Once Upon

An
Eskimo Time
Once Upon
An
Esl<imo Time
EDNA WILDER

University of Alaska Press

Fairbanks
© 1987 by Edna Wilder
All rights reserved
University of Alaska Press
P.O. Box 756240
Fairbanks, AK 99775-6240
ISBN 978-1-60223-056-9
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Wilder, Edna, 1916–
Once upon an Eskimo time : a year of Eskimo life before the White man
came as told to me by my wonderful mother whose Eskimo name was
Nedercook / Edna Wilder.
p. cm.
Originally published: Edmonds, Wash. : Alaska Northwest Pub. Co.,
c1987. ISBN 978-1-60223-056-9 (alk. paper)
1. Tucker, Minnie, ca. 1858–1979. 2. Wilder, Edna, 1916–
—­Family. 3. Eskimos—Alaska—Biography. 4. Eskimo women—
Alaska—Biography. 5. Eskimos—Alaska—Social life and customs.
6. Seward Peninsula (Alaska)—Biography. 7. Seward Peninsula
(Alaska)—Social life and customs. I. Title.
E99.E7T838 2009
979.8004’971—dc22
[B] 2008051330
Cover design by Dixon Jones, UAF Rasmuson Library Graphics
Cover images: Geese and raven courtesy of U.S. Fish and Wildlife Ser-
vice, AK/RO/01386 and WO-Lee Karney-2838. Photo of Nedercook by
Mrs. Kenen. Photo of dancer and drummers by Lomen brothers; Alaska
State Library George A. Parks Collection, Photographs, 1911–1933,
ASL‑PCA-240. Background: White Mountain, Anchorage Museum at
Rasmuson Center Library & Archives, AMRC-b83-82-4.
This publication was printed on acid-free paper that meets the minimum
requirements for ANSI / NISO Z39.48–1992 (R2002) (Permanence of
Paper for Printed Library Materials).
 CONTENTS
Foreword . . . . vii
Introduction . . . . ix
Description of an Inne . . . . xiii
List of Characters and names . . . . xiii
1. First Goose . . . . 1
2. Miracle Man . . . . 12
3. Squirrel Hunting .... 15
4. Bear .... 24
5. Nedercook's Enjoyment .... 28
6. Eggs .... 32
7. Women of the Sea .... 38
8. Salmon Fishing Time .... 41
9. Killer Whale . . . . 49
10. Beluga Whale .... 53
11. Farewell, Murres .... 57
12. Colder Nights .... 61
13. Winter Storm .... 68
14. Big Black Duck .... 84
15. Festival Time .... 96
16. Marriage .... 109
17. Under-Ice Net .... 114
18. Nedercook Hurt .... 127
19. Oopick Dies . . . . 138
20. Barter .... 142
21. Nedercook's Birth .... 148
22. Seal Hunting .... 153
23. Baby .... 162
24. Catching Murres .... 169
25. Rocks .... 173
26. Spring .... 177
 FOREWORD
This book represents the first segment of the long-
awaited saga on the life of "Grandma" Minnie Tucker,
whose Eskimo name was Nedercook and whose life span
probably covered 121 years from 1858 to 1979.
There were no written records in her Rocky Point
village in those days, but certain events of the time
indicate that Nedercook could have been 121 at the time
of her death - and no one is around to dispute her birth
date.
As remarkable as Nedercook is her daughter, Edna
Tucker Wilder Cryan, who is an excellent artist,
sculptor, photographer and writer. Her book on skin
sewing is one of the most popular books published by
Alaska Northwest Publishing Company.
I first met Edna a few years ago, when she signed up
for a magazine-article writing course I was teaching at
the University of Alaska. Like many of her fellow
students in the class, Edna Wilder was a mature adult
whose lifetime in Alaska gave her much material to write
about. As usual, I asked each student for a list of ten
ideas for magazine articles. When they came to their first
weekly individual conferences, I would ask which one
they wanted to write about first.
Edna Wilder did not hesitate.
"I'd like to start writing about my mother," she said.
"Well," I said, "everyone has a mother. What is there
about your mother that others would want to read
about?"
Edna may have been slightly taken aback, but she
didn't show it.
"Well," she began, "I don't know, exactly, but she's
lived all her life in Alaska and is about 110 years old."
My interest perked up. "A hundred and ten? And still
alive? Is she able to communicate?"

vii
 "Oh, yes," said Edna. "She gets around pretty well
and still sews, but has a bit of trouble reading her Bible.
She's living alone in her own little cabin on Dawson
Street. She bakes bread every day and chops kindling
for her fire. She still walks to the store to buy her
groceries except when she needs a lot of heavy things,
like a large bag of flour, and I'll drive her to the store."
I was invited to take pictures in the little cabin of this
remarkable lady, keeping the fire going and baking
bread - and I can still remember the delicious smell and
taste of that homemade bread baked by that gracious
110-year-old lady.
When it came time to photograph her walking to the
store, she took a cane because it was very slick out. She
didn't want to fall again and break another hip, as she
had done at the tender age of 108 or 109. The doctors
had told her quietly that she would never walk again.
Grandma Tucker could not accept this, of course, but
was too embarrassed to use the walker in the hospital
while others were watching. She waited until everyone
else had gone to bed and then walked up and down the
corridors alone, practicing until she was well enough to
trade in the walker for a cane, then giving that up
eventually.
This book, however, is not about Grandma as a
magnificent old lady, but covers a year of her life as a
young girl, just as Nedercook remembered it and as Edna
Wilder took it down, including all the stories told by
Nedercook's parents before the white man first came to
their village on Norton Sound.
This book is a valuable contribution to the under-
standing of life on the tundra and an important segment
of a remarkable life.

Jimmy Bedford
Professor of Journalism Emeritus
University of Alaska
viii
 INTRODUCTION
My mother, Nedercook, was a remarkable woman.
She would have been that in any society at any time.
This will be her story, as she told it to me while
recovering from a broken hip during 1967-68, at the age
of 109. Included will be stories and legends from her
village, which she feared might be lost.
I took the notes originally so my two sons would
know of the struggles their grandmother and her people
endured uncomplainingly in a land that had no elec-
tricity, refrigerators, stores, matches, cars or any of
civilization's other comforts. There were only the things

ix
of nature: space, tundra, sea, snow, land and sea
animals, birds and the Eskimos of her village, Rocky
Point, Alaska. Other villages were miles away and could
be reached only by walking or paddling a skin boat or
kayak on the generally turbulent Bering Sea during
summer; in winter movement was by foot, or, occa-
sionally, by a few men on village business using a
community dog team.
I shall describe the primitive ways and means by
which this hardy group of people lived and gathered and
preserved their food. It may seem to the reader that they
were always out to get or kill something - bird, fish,
or animal. This was true back in the earlier days of
Nedercook's life because there was no other way to
survive in this harsh land, no other way for them to get
food. They did not kill for sport, but rather for the food
and clothing necessary for life itself.
I have concentrated on the year that Nedercook was
about ten years old, probably about 1868. It was before
the white man came to her village. She had an instinct
and training for survival. Her happiness came from the
small things of life and her own creativity with
somewhat limited materials. Perhaps one of her most
valuable talents was to see clearly, both physically and
psychologically, later in life.
Nedercook did not see a white man until she was
nearing her teens. Then the first was a sailor who had
jumped ship or was put ashore by whalers or explorers.
He had light brown hair. When he walked into the
village late one fall, she was so afraid of him that she
hid. He could not speak their language, but the villagers
quickly understood by his gestures that he was hungry.
They fed him and he stayed at the community dwelling,
which they called the Big Dance House.
When winter was nearly over he headed west on foot,
going up the coast. The Eskimos called him Sammy-
sis-ko because he mentioned the word "San Francisco"
x
so often. He would bring his hand to his chest and then
point seaward and say "San Francisco." Years later
Nedercook still remembered and sang the song
composed by villagers in which "Sammy-sis-ko" was
mentioned.
My father, Arthur Samuel Tucker, was a well
educated Englishman, who entered the North by way
of Chilkoot Pass during the gold stampede of 1898. He
did not strike it rich in Dawson, Yukon Territory. Later
he and others floated down the Yukon River on a raft
they had made, landing at St. Michael. From there, he
went to the gold fields at Nome, Alaska. Later he went
to Bluff, where he mined with enough success to make
a living.
He met Nedercook at her village when she and another
woman were both bedridden. A doctor cousin of my
father's had given him a couple of medical books when
he was passing through Montana on his way north. He
brought the two women canned tomatoes by the case,
along with some little white pills which may have been
aspirins or vitamins. He asked them each to eat one can
of tomatoes a day and to take one little pill each day.
Soon the women could sit up and move their arms and
legs. By spring both were walking. After that Nedercook
was never sick. On January 28, 1910, they were married.
Together they reared two sons and one daughter, me.
Another son died during his second year, and still
another was drowned at age ten.
During the spring of 1942, Father died in their home
at Bluff. A couple of years later Nedercook moved to
Fairbanks. Both of her sons were in the service and she
wanted to be near her daughter. She lived a remarkable
life for many years. On what was believed to be her one
hundred and thirteeth birthday, Alaska's Governor Jay
Hammond sent her greetings and a citation. She may
have been older, as the Eskimos had no calendars, nor
did they have any way of recording birthdays.
xi
 This book is written to reveal a typical year of
Nedercook's childhood. The stories and customs of the
Eskimos included are strictly the ones belonging to the
life style of the old village of Rocky Point. I have
included only the stories, legends and beliefs which she
told me. Those that are incomplete in this book are so
because I do not have the whole story in Nedercook's
words.
As the years passed, Nedercook became known in
Fairbanks and by the press as the beloved "Grandma
Tucker," but this story is of a young girl's early
experiences.

Kiachook said that the hardest thing way

back in the Eskimo history was once when
there seemed like a double winter . .. a time
with out the usual summer. This made very
hard times that were difficult to live
through.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Writing a book requires help from a lot of people. I especially want
to acknowledge and thank Jimmy Bedford, Professor of Journalism
Emeritus, University of Alaska, Fairbanks, for writing the foreword
to this book and for his help and encouragement. I also wish to
acknowledge the inspiration, help, patience and understanding of
my husband, Alexander P. Cryan. Others who have helped in a
variety of ways that I won't detail here are: Harry C. Olson,
Antonia R. Wilder, Nancy Lee Baker, Isabel M. Harper, Kay J.
Kennedy and Jerome E. Lardy. Thank you one and all.
Edna Wilder

xii
Description of an Inne
The inne had one doorway with steps so you could climb
down into the shed. Off to one side of the shed was the
stormy day cook room with heavy furs hung to close a
doorway to keep the heat in. There was a skylight in the
ceiling to let the smoke out.
A longer passageway led to the main living quarters. There
were furs hung to close doorways and to keep the cold out.
The main living quarters had a fireplace in the center with a
skylight above. The walls and roof were of wood with straw
behind the wood for insulation. The inne was an underground
dwelling.

LIST OF CHARACTERS AND NAMES

Nedercook (Ned' -er-cook) ... Girl in the story,
later known as
Grandma Tucker.
Inerluk (In' -er-Iuk) . . . her father
Kiachook (Ki' -ach-ook) . . . her mother
Nutchuk (Nut' -chuk) ... her older brother
Paniagon (Pa' -nia-gon) . . . her older sister
Oolark (00' -lark) ... her older brother, but younger
than Nutchuk
Kimik (Kim' -ik) ... Paniagon's husband
Komo (Ko '-mo) ... Kimik's dog
Oopick (00' -pick) ... oldest woman of the village

Inne (In' -ee) ... underground house, with skylight.

Big Dance House . . . Large underground meeting
house here ceremonies and
meetings are held, and
emergency supplies and live
coals are kept. It has a side
room for bath or steam bath.
Unmarried men and visiting
men sleep here.

xiii
 ALASKA

NOME
•

ROCKY POINT

~
~~
NORTON J
(5
SOUND
Alexander P. Cryan
 CHAPTER 1
FIRST GOOSE

S pring," Nedercook said softly as she lifted her face

toward the sky. There was evident joy and relief
in her whispered words. "It is spring." She
breathed deeply of the sweet spring air, which caressed
her face. The sun, which was already climbing the sky,
touched her cheek and also brought out a sparkle on
the distant waters of the Bering Sea. She walked toward
the knoll above their inne. There she would be able to
look over most of the village and along the beach to
where the cliffs began in the west. For eons the small
settlement had snuggled into the hillside of this rocky
projection on the Seward Peninsula. The point of land
extended into the Bering Sea for about 12 miles (Latitude
64 °24' North; Longitude 163 °8' West) and is marked
on the map of Alaska only as Rocky Point.
Nedercook stood tall upon the knoll. She was looking
and listening. On the far side of the village a dog barked.
She could hear faintly the happy voices of children at
play. A great feeling of joy filled her being - maybe
it was knowing that the cold, dark days of winter had
passed for another year.
Racing back to the inne, her home, she arrived just
as her father was saying to her brothers, "Today we go
on big hunt." The ice in front of the village had gone
out, leaving only floating chunks drifting about.
She ran down to the beach where her mother and
others were putting things in little piles in preparation
for leaving. "You eat good," her mother said with a wave
of her hand toward the inne. She raced back up the
1
incline and dashed down the few steps to the under-
ground passageway. This led into the large circular room
that was the main dwelling. She remembered that it was
a good idea to eat, but she was so excited it was hard
for her to get more than a couple of swallows down.
She put some dry fish in her pack, with her meager
personal things, picked up her bow and arrows, and
carried them all to the beach.
Finally, with much waving to her friends who were
left on the beach, the big oomiak (skin boat) left. It was
followed by several men, each in his kayak. They headed
west following the coastline. Sea birds of many kinds
flew by, making many different sounds, while others
swam and then flew as they approached. Others dived,
only to appear and dive again.
As they traveled slowly westward they would
continue to paddle and hunt until they reached a stretch
of ice that still clung to the beach. Here they would
camp, hunt, and dry meat for the winter until that
section of ice floated away, and then they would go on
to the next section of solid ice. If none was reached they
would go as far as Ararchuk (Cape Nome), where they
would camp for a while before returning home. On the
third day they reached solid ice, so the oomiak came
to shore just east of the ice on the beach, where camp
was temporarily set up.
The next morning a very dense fog surrounded them.
Geese and ducks flew very low as they followed the
shoreline, making loud calls as they winged westward
in great flocks. Nedercook felt excited as she listened
to the sounds of numerous geese approaching, louder
and louder, until the whole air seemed to vibrate with
the sound. She would catch sight of them for a minute
or two as they passed, only to be lost again. Mingled
with the sounds of the eider ducks came the almost
groaning, grunting, moaning sounds of the walrus.
These strange sounds came to her from out in the fog.

2
There seemed to be so many, some close and some so
far out that she could just hear them. The noises sounded
to her as if they were moving west, but Nedercook knew
that the ice angled out from their camp, because she had
seen it the evening before the fog drifted in.
The hunters also heard the sounds and made prepara-
tions for a hunt. Before leaving camp her father, Inerluk,
had instructed all the hunters to stay close to one another
during the fog. The kayaks were manned and quietly
disappeared into the fog. For just a short time Nedercook
thought she could hear the dip of the paddles, then the
sounds of the birds and animals took over.
She decided to fish for tomcod. Her mother warned
her not to go out onto the ice or wander back on the
tundra. She took her packsack, bow, arrows, and the
fishing line. As she walked westward the camp dis-
appeared behind her in the fog. She walked and walked,
expecting any minute to reach the ice that angled
seaward. She knew that she could not miss it because
she was following the edge of the open water.
After a time she sat on a rock. Looking up, she saw
some rocks jutting even higher, so she climbed up on
these and sat down. The fog seemed even denser here.
Then she heard another flock of geese call and from the
sound she knew they were flying low. Their calls became
louder and louder. Soon the whole air seemed to vibrate
with the sound. They must be very low. Quickly she
placed an arrow in her bow and pulled it taut. When
she saw them they were almost in line with her and the
rock. She stood up. The geese saw her and tried to turn,
making a dense mingling of wings and bodies. She let
her arrow fly into the thickest area. It missed the first
two, but then one bird came down, hitting the ice on
the edge of the fog. Quickly she scrambled down the
rocks and began running toward it. She saw it flop and,
as it did, it fell from the shore ice into the sea water.
She ran faster but it was out of reach. It was still floating.
3
She tried throwing her fish hook, but it always fell short.
Then she placed the fishing gear on the ice where it could
be easily seen and headed for the beach. She found a
long pole where the tides of last fall had left it. Carrying
this, she ran back to the water's edge until she spotted
the fishing gear and then the goose. She looked for a
chunk of floating ice large enough to carry her weight.
Reaching with the pole, she pulled it slowly closer until
she could jump onto it. It did not move fast, but it did
move, as she poled and paddled with the long stick. She
4
::;-'.

was so eager to get the goose that as she reached to pick

it up she nearly fell into the water. Then she had it on
her chunk of ice. When she straightened up, she thought
that she was lost in the fog because she could not see
the edge of the ice. She looked at the sky. It seemed a
little brighter in one direction, so she pushed toward the
darker side. Soon she saw the fishing gear near the edge
of the ice.
She jumped off with her goose and pole the minute
the ice cake touched the solid ice. She then stopped to
5
examine her goose. It felt fat and heavy and she thought
it looked beautiful. When she turned it in many direc-
tions, it still was beautiful. Reluctantly she put it into
her packsack and swung it to her back. Picking up her
fishing gear, bow and arrows, she started on. More
flocks of geese flew by. For a while she would ready her
arrow, but as the geese approached she could tell by the
sound that they would be out of her arrow's reach. So
she would put her arrow back into the pouch and walk
on.
Suddenly she realized that, fog or no fog, she had
walked too far without finding the ice she was looking
for. Now she knew that it had floated away during the
dense fog. The old-squaw ducks were making their calls
from the water in front of her, but she could not see
them. They sounded beautiful, so musical, she loved to
listen to them. "Ar-ar-neak," she mimicked their calls
for a while. The walrus sounds had moved so far to the
west that she had to listen to hear them and then it was
only an occasional faint sound. The fog was so dense
that it was almost wet as she started back, following
the shoreline. She traveled for a time and then stopped
because she thought that she had heard her name called
very faintly. Listening, she heard her mother's voice
calling, "Daughter?"
"Mama!" she called back as she broke into a run along
the uneven terrain in the direction of her mother's voice.
Soon she could see her mother's figure. As she got closer
she saw that her mother carried her walking stick.
"Worried about you," her mother said, "You gone so
long."
Nine-year-old Nedercook stood before her mother,
tall for her age, her shiny black hair hung in a lone braid
down her back, tied with a thin piece of skin. Mukluks
covered her feet; skin pants and a light fur parka covered
her body. Her dark eyes were shining with excitement.
Wet fog fell on the soft brown skin of her face and hands.

6
 She quickly removed her packsack and held it out to
her mother. Kiachook took it as she sat down on a
jutting rock. She knew from her daughter's expression
that the pack held something special. Opening it slowly,
she exclaimed "A-nic-ka," as her hand moved quickly
to feel whether it was warm and fresh or a cold, dead
found one. The goose was warm and there was fresh
blood. Removing it her mother asked, "How?"
While Nedercook told her the excitement flowed
through her again, but her mother did not seem pleased
about her going out on the ice cake. Kiachook picked
the goose there, as she believed the longer the feathers
stayed on, the more fat they took off. Her daughter
helped. Then for some time they sat quietly on the rocks,
listening to the different sounds of spring.
"We go back," Kiachook finally said. "Maybe hunters
come." Together they walked and Nedercook realized
that she had gone much farther than she was aware of.
As they approached the camp they could smell the
smoke before it came into view. Nedercook remembered
how they were instructed upon getting into the oomiak
not to kick over the big pot, because it had a smaller
pot inside with coals for the cooking fire. She also
remembered the warm glow it radiated.
The hunters had not returned. Kiachook cut the goose
in pieces and put it in one of the pots to cook. It was
so foggy that it made the evening darker.
After what seemed a long time, they could hear the
hunters returning long before they could see them. She
knew that they were not hunting because they were too
noisy. When they came into view she saw why they were
so slow. They had rawhide leaders tied to a walrus they
were towing. A cry went up from camp. As the kayaks
came to shore the lines were taken by eager hands. Then
everyone pulled on the lines and with much effort, both
pulling and pushing, the animal was beached.
Eagerly they began cutting and skinning, while the

7
children built up the fire. Pots of meat were put on to
cook. Others gathered poles from the beach, and a rough
rack was soon standing. Pieces of meat were hung to
dry and, because wood was plentiful, they had a nice
community fire with someone from each family tending
to that family's pot. Nedercook's goose that evening was
only an appetizer, but it was delicious and praise was
high.
That evening when they settled for the night, her
father said, "Tell true story." He began;

This happened two years ago when there was a big

famine. People at Cape Darby's village were starving
because game was scarce and when game is scarce it
always seems that everything edible is scarce - there
is just nothing. During this time, in one inne two fellows
of the village were still alive. One had a pot of some
kind and at mealtimes he would heat water, sip and
drink it, just as if he were having soup. The other fellow
wore a squirrel parka and each day he would take a
couple of bites from his skin parka. Each day they tried
to hunt, but there was nothing. They did this day after
day, fishing also, but nothing. One day in early spring
the tomcod returned. They fished tomcod and survived
the famine.

When her father finished he spoke again of the hard

times they had had two years ago. As Nedercook lay
on her meager bed she remembered the famine.
When it became evident there was a famine, each
family brought all its food and put it in the stormy-day
room. This was standard procedure because the less
one's body was used, the less it demanded. All
unnecessary trips to the cache were eliminated.
Nedercook remembered very clearly the amount of food
she ate each day. It was so small she was always hungry.
It was down to a small bite of dry salmon or whale, but
her mother kept the pots filled with warm water and
when she complained of being hungry her mother told
8
her to drink of the water. She remembered the days
when there was nothing left to eat.
Lying in the semi-darkness, she relived the days of
hunger. Many of the villagers had died by the time it
was finally over. Hunters left every day, and returned
with nothing. Three hunters had failed to return since
the beginning of the famine; all three had hunted on
different days and each failed to return. The villagers
believed that the men in desperation had hunted too far
and too long for what strength they had left, and had
died before they could reach home. Others who had not
hunted died in their innes.
During this time, although her mother did not say
anything, Nedercook knew she was worried because
their men were gone all day.
Nedercook recalled that, except for the small glowing
coals, they had no light because when famine strikes the
seal oil lamp is one of the first things to go. Oil becomes
too valuable to burn in lamps when it could be used for
food. After dark they sat listening .... listening ...
listening. They knew they were not the only ones in the
dark.
As long as Nedercook lived she would remember
hearing the men arrive, and how great the joy to find
a seal being lowered down the outer steps of the entrance
way, followed by her father and brothers. She
remembered her mother touching the seal in the dim
light, running her hands over its body while she cried
in happiness. She recalled the excitement as they dragged
the seal into the big room! She had never seen a whole
seal in this, the living and sleeping room, before, but
this was different. This meant - life.
Her sister, Paniagon, started adding fuel to the fire,
and set the pots of hot water nearer it. No one worried
about saving the seal's skin, they cut it open in front.
Paniagon scooped up the blood and juices and added
them to the hot water, which cooked it quickly. Then
9
they drank this thin blood soup. Everyone was too
hungry to wait long. As soon as little pieces were cut
off they were put on little sticks and roasted until barely
warm, and eaten with pieces of blubber and more soup.
Never in her life had anything tasted so good to
Nedercook.
As her father and mother satisfied their appetites, they
moved to their beds and fell asleep. Her brothers, who
for years had slept at the Big Dance House, did not try
to go there, but rather moved to their old beds. Without
removing their garments, they lay down in a half circle
and fell asleep. The two sisters stayed up, cooking with
all the cooking pots they could arrange by the fire while
they waited for it to die down for the night. Finally they
gave up and Nedercook remembered only going toward
her bed.
All happily ate from the pots of cooked food the next
morning and Nedercook took a big pot of cooked soup,
meat and blubber to Oopick (the oldest woman in the
village). She was lying in her bed weak from hunger,
but she sat up when she saw Nedercook coming toward
her. Tears filled her old eyes. Crying in gratitude, she
drank of the soup and ate some of the meat that
Nedercook cut in small pieces.
Nedercook and her brothers made trips around the
village carrying pieces of seal to the main families. They,
in turn, would share their gifts with their relatives. Some
of the lone poor came to Inerluk for any scrap they could
get. They were not disappointed. All the seal was soon
distributed. There was much rejoicing as everyone had
some part of it.
Inerluk carried the seal's head down to the sea (His
wife had given the seal a drink of fresh water the first
evening). She always saved a little of the water to toss
in the entrance way of their inne. The custom of giving
the seal a drink of fresh water was carried out by all
the villagers. They believed that it showed their thanks
10
and insured them of more in the future. Then the seal's
head was dropped back into the salty water. T omcod
returned a couple of days later and the whole village
fished and grew stronger. Then they hunted.
We are so lucky this year, Nedercook thought as she
drifted off to sleep.

