conditions for digging snow houses and huge tunnels big enough to crawl through. We made playhouses with little shelves for our pieces of broken dishes.

Heavy snow was good for snowball fights, but they weren’t always fun because Sammy made the snowballs so hard it was like getting hit with a rock. Fluffy snow was good for making snow angels and especially fun for jumping into. We leaped from trees, from the cabin, from the scaffold — anywhere we could get some height.

We loved to go out in a snowstorm. And there were many times when we couldn’t see our hands in front of our faces. I’d get so involved in playing that I didn’t notice my fingers were freezing. After playing outdoors for hours, I’d run into the house with my skin tingling from the cold. As soon as I got inside, my fingers started thawing out and the pain was excruciating.

One of my favourite activities was ice fishing, not only for the lovely fresh smelts we would catch for supper but for the sheer joy of it. And we didn’t have to go far — just down to the steady.

“Pass me fish hook, Daddy,” I said. “Will ya bait it fer me?”

“Sammy’ll put it on fer ya.”

“Will ya, Sammy?”

“Oh, Jos, yer a bother,” he said, grabbing my hook and sticking a piece of salt pork on it.

“I wonder who’ll catch de firs one,” Marcie said.

“Betchya I will,” Sally piped up, still struggling to bait her hook.

“No siree!” I cried, never wanting to be left out. “I’m gonna catch de firs one.”

“I hope we catch some trout or a salmon or two,” Sammy interjected.

“Yeh,” I agreed. “I love salmon.”

The dead silence of the forest was interrupted by the tiny sounds of birds. I stood there, a little awed, absorbing the majesty of limitless forest. Suddenly, my dreamlike trance was broken. Chop, chop, chop went the axes. Snow and ice flew from the blades as Daddy and Sammy cut each of us a hole. I watched as the hole got bigger and deeper. Finally, gurgling water surged through and spilled onto the ice.

“Oh, goodie!” I shouted. “Can I have dat one, Daddy?”

“Awright, Jimmy. Ya can have dis one.”

I skimmed the slob (ice chips) away and dropped my hook into the hole. “I’m gonna catch de firs one I bet.”

In the late afternoon it got colder, and we gathered up our smelts. They glistened in the sunlight. We sauntered home, tired but happy. Mommy cleaned the smelts and started cooking some for supper. There were so many and they smelled so good fried in my mother’s special way. We could hardly wait for suppertime.

“Mmm, dey’s some good, hey, Sally?” I said, stuffing the fish into my mouth, bones and all.

Another source of food in the spring was snowbirds. They were so cute that it seemed a crime to kill them. But at that time they were food for us. To catch them, Daddy got an old window frame or made one from sticks tied together and filled it with window screen or mesh. Sometimes he strung it with line as he did his rackets. Then we got a stick and fastened a long piece of string to it, propped up the screen with a stick, and placed breadcrumbs under the screen. Holding on to the string, we hid and waited for the little birds to come for the food. As soon as we had a lot of birds underneath pecking at the crumbs, we pulled the stick and wham! They were trapped. I don’t ever remember killing them, but I do recall trying to pick the feathers off. It wasn’t easy because they were so small. But they were delicious.

I turned seven in January 1950. One warm March day I got the surprise of my life.

“Do ya want ta come wit me tomarra marnin, Jimmy?” Daddy asked suddenly. “I’m jus goin in de neck path ta haul out a load a wood.”

I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. “Yeh, yeh, Daddy,” I babbled. “Can we have a mug-up?”

“Sure, Jimmy. I’ll bring us a mug-up.”

I was so happy that I could hardly sleep. The next morning I woke up early to find Daddy already lashing the horn junks onto the komatik. Dressing quickly, I hauled on the dickie Mommy had made for me. She was busy getting the grub bag ready, and I was tempted to look inside, but I knew better than to get in her way. I ran outdoors, back inside, then back outside again, beside myself with excitement.

“Stop runnin in an out, Jos!” Mommy yelled. “The bloody youngsters is always runnin in and out.”

“But, Mommy, I’m so happy.”

Daddy was harnessing the dogs, attaching the traces to the bridle and taking the box off the komatik. He didn’t use it when he was hauling wood; it would be in the way. Finally, we were ready to go.

“Jump on, Jimmy, an hold on tight, cuz de dogs is gonna go fast,” he said.

I leaped onto the komatik and gripped the bars as tightly as I could.

“Is ya all sought?” Daddy asked.

“Yeh!” I cried over the yelping dogs.

He lifted the chain from the runner, and we were off. The dogs galloped at full speed over the path, and the komatik slid effortlessly through the newly fallen snow.

“Auch! Auch! Auch!” Daddy yelled in quick succession, and the dogs turned right.

When we came to a fork in the path, Daddy shouted, “Edder! Edder! Edder!” And the dogs turned left.

The huskies raced at a full run for a few minutes, then slowed to a comfortable trot. The path was familiar to them, so they knew where they were going. It was only when they reached a fork that Daddy had to shout directions. The leader, usually a female, knew where to go with very little guidance.

I looked to see if all the traces were taut, which meant that every dog was doing its share of the work. Pulling the komatik was serious business, and if one trace was consistently slack, it meant that a dog might be lazy, which wasn’t acceptable. All the dogs were all pulling with great enthusiasm, tails curled over their backs. That meant this was an easy run. On the way back they would be pulling a full load of wood and working harder, so their tails would be down.

When we reached the woodpile that Daddy had cut and stacked beside the path, I jumped off and tried to help him put the wood into the wood horse.