11
 CHAPTER 2
MIRACLE MAN

N ext morning the fog lifted and a breeze made for

perfect drying conditions. They decided to
remain camped where they were for a few days,
while the meat dried enough to be put into seal pokes
with some blubber, which would render itself to oil.
On the third morning everything was loaded into the
oomiak and they started for Cape Nome. This village
was known for its many miracle men and one woman
the people called, "The woman who heals with her
hands." It was said that by moving her hands over one's
body she would discover what was wrong. She could

12
when necessary open the body and remove the offending
part, then close it to heal immediately.
Upon reaching Cape Nome they made camp on the
beach, where they set up another crude drying rack and
hung up any meat that was not dry enough.
Next day the men took the big oomiak and the kayaks
out to hunt, as there were still many pieces of floating
ice. Walrus and seals climbed on these to sun themselves.
The hunters had been at sea a short time when a very,
very strong wind from the north suddenly started to
blow. From the shore, whitecaps blew out to sea.
Everyone feared the hunters would never return.
The wind continued to blow for two days. When the
hunters still did not return, the families were so worried
that the people of Cape Nome decided to call a meeting.
After all of the missing men's families had gathered at
the Big Dance House, the spokesman for the Cape Nome
villagers asked one of their miracle men whether he could
"see" and tell them what had happened to the hunters.
The big room was crowded as everyone gathered
there, including Nedercook. The miracle man asked for
a bucket of water. Nedercook was all eyes as she
watched a middle-aged man carry in a wooden bucket.
Water came to within three inches of the top. It was
placed on the floor near the center of the room. Then
the miracle man slowly, very slowly began swaying his
body slightly from side to side while he slowly circled
around the bucket of water. He began to chant or sing,
"I use this bucket as a dip net to find what I wish . . .
Oh! let me too perceive or see what has happened to
these people." He repeated this over and over as he
slowly circled the bucket of water. His eyes gazed
steadily into the water. Never did his eyes leave the
water, nor did they lose the intense look as he slowly
continued to circle.
Nedercook was fascinated by this miracle man and
his movements, so to her it seemed like a very short time

13
until he abruptly stopped and exclaimed, "Oh! I see that
they have landed safely down the coast between
Solomon and Spruce Creek." The people were relieved
and joyful.
A few days later the wind stopped. On the second
day afterward the hunters came paddling back. Sure
enough, they had been forced to beach and had stayed
at the very place the miracle man had "seen" in the
bucket of water.
Everyone was happy to see the hunters return.
Nedercook especially was happy to see her father and
brothers because she, too, had feared they might be
dead.
Usually the hunters hunted until the ice moved too
far away, but now that the big north wind had taken
the ice away for good, the Inerluk family decided to
return to their village. The weather was warmer going
back and seal hunting was fairly good, so they decided
to take some home whole and prepare them at the
village.
They had planned to stop at Cliff Village on the way
back so Kiachook could get some clay for pots and
plates, but the big oomiak was filled with partly dried
meat and many pokes of blubber. Instead they decided
to make a trip for clay later in the summer, if possible.
If they continued home now there still would be a little
time left for squirrel hunting.
After reaching the village and unloading the boat
everyone was tired. Each was happy to get back to his
own bed, even though it was only a woven grass mat
with a caribou skin on it for a mattress. As she was
falling asleep Nedercook thought how nice and soft her
bed was.

14
 CHAPTER 3
SQUIRREL HUNTING

T he next couple of days were busy, hurried days

and there was no time for storytelling. The kill
from the trip was distributed among the crew and
they in turn gave of their share to the village people.
If only one walrus was taken, it was customarily kept
by the owner of the oomiak; he, in turn, could either
keep it or give it away. Walrus skin, being heavy and
thick, had to be split, a tiresome, hard job with primitive
tools, but if this was done the skin would separate and
become the equivalent of two hides. This skin could be
used to cover an oomiak, or to make soles for mukluks,
or rawhide which was used for laces, nets and ropes.
The men would remove the ivory tusks later. Now they

15
were helping to care for the meat and skins. Some of
the sealskin was used for oil pokes (containers) and some
was stretched and dried for clothing. The oogruk's
intestines were scraped so the membrane would be
suitable for rain wear and for skylight coverings. The
stomach was prepared and used for containers, and the
windpipe, for leather. Each hunter preserved the bladder
from his seal for display later at the Big Winter Festival.
All this they did within two days, so the meat would
not spoil. Those who could not help with the animals
helped by cooking and preparing the meals.
Nedercook was still excited from the trip and from
being home again. She was standing and eating meat
from a bone. Kiachook noticed this and reminded her
to sit down. "Make big thick legs if you always eat
standing up," her mother said, as she had at other times
in Nedercook's life when she forgot to sit down.
By the third day all the rush was finally over and the
family gathered outdoors for the evening meal. All that
was needed now was someone to turn the drying meat
over on the racks every now and then, or cover it if it
rained. What could not be covered was carried inside
until the weather was better.
Inerlook did not want to go squirrel hunting this
spring. He would stay and care for the meat, and set
out the herring net, which also caught tomcod and trout.
The two brothers wanted to continue seal hunting, as
it would soon be time to go on the "big black whale
hunt." They did not want to miss this, the greatest thrill
of the season.
Some of the large male ground squirrels had been out
of hibernation for about a week. Kiachook decided if
they were to get any this spring the women should go
out for them. Paniagon wanted some squirrel skins for
a parka for Kimik, her husband. She had used all she
had on the fancy parka she had made for herself before
the big festival last year.

16
 Kimik owned one of the few dogs of the village, a
well-behaved dog, attached to both Kimik and his wife.
"We take Komo." Paniagon said as they prepared for
the trip. Kimik had used Komo for two years as a helper
when he went hunting, and had made him a pack from
skin. They filled Komo's pack with snares and some dry
fish. Each of the women carried ulus (the ulu is an
Eskimo woman's knife), rawhide (Eskimo rope and
string), food, and a little pouch for the leg bones of the
squirrels, which in those days were prized for needles.
In addition, each carried some seal oil and one small
wooden dish. The dish was used to hold the oil when
eating dry fish, which they dipped in oil.
Nedercook took her bow and arrows. They would
have to travel quite a distance on foot to reach the place
of the gray limestone hills. There the adult male squirrels
took on the gray color of the surrounding hills, the color
most prized by the people of the village.
Komo was a good dog. He did not run away or leave
Paniagon. He also did not chase the brown-necked
ptarmigan that ran strutting around on the tundra as
the women trudged along, nor did he chase the red foxes
that occasionally barked from rocks on the hillsides.
They had traveled by night most of the time, as was
customary at this time of the year. The snow became
too soft in the daytime, and one would just waste time
and energy wallowing in it, or walking farther to go
around the patches of snow. At night it was frozen so
they could all walk on the snow crust and have no fear
of sinking in. It was still very cold at night so, even with
their warm parkas, sleeping without any bedding was
uncomfortable.
Finally they reached the base of the hills. This year
Kiachook wanted to camp down by the dense willow
growth, at the head of a little draw that came down from
the hills. The sun was one quarter across the sky by the
time they reached their camping spot. They were all tired
17
and Kiachook decided they should eat first, then make
the camp. They removed their packs and when they
removed Komo's he jumped around wagging his tail,
happy to have the load off. The women turned their
backs on one another as they ate. It was an old custom.
If two or more women were out together, they could
keep watch and the dreaded black bear could not sneak
up unseen. This way they all ate in peace.
As they ate the warm sun beat down upon them,
melting the snow and making little streams here and
there. Nedercook listened to the Lapland longspur and
watched as it flew up into the sky, to sing as it came
gliding down again. She thought the colorful little bird
was so pretty. Overhead a flock of geese was winging
north. It was so peaceful and beautiful. There was a little
spring pond in the grass below them on the open tundra
and, while Nedercook was taking in this beautiful scene,
a flock of whimbrels, curlew-like birds, decided to stop
there to rest and refresh themselves. Their call was light,
happy and clear; soon it was joined by the call of the
pretty golden plover. The combination stirred an
emotion in Nedercook as her dark eyes took in the snow
patches on the bare ground, and the ever-changing color
of the Bering Sea that stretched to the distant horizon
and, above this, the clear blue sky of spring in Alaska.
I wish I could keep this always in my mind, she was
thinking, when her mother called, "Help make camp."
They walked from the bare knoll where they had been
sitting, and waded into the soft snow under the willows.
Finding a natural little clearing, they began tramping
down the soft snow. Their mother gathered grass. Komo
was chewing on some dead grass a little distance away.
They put some willow shoots and twigs on the farthest
side of the opening so they could lie down without being
on the snow. Then they went to help their mother gather
dead grass. It was scarce, but they took what they had
and put it on their willow floor.
18
 "We look now," Kiachook said. They looked up
toward the hills, and saw little black spots on the white
drifts that still remained on the hillsides. The spots were
the gray male ground squirrels, which had tunneled
through the snow and were sitting by their entrances.
From a distance a squirrel looked black. The animal
would sit by his entrance and sun himself for a little
while each day, becoming accustomed to the light. As
the days passed he would move farther and farther away
from the hole and in a week or two, when the females
and yearlings in the lower grounds came out of hiber-
nation, he would run down to be with them. That is
when the Eskimos usually gave up hunting squirrels,
because the skins would become torn from fighting and
the flesh, tough and tasteless. Ny ou remember where you
see them," their mother said as she continued, "We rest
now." The women removed their mukluks and hung
them to dry and air on the willows.
Nedercook awoke to her mother's voice, "We hunt
close today." The sun had set and the black spots were
gone. The women left everything in camp but the snares
and some willow sticks. They started for the foothills,
the mother taking the center, a daughter on either side.
The snow on the tundra was not always predictable,
some was hard and some, soft. The deeply drifted places
where the snares were set were harder, so traveling was
easier there. After setting snares they returned to camp.
'Tomorrow we make fire," Kiachook said, so mother
and daughters spent the coldest part of the night
scrounging for wood, which was small and scarce. As
they gathered wood they piled it on the dry knoll. Komo
wandered with them. Kiachook then showed her
daughters where she wanted rocks and dirt removed for
next day's fire. Using sticks, they dug all the loose
unfrozen dirt away and pulled the rocks away until
Kiachook was satisfied.
By then it was morning. Kiachook thought that they
19
should go farther around the hill while the snow was
still hard. They would have something to eat there while
looking for black spots, set their snares, and nap on the
hill by the big rocks before heading back to camp.
Nedercook needed to relieve herself, so she went off
and found a large rock, turned it over, and did her
business where it had rested. She used a combination
of leaves, grass and moss for wiping, threw this on top
and turned the rock back. All children were taught to
do this. If there was no rock, they dug a hole or found
a crack in the tundra and covered the mess before going
on.
They took more snares, food, sticks, and Komo. They
would leave the camp unguarded. There was no need
to be quiet so they talked as they walked. Ptarmigan
were all over, plentiful and tame. They decided to get
some for dinner. They had not brought a clay pot
because of weight, but the ptarmigan needed only
picking and warming by the fire before eating. They
were not like the squirrel, which was cannibalistic and
needed to be well cooked. They all used rocks to kill
the ptarmigan. Years of practice had made their aim
quite accurate and before long they had enough. Feeling
hungry, they stopped to eat of the dry food. They had
climbed some during the hunt and Nedercook was
beginning to feel tired. Her sister fed Komo.
Many little black spots had appeared and again
Kiachook warned her daughters not to go too far from
each other and to keep a sharp lookout for the dreaded
bear, as he, like the squirrels, would be awake from
winter hibernation. With their mother taking the center
again, they started off setting more snares.
They walked to the big rocks on the hill. It was like
a little cliff with some larger boulders lying in front.
Kiachook chose a nice, dry, sunny exposure where
Komo would be able to rest in front while they napped.
Kiachook plugged Nedercook's ears with some of the
20
wild cotton she carried. She said it was to keep the
many-legged insect that came out in the spring from
entering her ears while she slept. The belief was that if
one did, it would eat her brain and then come out of
the other ear. Nedercook fell asleep as soon as she lay
on the rough ground. She thought that she had just fallen
asleep when someone was shaking her. Glancing in the
direction of the sun, she knew she had slept for some
time. Her mother had cleaned the ptarmigan and she
had dug some of the wild Eskimo potatoes (Hedysarum
alp in um) . Up this high, the ground thawed quickly after
the snow left. The vegetable was firm and sweet at this
time of year and it would remain so until the plant
started to grow. It would not be picked after that until
late fall, after the tops were dead and dry.
Kiachook told her daughters to check their snares. She
would check hers. They were all lucky. They took the
snares with them as they went because these were the
holes of the large gray male squirrels, who lived alone.
Later, when the females and yearlings came out, they
could set the snares on the runways between holes, but
not for long, because when the rutting season started
the males would fight, tearing holes in the skins, and
the meat became tasteless.
Going back Nedercook felt thirsty so she used a few
fingers and dipped up the clean, water-laden snow.
When they reached camp it felt like they were coming
home. The three began skinning their catch. Hanging
the skins to dry was easy, as they were by the willows.
They hung the skins through the natural eye hole on
a prong and soon the willows looked as if they were
bearing long, dark fruit. The sun had long set by the
time they had finished, but being spring, the nights did
not get dark.
Kiachook and her daughters placed some green wood,
damp grass, moss and leaves in the bottom of the fire
hole. Kiachook then placed the squirrel meat on this to
21
cook, leaving the heads and feet attached but first taking
off the prized leg bones for needles. She placed the
squirrels in the hole with the backs turned up, packing
them in tightly. Then she put more damp grass and
leaves on top. She placed some green willow sticks over
this. She took her flints and some of the dry cotton she
carried in a special bag made from the oogruk wind-
pipe. She also carried a piece of birch bark. She
assembled all this, tore the bark into small pieces, and
broke little dry sticks. Then she began trying to make
a spark. It took some time, but finally she had one. It
caught in the cotton. Kiachook quickly nourished it into
a flame. Once it started, she just added more bark and
twigs. When the fire was safely burning and there was
no danger of its going out, her daughters took over.
The fire felt good. "We eat ptarmigan." Kiachook said.
They broke off long willow shoots to use as sticks to
roast the ptarmigan. As the meat lost its bloody red color
they tore off pieces and dipped them in seal oil. The hot
food tasted good. Paniagon cooked the last two birds,
while Nedercook gathered wood with Komo following
her. As they did this the sun rose.
'We go over there," her mother said, gesturing toward
the hills to the right. Nedercook was not eager to leaving
the fire. They placed quite a bit of the slower-burning
green wood over the fire hole. Paniagon instructed
Komo to remain in camp.
The tussocks were frosted on the tundra and the damp
places were slippery with ice, but as soon as the sun rose
they would turn to water quickly. Leaving the rough
ground behind, they climbed the hillside and, although
it was sloping, it was easier walking. The trained eye
could now find holes without the animals sitting in front.
Finally their mother called a halt. The snow was getting
too soft for easy walking. On the way back there were
so many ptarmigan that they tried for some more. As
they walked into camp Komo came to meet them
22
wagging his tail and jumping for joy. The fire was still
glowing so they added more fuel, cleaned the birds,
removed their mukluks and lay down. Nedercook
enjoyed the nice fresh potato roots with their meal. It
was the first time she felt rested since coming on the trip.
Then they continued around the hill, picking up
yesterday's snares, and were surprised to meet some
people from their village. They sat and visited. Everyone
was having good luck. They all decided to return to their
individual camps because a wind had sprung up and a
storm seemed on its way. Komo jumped with happiness
as they came into camp.
"We eat," Kiachook said, pushing the coals out of the
hole and to the side. She removed the well-cooked
squirrels. They tasted delicious. Heads, feet and bones
were given to Komo, who wagged his tail as he ate.
Quickly they strung and tied the dry skins in bundles
of 40. This was the standard number used for a man's
parka. They put the bundles in their packs because it
looked like it was going to snow. When it snowed this
late in the spring it was usually a messy, wet snowfall.
Hurriedly they refilled the fire hole, packed meat as they
had before, scraped all the coals back, and added more
wood. The storm lasted one day and night. It was very
unpleasant, especially since they had no shelter. They
stayed in camp and kept the fire going by continually
gathering wood.

23
 CHAPTER 4
BEAR

• f ' I \\
A .
() ~~-' 1) \ '

,:;.: - " Their days as they hunted wereJilled with wir d ,

snow, rain and intense sunshine. Their faces and
~- hands suffen;\d,~9st b~~ause of constan~ expos.~e \~
to the elements. The''B ndles oll 40 skins were nQW 2 and "..
t}1ey ,had 20 skirfs hanging to qry,. along'wJtha·)ot of '. \:
~~~at:, ~'We get one mor~\ b~~)Ile, "~~~om~/' their ~6ther ", '>.'~~>
. a· ~ ~\''''' ~ "~' " '\,. ' . . "','\.'
<'
• f. , .' \. • '\.'.', " '. , ,.~ .\.

:.;.:- o~t
_____oday they would cross \\.= ' -the' \10
.:" ~e.ctiOh
'\. ' er
·.of.~ t-i:e:~':
:1.{ '\'.'\..,., \
fttothills, a low saddle bet~t?en ~the hills. FbxeS.::~ere 'Seen '.'V
e;pr. now and then, al~~ :many: o~ \~e large n~~~~:n ~':f
or tundra hares. They-did not tryJt,o\:,-g~ · the hares because
their mother was against killint~y ,\:ni~a '>'that was
carrymg. young. Th ey wou Ifu walt . UI)..h'1 ~ '\.::"b ernes
tIle . were
ripe'; that was the time at which her village figured that
'"
ciJt¥"Y.Oilng was old enough to go without its parent, if
t'~ ja re t should be killed.
~fthe hill the women branched out to hunt on the
back ~0pe. From there they could see for many miles.
Nedercook looked far to the north and saw the dark lines
that were the big spruce trees that she had heard of.
Someday she hoped to go where the big trees grew, just
to see what the trees were like. The very few trees she
had seen she could count on her hands; they had tried
to grow on the windswept tundra, managed to get only
a couple of feet tall, and were spread along the ground
as they struggled to survive against the strong winds .
Nedercook took off to the left as they started to set
snares again. She had not gone far when she saw some
large, large tracks in the snow! She had never seen tracks

24
 like these before and she tried to \fRa.gine what it could
be. She thought of waiting until snaring was over to,,~~ll
her mother but then she decided to run and ask i~~ "
mother what made these tracks . When Nederc~~f4ra· "'
" .. her, Kiachook looked a moment in the direction sRe Wad ..
been going, almost shrugged, and turned to follow her
daughter.
Kiachook stood as if frozen, looking at the tracks .
Nedercook , who was looking too, glanced at her
mother's face and knew right away that her mother was
scared. She could see it on her face.
"Uk-thluk," (bear) her mother almost stammered.
Then she raised her eyes and scanned the hillsides,
saying, "We go back. "
Nedercook felt a kind of fearful panic seize her. She
ran quickly to Paniagon, who was just about to set a
snare. Nedercook's throat felt dry as she said in a hoarse
whisper, "Bear come, we go. " Her sister pulled up the

2S
snare as they rushed to meet their mother. Her frightened
eyes seemed to be looking everywhere.
''Take up snares," their mother said as they started
back. Nedercook was scared as she left to gather her
snares. The fear of the bear was contagious. Snares were
hurriedly snatched up along with any squirrels caught.
The snow was soft as they went back but they all seemed
to have extra strength. Reaching camp and seeing Komo
there, wagging his tail, was so very reassuring that the
two sisters reached down and hugged him.
"We go home," Kiachook said in almost a whisper,
trying to hide the fear she felt. They packed in a hurry,
no one saying a word, filling the packs with skins and
meat. The sun had set by the time they were ready to
leave and the snow patches were starting to freeze for
the night. There was no time even to eat.
As she walked, carrying her load, Nedercook looked
in every direction. She had never seen a bear, but she
knew it was to be feared because her mother feared it.
This bear, she thought, must have phenomenal speed
and strength, but she was too frightened to ask. The bear
might have tremendous hearing power too. As they
walked in silence she expected to see at any moment a
furious creature come tearing over the ridge and like
lightening come galloping over the tundra to devour
them. She saw her mother and sister looking about as
they hurried on.
As Nedercook struggled along in silence, she recalled
the often repeated story of a man her parents knew as
Chow-nie-go.

One day while Chow-nie-go was out hunting in or

along the edge of thick alder brush, he was suddenly
attacked by a bear. Even before he could bring his spear
into position the bear was biting him. (Chow-nie-go was
known as a very strong man, tough and a good hunter.)
He pulled out his long, sharp hunting knife. As the bear
bit down on him, he jabbed the knife into its chest and

26
 he pulled it out. Hanging on to the handle as tightly as
he could, he jabbed and pulled as hard and as often as
he could ... into the throat, into the chest, even as he
felt his scalp being ripped off.
He passed out and was found by his villagers. The
bear was dead a few feet from Chow-nie-go's
unconscious body. They carried him back to the village.
Parts of his hair never grew back, leaving just ugly scars
that covered his head, face and body.

Kiachook and her daughters traveled all through the

night with hardly any stops. It was only after traveling
far, when they could see the familiar hills of home, did
their mother say with relief in her voice, "We eat and
rest."
Everyone was glad to see the women return safely.
Other squirrel hunters had returned; some had come in
the day before. The bear had started to rob the snares,
sometimes taking both animal and snare.
The skins and meat were hung to dry. Dinner that
evening consisted of dry seal meat and dry tomcod
because the women were tired and did not feel like
cooking. They placed the dry tomcod on a flat rock and,
using their stone hammers (thinnish rocks, four to six
inches long), pounded the backside of the tomcod,
separating the hard dry meat from the bone so it was
easier to pull apart. They had picked some greens just
before reaching home. Nedercook liked the bittersweet
taste these willow leaves left in her mouth.

27
 CHAPTER 5
NEDERCOOK'S ENJOYMENT

I t was peaceful in the evening to sit in front of the

inne and look out over the Bering Sea. Birds of all
kinds were swimming and flying around. Some flew
in little groups following close to the shoreline, going
west; others were in flocks farther out, while some
seemed to be flying around just for the fun of it.
Nedercook loved to hear the bird calls along with the
gentle sound of the small waves that broke as they rolled
ashore. From high in the sky came the distinctive sound
of the snipe they called the kikingatoolic. It dived
earthward, fluttering its wings to make this unusual
sound, only to right itself before reaching the ground,
quietly fly skyward again until it could make another
earthward dive or U-like swoop. It would continue to
do this many times during spring courtship. Kiachook
looked up and then sang it a special song. Women of
her village always sang a song of welcome to the first
bird of each species to arrive in the spring. To Nedercook
and her mother, hearing this snipe meant spring was
really here.
The evening was so still and beautiful that Nedercook
walked to the little knoll and sat down just out of sight
of the village. The kittiwake gulls were in the process
of building their nests on the ledges of the cliffs. They
were busy carrying mud and grass from a damp spot
about a quarter of a mile inland. They formed two lines.
One line was the incoming line, white with little dark
markings, streamlined forms flying in the line to the
right. They alighted in the mud-grass area, and
28
proceeded to pull and pick up needed material. When
they had enough in their beaks they would fly off to
join the outgoing line of gulls until they reached the edge
of the cliff. From there they would fly to their nests,
fastened to the rocks so the high winds and strong rains
would not loosen them from the cliff.
Nedercook often marveled at what the birds and
animals did, and she was more full of questions than
some of the other children. Sometimes when she became
too curious and continued with her questions, her
mother would look at her and say, "Why don't you ask
it?" Nedercook would ponder this and then realize that
her mother wished she would study more closely the
activity of the bird or animal in question. By watching
and listening to the creature, she would find suitable
answers.
Nedercook enjoyed the gathering of foods from the
various locations. By late spring the willow leaves had
grown too old and strong to eat, and the whiter willow
shoots she had peeled to eat of the sweet, tender inside
had also grown old and tough. Now there was the wild
sorrel that grew on the slanting hillsides near to the cliff's
edge, along with the wild onions and the sour dock that
grew nearby. There were also the greens that grew
around the lakes in early spring. Then there were greens
that grew above high tide on the beaches. Her mother
often mixed these with berries in the late summer and
put them up for winter. Nedercook always enjoyed
going with her mother to wander in the alder gullies,
digging up the tender roots of the big fern. The swarms
of mosquitoes that rose from the grass in sheltered spots,
swarming around her, humming, biting her, did not
upset her. Summer and sunny days had always brought
mosquitoes as far back as she could remember, and, as
far back as she could remember, they were always biting
her. This was part of spring, summer, warm days, and
she did not mind too much; she would slap and itch and

29
give it no further thought. Her mother would bring the
fern root home to boil in the blood of seal, or oogruk.
This was considered a real treat.
Nedercook enjoyed fishing and would go with
mother, father or brother if they would take her.
Kiachook liked to fish for the wolf fish, a long, eel-like
fish with a very large mouth that was filled with long,
sharp teeth. For bait her mother would gather from the
hillside by the cliffs a root from one of the slender wild
plants. She would scrape off the dark outer skin and
tie the white root to the hook that was made from bone,
horn, or a hawk's claw. This root also attracted another
fish that had a big head, but was short and built more
like the fish called an Irish lord, only this fish had quiet
browns and grayish colors.
Kiachook liked to get up early when she went fishing
for wolf fish. If the sea was not too rough Kiachook and
her daughter would jump from rock to rock, going out
as far as they could to a cluster of rocks which had fallen
sometime back, and fish from there. Nedercook did not
fish for wolf fish, she carried the stick and bag. Kiachook
always insisted they carry a stick to use as a club to kill
the fish. She warned her daughter to make sure the fish
was dead before trying to pick it up; the teeth were very
sharp.
Nedercook knew that a kayak could be used to fish
from, but the men were the ones who used the kayaks.
The men had given up fishing for wolf fish with kayaks.
Long ago, one man who went fishing in his kayak caught
a large wolf fish. He hit it on the head and, believing
it dead, carelessly put it into his kayak and continued
fishing. Apparently the fish was only stunned because,
as the man sat in the oval opening of his kayak, the fish
recovered and bit off his private parts so he suffered a
horrible death. So they fished for wolf fish from rocks
now, even though it was a little slower. The dark fish
skin was used as a trim on rain parkas and water

30
mukluks, and in any place where a piece of very thin
skin was needed. Kiachook liked the meat of this fish
very much. After skinning it she would boil a big pot
of it and then the family would sit around dipping out
chunks to eat with oil and leaves. The fishing season
for it was short.
Nedercook liked to walk to the cliffs and then walk
along the top near the edge, looking across the Bering
Sea. She would take a pack and pick edible greens. Many
times she would stop to watch the whales, seals or birds.
She often wondered how or why the waves would come
rolling so tirelessly in, one after another, repeating. She
never tired of this and with the curiosity of a child she
wondered why the sea did not get tired.
Forget-me-nots grew in profusion on many of the
sunny slopes, making hillsides near her blue. Wild arctic
poppies and other tundra flowers added their sprinkling
of color and perfume. Bees would fly from flower to
flower. Often the breeze from the sea would be enough
to keep the mosquitoes away.
Watching the sea parrots standing before their homes
on the cliffs and listening to them make their calls and
noises, she would often try to mimic them, and the songs
of many birds, and the sounds of animals. A little way
from shore, two male puffins were in combat on the
water. They had been fighting for some time. Often the
fight would last until one or the other died, but at times
after a long fight, if something scared them, they would
both give up. If the puffins could still fly they would,
but sometimes one would be too tired so it would swim
off. Nedercook liked to see them both live. Later she
enjoyed watching the parents bring little fish back in
their colorful beaks to feed their young. She never saw
the young come from their homes, so she figured they
must leave in the dark of night.

31
 CHAPTER 6
EGGS

E ach day Nedercook would check to see whether

the murres (black and white diving birds) had
started to lay eggs. This she could do by looking
just over the cliffs at a section where the birds roosted
on the cliffs. These sea birds did not bother to build a
nest but rather laid their eggs on the bare ledges, or any
place on the cliff where the bird could sit. If the mother
was not careful and flew off suddenly, the egg would
roll off and break as it fell, unless it was over water.
On calm days when the water was clear, her father
would often go in his kayak and, using a long pole with
a little skin basket fastened to the end, scoop the eggs
from the bottom of the sea . Sometimes he would even
manage to scoop up a crab.
Inerluk thought he was too old to climb the cliffs like
his two sons and other young men of the village.
Sometimes the young men would use a long piece of
rawhide; they would pound a stake into the ground, tie
the rawhide to it, and then follow the rawhide over the
cliff. They would fasten their parkas securely at the waist
and then as they reached the eggs they would slip them
in through the neck openings of the parka until it was
full. They would then climb back up and unload, going

32
back if there were still more eggs within easy reach.
Some of the older men took a break while doing this
and cracked an egg or two while still on the cliff, and
drank the contents. Usually other able-bodied young
men went egg gathering with Nedercook's brothers. And
depending upon how far up the coast they were going,
some women and children followed along - the women
picking the wild sorrel and onions. Egg hunters preferred
to go over the cliffs on calm days or during the cool of
evening. The days were now so long that the nights
never became dark. The sun seemed to barely dip below
the horizon before it was coming up again. At this time
all the little tundra birds would start their singing, even
before the sun was showing.
When the egg hunters returned to the village the older
people often drank the uncooked eggs from the shell,
but the young preferred to have them boiled.
Nedercook and her mother had a spot a little way up
along the cliff where they often went. Kiachook had a
pole with many pieces joined to make it long, with a
little basket on the end. They would drag this with them.
Kiachook would stand at the cliff's edge, balancing
against the breeze from the sea, slip her long pole over
the edge of the cliff, and scoop up the eggs that were
within reach. The murres raised but one young. If they
lost an egg at the beginning of the season they would
lay another in a day or two; if that one was taken they
could continue laying eggs until about the middle of July.
On one of the egg-gathering trips, Kiachook, knowing
how young Nedercook liked to participate in the
gathering of food, said that she saw a puffin come from
a hole not too far from the top of the cliff, and that
farther down there might be a gull's nest. Nedercook
was excited and wanted to go after the egg, but her
mother said, "Next time. We need rope." On these trips
they usually picked a bag of sorrel before returning
home.
33
 Nedercook could hardly wait for the next trip, but
on the scheduled day it was stormy and windy. Her
mother said, "No good, we wait." Nedercook knew how
treacherous the wind at the cliff's edge could be. It would
blow you back away from the edge, just when you got
braced against it, then suddenly it would whip around,
blowing you toward the edge. Either way was bad, and
the wind did both, as if wanting you to fall over the
edge.
Starting out the next day, Nedercook made sure that
the piece of rawhide was in her packsack. Her heart was
light as she pulled and dragged Kiachook's long pole over
the uneven tundra. Impatiently she sat back a few feet
from the cliff's edge, where her mother always made her
sit. She watched her mother advance confidently to the
edge of the cliff. Getting her feet in a secure position,
she would begin sliding the long pole slowly down over
the edge until it reached the first egg. She turned and
twisted the pole so the egg would roll into the little
basket without rolling off the cliff. Slowly, hand over
hand, she would bring the pole back and while holding
the pole with one hand, remove the egg with the other.
She placed it on the ground or in the dried sealskin
hunting sack she brought especially for this. Kiachook
would repeat this until there were no more eggs within
reach of her pole. When her mother started to drag the
pole back up away from the cliff, Nedercook could relax
and move because her mother was out of danger.
Nedercook took the rawhide rope out of her packsack
and her mother tied it around her small waist. Then her
mother sat down a few feet from the edge, holding the
rope between her hands. Nedercook's spirits were high,
she was going to get one or maybe two puffin eggs, and
her mother had said that there might be a gull's nest a
little farther down. Eagerly and happily she went over
the cliff, down a few feet to a narrow ledge which
continued at a 45-degree angle slanting down the face
34
of the cliff. The ledge narrowed a few feet farther down,
where the cliff above seemed to bulge outward above
it. Still farther down it narrowed and crumbled to
nothing. Nedercook was too anxious to find the eggs
to be cautious. Without hesitation, as soon as her feet
touched the ledge, she went down on all fours. In her
eagerness she paid no attention to the fact that her head
was much lower than her hind end. She proceeded
happily to crawl down. Soon finding two whitish puffin
eggs, she placed them in her parka. Continuing down
she looked for the gull nest, but there was no nest and
there were no more eggs. Then she noticed that the ledge
had turned and petered out to nothing.
"I'd better go back," she thought as a flicker of panic
touched her heart. Then, and only then, did Nedercook
realize the mistake she had made. Her knees, hips and
feet were higher than her head, and behind her, in the
direction she wished to go. She tried to turn so she could
look back, but the ledge was too narrow for any such
move and the inclin~ too steep. In this very dangerous,
awkward and uncomfortable position, her body seemed
to freeze. In front the ledge ran out and the cliff fell
away, 300 feet down, down to where the breakers, still
angry from yesterday's storm, crashed against the rocks.
A cold fear started to fill Nedercook's heart, a fear such
as she had never felt before. She looked at the moving
water far below. In between was the constant movement
of hundreds of flying birds: murres, puffins, gulls and
cormorants. It was enough to make one dizzy, to say
nothing of being in this awful position.
What can I do, she thought, as she called faintly
"Mama" in her native tongue. But her mother was too
far away to hear her above all the sounds from birds,
the breeze and waves. For long minutes she remained
in position, feeling very uncomfortable and unsafe.
What can I do? kept running through her head. To try
to turn would be to fall off the cliff, because she had

35
crawled down under the rocks that bulged outward
above her, making her position even more insecure.
After a time she thought, maybe I should just jump out
and turn around as I do. But then she remembered that
there was no peg of wood to hold her, only her mother's
hands; with the unexpected weight the rawhide would
either slip through them or she would pull them both
to their death, crashing on the rocks and waters below.
She shuddered and was glad that she had not done this
on impulse. No, that would not do, but what? what,
she thought, should I do?
She put her head down to her hands as if trying to
shut out the sight before her eyes. For several minutes
she crouched in this position, her body pressed against
the cliff. A calm seemed to fill her mind; her body gained
strength and courage. No matter how hard it is, her
being seemed to say, you came down this way - now
you must go back up.
Slowly, very cautiously, she raised her right knee and
foot, since they were the ones nearer the cliff. She kept
her leg pressed to the cliff as she inched it up and back.
Then ever so carefully she inched the other knee and
foot back. Her hands followed. As she did this she
noticed that the rawhide tightened ever so gently. Up
over the uneven rocks she slowly made her backward
way, inch by inch, until she reached the wider ledge.
When she neared the top, the ledge was wide enough
for her to get her knees in position, and she turned
around, facing up the ledge. The rest was easy.
Kiachook looked much relieved as Nedercook climbed
back from the cliff's edge. fly ou all right? I worried, you
long time."
When Nedercook removed only two parrot eggs her
mother remarked, "Two eggs, too long, don't go down
again." Nedercook was not planning another trip
anyway - not down there.
Around the evening meal praise was high for her and
36
for the good flavor of the two special eggs Nedercook
had given to her parents. Nedercook was more quiet
than usual. She had learned a big lesson this day and,
although she did not say anything to her family, her
mind brought the experience back to her many times.
She was thankful that she had not acted in panic, but
had waited for other thoughts to enter her mind. She
shuddered at the remembrance that, had she jumped,
she and her mother would not be sitting here enjoying
the evening meal.
Nedercook often watched the raven during the month
of July, at least the first half of the month, when the
murres' eggs lay on the cliffs. The raven would fly up
from the cliff, where it had stolen an egg, carrying the
egg in its beak. He would fly to a spot on the tundra,
hop around, then bury the egg, hop around some more,
and then fly off to get another. He would bury or hide
each one in a different place - sometimes near the cliff's
edge, and the next time possibly one-quarter to a
half-mile inland. Nedercook tried to locate the eggs a
couple of times, but they were too well hidden.

37
 CHAPTER 7
WOMEN OF THE SEA

N edercook had been told about the "women of

sea" who came to Chu-kuk Point during the
salmon season. Villagers who had supposedly
seen them said there were several women of the sea
inhabiting the waters around the point during the salmon
fishing season. Often the women of the sea would go
fishing in pairs. The women of the sea would always
surface to eat the fish. They swam gracefully and all had
very, very long, dark hair. The soles of their feet were
always extremely white.
The salmon fishing season was nearly there. The
people of the village were getting ready to make their
annual move farther west along the coast to what they
called the summer camp at Magarchumuk. At this
location it was easier to set their nets from a nice beach,
where the little stream they called Kook-kar-nee brought
fresh water down through camp, making the cutting and
cleaning of fish easier.
Nedercook knew that the ban on picking green would
come any day now, as the willow leaves were already
old. She let her mind wander back to when she was very
small.
She had wandered off as a little child and eaten of
the forbidden greens. Her mother, looking for her, found
her with all the evidence of greens around her lips and
mouth. She remembered her mother's stricken look, and
how she had glanced all around and then hurriedly and
carefully wiped away all evidence. She then made her
drink water to clean her mouth.

38
 Her mother explained to her in no uncertain terms that
the ban was to be observed by all the villagers and their
children. Nedercook remembered how much she loved
th~ greens as a child, and how after that she would
somehow just happen to wander away, then eat the
greens, figuring if she was far enough away from camp
it was all right, as long as she wiped her mouth and lips
carefully and then drank water. Her mother feared that
if the bans and taboos of the village were broken, the
one responsible might be put to death, the logic being
one death for the safety of the entire village.
Her thoughts returned to the women of the sea. As
soon as the Inerluk household settled for the night,
Nedercook asked her father to tell her about the women
of the sea. Her father said he had not seen any, but that
did not mean there were none. He was always too busy
during the time of the salmon run, putting up fish to
dry for the coming year, to go the many miles it took
to look for the women of the sea. Chu-kuk Point was
on the west side of Rocky Point. He explained that her
mother might be able to tell her better of this, but he
knew she was very tired this evening since she had been
away all day helping someone who had hurt herself from
a big fall. So he would tell her what two of her mother's
friends had told her. He went on to say that her mother
had played and grown up with these two people before
they had married and moved away. "Your mother says,"
he continued, "that she does not believe that they would
tell lies, or be storytellers, so your mother believes what
they said."

These two people told your mother of how, one

summer they set their gill net out for salmon near the
end of a long beach a little west of Chu-kuk Point. They
had tied the rawhide from the net to a stick at the end
of their skin boat. They had turned their boat over, as
was the custom, to let it drain if it had been in stormy
water or if it had rained. After setting out the net they

39
sat down to rest and watch the net. It was such a calm
day, they could see by the floats if any fish hit the net.
Then a short distance away they saw a woman of the
sea; she was swimming toward their net. When she came
to the net she grabbed it along the top where the floats
were fastened to the top line. She followed the net, going
hand over hand, until she came to the shore. All the
time the two people sat watching, motionless and
speechless. She followed the line to the stick. Then she
saw the boat and going to it she patted it with her hands,
as a drummer would. She did this for quite awhile, going
back and forth along the boat. Then the woman of the
sea retraced her steps into the water and swam out to
sea. The two who were watching said that her hair was
very long, extra long and flowing.

40
 CHAPTER 8
SALMON FISHING TIME

T aboos and bans would be in effect until the

salmon came. These included, pulling up or
picking of green grass, picking any green leaves,
and any kind of sewing. The children could run and play
and be as active as they liked.
A few days later it was time for the entire village to
move to the summer fishing camp in anticipation of the
salmon run; they would travel there by oomiak.
Inerluk's spot for his fish net was on the right side of
the creek if you looked toward the sea. Here for years
he had set his nets. Behind this were his camp and fish
racks of Kiachook.
After landing the big oomiak, getting the net into the
water was the most important thing. Nedercook ran up
the hillside to get the long pole that was stored there
and used for this. Her father had joined many pieces
very smoothly, and had notched the outer end on which
he hooked the end of the net rope. Nedercook and her

41
mother always helped him the first time, keeping the
net flowing in to the water untangled and keeping the
tension right so it would not slip off the end. Inerluk
was so good at this that he could do it alone, but the
first time was a ritual they did together. When the pole
could be pushed no farther, Inerluk gave it a quick
forward push, and then he pulled the pole quickly back.
The rawhide slipped off; the net was set. Nedercook
pulled the pole above the water line, where it would be
safe.
Nedercook liked this hustle and bustle of activity. This
year she was old enough to have the responsibility for
taking care of the living coals which her father had
carefully packed in one of Kiachook's thick clay pots,
along with some ashes. Her father said she was old
enough to try to start a fire with one coal; she would
do this while they carried their belongings to where they
would set up camp. Carefully Nedercook carried the pot
to the old fireplace. Then she looked along the beach
for birch bark and small pieces of dry wood. With two
sticks she removed one coal, placing it in the fireplace.
Then she moved the pot to a safer place. She tore the
bark into small pieces and laid these on the coal; when
the bark curled and smoked she began to blow gently.
As it glowed and became red she blew a little harder
and the bark caught fire; quickly she added more and
bigger pieces, then the sticks and larger pieces. She
hovered around it until she was sure it would not go
out, adding larger pieces of wood as needed. Without
her knowledge Kiachook and Inerluk were keeping an
eye on her as they worked. "It is going," Nedercook
happily announced.
The wise old parents both stopped work and walked
near the fire as if they had not been aware of the rising
smoke. "You make good fire," they both said in a voice
filled with praise. Then her father added, "You want to
get cooking wood?" Nedercook liked a fire that was not
42
just coals. She happily gathered wood, piling it between
the camp and the fireplace. Wood was plentiful so she
gathered pieces of all sizes. She knew that each storm
brought a new supply of driftwood.
There was great excitement up and down the beach,