“Tis too hard fer ya, Jimmy. Go collect some boughs fer de fire.”

“Awright, Daddy, I’ll do dat.”

My father took his axe and chopped small pieces for the fire. I watched in admiration as he put dry boughs and freshly cut sticks of wood into place. He took out his matches and lit the fire. It was such a beautiful spring day. Filtering through the trees, the brilliant sunshine splashed on the fresh snow like millions of diamonds. The scent of spruces, junipers, and birches filled the clean air, and the smell of woodsmoke filling my nostrils told me it was mug-up time.

Daddy took the grub bag from the komatik and started pulling out the food. He scooped some snow up with his little kettle and hooked it onto a twig over the fire. When it was boiling, he added loose tea leaves. Then he poured our tea into tin cups and passed me a big slice of bread and a lassie bun. There was something about eating in the woods that made it very special.

“Tis some good, hey, Daddy?” I said. “Is ya tired?”

“No, Jimmy, I’m not tired yet. I’m goin ta look round fer some partridge an check a few snares. Den I’ll finish loadin de wood.” He paused. “An ya gotta be quiet when I go huntin, cuz ya’ll scare em away.”

“I’ll be quiet. Won make a sound,” I said chewing on my bun. He put on his rackets, threw his gun over his shoulder and ventured a little way into the woods. I didn’t have any rackets, so I couldn’t follow him because the snow was too deep. He hadn’t gone far when I heard a loud bang. I jumped. It sounded very loud as it echoed through the dead silence of the forest.

“Whass ya got, Daddy?” I squealed.

“Got two partridges wit one shot!” he yelled back, sounding as excited as I was.

“Two wit one shot! Dat’s good, hey, Daddy?”

It was always a joyous occasion to get food. He laid the birds on the snow and proceeded to finish loading the wood. I watched as the snow turned red from the blood of the birds but all I thought of was how good they would taste for dinner tomorrow. I sat on one of the logs he had placed beside the fire and watched him. The dogs lay down, patiently waiting for us to finish. Some were napping, some were rolling in the snow and others were grooming their fur, but they were happy. I was beginning to feel tired and sleepy. Daddy finished loading the wood, piling it higher than my head. He’d turned the komatik around before he’d started loading, so we were already headed in the right direction. He then lashed the wood onto the komatik, hooking the line onto the bars and over the wood to the other side. He was making sure the wood was secure.

“Jump on, Jimmy!” he yelled.

“Awright, Daddy.”

I sprawled on top of the wood and hung on tightly. Daddy grunted something to the dogs, and we headed for home. The dogs were working extremely hard. Their tails and heads were down as they strained to pull the heavy load uphill.

Spring was the time for the seal hunt. At that time of year the sun was quite bright and strong, and there were either no sunglasses available or no money to purchase them. Consequently, Daddy became snow-blind many times. This was a painful condition and sometimes laid him up for several days. The sunlight and wind in his face while travelling caused his skin to burn and peel.

As the sun melted the snow, it became heavy and wet, making the komatik harder to manoeuvre. Another problem occurred each spring when the snow thawed during the day, then froze overnight. Ice shards like broken glass cut through our sealskin mukluks. It was painful for the feet with only duffle vamps and socks as protection. But for the dogs it must have been excruciating. Their feet bled from cuts, leaving red footprints in the snow.

The seal hunt was the event that heralded spring. Seeing seals piled on Daddy’s komatik was a happy sight. My parents shared the work of preparing the seal pelts. Mommy meticulously removed fat and fur, while Daddy stretched the pelts on frames and hung them on the cabin to dry. I remember watching him nail up the enormous pelts.

“My, oh, my, tis big, hey, Daddy?”

“Yeh, Jimmy, tis big nough ta make ya lotsa nice slippers an new mukluks.”

Melting ice came as a surprise to us after such a long winter. One day while we were sliding down the hill onto the brook my tiny komatik slid right into the steady. I started to cry as I leaned over the hole, trying to spot it.

“I lost me kumlik down de brook, Mommy!” I cried, running into the cabin. “Tis gone ferever!” I kept wailing until Sammy began to make me another one. Then my loss was forgotten.

Spring breakup was a difficult time for all the families in the community. By the end of April, the ice became too dangerous to travel on as the snow melted rapidly. Daddy couldn’t get to his traps. Finally, he had to pull them up and prepare for the trip back to Spotted Island. The move occurred in April every year. By this time food was running low because Daddy couldn’t tend his traplines. We were poised to make the move, but the waiting could go on for days, sometimes weeks.

Daddy and Mommy constantly watched the sky and read the weatherglass, waiting for the right time to shift outside. When conditions finally became civil enough to take the risk, everyone had to move quickly. It was a race against time because the Labrador climate, always relentless and unforgiving, could change quickly. There were so many last-minute jobs to be done, such as collecting the furs, packing our things, storing all of Daddy’s winter belongings, and securing the cabin. The other three families in the settlement moved about the same time.

We had to carry all of our things down to the landwash. It was such a long walk! But every family member had to do his or her part to move from one place to another. As the komatik was piled high with our belongings, I got more and more excited. I watched with pride as Daddy rounded up the dogs and harnessed them. The dogs took us from Roaches Brook down to the shore. If the run was frozen, we would continue on to Spotted Island by dog team. If there was open water, we would have to wait until a neighbour with a boat showed up to collect us. Every year the weather was different.

I was thrilled when we were finally off. It was time to prepare for the fishing season. I wasn’t afraid of the choppy sea. I was anxious to get to my favourite place in the whole wide world — Spotted Island!