where others were setting out their nets and making
camp. The salmon run had begun, they knew because
every so often one could be seen jumping from the salt
water. Nedercook knew that as the run increased there
would be lots more jumping. Nedercook liked this
summer camp; the shelter was not as comfortable against
stormy weather as the inne. The summer house was
made by tying driftwood together, then using sea
mammal skins on top to shed the rain. More wood was
piled around the sides to help keep out the wind.
However, in summer, especially at the beginning, most
of the days were warm and it was fun. The smoke curled
skyward as she looked beyond it to the fish rack her
father had built for her mother long before she was born.
It too, was close to the clear, fast little stream.
Kiachook asked her daughter if she would put half
salty sea water and half fresh water into some of the
cooking pots and set them to heat. Her father would
soon check the net. Inerluk had been watching the net
eagerly. If the fish hit low it would be hard to tell, but
if they hit high the smooth, dry wooden floats would
bob. Sometimes there would be a splash if a great many
hit the net at one time. If too many got into the net the
floats would sink. Pulling in the net was exciting; fish
were splashing and those that looked like they might
get loose were grabbed by eager hands.
This was a good catch; mother and daughter cut up
the salmon and filled the cooking pots. They stuck sticks
into some from the mouth end and pushed the other ends
of the sticks into the sand; thus the fire roasted the fish,
which needed only an occasional turning. Nedercook
watched the cooking pots and roasting fish while her
43
mother cut and cleaned and hung the other salmon.
Kiachook filleted the fish with her stone and bone ulu.
Nedercook had learned that boiling fish was easy. Her
mother had taught her to keep it boiling, with an occa-
sional stirring, until all the foam disappeared. When this
happened she removed the pot from the fire and ran to
tell her mother, who left the cutting stand to wash her
hands in the stream. Nedercook ran to tell her father
and brothers, who had just finished re-setting the net.
All of the family gathered around the fireplace.
Solemnly, as most rituals were carried out, each member
of the family took a pinch of ashes from the fireplace
and each took a taste of ashes. This was done before
they could eat of this year's new salmon catch. After
this Kiachook quickly dipped out chunks of the fresh
boiled fish onto a large wooden platter, sprinkling seal
oil over all. Everyone took pieces they liked. The
"Umm-mm's" were murmured as they savored the fish,
while drinking of the thin broth. Greens and other foods
were ignored as they enjoyed the first fresh salmon.
Kiachook took a fin from a piece she had, and passed
it to Nedercook, while Inerluk gave another to his older
son Nutchuk. Oolark had already taken a piece with
the fin attached. The second dorsal fin on a salmon is
very small, but it is supposed to help protect the eater
from the attack of the dreaded bear.
This was a happy time for the adults, the ban on
greens and sewing was lifted, and men whose garments
were torn could now have them mended. For the very
small children a ban was on: they were not supposed
to go around stomping their feet. This ban did not bother
Nedercook as she was long past that age group. This
ban's only punishment was a reprimand from a parent
or anyone who caught the little one doing it.
After this run of salmon was over there would be a
break before the other species of salmon would follow,
near fall. But this run and the next were very busy times

44
because villagers tried to put up as much during the early
runs as they could. This was the best time for drying
the fish, with lots of sun, wind, and hardly any rain,
so the fish crusted fast, the flies did not get a chance
to lay their eggs and ruin them, and the fish dried
without mold. Kiachook worked long hours, cleaning
and hanging fish. Inerluk and Nedercook put the net in,
carried fish up to the cutting stand, and, whenever she
could, Nedercook helped cut, fillet, and cut diagonal
slashes into the rich salmon flesh so it would dry quicker.
She also hung up as many as she could. The rows of
eggs from the fish layover rocks or on logs to dry for
storage. As the fish dried they took it from the rack and
Inerluk tied it in bundles. He let these bundles hang from
the ends of cache poles to dry some more until it was
time to store it away.
Kiachook liked to boil the largest salmon heads until
the gristle was soft so she could eat it. Some of the
smaller heads they scattered to dry, but sometimes they
dug a deep hole generally about three feet deep, lined
the bottom with grass, and then put in quite a lot of
fish heads, filling the hole within two feet of the top.
Grass was added and then it was covered with earth,
sealing it off until after freezeup when they would find
the marker and dig it up, sometimes after snow. Even
to the Eskimo who was used to smelling strong smells,
this had an odor of its own. Eskimos had a name for
it, "Rotten." (One should not attempt this; occasionally
the rotten fish heads would poison and kill the eater.)
They also dried the center bones that were removed
when they filleted the fish to dry. If not fed to the dogs,
they were soaked, boiled and eaten. If the weather was
cloudy and rainy, Kiachook turned all the fish that was
not dry so the skin side was out. The dry ones were
stored.
During this time Inerluk set his seal net out when the
water was not rough, and sometimes at night it would
45
catch a beluga whale or seal. This brought much
happiness.
One type of seal caught was the oogruk (bearded seal).
Some of their young that the Eskimos called lithe
red-faced ones" were feared by men in kayaks. They had
a reputation of tipping over kayaks, and men would
often drown. If this was done by the animal in play,
or if the young were feeling their strength and looking
for a challenge, Nedercook did not know, but she hoped
her brothers would not meet up with the red-faced one,
unless they saw it first and could spear it.
Through the long days of summer the Inerluk family
fished and put up salmon. Some days there were not
many; on those days the women gathered greens or did
other necessary work. Other days, it was work on fish
from morning until night, but really there was no real
night as the days were still long and light. Each day on
any beach Nedercook always looked for flat rocks that
might be suitable for plates, or for long, thin rocks to
use as hammers when eating dry or hard food. Her father
would make wooden bowls, plates and buckets from
driftwood, but he did not have much time for this; the
few pieces he made were beautifully finished. For years
he was proclaimed as one of the best providers of the
village; now his sons were fast becoming good hunters,
earning their own reputations.
On calm days Nedercook's father and brothers would
take the oomiak loaded with the bundles of dry fish and
put them in storage at their winter camp.
As the season wore on there would be rainy days and
the sea would become rough. Logs would be floating
by, so nets had to be taken out or they would be lost.
Nedercook liked the storms of early summer, when
the weather was still warm. When it rained and got her
wet, it did not make her cold. She liked to walk the
beach during and soon after a storm. Always there was
new wood, occasionally a dead mammal, some in very
46
good condition that the village used for food. If the dead
animals were very old the villagers hung them up for
dog food. There were dead sea birds, too; it made her
feel sad for just a little while as she looked at them and
wondered how they had died.
It was on one of her walks after a storm that she found
a piece of wood such as she had never seen before; it
was a three-foot by six-inch by two-inch piece of board.
Never had she seen anything like this before; it looked
so clean, smooth and different. She became excited; she
picked it up and ran all the way back to the family camp.
It was a curiosity for the whole village. No one had ever
seen anything like it. They each held it, rubbed it and
marveled and wondered where it had come from, how
it was formed so smooth and thin.
During the hot days of summer the old bull walrus
would sometimes come to the beaches, flopping up
above the water line to sleep and rest. Nedercook was
fascinated by the huge animals and she was also a little
afraid. If she happened to spot one before her brothers
or the other villagers, she would run for her brothers
and together they would go with other hunters to kill
the walrus.
Seals occasionally came to the beach. Once after the
salmon run had slowed down, Nedercook and her
mother were walking the beach on their way to check
the berries for ripeness. They saw a seal on the beach.
Both picked up strong sticks and worked their way
between it and the water. Toward the last they had to
move very fast but they killed it. "We go back,"
Kiachook said, and together they pulled, lifted and
dragged the seal home. It was a slow trip but they were
happy because they had fresh meat, blubber, inner foods
such as liver and heart, and a seal poke for the
making - or perhaps mukluks, mittens or a packsack.
Now that summer was here, salmon trout, as they
called them, came up the streams. When Oolark
47
mentioned going on a trout-spearing trip, his sister
wanted to go. After he agreed, he decided that she, too,
should have a spear. He picked a willow that had a fork
and cut a length he thought she could handle. On the
spear end he left two long prongs and sharpened the
points as best he could.
They walked upstream carefully checking for trout.
As deeper holes came into view, Oolark asked
Nedercook to come to the side from which the sun
f.hone. He said her reflection might scare the fish, but
he also cautioned her about the shadow she would cast.
Holding their crude spears upright, they approached a
clump of willows. "No quick move until you are ready
to spear fish," Oolark said to his sister. Some trout were
swimming about while some remained in one place, with
just their fins moving. She saw Oolark's spear ever so
slowly descend to the water and continue down. Trying
to be as slow and easy as he, she lowered hers.
Oolark's spear stopped a few inches above a large
trout. "Now!" he exclaimed, as he plunged his spear
down.
Nedercook took only a second to follow but she was
too slow. The fish darted away untouched. Oolark's fish
came wiggling to the bank, and he quickly killed it. He
broke off a branch that had a fork near the end. Picking
up the fish, he pushed the small end in behind the gills
and out the mouth. In what seemed like no time he
managed to get all the fish he wanted. Nedercook had
only one, but she did not want it strung on with his.
She got a willow and strung hers as her brother had,
and proudly carried it home. Kiachook was pleased. She
used her ulu to cut and remove the sharp teeth from the
top of the trout's tongue; her daughter did the same.
The teeth did not soften when cooked and were
dangerous to eat.

48
 CHAPTER 9
KILLER WHALE

R ocky Point Eskimos were told early in life, ''Never

take the life of the killer whale. In return the
whale will not strike at the hunter's kayak."
On this beautiful day when Nedercook and her
mother were out roaming the hillsides above the cliffs,
walking and looking for anything edible, they saw killer
whales going by in the sea below. They were all heading
westward and all in formation. The smaller whales were
closest to the shore; the next size about an eighth of a
mile farther out and, beyond that, the big ones. It was
quite a sight. It seemed as if the whole sea was alive with
whales. Nedercook could hear them surface and dive.
She was excited. She had never seen so many large
animals in this kind of formation. It was absolutely
thrilling to watch the big mammals. As she stood in awe,
watching them surface together in long lines, she glanced
at her mother's face and saw fear. She did not expect
this since they were both on land and the whales could
not get them. Kiachook was not afraid for her or her
daughter. She was afraid her husband or sons might be
at sea in a kayak.
Nedercook and her mother sat on the ground to watch
the big animals after they had passed. The late after-
noon was quiet and they could still hear the sounds of
the whales as they came up and then splashed down out
of sight. For some reason Nedercook got up and walked
to look down into the water near the cliff. Right next
to the beach, just as close as they could get and still be
in water, were six beluga whales. Instantly she could

49
tell that they were terrified. Fear was in their every
move; in the quiet way they were sort of sliding along,
barely surfacing, their whole bodies showed fear.
"Look, mama!" she whispered as she motioned with
her hand.
liVery scared, Kiachook whispered back as together
II

they watched the escaping whales follow the shoreline,

away from the path of the killer whales. Looking
westward, they saw the killer whales going on.
The scene below reminded Nedercook of another time
she and her mother had been out walking. The day was
not so calm. The wind was blowing from the southwest.
They had spotted two killer whales going west about
a quarter of a mile out to sea . Kiachook had spoken.
She spoke as one addressing the sky, the sea, the
universe. She asked the killer whales to be generous and
to share a little of their kill with her and her family, as
none of her family had ever tried to harm them. By then
the whales had passed them by almost a quarter of a
mile. As they watched they saw splashes by the whales
and swirly motions, and then there was a small circle
of sheen on the water, which appeared darker for a short
50
time. Nedercook's vivid imagination pictured blood
making it so. After awhile the water returned to normal
and Nedercook could not pick the exact spot anymore.
'We look at beach," Kiachook said as she turned west.
They would climb a little more and then descend to the
beach. Then they would walk for a ways before
returning. Nedercook knew that if they did not find
anything, her mother would be up at daybreak to walk
again, and she would be with her. She remembered the
piece of beluga whale they had found washing at the
shoreline. Kiachook happily ran to it, grabbed it. She
remembered how she had helped her mother pull it up
onto the beach, and how clean and fresh it looked. It
was just as if someone had cut the slab with a sharp
knife. Kiachook spoke again as if to the elements, giving
thanks and thanking the killer whales for their generous
gift. Later in appreciation she would throw something
small back into the sea.
Around the tenth of August the women checked the
berries more regularly, for soon they would be ripe. One
day they picked some low red berries they called the
salmonberry; they picked them too unripe to eat raw,
51
but they took them home and cooked them with a little
water. Nedercook thought they were delicious - just
sour berries and a little water.
Nedercook had a special bucket that her father had
made for her years ago. It was of beautiful, smooth
wood and very well made. She always took it berry
picking. She and her mother and other women of the
village went across the tundra with the seal-poke
containers, usually picking until they were filled.
Nedercook liked picking the salmonberries but by the
time the containers were full she was glad to go home.
Later, as other berries ripened, they would pick them
as they came across them, all into the same container,
all except one - a large berry that grew up high on the
hillsides where the black moss berries grew. This one,
the villagers called the headache berry. Her mother told
her not to pick it and not to eat it, because only a few
would give one a headache. Nedercook liked picking the
black moss berry and the cranberry. They could be
picked dirty" - they called it dirty" when leaves and
/I /I

twigs came along with the berries. Then they would try
to whistle, because it was supposed to make the wind
blow stronger. They would pour the berries from a
bucket held a few feet up, and the wind would blow
away the leaves as the berries fell into the container.

52
 CHAPTER 10
BELUGA WHALE

T oward the end of summer the north winds would

blow very hard. They would blow little
whitecaps out toward the sea, causing the water
to recede and expose beaches that were seen only during
these extreme winds. During one of these windy days
Nedercook and her mother were out picking berries on
top of the cliffs. After awhile her mother decided that,
since the rocks would be exposed, they should go gather
mussels. The mussels clung to the seaweed that clung
to the rocks. Nedercook knew her mother would also
gather some of the soft edible things that also clung to
the rocks. She did not like these too well, maybe because
they looked like what her mother called them, "ass
holes." She recalled how they would shrink back onto
the side of the rock, squirting out a liquid as they did.
And they were always so hard to get loose from the
rocks.
"We be careful," Kiachook said. The water might
return quickly if the wind let up and it would trap
anyone under the cliffs. As they descended a beach came
into view. It was one they called lithe big curve." A
stream flowed down and into the center of the big curve,
so the beach was more sandy than most. On warm
summer days Nedercook liked to wade in the shallow
water of this beach and feel the soft sand under her feet;
many times she would step on bottom fish and feel them
wiggle and dart away. She saw several big, low-circling
gulls. Then she saw the two beluga whales. They must
have been feeding in close and did not go out soon
53
enough, because now there was a sandbar between them
and the sea. They must have been trapped for at least
a day. There was not enough water to cover them, and
the sand was stirred up around them. The gulls were
trying for their eyes.
"You go tell," her mother said, "I stay watch."
Nedercook put down her berry-picking equipment and
started for camp on the run.
Oolark was nearly a quarter of a mile from camp,
starting out to look for game, but he was headed in the
opposite direction. Like all the family he was an
observer. As he walked he looked in all directions and
always covered the area behind him. He saw his sister
racing toward camp alone and knew that something was
wrong or she would not come running home, leaving
her mother in the berry patch. All this flashed through
his head as he turned and started racing back to camp.
Thoughts of fear for his mother filled his heart as he ran.
Inerluk had just brought his net up above high tide
line, because the water had become so shallow the net
was folded over. He knew that if he left it in the water
it would tangle, and when the tide returned it would
be improperly set. He also saw Nedercook shortly after
she topped the low rise. He started for the beach camp.
Nutchuk was busily working on a broken spear; it was
for big game and the flint end had broken off. He did
not see her until he saw their father hurrying and
glancing in her direction.
"Two whales ... in ... little water," she panted,
gasping for breath. Then she took a large swallow of
water and continued, "Mama watch them."
"Where?" her father asked.
"By the big curve."
Spears were grabbed and rawhide was put in all the
packsacks, along with a couple of ulus. Each man carried
his own hunting knife. They paused to look at the
oomiak and the kayaks but all knew the wind was too
54
strong (without saying so). Everyone ran, walked, and
ran some more.
Soon the whales were in sight. Gulls were now picking
out their eyes. The men dropped their packs above the
water mark and went sloshing through the water. There
was hardly any life left in the whales, and the men soon
finished what was left. The gulls circled and screamed
above them, angry at their intrusion.
Kiachook walked out and spoke her thanks to the
elements for this wonderful gift of food.
"What we do?" Nutchuk asked.
Inerluk looked at the two big animals lying in the
sandy water, then back to the beach and up to the tide
line. "Very far," he said, and they all knew he meant
it would be a long pack. Then he looked at the sky and
out across the water.
"We tie," he said, "No get away. Water come back,
we pull."
Oolark rushed to get the rawhide and Kiachook
wanted her ulu. Nutchuk and his father were already
cutting places to fasten the rawhide near the head. They
also wrapped some securely behind the tail fins.
Kiachook cut off two good-sized pieces from the tail
fin. Nedercook helped to carry one. They washed off
all the sand, then carried the meat to the big, clean rocks.
Kiachook cut off pieces so each could take a piece and
cut his own bite-size pieces. By then the men had secured
the lines to partly buried logs. Not being cooked, the
muktuk was quite chewy. Nedercook preferred it boiled
until tender and then she really liked it, but she did her
share of chewing, and with her fingers dipped berries
from one of the buckets. They felt happy and lucky.
When the wind began to lessen they could see the
water returning. It began to wash around the whales.
Before long the whales were movable and Nutchuk
waded out to push while the rest of the family pulled,
bringing them to the edge of the beach. Then Inerluk

55
said to his sons, "Go, get help and oomiak."
Without further word the two sons left. It did not seem
long before they came into view paddling the large skin
boat. Nedercook hopped around and gathered the berry
buckets, to place them just above the water line. As soon
as the boat touched the children helped the parents into
the boat. While the men were tying the lines to the boat,
Nedercook climbed in. The whales were tied so one was
a little behind the other. Everyone paddled, including
the two young men who had accompanied her brothers,
but when the whales began to move, Kiachook sat near
the back to watch the lines. Nedercook enjoyed this for
she seldom rode on the water.
Feasting around the campfire that evening was
something she remembered as she grew older. The sun
had set by the time the meat and muktuk were cooked.
Her mother used a pointed stick. As the water boiled
she would test to see if the stick could be pushed through
the muktuk easily - then it would be done, soft, tender,
and Nedercook thought delicious!
That evening the air was cooler, but it was not too
cold so they sat outdoors. There was low talk with an
occasional giggle from Nedercook; some had boiled
meat, others ate open-fire roasted meat with muktuk.
Each piece of muktuk had curled when it cooked. The
two young men who had helped shared the evening meal
and were given some of the whale.

56
 CHAPTER 11
FAREWELL, MURRES

N edercook liked to watch the murres leave the

cliffs in early fall, which was about the middle
of August.
"Can I go look at murres?" she asked her mother.
"Be careful," her mother replied.
Nedercook walked to the cliffs and sat down near the
edge in a spot she often visited. First, during early
summer, she would watch the murres as they landed on
the cliffs. Sometimes they did not fly up to the cliff
properly - due to wind, she figured - for there would
be a fluttering of wings, then they would fall back, then
land on the next try, to stand calling and bowing their
heads. Later their eggs lay on the bare rocks. Still later
she would hear the shrill little whistling sounds of the
newly-hatched birds. She would see the downy dark-
backed, white-fronted little ones; she watched as the
parents brought back tiny fish in their black beaks to
feed the young, marveled at the fast growth of the
ever-hungry young and then soon they were already
beginning to leave the cliffl Most of the little ones would
stand near the edge or walk to it, if there was a wide
ledge, and not show any fear of jumping off the cliff
when it was time to leave.
One little one had hatched in a small crevice at the
back of a ledge. It seemed timid and seldom left its
sheltered home. At times it would walk toward the edge
of the ledge, then almost at the edge it would stop, tum
around, and run back to the crevice. On other evenings
it would walk to the edge, look down, tum quickly and
57
run back to safety, then sit low as if trying to hide.
At this time of the year Nedercook would feel a
strange loneliness as she watched and listened to the
murres. It seemed as if they were saying "Good-bye"
to her, the cliffs and to all of Alaska. The little ones were
coaxed by the parent to come and jump from the cliff.
She watched as a parent seemed to talk to the young,
then walk the few steps, jump off, and flyaway. She
watched the little brave ones walk to the edge, stand
a moment, then jump while their little featherless wings,
still covered with down, fluttered as they dropped to
the waters far below, disappeared with a splash, then
surfaced and always, she marveled, they could swim.
Some would go around in little circles at first, but a
parent would soon land close by and call. The little one
usually stopped the idle swimming and went to the older
bird, who seemed to praise it, then turn and swim out
toward the far horizon of the Bering Sea, with the little
one following in its wake.
She saw another small bird make the jump to the
water and come up swimming in circles. The parent bird
went to it and then started swimming south, but the little
one did not follow; it seemed content just to swim
around. The older bird tried again; still the little one
swam about as if enjoying this new experience. Then
Nedercook saw other murres go to the little one, making
sounds, pecking at it. In seconds the parent came and
drove off the other birds. Then there was another talking
to the young, and this time it obediently followed the
older one to sea.
Nedercook felt real pride in all the little birds'
achievements as they jumped, but also a real sadness
as she watched them head out to sea, because she knew
she would not see nor hear them again until after the
long, cold winter had passed. She wondered how many
would live to return. As darkness descended the gentle
murmur of the waves could be heard, but above it all
58
was the roar from the multitude of murres calling to their
young. The loners seemed to carry a note of sadness in
their voices as if saying good-bye. Nedercook felt like
crying as she watched the birds. She knew that
tomorrow the spot they had claimed as home during the
summer would be bare, and remain so until the cold
winter had passed. She looked again at the little timid
one, saw it walk to the edge, turn, and run back. She
felt for this little one.
Farther westward, one little murre jumped and she
saw it land on the rocky beach. The little ball of down
scrambled toward the water, but the big gull was faster.
It swooped down and pecked it to a stop. Then two of
the big gulls fought over it and greedily they gulped it
down. As used to death as Nedercook was, she felt
helpless, wanting to help the baby bird, but she could
only watch it being cruelly devoured. Yet inside she
knew it was the way of life. She looked back to the timid
little one and saw it rise as its parent came to light on
the ledge. The older bird was bending its neck and
making sounds; it walked to the edge and jumped off,
leaving the little ball of down. It was starting to get dark
and Nedercook was hoping to see the little one jump.
Slowly it walked to the edge, paused a moment, then
jumped, little wings fluttering, to hit the water with a
splash and disappear for a few moments. She was glad
the drop was to the water, so the hungry gull would not
get it. The timid little bird came to the surface and started
to peep and swim in circles, but soon the parent bird,
which had been flying in circles, came splashing down
to land nearby. It seemed to communicate with the little
one. Soon the little bird stopped going in circles. As the
older bird swam out into the gathering dusk, the little
dark figure was right behind. A part of Nedercook felt
sad while the other part felt proud in a strange way. The
little one had found courage enough to jump, and had
escaped the gull, which kept flying around watching for
59
any small bird that might land on the beach.
Soon it would be dark. Nedercook would have liked
to stay until she could not see any more, but she decided
to go home before her parents became worried. She
knew that very soon the nights would not be filled with
the cry of the murres, and gone too would be the warm
summer evenings. The puffins were leaving, but she
decided that they must go during the dark because she
never saw any leave - they just disappeared. Once she
had found a baby puffin washed up on the beach. Its
body was covered with black down. Some of the puffins
made holes in the earth, much like some swallows, just
above the rocks near the top of the cliff; others nested
in deep cracks in the rocks of the cliff. She liked to mimic
the call of the puffin as it stood outside its home. She
also liked to mimic the calls of different birds and
animals.

60
 CHAPTER 12
COLDER NIGHTS

K iachook and her daughter would often walk the

beaches to look for anything to salvage, and for
the long, dead roots that grew from the stumps
of the big, dead trees that washed up on the beaches after
a storm, some coming from as far away as the Yukon
River. These dry roots were used on dark nights
whenever a torch was needed, as to go to look for
something in the storeroom. The end of the root was

61
dunked into seal oil and then lit from the seal oil lamp
or from the fireplace, and carried to where it was needed.
The seal oil lamp, as a rule, was not carried about -
it was too valuable.
As fall approached, the camp was moved back to the
village, along with all the food they had gathered and
put up for the winter.
With the coming of the big harvest moon in
September, the ban on spinning their primitive tops was
lifted and the children were happy. On clear nights,
when the moon was at its fullest, all the villagers would
come outside. They would all keep their faces looking
up to the moon, and all would howl for a short time.
Wild cotton was gathered during these dry, cool days
and put in storage. It was used to catch the sparks of
flint if one needed to start a fire, and to plug the ears
of children when they had to sleep away from home on
the tundra, especially during spring. During this time
the women also gathered the big, rusty-colored moss
which seemed to grow best in damp places. It was used
for wicks in the seal oil lamps. This moss was also used
between the baby and the skin (a piece of dehaired seal
or caribou skin) that served as a diaper. Moss was also
used by women who were having their menstrual period.
A skin triangle was sewn with a slight pucker in which
to cradle the moss.
Nedercook's father was good at making the sharp
bone tool used for shredding basket or beach grass so
it could be used for towels. Pulling the tool down the
length of the grass would shred it into very long thin
strands. This grass towel was prized and not wasted or
used to wipe up just anything; it was special. They called
this grass "basket grass." (It is also called beach grass,
salt-water grass, rye grass and Elymus arenarious L. It
grows near salt water from the Aleutian Islands to arctic
Canada.)
Freezing nights soon turned the grass to a light gold.
62
Nedercook and her mother would gather bundles of the
dry grass. Nedercook was careful not to let it slip
through her hands as she pulled it, because she had cut
her hand doing that last year. Today they were pulling
only the grass, leaving the root. Last year she and her
mother had needed some before the grass had seasoned.
They picked it root and all, and hung it by the inne with
the root end up to dry. From this grass she and her
mother would make baskets, rugs, and containers to
store the wild Eskimo potato for the winter.
The nights were cold now. It was beginning to freeze
and the moonless nights were very dark. This was the
time of year when Nedercook and her mother would
walk the beach at dawn. The tomcod washed up onto
the beach at night in considerable numbers and froze.
Some would still be alive and washing about at the
water's edge. They did not wash ashore during the day.
Nedercook thought the fish were chased ashore by the
feeding whales and seals. Very rarely did they find a
real cod, but occasionally they did. Kiachook strung the
tomcod up to dry. If the weather got too cold before
the fish dried it did not matter. This fish could be boiled
while it was partly dry. This was considered a treat with
oil.
The livers of the tomcod were saved because they were
fatter at this time of the year. Kiachook put the livers
in a pot with just a little water and boiling them very
slowly, using a wooden stick to stir. She would break
the livers up as they cooked, stirring and stirring until
the livers coated the stirring stick. Then the mixture was
removed, cooled, and black moss berries were added.
Nedercook loved the flavor of this dish and the crunch
of the berries. She always looked forward to this fall
treat.
Snow would soon be here so Kiachook decided the
Hudson's Bay tea should be picked. After it was dried,
a little was put into boiling water and steeped to

63
Kiachook's desired strength, then was sipped and
enjoyed. Nedercook took a bag from Oopick so she
could pick some for her. Nedercook, her family and
others of the village helped Oopick whenever they could.
The north winds blew so hard they began to expose
the rocks where the mussels clung and the other one she
did not like. Many of the villagers gathered these. When
they returned Nedercook made a fire outdoors. She
knew the weather would soon be too cold for this. As
the family sat around the fire that evening, the stars
seemed very big and close in the sky. The wind still blew
but the village was sheltered from the north, so it was
just gusty little winds that stirred the fire.
Next morning her mother said, "We dig roots." So
Nedercook put the crude pick-like tools into their packs.
Kiachook cut some dry fish into small pieces and put
it into her pack. When they reached the head of the little
draw they were following, it spread to a flat, grassy area
with tussocks scattered here and there.
"We get mouse roots," Kiachook said, so she and
Nedercook started walking around where it was evident
the mice of the tundra lived.
Nedercook soon felt a soft spot under her mukluk-
clad foot. "Here," she called.
Kiachook carefully loosened a small section in a curve
that followed the mouse's storage room; it was packed
tight with the crooked little brown, nut-like roots of a
grass that grew there. Kiachook, using her hand,
removed some and put it into her pack. Then she took
some of the fish pieces, refilled the storage space, and
carefully recovered it, placing extra cover along the edge
they had opened. They did this to several of the storage
places before moving on up to the hillside to dig for the
Eskimo potato, which Kiachook called mat-chew.
(Mat-chew, Hedysarum alpinum, is known to some
Eskimo groups as mashu, or muhzut. Other names are
licorice root, bear root and Indian potato.)
64
 "Be very careful when you look at the tops,"
Khiachook explained to Nedercook. "Do not dig for this
one." She showed Nedercook the dried foliage of a plant
(Hedysarum McKenzie) that looked much like the one
they were gathering. "This one is wee, or the husband
plant. It is not good and it may kill one who eats it."
They had fun digging for the roots, exclaiming when
they found extra large ones. They wandered about on
the hillside digging and, as always, watchful for the
dreaded bear. At the end of the day they returned with
full packs. Nedercook washed some roots of both kinds
to add to their dinner, while her father packed the excess
into the old grass containers that were made for this use.
He buried the bags in holes dug in the stormy-day room,
covering them with sand and earth. As they gathered
more he would do the same, until they had their winter's
supply.
On this particular night Nedercook was watching the
lights in the northern sky, something she liked to do
before the nights became too cold. Usually the pale,
green-white light would dance about the sky, brilliant
here, then fading to appear a little farther on, coming
and going as if by magic. Sometimes the lights stayed
in one place for quite a few minutes, shimmering and
dancing about. Tonight was different. The lights were
a deep red, something she had never seen before. Why
does it change to red now, thought Nedercook. When
she could not stand it any longer, she rushed into the
inne to ask her parents.
'There is an old saying," her mother replied, "It says
that the lights are red when the blood of man has been
spilled."
Satisfied, she ran out to watch. Her parents soon
joined her. As she watched her mother remarked, "It
is said that if one whistles, the lights are supposed to
jump more." A shooting star fell, burning brightly, only
to fade and be seen no more. Nedercook wondered

65
about it, as she wondered about the many stars.
The cold north winds blew hard, tearing off dead, dry
leaves, leaving the alder and willow stripped bare. Until
snow came there was no cover for the large tundra hare
and the ptarmigan. Both had turned white for winter
so they stood out sharply against the brown tundra.
Nedercook, standing on a hillside and looking across
a gully, could see the white hares as they huddled at the
base of an alder bush. The ptarmigan flew or walked
in great white flocks on the tundra. She liked this time
of year. She would go downwind and creep up to the
tundra hares. The wind rustled the dry leaves, creating
sounds to cover hers. The big snowy owl also came at
this time to sit on the tundra; from a distance it looked
big and white, much like a large hare.
Nedercook looked foward eagerly to the coming of
the first snow, because this was the time set for
Tooogom-ark. This was one evening chosen by the
elders to fall, if it could, on the night before the first
snow. This was for all the young people of the village.
Tooogom-ark meant going from house to house.
Nedercook had gone in previous years but this would
be her last year to participate.
"You be too old next year," her mother said. She
looked forward to this, the last year, she would go with
the children.
Beginning at the end of the village and stopping at
all of the innes, Nedercook carried the little wooden plate
her father had made for her years ago. She knew that
some of the children, especially the poorer ones, would
take a seal's stomach for a bigger container to put the
little gifts in.
For years she had wondered why her mother had
always taken food cut into small pieces to Oopick's
home on this day - tonight she knew.
Nedercook and the children stopped at old Oopick's.
Oopick had a container near and passed a small piece
66
to each child. Nedercook's plate already had pieces of
dried tomcod, salmon, meat, dabs of berries, pieces of
cooked meat, or whatever the people of each inne had
to place upon her plate or put into the children's bags.
Nedercook liked this evening because the children had
no taboos and they were not cautioned to be quiet. There
was a feeling of real friendship among the group. It did
not start snowing until sometime during the night on
this, her last Tooogom-ark. She was glad.
She carried her treasures home and gave some to her
parents, who were sitting around the glowing coals. It
brought her happiness to share her gifts with her parents.

67
 CHAPTER 13
WINTER STORM

/' "

..

W ith the coming of winter the snows began to

fall and the cold winds blew over the area of
Nedercook's village, a cold, forlorn piece of
windswept land in winter. As the cold spread over this
barren land it froze the Bering Sea, as it did the tundra.
On days when the weather was a little warmer, the
wind sometimes blew from a southerly direction,
bringing with it heavy snows. Snow and wind would
stop for only a day or two or three, and then the cold
north wind would blow again. It would blow so hard
it blew the new-fallen snow into the air, causing a
blizzard so dense that Nedercook could not see the little
knoll above the inne, or any of the rest of the village.
The wind carried the snow along over the barren tundra,
piling it in hard drifts in the little creeks where alder and
willow grew, and around doorways of the innes. It piled
the hard, drifted snow in shapes as if a sculptor had
68
carved great statues in the gullies that emptied into the
sea. When the wind stopped the snow was drifted so
hard the villagers easily walked on top. Their oogruk-
soled mukluks made crisp noises.
One morning Inerluk was checking over the light-
weight sinew net he had recently made especially for
ptarmigan. It had taken many pieces of sinew tied in
many places. He had learned long ago to store sinew
and rawhide out of reach of mice and other animals.
Today he and his sons were going up the little creek to
the right of the village to try for ptarmigan, because one
of his sons had seen a large "flock there when returning
home the day before. Being wise in his primitive way,
he had not disturbed them. When Nedercook realized
what they were going to do, she asked to go along.
"Long walk," Nutchuk said, "Maybe you get tired and
someone have to pack you home." Then his eyes took
on a twinkle as he added, "Or leave you."
Nedercook turned to her father, "Can I g07 I can
help." He nodded his consent.
After walking over a mile they could see some
ptarmigan feeding on the willows, so they detoured a
half-mile to the left and walked parallel to the little creek
until they were opposite the birds. Then they changed
direction so they would reach the creek about a half to
a quarter-mile above the birds.
Inerluk quickly sized up the creek and picked a place
where the willows stopped and left an open space for
about a hundred feet in the center. It was here the creek
narrowed and then started to widen again. He chose the
upper edge of the opening and, motioning as to where
the net should go, he and Nutchuk quickly started to
set it up. They hooked or looped the top edge over thin
branches where they could, and removed other branches
so it would be relatively open in the net area. There
would be just enough willows to support the net.
Nedercook and Oolark quickly tore off branches and
69
started a crude fence to run from the end of the net out
in an angle, so it would be like a large V with the net
set in the middle. Hurriedly Inerluk checked one side
of the fence while Nutchuk checked the other, adding
a bit of willow here and there. No one spoke. All was
done as quickly and quietly as possible.
Then Inerluk motioned with a wave of one arm. All
quietly headed out the way they had come until they
reached the point opposite the ptarmigan, which were
making feeding noises. Inerluk stopped. He pointed to
a spot about a quarter of a mile below the flock. They
went in this direction until they reached the creek.
"Now, we make ourselves known," Inerluk said, but
added, "We go slow." He looked at Nedercook as he
spoke. "We do not frighten the birds or they will fly too
soon," and he continued, "we will talk so they can hear
us; they will try to walk fast enough to keep ahead of
us." Nedercook figured she had better contain her
excitement and not rush ahead. They all moved up the
creek at a brisk pace. When the birds were getting close
to the net, Nedercook was tense with excitement. Finally
they came to the open space. Now the birds were
hurrying along the fence, with the majority a few feet
in front of the net.
"Now!" Inerluk yelled, and they rushed forward,
shouting and waving their arms. The flock began to run
for a take-off, but they became entangled in the net.
Inerluk and his children caught as many as they could.
They all knew how to kill the birds quickly, but doing
this was not killing for sport; it was for survival. When
this was over Inerluk looked at the sky to the south and
said, "It will snow, we will not leave the net." Nutchuk
started to free it on one end while his father did the same
on the other. Oolark and his sister began to gather up
the ptarmigan.
The excitement made Nedercook's steps light and she
enjoyed the walk home. She did not have to be quiet,
70
so she talked and hopped about. The snow on the tundra
was drifted in most places, so tightly packed that she
could walk on it without breaking through. She liked
this walking on the tundra away from the creek and the
willows that tried to tangle up her feet. Later in the
winter as the snow became deeper, the creek would be
fun; most of the willows would be covered and the drifts
would be big and hard. She could stand on a hard,
drifted peak and feel tall as she looked down on her
surroundings or she could go down to the bottom of
one of the many hard-drifted dips and she would be so
short that she could see only the snow and a few willow
tops.
When they neared home her father grunted his
permission for her to run ahead. Her mother and sister
were both inside, sitting on the floor with their legs
stretched straight out in front of them, a position they
sat in when they were sewing. They sat on the grass mats
near the center of the inne, making use of the dim light
from the skylight above. Paniagon had her material
spread out about her on the matt. She was sewing a strip
of fancy work to go onto a squirrel parka. She had come
to her mother's home to do this, as she often did. For
a passing second, Nedercook wondered how her sister
could spend so much time on such a tedious task. All
the little pieces had to be cut and then sewn together
by hand. (It never occurred to her that the bone needle,
the hand-twisted sinew, the hard skin thimble and the
stone knife were all primitive and slow.)
Kiachook looked up from where she was sitting. Her
smile was that of a genuinely happy woman. Her graying
hair was parted in the center and braided in one braid
that hung down her back. In her lap was a large wooden
bowl her husband had carved from a burl that had
washed up on the beach. Her left hand held it in place;
with her right she was making large circular motions.
Her hand served as a spoon and beater as she creamed
71
together seal oil, melted caribou fat, and the meat from
cooked lingcod. The bones had been removed and the
meat squeezed as dry as possible. Mixing, mixing and
mixing it together with just an occasional drop of cold
water, she would continue to do this until it became very
light and fluffy. The beating of it with her hand took
quite a long time and, once started, she would not stop
until it was finished. When she was satisfied with its
lightness she sometimes added just a little more water,
and then, at the very last, she would add some black
moss berries and the Eskimo ice cream would be
finished.
Nedercook was excitedly telling her mother and sister
of the hunt when her father and brothers entered.
Paniagon set aside her sewing but Kiachook remained
where she was. She beamed her happiness as she looked
at the birds they spread onto the skin of a seal used for
this purpose. The skin could be cleaned relatively well
by wiping it, and it kept the blood from the mat. To
her husband's questioning look Kiachook said, "Oopick
come. She thankful for seal we sent yesterday," then,
after a few more circular motions with her right hand,
"She bring caribou fat, sinew and berries."
Inerluk smiled and dipped a finger into the bowl. "No,
not finished," Kiachook said.
Paniagon started to pick the ptarmigan, so Nedercook
took a place beside her and, placing a bird on her lap,
took hold of a few of the body feathers. Using her right
thumb and forefinger, she held them firmly as she pulled
gently back. Then she moved her hand quickly forward
and up in a strong movement. This pulled out whatever
feathers she was holding. Her movements were always
fast and soon she had a bird clean of all but the long
tail and wing feathers. She had even picked the neck
and. head, because she knew they too would be boiled
along with the rest of the bird. Her sister pulled out the
long, stubborn tail and wing feathers.
72
 The men went outdoors, but the women knew they
would be back to eat when darkness came. Paniagon
decided to leave before it got too dark. She would take
some of the ptarmigan with her to cook for Kimik and
herself.
Everyone gathered inside this evening to eat. It was
getting windy outdoors. The pots were full of boiled
ptarmigan with the thin broth, a bowl contained leaves
preserved in oil, and cleaned Eskimo potatoes along with
some from the mouse's root store, cooked, and there
was a big bowl of Eskimo ice cream. It seemed like
feasting time to Nedercook. The fire was down to
glowing coals. Although it was windy, it was not the
type of blizzard that prevented them from cooking in
the big room. A feeling of love, shared by a caring
family, happy laughter and a few words now and then,
mingled with the sounds made by people tremendously
enjoying their food, filled the inner room that evening.
When bedtime came, little Nedercook had to walk
over to the logs by the wall for one last look at all the
little pieces of sinew that Paniagon had so painstakingly
taken from the ptarmigan before she had put them on
to cook. They were spread on the logs to dry separately,
all so small. Nutchuk volunteered to close the skylight
on his way to bed at the Big Dance House. After she
had tucked herself into bed Nedercook asked, even
though she knew that her father was tired, so she asked
it in a small voice, "Tell me a story?"
"If I can stay awake that long," he replied. She
remained silent while he prepared for bed. "This will
be one from Cliff Village. We will get our clay near there
next spring." Then he began:

Two men, an uncle and his nephew, left the little

village called Cliff. They were going as traveling
companions. They walked to the top of the Big
Mountain.

73
 They looked down the cliff's edge to the beach several
hundred feet below and saw a freshly killed seal.
It was too steep and too far down to get to without
a rope. They had no boat or kayak, so they just looked
and then said, "What a waste of food down there."
They decided to go on. Finally they came to where
the land sloped to the beach and there they found a cave.
They went into this tunnel-like cave and followed it for
quite awhile, then the tunnel became bigger and the
opening higher. They could see a woman sitting. She
looked angry. She did not say anything, she just looked
angry. Turning her head, she reached for what seemed
like her ulu and she threw it at them.
These two men carried their magic charm, and with
it they immediately changed into long human hairs.
They began to wiggle their way back until they felt it
was safe to become human figures again. Then, as
quickly as they could, they left the cave. They continued
on their way, singing of the narrow escape they had with
the woman.
Later they came to the first little cliff that is down
below Cheercook. This time they saw a freshly killed
spotted seal lying on the beach, but they could not get
this one either . . ."

Then little Nedercook heard only the even breathing

of her father, and finally his gentle snoring. Part of her
was sorry he had fallen asleep before the story was over,
and another part of her was glad that he was resting.
Next morning about six inches of snow had fallen.
The wind was blowing hard from the southwest. It
swirled around the village, stirring up a flurry of snow
here and there. By the time the Inerluk family had
finished a cold breakfast it was blowing a gale and loose
snow seemed to fill the air. It was what they called
ung-ul-ik-took, meaning a wind-from-the-south, and
beck-cheek-took, a blizzard.
Nedercook had seen storms like this before and knew
what they could do. They would make the salt water
overflow the ice along the edge of the shore. The sea
74
ice would be pushed in toward the beach, the force
causing it to break in places. It would continue to move
slowly shoreward, forming large piles of broken ice
called pressure ridges. Several pressure ridges would
result from this storm. Everyone in the village stayed
close to home.
Inerluk peeked out the inne doorway, then quickly
closed the skins. He put on his parka and pulled the
drawstring close around his face, tied a belt securely over
his parka at the waist, and checked to see that the tops
of his mukluks were closed snugly. He picked up four
of the long, flat rocks his family had gathered through
the years, and he tucked them under his left arm, then
made his way out of the inne.
The strong wind tried to blow him off balance but,
although he was old in years, he was not weak. He
carried the rocks to the skylight and laid them next to
those already there. This was extra insurance, to keep
the skylight cover from becoming loose and tearing or,
worse yet, blowing away. The skylight had to be open
on days when there was a fire for cooking, so it was
just placed over the opening and weighted down. A piece
of rawhide attached it to a heavier rock that was left
in place to the side. If it came loose, the storm would
pour snow into their home and onto the bedding.
Replacements took time to make, so Inerluk took no
chances. He checked it carefully.
"Bad storm, can't see village," he exclaimed as he
brushed away the snow that clung to him upon his
return.
During the daylight hours, which seemed darker than
most, Inerluk worked at making some fishhooks. He had
little sharp bones, sinew, thin rawhide, and one sharp
claw of a falcon left from the bird they had found
washed up onto the beach last summer. Later he would
work a bit more on a herring net he had started.
Kiachook cut a pair of soles large enough for Inerluk,
75
and then she sat on her grass mat away from the better
light, dim as it came through the snow-matted skylight.
She did not need light for chewing straight, even crimps
into the oogruk-skin soles; she had done this for years,
until it became more of a feeling of line and shape. She
had crimped so many in the past that her front teeth
were beginning to wear flat. Later she would twist sinew
for another day's use.
Nedercook tried to do a little sewing, but her stitches
did not come out straight and even, like her sister's. They
were more like her mother's stitches, stronger and bigger
than Paniagon's. She soon gave it up and decided to
braid a thick grass rug to go under her father's caribou
sleeping pad. Her mother had suggested that he should
have a new one, as his had worn thin. Nedercook's
brothers and sister did not come. There would be no
travel on such a day as this. She was glad they did not
have to do any cooking, because they would have had
to use what her parents called the stormy day room.
It was the little room just off the entrance tunnel as one
entered the inne. It had heavy skins covering the
doorway and Nedercook remembered how smoky it got
the last time they had used it, even though the skins were
kept closed about the door. Dinner would be dried food
tonight. She was glad to stop working. She got her plate
and stone hammer. She looked at the long, slim stone
and remembered the sunny day of beachcombing when
she had Jound her very own hammer.
After her parents had gone to bed she lay in hers and
listened to the wind, blowing above their home. Then
she thought papa is not tired today, so she said, "Papa
tell me a story, a long, long story." (Rocky Point
Eskimos did not have the word "please" in their
vocabulary. They had such words as "excuse me," "did
not mean to," and "if you would," but their voices also
conveyed much meaning when they spoke, transmitting
much feeling in the way a word was said.)
76
 "You want a story?" her father's voice questioned.
Then she heard a chuckle and knew that he remembered
falling asleep last evening. He began the story:
Once there was a village and in this village lived a
rich man and his wife. They had one daughter and she
had many suitors. Her father thought that she should
marry one. But she said she did not love any of them
and she did not want to marry just to be married.
He got mad at her for saying this and drew from his
pocket a little homemade knife. (Knives in those days
were very scarce.) This he threw to his daughter as he
said, "If you do not wish to get married, here, this can
be your husband."
Her feelings were deeply hurt. She picked up her little
bucket and filled it with bite-size pieces of food. Each
piece was just enough for a mouthful.
Then she went to the edge of the sea and stood there
wondering which way she should go. Something about
the westward direction was stronger, so she started out
into the night, headed west. From her wooden bucket
she ate only two mouthfuls of food a day, just enough
to keep her alive. After much travel she saw in the
distance a cliff. When she finally reached it her food
supply was gone.
After awhile she saw a cave and decided to enter it.
She traveled and traveled for miles and sometimes the
rocks under her feet sounded strange, so she would
stoop and put one into her bucket. She felt weak and
tired, but somehow she kept going until she saw what
looked like a star far ahead. After traveling for a long
time she saw that it was not a star, but rather light from
the other end of the tunnel.
She came out of the tunnel into bright sunlight. She
built a very crude shelter using driftwood from the
beach. She had no pillow so she used a stump for one,
and went to bed. When she awoke it was daylight. She
saw a shadow moving and thought it was a man, but
it was only her rain parka. She had hung it to dry the
night before. She had placed it on a stick beside her
shelter, saying to herself, "I do not want anyone
disturbing me even though I have only a driftwood
pillow."

77
 Looking down toward the beach, she saw a freshly
killed spotted seal. She used her father's knife to cut and
clean the seal. Oh! this was food, and lots of it, she ate
well.
Then she looked out toward the tundra, thinking
there may be berries, so she took her little wooden
bucket and went forth. She found some berries and
started picking. While she was doing this she came upon
a freshly killed caribou. Using her father's knife again,
she cleaned it, cut it and hung the meat to dry but saved
some for her dinner.
This strange appearance of freshly killed game
continued as the days passed. One morning she was
looking out to sea and saw something shining on the
water. It was a kayak and it was coming from the sea
straight toward her. When it touched the beach the man
called her by name and asked her to come down. He
told her to crawl inside the kayak. (If one is not familiar
with this, it is dark inside because there are no windows;
the man sits in the one hole near the middle with his
clothes pressing against the sides.) She decided that since
she was alone and did not have anyone to help her, she
would go with him.
He told her not to open her eyes, or try to look
around in the kayak; however, temptation was too great
and she opened her eyes and saw a clear, blue sky. The
man immediately told her that he had said she was not
to open her eyes. She closed her eyes as he spoke.
They landed on an island and he said, "My home is
up there. Go up there but do not cook, as I am going
to get us some fresh food." It was a typical old house.
In no time the man came to the house bringing with him
a spotted seal, so they proceeded to prepare food from
it. Every day after that he would go out hunting and
bring home a fresh seal for their food.
He kept filling her with food, and then one evening
as they were caressing, she noticed the way he pinched
her on the arm and then put his fingers to his mouth,
just as if he were tasting her.
Next morning as soon as the man had gone to hunt,
a handsome stranger came to the skylight. He told her
to come out and to hurry up about it. He led her down
a little bank and showed her a big pile of human bones.

78
Some of the bones still had ladys' bracelets attached to
them.
"See," he said, "this is the way you too will soon end."
He then asked her if there was a certain kind of seal that
would keep the hunter away for the longest time. She
told him there was a certain kind of spotted seal. The
stranger warned her not to tell the man she had seen
anyone, just ask him to get her the seal.
When the man returned home he asked right away,
"Who have you been talking to at the skylight7"
"No one," she said, then she thought a moment and
said, "Ohl yes, I was talking to a fly that was at the
skylight because I used to see them at my home."
"And you said that you were not talking," he
grumbled. That evening he started to pinch her more
earnestly than he had before. She said, "Leave me alone,
because tomorrow I want to have a big feed of seaL"
Then she named the hard-to-get seal.
When he heard the name of the seal, he sat motionless
for some time before saying that the one she asked for
was quite difficult to get, but he would try.
As soon as the hunter left the next morning the hand-
some stranger appeared and told her to hurry. She
followed him to a little knoll some distance from the
house. Reaching it, she saw a large eagle skin. He told
her he would go inside of the skin, and she should climb
on its back, but to keep her eyes shut.
Just as they were leaving the ground she heard
something and opened her eyes. There on the water
below was a huge loon, flapping its wings as it tried
unsuccessfully to leave the water.
"That's my wife, bring her back." called the loon. The
eagle spoke, saying, "That was your husband," and a
moment later he continued, "Look at that bunch of
floating driftwood, that was your home with him." (The
loon mentioned in this story is supposed to be what the
Eskimos called a yaark-cha, the biggest loon-like bird
known to the villagers. It is believed nonexistent now.
It resembled a penguin.)
The stranger continued to fly toward the highest
mountain where they landed on the rocks near the top.
There he motioned to a little house and told her to enter
it, as his mother and father were inside. He would be

79
80
right back, as he was going to get a caribou for dinner.
She entered to find an elderly couple and a young
woman who looked like she was from Diomede Island.
The old folks were talking softly to each other,
wondering where their son had found this new woman.
When he returned with the caribou they all ate and there
seemed to be much joy. Even the young woman from
Diomede seemed happy.
Next day the two young women were looking down
into the valley and wondering if one of the benches (flat
area) might be a good place to pick salmonberries. They
cut a hide into strips to make rope. Tying it together,
they went down the rope one at a time, until they passed
the steep cliff of the mountain. They left the rope
hanging and proceeded on foot.
The berries were luscious and everything else was
forgotten but the present joy of picking berries.
Suddenly they were startled by the flapping of wings,
and they saw a big eagle coming down fast. It landed
beside them. Then they heard the voice of their friend,
the eagle, as he said, uOh my, I nearly killed you by
mistake. From up there I thought that you were a couple
of caribou. After this if you are going to leave the house,
tell me first and I will fly you wherever you wish to go."
That evening the two women made Eskimo ice cream
from the caribou fat and some of the berries they had
picked. They gave the elder eagles a bowl each. At first
they tasted it very gingerly, but they soon decided they
liked it very much.
For some reason the eagle took the Diomede woman
back to her island.
Then as time passed the woman with her father's knife
and the eagle became the parents of two sons. The eagle
caught an expression of sadness on his wife's face one
evening and asked her what was wrong.
"I am thinking of my home, mother and father," she
said.
'That is easy, we will go and see them," he replied.
He got two dead trees and tied some strong but light
branches in the center so she would have a place to sit,
then he built a shelter around it to protect her from the
elements. He then added quite a lot of food for the trip
and to share with her parents.

81
 She described where she once had lived, because he
wanted to make a landing some distance away and go
the rest of the way on foot. When they were ready to
leave she entered the shelter. He told her to keep her
eyes closed, which she did, but after awhile she could
not stand it any longer and opened them. On either side
flew two little eagles each holding onto the ropes
attached to the dead tree, about where her chair was,
and in front flew the big father eagle, pulling her
through the air. The eagle landed a short distance from
the village.
When the entered her parents' home she said, "I am
your daughter, I have been married, but I have come
back to visit you."
In those days there was a men's section at the Big
Dance House where visiting men could stay. This was
where bachelors of the village stayed and visiting men.
Her husband stayed there. She and the children stayed
with the parents. One day as she was preparing food
to take to him she accidently overheard her parents
talking.
'This surely is not our daughter for she must be dead.
So this must be an impostor who is taking advantage
of us."
Just as before, the hurt returned deep and painful, so
she told her husband, who said, "We can leave if you
want to."
She wanted to leave, so they prepared to go. When
they were ready, and just before she walked out of the
door, she stood before her father and said, "I am your
daughter, even though you do not believe me."
Reaching into her pocket, she pulled forth the little
knife that he had thrown at her years ago, and as she
threw it to him she said, "Since you refuse to believe
I am your daughter, here this can be your daughter."
The old folks immediately recognized the knife and,
with tears in their eyes, begged her to stay, but she left
with her husband and sons, returning to their home on
the mountain. As the old legend goes, they lived there
happily ever after.

When her father finished telling the story, Nedercook

lay listening to the noises of the storm, happy that her
82
father had not fallen asleep tonight.
Life continued much the same, with variations in work
that could be done indoors. On the third evening, after
Inerluk had finished a story, he added, "Maybe no storm
tomorrow."

83
 CHAPTER 14
BIG BLACK DUCK

W hen Nedercook awoke next morning the first

thing that she became aware of was the
absence of the noises the wind made. She
realized that she was alone in the inne. Dressing quickly,
she hurried outdoors; as she did, she noticed the entrance
had been cleared of snow. A few feet from the doorway
she stopped to look about.
The early morning light coming across the frozen
Bering Sea was beautiful. It made the pressure ridges
stand out against the low backlight. The snow had
drifted in hard, sculptured lines which caused light and
shade. The village was clearly visible and alive with
people, children running here and there, adults in and
out. Some were cleaning the snow away from their
entrance ways.
Nedercook reasoned that her family was also in the
village checking on family and friends. She took off on
a run. She found her father at old Oopick's. He was
clearing away the snow. She helped and it was soon
finished. Then they decided to return home and have
something to eat. They were joined by Oolark and
Nutchuk. The men were deciding what to do. Hunting
after a big storm was usually good, they figured, but
where was the best place to go today? Should they go
near the Iknutak Mountain, where the caribou would
have gathered in the lee side during the big storm
(caribou lived in this area then), or out onto the ice in
search of seal? They decided in favor of the caribou.
The men gathered their bows, arrows, spears, and dry
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food for each pack. They were dressed warmly in their
two-layer hunting pants. The inner layer was made from
a soft-furred animal, such as squirrel or rabbit, with the
fur turned in next to the skin. The outer pants were made
of either caribou or sealskin, with the hair turned away
from the body.
Inerluk told his daughter to tell Kiachook where they
were going, and that it would be either late today, late
the next day, or at the most the day after when they
returned, depending upon how good the hunting was.
Nedercook wanted to go with them, but the tone of her
father's voice when he said "No" was final.
After they had left and her mother was still away,
she took her bow from the comer, put some arrows into
her hunting sack, along with a piece of dry food, and
headed out across the snow-covered tundra.
She would go out to the little creek where they got
the ptarmigan. The bushes were now much shorter and
there were big, hard drifts here and there. There were
also some soft spots where the willows were dense, and
made some shelter from wind. Here the snow was soft
enough for tracks to be seen. As she walked she looked
to right, and then to the left, then she scanned the snow
for tracks of any kind, then her eyes took in the horizon
and the sky. She continued walking, and looking until
she noticed fresh duck tracks. The tracks were so
unexpected it almost scared her, and she came to a stop.
For one crazy moment the thought ran through her
mind, Am I dreaming duck, a duck up here in the snow-
filled creek? She knew that all but one kind of duck had
long left the sea. All that were left were the big black
ducks, and they had disappeared when the ice closed
the water in front of the village. Her heart pounded
faster. If only I can get it, she thought, before it gets
limbered up, when it starts to walk again.
She carefully fitted an arrow to her bow and, holding
it ready, started forward. She knew the partly-drifted

85
tracks were made when the duck first landed. It had
walked, but it would rest sooner or later because it
would be tired from being blown inland from the open
water. She hoped the long, cold rest would make it
clumsy when it started moving again. She put her parka
hood down so she could hear better, and so the duck
would not see the ruff on the hood. Carefully she would
peek over each high, drifted ridge - no duck. The tracks
were lost in places where the snow was drifted harder.
At the third crest of hard snow, as she was inching
her head to peek over, she saw the duck. It was still in
a sitting position where it had probably rested since it
found this sheltered spot. She almost trembled as she
aimed her arrow. The bird had seen her, but because
it was just the upper part of her hoodless head, it was
not alarmed; however it was starting to raise itself.
Nedercook let the arrow fly and, unbelievable even
to her, it hit its mark! In her excitement she tumbled
into the deep snow, but she soon had the big duck in
her hands. When she was sure it was dead she sat in
the snow. She was so happy she whispered "Quiana"
(thank you) to herself as she examined the big black bird.
Then she put it into her hunting sack and picked up her
bow from where it lay in the snow. She felt elated,
happy, proud and thankful. She wanted to run home
quickly, but then she remembered that everyone was
away, so she decided to take her time. Still her excite-
ment would not let her linger.
Her mother looked up inquiringly as she entered.
"Papa and them," she said, "went to Ignutak hunt for
caribou, they be late, maybe tomorrow or more before
come home."
Removing her packsack and holding it by the strap,
she held it out to her mother.
"Heavy," her mother said as she put it down on the
floor in front of her. Then she opened the pack and
looked in.
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 "Duck?" with an unbelieving voice she continued,
"Where?" as she pulled it from the packsack.
Nedercook needed no more to start her off on her
story. When she had finished her mother reached over
with one arm to her daughter, kneeling beside her, and
held her close for a few moments. No words were
needed. She felt loved as she looked at the duck her
mother held in her other hand. She also felt proud in
a humble sort of way, proud maybe that her mother
loved her, and proud that she had contributed her bit
to the food supply.
"T00 good, we skin and save for parka," her mother
said as, like a caress, she ran her hand across the
feathers. That made Nedercook even happier, because
she knew they had been saving the tougher skins of the
diving ducks until there would be enough for her father's
parka. Now she had helped to add to it. Kiachook
watched as her daughter carefully cleaned and cut the
duck. She removed the insides, saving the main parts
as she had seen her mother do. She carefully cut off the
very ends of the wing tips to use as a whisk broom.
Kiachook picked up her ulu and together they
removed as much fat and grease as they could by
pushing the ulu against the skin and away from them,
following the direction of the feather stubs. Then the
skin was spread out to dry on a log with the skin side up.
Kiachook noted the expression on her daughter's face
as she looked at her greasy, bloody hands and said,
"Daughter do not worry about what is on the outside
of the body - that can be washed clean. It is the dirt
or decay that one collects in the soul that one should
be concerned about."
Then she passed Nedercook a pot of water for
cleaning, and she asked, 'Want to start the cooking fire?"
"Yes," Nedercook replied as she quickly cleaned her
hands.
Her mother had kept a small bed of coals alive in the
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stormy day room, so she did not have to go to the Big
Dance House as so many others did. She soon had a
fire going and eventually the pot boiled. Nedercook kept
hoping her father and brothers would return before
dinner.
But when night came she settled down to eat with her
mother and sister, who was visiting while her husband,
Kimik, was away caribou hunting. The duck was tender
and they all enjoyed it. Her sister smiled and said,
"Nedercook, you hunt like a man." This praise made
her feel proud.
"I'll tell you a story," Paniagon offered when bedtime
came.
This will be the story of a little mouse who was
running back and forth across a rotten skylight when
suddenly it gave way beneath him. He fell down
through the air until he hit a cross beam. He held on
to it. Here he decided to spend the night.
Next morning the mouse slipped and fell from the
beam. He fell down as far as the benches or seats in the
house, so he said, ''I'll spend the night here."
The next day he fell to the floor. He started to walk
around the floor, but then he fell down the basement
steps. He looked out and saw a big fire. He did not know
what to do, but figured he was trapped in the building
and the only way he might save himself was to dash
out past the fire and risk getting scorched in doing so.
When he was safely past the fire he looked back and
saw that it was only a sunbeam.
Then he thought, surely there must be something
wrong with me to make a mistake like that. So I think
I will go over there and fight those two big roots. He
made his attack, and as he struggled he broke off pieces
and finally he tore them both down. When he was
through he was so exhausted that he fell asleep. When
he woke up he discovered that what he thought were
big roots or stumps were just two little pieces of rotten
wood. Again he repeated "What is wrong with me?"
He continued a little way until he came to a big lake.
"I think I will cross this big lake," he said to himself,

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 "even if it is so wide that I cannot see the other side."
When he had crossed to the other shore he looked back
and then he saw that it was only a man's footprint filled
with water.
He repeated again, "What is wrong with me?" So he
looked around and said, "Well, I think I will cut down
the pole or post that holds up the sky. But first I will
dig a deep tunnel to run into when it falls, so I will not
be hurt!" Finally he finished the tunnel. He started to
chew on the pole or post that held up the sky. When
it started to fall he dashed into his tunnel and shivered
in fright as he heard a terrible noise and the ground
above him shook.
When everything was quiet and still, he very carefully
came out from the tunnel. Then he saw that what he
had cut down was just a big leaf.
Nedercook liked this story and told her sister so.
Next morning there was still no sign of the hunters.
Nedercook took some duck and soup to old Oopick.
She felt good as she saw the happy smile crease the
wrinkled face, and when Oopick said, "You good
hunter," Nedercook smiled her bashful smile.
Around noon Nutchuk and Kimik walked into the
inne. As they removed their heavy packsacks, Nutchuk
explained, "Come for sleds, we find plenty caribou.
Oolark and papa get two between them, Kimik get one,
I get one." They expressed surprise when Nedercook
gave them each a small piece of duck to go with their
meal. She saved a larger piece for her father.
With Komo's help the two men left, pulling the sleds.
The dog seemed eager to go out with his master, Kimik.
It was getting dark the following day when the hunters
topped the little rise, slowly approaching the inne,
pulling behind them sleds piled high with caribou. The
women rushed forward to greet them. There was much
happiness in their voices. The men looked tired, but they
stored the meat out of the reach of dogs, first bringing
one caribou carcass inside. Then they left to help Kimik.
The next stop would be the Big Dance House, where
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they would clean their bodies before returning to eat.
It was similar to a sauna but the villagers called it
bathing, or taking a bath. Dinner was ready by their
return. All ate, laughed, and talked. This was a happy
occasion. Food was stored against the cold winter. Some
of the meat would be given to other members of the
village.
Next day the women would skin the caribou, saving
the leg skins for mukluks. Kiachook was pleased to have
some caribou brains to rub on the skins to soften them.
They were not aware that this contributed to the odor
of their garments and their dwellings. They had always
smelled strong odors and were accustomed to them.
Odor meant food and food meant life.
There was no lock on Inerluk's cache, but he did not
worry because there were unwritten laws that the whole
village abided by, rules made at the very beginning of
this village. No one ever stole anything from another
villager, be it food, personal belongings, or another
man's wife. These rules of conduct were taught to
children early in life.
When a wrong was committed the elders of the village
met in the Big Dance House. They would elect three of
the strongest men who, with their primitive weapons,
went to the accused man. Then the four would go for
a walk. If it was winter (as it so happened only once
in the life of Nedercook while she lived in the village
of Rocky Point) the men would go walking out of sight
of the village, maybe to the open water if there was
some. Later the three elected men would return. None
of the villagers ever saw the violator again. With this
law, each understood that to live was the greatest of
privileges, and like innocent children they lived in
harmony with the elements and with one another.
Nedercook did without her usual story that evening so
her tired father could rest.
The next day they spent caring for the caribou meat.
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It was a happy day for the Inerluk family. Inerluk
announced to his family after the evening meal,
''Tomorrow we shall rest, each in our own way, do only
little things." As he looked at his family and the drying
sinew and meat, he continued, "On these days we should
feel thankful in our hearts to the giver of all gifts." He
looked about, much as Kiachook had when she seemed
to be thanking the universe for good fortune.
''Tomorrow we will let the land belong to itself," he
smiled at his family as he continued. "This shall be our
way of saying thank you, we are greatful to the provider
that governs all the land."
Nedercook always liked these days because her family
was not preoccupied or rushing off here and there after
food. On these infrequent days that her father chose for
the family to rest and build strength against coming
struggles there was time for her to ask questions.
Kiachook extracted fat from caribou suet by heating
it in a pot. She decided to make a big bowl of ice cream.
She felt relaxed and happy. There was no rush, for this
was a day to enjoy. As she sat there using her hand as
a beater she began to sing a song that had much
humming between the words:

Raven and Hawk Song

Once long ago a raven sat on a treetop and as he
surveyed the surrounding area he saw a hawk.
The hawk was eating a freshly killed ptarmigan.
As the raven watched he thought how nice it would
be if he, too, could be like the hawk and get his own
fresh food.
But he was only a lowly scavenger.
Then he got an idea and he spoke to the hawk.
"Hawk, hawk over there, I cannot eat the fresh food,
raw meat, like you are doing."
But the hawk paid no attention to him and continued
to eat.
When the hawk had finished eating, he turned to the
raven and said, "Raven, raven over there, I do not want

91
 to eat the things that you eat, the garbage and the
scavenging."
Then as he took off he flew past the raven with a big,
graceful sweep as he rose into the sky. As soon as the
hawk was out of sight the raven quickly flew over to
the fresh ptarmigan remains and ate up all that the hawk
had left.

When Kiachook finished the song she asked

Nedercook to bring her a little clean snow and some
berries. When Nedercook returned her mother started
another song. There was also much humming in this
song and between the words. It was called:
Man Without Mittens
Once there was a man
whose mittens were all worn out.
He had no material with which
to make new ones.
He did not like the idea
of getting up without mittens,
But he had to anyway.

Early in the day Nedercook had fetched some salty

sea water to add to the cooking of the caribou. As the
pots simmered, tantalizing aromas filled the inne.
Paniagon and Kimik were invited to share this evening's
'meal of caribou, vegetables, greens and ice cream. This
was an evening of rejoicing; laughter and talk filled the
inne. It was on this evening that they learned that
Paniagon was to have a baby sometime toward spring.
When the quiet of evening came, Nedercook lay in
her bed thinking of the stories and legends she had
learned. This was part of the education of all the village
children, so the legends and stories would not change
with the passing of time, nor would they be lost. She
enjoyed learning and was good at memorizing. Each
evening's story was a joy to her. She never considered
it a task, as some of the young did. She said, "Papa,
you are not tired tonight, tell me a long, long story."
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 After a brief silence, he said, "We have just eaten
caribou, so I will tell you a legend of long ago."
Once there were two brothers. One had a wife and
the other was unmarried. The married brother decided
that his wife should accompany them on their fall
caribou hunt. After traveling for many miles they
decided to stop and build a hunting camp. The wife was
to stay at the camp. She would prepare the food while
the men hunted for caribou.
Before the brothers left her alone, they warned her
very strongly against letting anyone touch or bother her
head. As they started to leave her husband turned to
her again and said, "Be very, very careful that no one
touches your head."
When they were gone the wife felt very lonely. She
was alone for two days. On the third day she saw a little
woman coming to her camp. The wife was happy now
she would have some company. The little woman
seemed very friendly, so the hunter's wife did not worry.
As they talked the little woman slowly edged closer to
the hunter's wife, all the while carrying on a friendly
conversation. When she was within touching distance
of the hunter's wife, the little woman suddenly
exclaimed, "Oh, what is that in your hair?"
As she said this, she reached out and touched the head
of the unsuspecting hunter's wife. That was it, with the
touch of the stranger's finger her brain seemed to go
numb. The little woman hurriedly left.
When the two brothers returned they knew that
something was wrong, because the wife could not even
hear noises. They guessed what had happened.
Since they had brought home a freshly killed caribou's
head, the brothers decided to transfer the brain of
the caribou to the head of the woman. This they
proceeded to do. When they were finished, she could
hear again and things seemed all right until one day
there appeared the start of horns on her head. Then her
whole countenance began to change and her head took
on the shape of a caribou's head. Next her whole body
changed into that of a caribou.
The brothers wanted to get the rest of the meat and
bring it to camp, but fearing other hunters might,

93
without knowing, kill the wife, they decided to tie her
up inside of the shelter while they were away. They
returned that evening to find that she was gone.
Somehow she had freed herself. They gave up
everything else and began searching for the missing wife.
For days they searched long and hard, but they could
not find her, so they finally returned to the village. The
man married to the woman who had turned into a
caribou asked the women of the village to make him
lots of mukluks. Taking all of the mukluks in a pack,
he left to search again for his wife.
One day he became very tired and drowsy so he
decided to lie down and rest on top of a little knoll. First
he put his hunting sack on the ground to use as a pillow.
When his head touched the hunting sack he could hear
someone talking. The voices seemed to come from inside
the knoll.
"Grandma, tell me a story," pleaded the voice inside
the knoll.
"I have no story to tell," came another voice.
The first voice now sounded on the verge of tears as
it begged, "Grandma tell me a story."
"Very well," came the grandmother's voice, ''I'll tell
you a story."
She began;
"Once upon a time there were two brothers. One took
his wife with them when they went hunting, but her
brain was stolen and replaced by a caribou's. They tied
her up but she escaped and, although they searched and
searched for her, they could not find her. So they gave
up and went back to the village. They did not know
where to find her, but she is a black caribou and she
lives with a herd of caribou over on the Siberian side.
After hearing this, and more, the man headed back
to his village as fast as he could. There he ordered a
big hunting packsack full of mukluks, an extra parka,
and mittens.
Then he took off for Siberia. (During this time land
bridged the two continents.)
When he reached the Siberian side there was an
enormous herd of caribou. He searched for the black
one that the mysterious voice beneath the knoll had
spoken of.

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 After many, many days he finally spotted a black
caribou. Then he carefully began to work his way closer
and closer to it, sneaking behind the other caribou in
this large herd.
Finally he grabbed the black caribou and as he did
so he pulled his knife and slit the underside as the voice
in the knoll had said he should. Carefully he finished
the slit and before him fell his wife, just as she looked
when they had first gone on the caribou hunt.
From his packsack he brought the parka, mukluks
and mittens that he had carried with him, as the
mysterious voice in the knoll had said he should if he
was to bring his wife home safely. Both happily returned
to their village.

This time it was Nedercook who was almost asleep

by the time the story was finished, but she managed to
mumble a sleepy, 'Thank you," before rolling over to
sleep.
The next day dawned clear and nice. Inerluk and his
sons went on another caribou hunt, this time taking the
sleds with them. They knew that other men were
hunting, as word of their success had spread through
the village. This time Nedercook did not ask to go.

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 CHAPTER 15
FESTIVAL TIME

T he days of winter were getting shorter and darker,

but excitement was growing in the village,
especially among the young unmarried women.
They remembered how Kimik, one of the better hunters
of the village, had fallen in love with Paniagon, who
was now married to him and expecting. To the young
women it all seemed to have happened at the festival.
Nedercook knew differently, but she was not saying
anything, preferring to remain quiet.
This year Nedercook was old enough to practice the
"Women of the Sea" dance. If she learned it well enough
for the elders to approve, she could star in it at the
festival. She wanted to do this, and she wanted to do
it well, because it was the most beautiful and the most
graceful of all the dances and because she wanted to be
one of the performers. So she practiced and practiced.
This was always done during the middle part of the day,
because by then all able-bodied men would have left the
Big Dance House. Older women who knew the dances
would come and do the dance the girls were learning.
Then they could practice while the elders watched the
beginners and advised if wrong motions were used.
Nedercook loved doing the dance and, having one of
the more slender, supple bodies, was able to perform
it beautifully and with grace.
Inerluk and his sons returned late on the third day.
They were pulling the sled. This time, because they had
only one sled, they had packed it differently. They had
skinned out the bodies, leaving the legs attached to the
96
skin. They had placed the caribou hide hair side next
to the sled and then filled it with the cut meat. They
had filled the sled to overflowing, lashing the heads on
top. One man worked the handlebars, mostly to keep
the sled from tipping over. The two in front pulled. They
would stop along the way to change places.
"You lucky," Kiachook called as the women rushed
to meet them.
"We get three," Inerluk replied.
"We hungry." The voices seemed to come from both
of the sons.
"We have cooked," stated Kiachook.
"Festival day is day after tomorrow," Nedercook said.
She hopped happily about the sled as it continued to
the inne.
Dinner was a happy but silent occasion. The men were
busy satisfying their appetites, so they ate mostly in
silence except for an occasional "Good."
The women understood because they all had been out
on hunts of one kind or another during windy, cold
days. They knew how it felt to be hungry and tired, and
how nice the feeling was to finally get to shelter, warmth
and food. Relating to this, they let their tongues be still.
When the men stopped in satisfaction, highlights of
the hunt and news of the festival to come poured forth.
The two brothers left to retire. Inerluk lay down and
immediately fell asleep.
Whenever possible the villagers saved their urine.
Kiachook had made a special, large clay pot for this.
The uric acid in it was the only cleaning agent they had
that could cut grease.
It was used occasionally as a liquid soap to remove
excess grease and dirt from their hair, after which warm
water was used to rinse away the smell and dirt.
Urine was also used to clean some skins that were very
oily. It was in greater demand before the big festival,
when looking one's best was of greater importance.

97
 Dawn of the big day was calm and not too cold.
Villagers bustled about. Those who had not already
done so cut dried meat, fish, and food into bite-size
pieces and put them in containers to take. Women were
busy mixing ice cream. Kiachook had made hers while
the men were hunting and had put it in a cold place to
keep. Women with a little sewing left to do sewed faster.
Those who were too poor to contribute anything else
went tomcod fishing and, if they caught any, would
bring them frozen. It was a custom also that the first
food item a young hunter caught, be it meat or fish, was
saved for this day. It was then presented and shared by
the oldest of the village and by the parents and family.
When Nedercook had killed her first snipe in the fall,
Kiachook had cleaned and dried it whole so it could be
properly presented.
Kiachook's two daughters helped her most of the day.
Everyone was excited as the sun began to set. Soon now
it would be time for everyone to go to the Big Dance
House. Villagers and visitors came carrying their gifts
of food, skins or other contributions. Each brought his
own plate, and anyone who had a knife brought it also.
After descending the steps to the long passageway, they
left the food there or in a side room until serving time.
The people climbed the steps at the other end of the
passageway and entered through a large circular opening
to the Big Dance House. Each carried his own packsack
with him.
Performers placed their sacks by a relative; this way,
when it came to gift-giving time each would know where
his personal gifts were. These gifts were twisted sinew,
mukluks, and any little thing that one wished to give
to another.
The villagers sat in a large semi-circle, many deep,
facing the circular opening in the floor through which
they had entered, and through which the food and the
performers would come. The soft glow from the seal oil
98
lamps did not completely hide the keen expectation on
their faces.
After all the villagers were seated, the first performers
to come through the opening were men. They were
dressed in long, fancy mukluks, short jacket-type
parkas, and long, fancy gloves that came to the elbow
and from which hung rattles (pieces of dried bone). They
shook these to add accompaniment to the songs they
would sing while dancing. They walked to the side
reserved for the performers and stood facing the now-
silent crowd.
"From our midst we will call forth two forecasters,"
said one of the performers as he motioned with his
gloved hand. From the crowd one man and one woman
stood up and came toward him. ''You are the wise ones,"
said the man who had called them. As the two stood
quietly before him, he continued speaking to the crowd,
"This man will go out on the sea ice and this woman
will go out on the tundra. When they return they will
tell us what they have seen." Then his fancy-gloved hand
made a motion toward the circular opening. The man
and woman turned in silence, descended the steps, and
disappeared.
Two male dancers came through the circular floor
opening and the drummers began to beat upon their
drums. The drummers were seated upon the floor
opposite the villagers, chanting accompaniment as their
bodies swayed forward, to the right, to the left, and back
to their original position. Their bodies kept rhythm to
the beating of the drums.
The two men started to dance, then each picked up
a dry stalk of the wild plant the villagers called the
eeg-gee-took. Each man placed his stalk against the wall.
This dance showed, in motion and song, how the wild
plant grew, where it grew, its uses, and of its tall, hollow
stalks, and then showed in motion how high it grew.
It described the dry clusters on top where many small
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flowers had bloomed in summer, but now were only a
dry, dead-grass color. It showed the care taken by those
who had gathered them so the tops had not broken off.
This was all told in song and in mock picking motions,
as if gathering imaginary plants and bringing them to
the Big Dance House where they were to give peace, joy
and a reminder of warmer days to all who looked upon
the dry plant. The dancers then went to stand behind
the two men with fancy gloves.
With the ending of the dance there emerged a group
carrying the dry plant with the long stalks. These people
were called the capable ones. A dozen or so of the best
and biggest stalks were chosen from this bunch and laced
loosely together with thin rawhide, in such a way that
they would stand together in a natural position. This
was then placed in the center of the room. The remaining
stalks were tied, two together to form an X, and placed
next to the wall at various points around the room.
Everyone watched these capable ones at work. After the
last decoration was placed, there followed two drum
beats and then silence as two women quietly came up
the entrance way, each carrying a large plate. In the
center of the plates were balls of berries about the size
of a lemon. The berries were held together with a fluffy
binder. This was passed around to each person. As soon
as the two women had descended the stairs and were
out of sight, drums and chanting began again.
The two men dancers sang and pantomimed through
another song. This song told of seal hunters going out
on the sea ice to hunt, and of those lucky enough to get
seals. It described saving, inflating and drying the
bladder, and on this note the song stopped.
Next the loud-voiced announcer gave the name of the
hunter and the number of seals he had taken during the
year. One of the capable ones would emerge from the
circular opening carrying the hunter's inflated seal
bladders and would hold them high, as a hearty yell
100
came from the audience. Some carried at least a dozen
while others only one. The capable ones then hung the
bladders from the ceiling.
The drums began again and this time the song was
a happy one, of a hunter proudly bringing to his parents
his first contribution. When the song was over, it was
announced that it was time to give the young hunters
credit. Dishes with the first catch of a species of either
bird, animal or fish by a child were handed up to one
of the capable ones, who stood near the top of the steps,
out of sight of the audience. He took the dish that was
handed to him and then he gently pushed it up so it
appeared to slide up by itself out of the entrance way
and onto the floor of the Big Dance House. The
announcer called out the name of the item, and the name
of the hunter.
Nedercook's heart beat faster when she saw the first
snipe she had brought home. Her mother had saved it
by drying it, and now she had it perched on top of a
heaping bowl of Eskimo ice cream. She listened like
the others to the description. When her name was
mentioned, the great yell that followed was to ring in
her mind for over one hundred years, whenever she
recalled this event.
When all of the young hunters' dishes were on the
floor, relatives went forth to carry them to some older
person they wished to share with; afterwards it was
taken to the hunter's family.
Paniagon picked up Nedercook's bowl and carried it
to Oopick, who took a small piece of the snipe and some
of the ice cream before it was carried to Nedercook's
parents. After they had taken what they wanted, the
large bowl of ice cream was passed around until it was
gone. While this was going on, other dishes of food were
slid onto the floor and the capable ones helped the young
women, who would be dancing, to carry the big dishes
around to all the villagers. The plates overflowed with
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food as everyone talked, ate and laughed. Dishes of
berries, leaves in oil, and other dishes, some that needed
a ladle, were also passed around. Foods such as meat,
dried fish, Eskimo potatoes, and all other goodies that
did not need ladles were passed and each picked off some
to put on his plate. At this celebration you could eat
all you wanted, and what you could not eat on your
plate you took home; everyone always brought his
biggest plate.
Nedercook did not have to help with the serving
because she was one of the young hunters who were
honored this evening. Sitting in a row with some of the
others, she watched her sister. Paniagon was wearing
the fancy new parka that had taken so much of her time
before the festival. She seemed to glide about the large
room. Her cheeks were rosy. Nedercook figured that her
sister must have done what young women often did
before entering the Big Dance House. They pinch their
cheeks. Nedercook had never done it, but this evening
as she watched the soft light from the many seal oil
lamps which fluttered dimly, gently, and then more
brightly upon her sister as she moved near, she had never
seen her sister look more beautiful. While watching she
had second thoughts about sewing and the pinching of
one's cheeks. She also noted the look of tenderness on
Kimik's face whenever Paniagon would stop before him
with a tray of food.
As the food was served, the two plates of the
forecasters, who had not yet returned, were never passed
by. Something was always added to their plates by the
capable ones. About two hours had passed since the
forecasters had left. While the food was still being passed
around, they appeared at the entrance way. Silence fell
over the room. All the capable ones and servers stopped
where they were, setting down the trays they were
carrying and then seating themselves on the floor. The
forecasters walked in silence to the performer's side and
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sat down by their plates. After finishing two mouthfuls
of food, the male forecaster stood up and faced the
villagers.
"See plenty seals," he said. Like a wave, the sigh of
relief could be heard passing through the crowd,
followed by yells of joy from the men. Silence returned
as he seated himself.
The female forecaster then ate two mouthfuls of food.
She stood, walked to the place where the other forecaster
had stood, and faced the crowd. "See many berries,"
she declared. "Quana, quana" (thank you, thank you),
the joyous chorus of women voices filled the big room.
Joy was expressed because, if forecasters "see lots of
berries and seals," it will mean good times; food would
be plentiful for another year. If, on the other hand, they
return and "see" nothing, as sometimes they do, then
the people of Rocky Point would expect hard times for
the coming year. Hard times meant lack of food, hunger,
and often death for some of the villagers. The forecaster
then returned to her seat and the two began a belated
dinner.
As if by silent signal, the servers rose to resume the
serving of food. This continued for a few hours. The
people of the village were happy, a good year was
forecast and, for a moment, they were secure, warm,
and surrounded by family and friends. Food was
abundant this evening and gifts would soon be next; each
member had in different ways contributed to this
evening's pleasure, so all felt the joy of giving.
The Rocky Point Eskimos were not a tribe of nervous,
worried people. They knew what it was like to be cold,
hungry, tired, and to go without when there was
nothing. They knew death and hard times, but they did
not make a day miserable by dreading, worrying, and
complaining when times were hard. They tried to utilize
all game to the fullest and to put away as much as they
could against future hunger. The general outlook was
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that tomorrow would be better, which made it easier
to enjoy the present.
A dozen or so women stood up and took their places
in the half-circle around the entrance way. The drums
began to beat and the drummers began to chant. The
women began their dances. One moved a few steps in
front of the double row of dancers. She was the star of
this dance, and her every move was followed in smooth
repetition by those behind her as she went through the
motions of the seal skinning dance. With graceful
movements she gave the imaginary seal a drink of fresh
water. Then with an imaginary ulu she removed the
head, all the while keeping her rhythmic movements
coinciding with the beat of the drums. Next she removed
the skin, then fleshed off the blubber, cut it into pieces
that fit into a seal poke, and fastened the opening. She
then carried the head back to the sea. All the time her
body swayed in unison with the drum beats. With the
returning of the seal's head to the salty water, the drum
beats were faster, then the dance was over.
The dancer quickly stepped back to make room for
the next dancer. A very young woman came forward.
She looked small as she stood to do the berry picking
dance. Her eyes rested on no one as she conveyed the
impression of scanning the hillsides to decide where to
go. Making up her mind, she went through the motions
of starting out. The drums speeded a little. Then as she
picked the imaginary berries, the drums speeded con-
siderably; she was picking. The dancers behind her
followed her movements. Next she was returning with
the heavily loaded seal poke. Here the drums slowed
as if they, too, were struggling, slow, tired. Finally, a
happier note came as she had an imaginary bowl of
berries. Silence again, the dance was over.
Paniagon came forward. She was to do the sewing
dance. On the third drum beat Paniagon's body began
to move, trudging imaginary miles to snare the ground
104
squirrel, skin and dry it (a woman's parka usually took
30 skins, a man's 40), and returning to tan the skins.
As Paniagon stood in front of all the villagers, the
lamplight caught and reflected a little shine here and
there as it fell upon her fancy new squirrel parka. The
many wolverine tassels, some having an inch of wolf
fur on the end, danced about as her body swayed and
her arms swept to the right or the left in circular motions.
It was a beautiful sight to watch her go through the
motions of cutting the many skins, and see the large,
graceful sweep of her right hand and arm as she began
sewing the parka. As her two hands went forward with
palms open, pausing momentarily away from her, the
audience knew that another task was started. She then
went through the motions of twisting sinew.
Kiachook, sitting on the floor, watched her daughter,
all the while her head and upper body moving in rhythm
with the beat of the drums. Pride and joy were reflected
in her old face, just as they would when Nedercook
danced the Women of the Sea dance. Again silence filled
the room. Paniagon stepped back.
"Boom, boom, boom," began the drums, and
Nedercook knew it was the signal to start the beautiful
Woman of the Sea dance. In this dance she started alone,
with no backup dancers. Her lithe body could move with
much ease. This showed in all of her graceful move-
ments. She was a Woman of the Sea out on a fishing
trip. Gliding about, she pretended to be searching for
fish. Her hair, usually worn in long braids, was hanging
loose so it fell in long, dark strands from her young head,
over the parka, to her waist.
As if seeing a fish, Nedercook disappeared into the
circular opening for a moment or two, and then surfaced
with an imaginary fish held in her little brown hands.
She proceeded to eat it daintily, all the while swimming
about in the imaginary sea water. She circled around
the opening again as if looking for another fish, then,

105
as if seeing one, disappeared from sight. As she did this,
the drums and chanting speeded up and the volume
increased, stopping on one last wild "boom." The dance
was over. Silence filled the room until Nedercook
stepped shyly up from the circular opening to be greeted
with wild, happy shouts of approval.
Married women began passing out balls of frozen
berries, which were held together with a fluffy binder
of oil mixed with other ingredients. They were a little
smaller than a popcorn ball. This was refreshing, for
the room was hot and stuffy. Many villagers had
removed their outer parkas and folded them as pillows
to sit on. For fresh air the skylight had been opened at
the beginning, but this did little good.
Again the drums began. This time the men did the
dancing, mostly hunting dances, like stalking and killing
the caribou, harpooning the seal or whales, and always
the triumphant return. After several dances by the men
the drums stopped and the women who had danced
earlier joined the men. When the drums started it was
a happy combination dance.
When this was over it was gift-giving time. Many of
the gifts were small exchanges, but they were appreciated
as much as the larger ones. Much emphasis was put on
the fact that one remembered. Even if it was a very small
gift, the receiver was happy because he was not for-
gotten. This always brought happiness to the giver.
A few of the well-to-do men (they were the better
hunters) would go down to the first passageway where
they had left large bundles containing skins, sinew and
furs. Carrying these up through the circular opening,
they would sit down and cut off pieces of skin large
enough for a pair of mukluk soles. This would continue
until the skin was gone. From the sealskin the giver
would cut long, narrow pieces for a new belt or bands
to go around mukluks. They began with the most needy,
who would receive the better gifts.
106
 Typical gifts passed out, beside the skin and furs,
would be twisted sinew, ulus, mukluks, rugs, baskets
and storage containers for vegetables. Needles were so
hard to come by that they were rarely given, but rather
saved for barter or trade.
After all the gifts and food were passed out, all the
men connected with a successful black whale hunting
party during the past year would join what they called
the lucky ones. They gathered at the open skylight
outdoors and sang a certain victory song called the
Successful Whale Hunters Song.
This always thrilled Nedercook as she sat with all the
others in the dimly lit room. Everyone was looking
toward the skylight from which the song came loud and
clear. The shadowy silhouette of a head could be seen
every once in a while as one of the men next to the
skylight, those who had actually harpooned the whale,
would put his face down near the opening. They were
the men of the inner circle; the men of the outer circle
were standing. They were the ones who had helped in
the hunt. Every man sang, all singing this song in a loud,
happy voice of victory. There was silence when the song
was over, but not for long.
The beat of drums brought all the dancers, who had
quietly slipped to the lower level, and the singers of the
whale song emerging from the entrance way, all waving
high above their heads long white ribbons of dried seal
intestines. This was an exuberant, happy entrance. The
drums beat loud and wild. Then all the women who
could get to their feet stood up and joined in dancing.
While the last of the dances was taking place, several
men left the celebration and went down to the sea to
cut a large hole in the ice about a thousand feet from
shore, five to six feet square. The capabl~ ones had
collected the seal bladders and returned them to the
hunters who had contributed them for decorations. All
came to watch the hunters sink the now deflated
107
bladders into the hole, along with some sausage-like
links of seal intestines filled with choice foods. This was
the finale of the big festival; with the sinking of the last
bladder, all the young people raced back to the big room
in the Dance House, while others trudged wearily back
up the hillside. Then the young assisted anyone who
needed help carrying gifts home.
This celebration was an annual affair, which began
on one evening and always lasted until the next
morning's light. In the past, it had been known to have
lasted for three days and nights. It all depended upon
the number of people in the village, the number of
visitors, and the amount of food and gifts to be given
away.

108
 CHAPTER 16
MARRIAGE

A ctivity around the village was quiet for the next

couple of days. For Nedercook it soon returned
to normal. She remembered that last year had
been different because, while the resting and recovery
were taking place, Kimik had convinced Paniagon that
she should become his wife. Nedercook was not sure
how, but Kimik, Paniagon and her parents had all
agreed to this - and without Nedercook's opinion.
Within a week her sister was publicly declared Kimik's
wife at the Big Dance House before the elders of the
village. Then she moved out of her childhood home.
Nedercook missed her sister, but she knew that this
had to be. In the future, if and when one of her brothers
took a wife, he could bring her to their old home. But
if no room was left because of other brothers or sisters,
and the wife's place was not crowded, they could go
there. This was done as often as the first. If both places
were full, then the men of both families and friends from
the village gave of their time to help dig and make a
new home.
Nedercook decided that it was not as if her sister had
married a stranger from another village and moved
away, so she accepted, like others of her family, that
Paniagon had made a good choice. "I shall learn more
of the stories and legends than anyone else. Nedercook
II

decided, "and then I shall not miss my sister." So this

evening as things were more or less back to normal after
the big festival, she said, 'Tell me a story, a long story,
Papa."
109
 He was silent for awhile and then he said, ''This will
be about a young woman."

Long ago there was a young woman who lived at her

parents' home. This daughter lived in one of the little
side rooms off of the lower entrance way. Her parents
lived on the floor above her. Every nice summer day
she would go berry picking. When she returned she
would give some of the berries to her parents, then she
would descend to her room. Her parents would hear
her giggling. Her laughter would rise and fall as if she
had company and was sharing the berries with someone.
Each time the daughter returned from a berry-picking
trip the same sounds of giggling and laughter would rise
and fall, always coming faintly from the daughter's
room.
After a time the father became suspicious. Finally he
could not stand it any longer, so the next time his
daughter left to go berry picking he decided to
investigate. He descended to her room and there at her
bed was a human skull. Around the mouth was the stain
of berries. Her father in a horrified stupor picked up
the skull and carried it to the highest part of the cliff,
and with a big heave tossed it over the edge.
In the evening when their daughter came home, she
made her usual stop first at her parents, giving them
some berries as she had done countless times before.
Then she happily left for her room. Soon the parents
heard instead of the usual giggles and laughter, a very,
very sad sobbing. After a time the father could not stand
to hear the sadness. He descended to the lower room.
He called when he got to the skins that hung by her
door, and asked what was wrong. When he entered she
looked at him through tear-stained eyes and said
broken-heartedly, "My thing - it is gone." She had the
saddest look a father had ever seen.
He could not bear to look at her and not speak, so
he heard himself say, "If it was the skull, I took it and
threw it away."
Like a person in a trance, she arose and went out
through the door. He saw that she took the very same
steps he had taken when he carried the skull to the cliff's

110
 edge, then she pulled the parka hood to cover her face.
Before he could move or cry out, she jumped over the
cliff's edge.
She felt herself falling and falling until there was a
sudden stop. Some time after this she saw some fish,
but as she got closer to them she realized that they were
people. As she came closer she saw that they were very
clean people. Never before had she seen or smelled
anyone who was as clean as these people.
She asked them if a man had passed this way before
she came. "Yes," they said, "a short time ago. He went
that way," indicating with a sweep of their hand.
She traveled on in this direction until she saw some
large-mouthed fish, rock fish, she thought, but as she
approached, they too turned into people. She decided
to ask them about a certain man. "Oh, yes," they said
as they pointed in the same direction as the clean people
had. They saw him go that way a short time ago. She
went on and finally she came to a large meeting house.
People of her village called this kind of big house the
Big Dance House. It also served for all meetings.
She looked into the big room and there was her man,
and in his arms he was holding another woman.
Somehow he was aware that she had followed him.
Looking at her, he said, "Go home girl. You do not
belong here - yet." Then, as she continued to stand
there, he said, "Go home now, while you still can get
there. Remember there are two roads and to make it
home again you will have to take the rough one, don't,
don't follow the easy, smooth path or you will never
find your home. Go girl, go now, before it is too late."
She was hurt and angry, but she knew this was no
place for her to stay alone, so she turned and saw the
two paths. One looked so nice and easy, but he had said
to be sure to take the rough one if she wanted to see
her home again. So she started along the rough road,
and it was rough with big rocks and dips. She continued
struggling over the rough terrain for some time. Then
she thought why should I struggle and fight this rough
road when there is that nice, easy one over there just
a little ways away?
So she stopped climbing over the rough rocky road.
She left it for the easy, smooth one. It was very easy

111
 going, with a little breeze blowing. She traveled swiftly,
happy that she had made the change to an easier path.
As she traveled this easy trail she looked away and saw
that she had left the earth. It was down there below her.
But now she could not stop herself and she went on as
if drawn by some strong, invisible force.
She came to a door where two polar bears seemed
to watch over a very old woman. The old woman had
two large blades of bone with which she regulated the
moon's light. The girl remembered that her home village
always celebrated on the first evening of a new moon
by shouting and howling happily to the new moon.
Then she remembered that today was the day of the new
moon, for the old lady was holding the bone so only
a thin crack of light shone through.
The girl looked down at the earth below, and there
she could see the joyous faces turned to the new moon
as they danced about in joy, everyone happy for another
new moon. This made the girl very homesick and she
begged the old woman to tell her how she could return
to her village. At first the old woman was not about
to tell, but she pleaded so much that the old woman
said, "All right, there is only one way left for you now,
if you ever want to get back there. First you must sew
up two kinds of mittens, one from caribou and the other
from seal skin. When you have several pairs of mittens,
follow this rope to the end. It is strong but it stops before
it touches the earth. When you reach the end you will
have to be brave and let go - just jump down - do
not be scared, because if you are scared to jump and
do not let go of the rope you will never get home again!"
After making many mittens the girl bravely
descended, using mitten after mitten as she followed the
rope. lNhen she came to the end of the rope she saw
the earth spread out below her, but she would have to
drop some distance. As she hesitated and looked she
became scared, the longer she looked the more afraid
she became, until she could not let go of the rope. She
clung to it in fear. She never returned home because she
could not bring herself to let go of the rope.

Inerluk paused when he had finished, and then he said

that a woman called Aut-ma-gook and some other man
112
claimed they once saw what looked like a large human
spider dangling in the sky, at the end of a rope that went
up and up until the end was lost in space.

113
 CHAPTER 17
UNDER-ICE NET

G oing to set seal net," Inerluk said the next day.

Nedercook wanted to go along. She helped by
carrying the chisel and the ice scoop to the sled.
Her father put the bulky net, pole markers and anchors
on the sled. Nedercook ran down the hillside while her
father held on to the handlebars, keeping the sled from
going too fast. When they reached the ice Nedercook
helped by pulling on the rope that was fastened to the
front, while her father pushed and tried to keep it from
turning over on the rough trail. They followed along
the shore for a ways.
After going from shore about two hundred feet, her
father said, "We make hole here."
He circled the spot and Nedercook started energet-
ically to chip away the ice with the primitive chisel. Her
father walked on for another 6S feet or so and, selecting
the right place, made another circle on the ice and snow.
He walked back to his daughter and said, "I do this, you
get pole."
She gladly gave him the chisel and walked quickly
back over the trail. From behind the cache she took the
long pole. The splices were wrapped with rawhide,
securely joining the thin, long pole. Her father had
always handled the pole with care. This was the first
time he had trusted her to get the pole. She would be
very careful, although he had not told her to do so. He
just knew she would. Grabbing it near the front with
her mittened hand, she dragged it out slowly over the
ice. She remembered from other times how her father
114
would chisel two large holes some distance apart. Then
he would fasten the end of the long coil of rawhide rope
to the end of the pole she was dragging. She would wait
at the other hole while her father pushed the pole into
the first hole, aiming the end for the hole where she was.
How long it seemed before she could see either pole or
the shorter piece of rawhide with the smooth wooden
float attached! How eagerly she would hook whichever
came closer to the hole! Because, to set the net, the
rawhide rope had first to be pulled between the two
holes. Then it was easy for her father to pull the net into
the water, so the net was set between the two holes, with
a strong piece of rawhide attached to each end.
Her father was almost down to water. The chisel had
a strap secured to the handle; it was slipped over his
parka-clad arm to prevent loss of the chisel. He had cut
a circular hole almost down to water; then he left the
center part and tried to chip evenly around the outer
edge because he knew that, once he punctured through
the ice, the salt water would come gushing up to fill the
hole. When that happened he would not be able to see
where the chisel point struck. He must chisel by feel,
pushing the chisel down in the water and slush, and
chipping where he felt an obstruction.
A last support was loosened and the center ice came
bobbing up to the surface. When it was removed, Inerluk
took the chisel and went to start the next hole, while
Nedercook used the ice dipper to scoop away all the little
pieces of ice. Finally, the hole was cleared of ice and
Nedercook lay on her stomach and peered down into
the icy water.
Picking up the ice dipper, she moved to where her
father was working. "Let me do some," she said. Her
father handed her the chisel. He walked back to the sled
and removed the seal net. It was a big, bulky thing made
from thinly cut rawhide (a real task when one considers
that it was cut with their primitive tools). He placed the
115
notched end of the pole into the end of a coiled length
of rawhide where there was a little loop, to which was
fastened another short length of rawhide. The short piece
of rawhide was attached to a short, smooth piece of very
light wood; the float would help the other person to see
and catch the rawhide. Carefully he lined up the pole
so it pointed in the direction of Nedercook and the hole
she was working on.
Then Inerluk went to his daughter and finished
opening the second hole. When it was clear of ice,
Nedercook lay down so her face hung over the edge of
the hole as she tried to see bottom.
"Be careful," her father warned, because she could
easily slip and fall into this large hole. A chill wind
started to blow, so Nedercook pulled her parka hood
up to protect her head. This was a work parka, so it
had only a narrow band of wolverine around the face.
"See fish," she called, still on her stomach.
Her father came and peered into the water. "Tomcod,"
he said, "We set net, then maybe fish - if not too late."
Nedercook had accompanied her father on enough
seal-net setting trips to know what to do and expect.
So she waited by the last hole while her father walked
back to the long pole. He placed the notched end in the
center of the ice hole, and double-checked to make sure
it was in line with the second hole. Slowly he eased the
long, thin, flexible pole into the water under the ice. As
he pushed he kept the tension on the rawhide line and
let it slip slowly through his hands. Nedercook waited
patiently. This was something that could not be hurried.
"You look hard," her father called when he figured
the pole should be at her hole.
Nedercook lay on the ice again and stared and stared
into the dark water. In her right hand she held a short
pole with a hook attached at the end. She put her hands
on each side of her face to help shade the light reflec-
tions, while keeping her grip on the hooking pole. It
116
seemed like a long time, but it was less than fifteen
minutes.
"See it, see it." she cried excitedly.
"Careful," Inerluk cautioned as he stopped pushing.
Nedercook pushed the hook end of her short pole into
the water, and after some misses she hooked the pole
and pulled it from the side. Then she moved her hook
a little and tried to hook the rawhide. She caught the
length with the float and it surfaced; quickly she grabbed
it as she lightly tossed aside the pole.
"Got it, got it," she shouted, as she held tightly onto
the rawhide. Inerluk gave a quick pull back on the pole
and Nedercook felt the rawhide free itself. She started
pulling it to the surface and quickly tied it to one of the
poles her father had marked for this. Then they readied
the net so it would go into the hole without tangling,
floats on one side, sinkers on the other. "You watch,"
he said, as he started for the second hole. She was
responsible for keeping the net untangled and in the right
position as it entered the water.
"Now!" called her father as he started to pull the net
into the water. Nedercook guided it as best she could.
Her father pulled slowly to make it easier for her. When
all the net was in the water he continued to pull until
he figured it was centered evenly between the two holes.
Then he called, "Hold it," quickly fastened his end of
the rope, and hurried across the ice to fasten the piece
Nedercook held. The net was between 50 to 60 feet long,
with a piece of strong rawhide running its entire length.
He checked the tension at both holes and straightened
up, saying, "It's all right."
They had worked so long that the daylight was nearly
gone. Looking around, he said with a smile, "We work
fast." He secured the ends of the ropes and they put up
the pole markers. ''Too late to fish," he said. Slowly they
started home, he dragging the pole and Nedercook
pushing the sled.
117
 Oolark had hunted the wolf but had returned without
a catch. Nutchuk had been luckier; he had a large tundra
hare. Her mother was away when they returned, but
she arrived soon after. She had walked over to Paniagon
and Kimik's for a short visit and she had eaten with
them. "Very good soup," was her description.
"Carefully skin rabbit," Kiachook said to Nedercook
as she handed her the big ulu. It was customary for the
young to learn as much as possible; parents and elders
were always willing to help. Nedercook had seen her
mother and sister skin many rabbits, and now she was
the one who was going to do it. She laid the skinning
118
leather on the floor and placed the big rabbit on it. She
would do as well as anyone. Once she started, it was
not hard. She was careful not to cut holes in the skin.
Then she set the skin aside while she cut the meat into
cooking pot size. She wiped her hands on some dry
grass, straightened out the skin, and hung it to dry, being
careful to expose all parts to the air.
That evening the Inerluk family retired early. Since
Nedercook had participated in the physical work she
thought her father would be tired also.
Inerluk, although he was old in years, was still a
strong, healthy man. His body knew only the abuse of
hard work and sometimes food did not come "on time,"
as we know it. Since childhood his body had known
only highly nutritional foods. Inerluk and his villagers
were governed by feelings of the true self which did not
depend upon artificial stimulants. Food, warmth and
companionship were the desires of Nedercook's time.
Inerluk could tell that his daughter was tired, so he
said, "We worked hard, I'll sing short song." He began
to hum in the darkness, add a few words, then hum some
more. It was called the

Child's Tomcod Song

A little boy at Rocky Point
used to go down to the ice cracks
in early spring to spear the tomcod
because he did not have a hook.

While he was doing this

he thought he heard a little voice singing,
"Little boy, spear me
and take me home to your mother
and she will cook me
and after you have all eaten
finish dinner with some
of the sour leaves ... cooked.
This will be very good."

119
 When the song was over the only sound coming from
Nedercook's direction was of slow, steady breathing.
He smiled. In the darkness Kiachook snuggled close to
her husband and said, "It is lucky we have daughter."
Inerluk held her close.
After a good breakfast Inerluk was going to check his
nets, then fish for tomcod.
Nedercook wanted to go as she always did when there
might be excitement ahead. This morning her mother
had said that she could go with her father to check his
net because her mother's big toe had hurt. (She called
it hurt when there was a little jabbing or tingling
sensation - no pain - in her big toe.) This would mean
that something unusual or unexpected was about to
happen, but nothing bad. When the sensation was a dull
pain, something not so good would happen. Today's was
a sensation of the unexpected.
Inerluk took his spear, the pulling rope, and the knife
he always carried when he left the inne. Nedercook
carried a hunting sack, fishing equipment, ice scoop and
chisel. The wind from the day before had died down,
but they knew that some of the snow would be blown
into the holes. From a distance they spotted the two
upright markers. It was a precautionary measure taken
because coastal weather was too unpredictable. Wind,
either gentle or strong, was the general rule, but a
blizzard might also develop. Snow could cover the holes,
leaving no evidence, and much time would be lost
looking for them. There was also the danger of an
unsuspecting hunter walking on a thinly-covered hole.
As Inerluk and his daughter drew nearer they could
tell that the two poles nearer the holes had been moved.
Nedercook felt excitement flow through her as they
rushed forward. She threw off the light pack as they
reached the first hole. Inerluk chopped a small circle
around the rawhide rope. He was careful not to cut it.
At the second hole he chiseled out the entire hole and
120
quickly cleared away the floating ice. Exciting as these
moments are, Nedercook knew enough not to grab the
line of rawhide. She stood tense as her father felt the
line. His voice carried excitement as he said, "We got
something. Untie the first part of other rope." Running,
she quickly undid it. Rushing back to her father's side,
she watched as he pulled in the rawhide and saw the
net begin to come through the hole. Nedercook helped
pull because, if the seal was not too tangled, it might
become free before her father could spear it. If it was
fresh-caught, it could have a little kick to it and struggle
free as it was being pulled onto the ice.
"I see it," Nedercook said as the tail end of a seal
started to come through the ice hole. Inerluk put down
his spear quickly and with his bare hands grabbed the
tail. They pulled the seal onto the ice.
"Good one." Inerluk sounded pleased. They untangled
it from the net and pulled it a short distance from the
hole, taking no chance of it slipping back in. Nedercook
started to pull the rest of the net out of the water. It
had to be straightened before resetting. "Papa, papa,"
she cried excitedly.
Quickly he grabbed the net in front of her and began
pulling. He exclaimed in Eskimo, "Ar-nick-ka." Then
added, "Something else."
Pulling a little more, he said, "It is moving."
Nedercook seemed to hold her breath. Her heart
pounded. Her father grabbed for his spear, never missing
a pull as he did so. Before she expected it, a large
oogruk's head was in the hole. Her father let the spear
fly. She had never seen him move so fast.
"Pull!" he cried. They pulled. It was so big that it was
a tight fit to get it through the hole. "Ar-nick-ka," he
exclaimed in amazement.
They pulled the second mammal a little farther away
from the hole before they untangled it from the net, then
they pulled it still farther. Inerluk had never caught two
121
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at the same time before; nor did he in the future.

Nedercook jumped about in joy. "We got two, we got
two!" she exclaimed happily.
Quickly they straightened out the net before it froze.
Inerluk went to the first hole to pull, while Nedercook
slowly fed the net back into the water. After tying the
ropes again, they went to look at the catch with eyes
that shone with happiness. Here were food, meat, oil
and skins. This was a wonderful gift from the deep
waters. Nedercook knew this was special. There were
many days in which her father would catch nothing.
Taking the bigger and more difficult thing first was
122
123
the usual way of doing things in Inerluk's family. The
reasoning was that it is best to use the first burst of
strength on the big task, and then the smaller task would
not seem so hard. They carried one pull rope; two had
never been needed. Inerluk tied the rope so the animal
could be dragged head first. In this way there was no
friction, as it was with the grain of the hairs.
"We leave pack," her father said. It was a slow pull
home. The oogruk was very heavy and the trail rough.
By both working, they made it across the ice. As they
neared the beach, villagers saw the slow-moving pair
and came to help pull their catch to the inne. While
Inerluk untied it Nedercook dashed down the steps of
the entrance way, through the passageway, and burst
upon her startled mother, who looked up from stirring
a pot of boiling rabbit.
"We got two," Nedercook exclaimed, "We got two!"
"Chuna?" (what) Kiachook questioned.
"Seal and oogruk," Nedercook said breathlessly.
"Papa out there," she continued as she waved her hand
toward the entrance way.
"Two, ar-nick-ka," her mother said unbelieving.
Quickly she slipped her outer parka on and auto-
matically pulled the cooking pot away from the fire as
she started out with Nedercook close behind her.
"Quana, quana," (thank you, thank you) Kiachook
said as she looked at the oogruk.
"We will go back for the seal," Inerluk said.
"Good," Kiachook's voice was happy.
As Nedercook and her father walked back their steps
seemed light; for a time hunger would not be a worry.
When they reached the net, Inerluk felt of the line and
shook his head. It was empty.
After tying the pull rope to the seal, they shouldered
their packs. Fishing was out for today. Then both
checked lines and markers. They began the second pull
homeward, struggling to get the seal over the rough ice.

124
This time they both felt a little tired. Slowly they pulled.
The smaller animal felt as heavy to Nedercook as the
bigger one. The pull up the hill was hard but, seeing
some of the villagers watching, she pulled with renewed
strength.
Kiachook was well along with the skinning. Eagerly
Nedercook untied and coiled the pull rope while her
father helped her mother by hanging meat and putting
some in the cache. Kiachook gave her daughter a big
pot. "Take Oopick some," she said. Kiachook had put
in a variety of parts. Nedercook went hurrying off.
Oopick's inne was always a happy place to go; she
praised Nedercook and made her feel important in a nice
way.
Oopick was sitting by her glowing coals. She had a
woman's cup between her hands (cups without handles
were called women's cups). She was sipping wild
Hudson's Bay tea.
At dusk Nutchuk and Oolark came from the village.
They had hunted without luck and were surprised and
happy over their father's catch.
"Too dark," they said to their mother. "Skin it
tomorrow." They carried the seal to the underground
passageway. "We come in morning," they said, and their
mother knew they would carry the seal outdoors.
"Rabbit cooked," Kiachook said as they entered and
took their places. Each person cared for his own bowl,
plate and knife. In summer they were wiped with a
handful of grass; during the winter they were usually
given the last cleaning with the forefinger, which was
sucked off.
Before eating the rabbit Kiachook took a very small
piece of the meat and put it in the fire. With thumb and
forefinger she picked up a pinch of ashes, then holding
it before her lips blew it away; this was supposed to
release the animal's spirit. The rabbit was then eaten with
green leaves and roots, and berries at the end of the meal.
125
 Kiachook held up a shoulder-blade bone of the rabbit.
It was relatively clear. "Born on clear day," she
remarked. Had it been a cloudy shoulder-blade bone,
she would have said it was born on a cloudy day.
"Tomorrow you take Paniagon some meat,"
Kiachook said.
"Eh-eh," (yes) her daughter said with a smile. She
thought of the fun she would have telling her sister her
version of today's good fortune. There was no story that
evening. Everyone was tired and fell quickly to sleep.

126
 CHAPTER 18
NEDERCOOK HURT

T he cold, dark days of winter passed quickly for

Nedercook. Now the days, although cold, were
getting longer; the daylight hours came earlier
and darkness, later.
On one clear morning Inerluk and Oolark were to go
out to try for crabs. Nedercook had some skins to rub
dry, so she would stay home. Her mother surprised her
by looking up from her work and saying, "You go, I
put skins in cold place. You come when sun is highest,
soften them then."
The joy of going out made Nedercook step quickly.
Taking the big mesh sack, she placed it on the sled where
the men already had the other gear. The three traveled
up the shoreline and then stopped before going out onto
the ice. Inerluk studied the sky and weather carefully.
"We try," he said. His concern before leaving the shore
was well founded because, if one was careless and did
not study the weather, he might walk out onto the ice
of the Bering Sea and, unaware, be quietly taken on a
ride to his death. Along the coast of Norton Sound from
Nome, down past Rocky Point, the ice would often
break loose quietly, sometimes in sections of many miles
and at other times, in small pieces like a V or aU. It
would break free one hundred to a thousand feet from
shore and quietly leave, drifting to sea; at other times,
it would break free several miles from shore. Very, very
few men who have been taken out with the ice would
ever make it back to the mainland. Due to its quiet
departure, the gap was not noticed until a dark line could
127
be seen from where the person stood. By then it was
too wide to cross, usually about a quarter- to a half-
mile of open water. The north wind then strikes
suddenly, blowing in a wild fury and causing whitecaps
going away from the shore. The water becomes rough,
throwing spray on to the floating ice, then the move-
ment breaks off sections so the piece becomes smaller
and smaller as it drifts out to sea.
As Nedercook walked over the rough ice she looked
at her father and Oolark and noticed that Oolark was
built much like their father. He was not very tall, but
stocky. Nutchuk took more after their mother. He was
tall in build and stood at least a head taller than her
father.
Even with the sled, the three walked quite fast. Oolark
chiseled the new thin ice from the holes that he and his
father had made the day before. Nedercook, using the
willow strainer, bailed the slush out of the hole. Her
father dropped a weighted bait line down until it touched
bottom. He took a stick with the remainder of the line
and pushed it into the snow, on a slant away from the
hole. This would give some leverage against a crab
pulling with the tide. He set another line and then he
walked to Nedercook and said, "You do next two."
Nedercook was happy to do this. She lowered the rock
weight, then carefully raised the rock off the bottom -
twice so she would have the feel of the weight and know
immediately if a crab was on the next time. She secured
the stick as she had seen her father do. Together they
walked back to the first hole. Inerluk bent over as he
put his mitten into his big parka pocket. He used the
thumb and first finger of each hand to gently take up
the slack until he felt the weight of the sinRer. He shook
his head as he let it drop back. He tried the next hole
in the same manner. When the slack was taken up,
Nedercook knew that he had something as he slowly
continued to pull the line hand over hand. He was
128
careful never to let the line slack or drop back, nor did
he jerk it forward because if he did, the crab would
suddenly let go of the bait with its big pincers and drop
back to the bottom. Oolark came running with the short
pole that had the hook shape, holding it ready as they
strained to see down into the dark waters in the hole.
As he pulled, Inerluk was careful to keep the line
centered in the hole so the crab's legs were less likely
to touch the ice as they hung out in all directions. It only

129
took one little touch with the tip of a leg for the crab
to let go and drop back.
"I see," Oolark said, and his gloveless hand plunged
into the cold water, grabbing the end of a big leg. Before
he could get it out of the water the crab had opened his
pincers and let the bait fall free. Oolark carried the crab
a short way from the hole and placed it belly-side down.
He put his mukluked foot on it and applied a pressure
that killed the crab and also drained out the bluish fluid,
making it much more tasty. Then he folded all the crab
legs and, dragging his heel to make a long, narrow
depression, he placed the crab into it. When the crab
froze in this position, the legs would not be sticking out
in all directions to be broken off easily.
"You try," Inerluk said to his daughter as they reached
the third hole. Nedercook's heart leapt up in excitement.
Taking off her mittens, she placed them in her parka
pocket. Straddling the hole as best she could, she began
taking up slack until the weight could be felt.
"Papa ... " she cried excitedly, but the words she was
going to say died in her mouth and came out, "Gone,"
because, in her excitement, she had let the line slack after
a quick pull. "Put it down quick," her father advised.
She dropped it until the weight touched bottom. "We
leave, maybe he try again," her father said as they
moved to another hole.
"Oolark, you try," her father said at the next hole.
There was one on the line, but just as the men saw it,
a leg touched the ice and it started to drop. Inerluk
jabbed the pole with the hooked end and soon he had
the crab on top of the ice. "Big one," he said as her
brother lowered the line. Her father took care of the crab
as Oolark had.
"Pull slow - no jerk," Inerluk said as Nedercook
stooped to try a line. The crab had not been raised from
the bottom very high, so it had not drifted away. It had
found the bait again. This time Nedercook did not cry
130
out, but concentrated on pulling evenly, and soon
Oolark saw a crab leg. Taking no chances, he grabbed
it and pulled it out of the water. It was the biggest so
far. "Good big one! You fix," her father said.
Oolark went back to digging and chiseling holes while
Inerluk checked the other lines. Nedercook dropped the
line to the bottom and prepared the crab, nestling it in
the snow. She hurried over to see what her father was
pulling up. Just as she reached the hole he was grabbing
a crab. He passed it to Nedercook; she danced around
in joy as she said to no one in particular, "We got four."
The next check of lines brought nothing. Oolark had
one hole open to water, so Nedercook scooped away
the ice while her father baited the line. Looking up
suddenly, Nedercook remembered her promise to her
mother. "Go home, help mama," she said.
"You try holes," her father said as he went to gather
the crabs for her to take home. She got one more but
it was an average size. Her father put it with the others
in the big mesh bag. Feeling happy, she almost hopped
part of the way home.
Nedercook came bursting in, pack and all, happy that
she had not forgotten to be home on time. "I remember,"
she said joyfully, swinging the pack down beside her
mother, who sat on a caribou skin. Her legs were
extended before her as she was using the light from the
skylight to sew by. Nedercook watched her mother's face
brighten and break into a big smile.
"Ar-nick-ka ... kuk-kook," (crab) she said, setting
aside her sewing. Nedercook proudly showed her the
big crab that she had pulled to the top of the ice. Her
mother knew and felt her pride. Taking the big crab,
she pulled off the big pincer and set it aside, then she
pulled all the legs from one side of the crab and placed
them in a pot. Her mother picked up the body of the
crab which had the legs attached to one side, and asked,
"Want to take it to Oopick?" then, "I set skins out."

131
 Nedercook gave her mother a big hug. Then holding
the crab by the legs so it could easily be seen, she walked
proudly to Oopick's. On the way, others old and young
asked her about the crab. Oopick was not very spry any
more, but happiness radiated from her wrinkled face and
her praise was high for her little friend. Even though
she was not a blood relative, Oopick had called her
"Grandchild" for as long as she could remember. It was
a custom back in those days between good friends.
Nedercook called her "Grandma Oopick." As
Nedercook started back she met her sister, Paniagon,
on her way out to the ice to help their father catch crabs.
She would help him take up the fishing gear at the end
of the day and pull the sled while their father guided
it over the rough places. Nedercook looked after her
sister for a long moment before turning toward home.
That evening when her father and sister returned
home, he set several of the nice crabs aside for Paniagon
to take home; some he put on the cache, as his wife also
liked frozen crab; the rest were carried into the inne.
Nedercook had rubbed the skins and cooked the crab
she had carried home. Her sister helped her to put more
crabs in pots to cook, and before leaving had a taste
of what her sister had cooked.
"Surprise Kimik," she said. Her husband was away
hunting for caribou. "Maybe home tomorrow."
Thanking her father, she left because she did not like
walking home in the dark. Kimik had taken Komo with
him, as he always did when he hunted alone. He had
had Komo ever since he was a pup. Often he had tied
Komo up while he was very little, because the elders
told him that the dog would not fight the leash and cry
if he did this early enough. Now Komo needed no leash,
only his master's command. Kimik treated Komo well,
and in return Komo loved him.
The villagers told a story of a man who horribly
mistreated a dog. Upon death his spirit had to return
132
as a dog and suffer the same treatment.
The crab cooked quickly and Nedercook finally had
the last pot of crab boiling. She was glad this was coming
to an end as her hands were tired from all the skins she
had rubbed yesterday and today, and also from taking
the hot cooked crabs out of the pot and putting in the
prickly-shelled crabs to cook. The inne was getting dark,
so it was time to light the seal oil lamp. Without
warning, the crab pot boiled over. The liquid ran into
the fire. Smoke and steam filled the room, making it
even darker.
Nedercook, in her excitement to stop the boiling pot
before it put out the fire, grabbed at the pot. It was too
hot and she dropped it. As it hit the dirt floor, the boiling
liquid splashed out and onto the back of her hand,
causing a burn that quickly blistered her skin. Her father,
who was removing his mukluk, came to help her and
pulled the pot from the edge of the fire. Acting quickly,
he grabbed some emergency kindling to revive the fire.
"It hurts," Nedercook cried as she went to her mother.
In all this excitement they did not notice that the pot
when dropped had hit a burning twig that flew and
landed on the fringed part of a grass rug in front of
Kiachook's bed. Suddenly flame broke out just as she
was about to examine her daughter's hand. "Fire!" they
cried as one. Inerluk turned and saw the flames. He
grabbed his big work mitten and soon smothered the
fire.
"Quick! Put hand in water," Kiachook said, passing
her daughter a pot of cold water. Then she went
outdoors and returned with a dipper of snow, which she
put into the water. While she did this, Nedercook took
her hand from the water, trying to see it in the dim light.
"Put it back," Kiachook commanded, then added, "Too
dark." She turned as she said this and busied herself with
the lighting of the oil lamp. By its flickering light she
looked at the injured hand. "Needs kug-ruk," (Alaskan
133
artemisia} she said. Remembering that they had sent their
pouch of it to a friend on the far side of the village,
Inerluk decided to go to the Big Dance House. It was
closer.
"I go Big Dance House, get some," Inerluk said as back
on went the mukluk he had removed, anP out the
passageway he hurried.
"Be all right," Kiachook consoled her. With an arm
around her daughter, she knelt beside her until Inerluk
returned.
He cut a strip of thin skin from one of the ground
squirrels that Nedercook had rubbed soft that day. He
called Nedercook to him as he knelt by the dim,
flickering light. Using some of the finely shredded beach
grass, he gently wiped the water from her hand, being
careful not to touch the injured part. Then he covered
the scalded area with the crumbled leaves of the plant
and wrapped it gently with the thin skin. "Be all right,"
he comforted.
Oolark arrived later than usual. He was smiling
broadly so they knew that his luck was good. His
hunting sack looked full. Removing it, he placed it before
his mother.
"Ar-nick-ka," she said as she pulled out a large
northern or tundra hare. These averaged twelve pounds,
sometimes more, and were white in winter with black
tipped ears. Reaching in again, she pulled out another
hare and two ptarmigans.
"You good hunter," she said proudly.
"S et two snares and little net," he said, passing off
his mother's praise.
That evening everyone took pity on Nedercook and
spoke comforting words to her, and she did not have
to crack the crab shells for her dinner.
"I get big pincers," Oolark said, going out to get the
ones their father had set near the entrance way. They
did not cook these, believing that they would be stronger
134
if they did not. After they were cleaned, these were used
as toys and were tossed up in the air a few inches. With
these they often played the "Ask" game. Ask any
question then flip the pincer up, and if it landed so it
stood on the open end, it was a strong "Yes." If it toppled
over so it lay arched away from the ground, it was a
questionable "Yes." If it fell in any other position it was
definitely "No." All the family cleaned these and passed
them to Nedercook.
After dinner Oolark skinned the two rabbits while his
mother picked and cleaned the ptarmigan. She saved
some of the feathers for use later when she would make
clay pots, plates and bowls. She believed that the
feathers strengthened the clay dishes. She preferred dog
hairs when they were available.
That evening after the lamp was out, Inerluk did not
wait for his daughter to ask for a story but offered to
tell a long one. Maybe he knew that she would be very
aware of the throbbing hand and could not fall easily
to sleep. He began:

The Grandson
Once long ago after a long famine, there was left only
a grandmother and her grandson. She raised him as best
she could. She taught him how to carve and make
spears, bows, and arrows, and how to care for the game
he killed for food. She also showed him how to make
a kayak.
When he had grown a little older, she told him one
day to go out and try to get an animal with horns. She
was very firm about warning him against trying to get
a big animal without horns because at his age she did
not want him to try to kill a bear. Finally, after many
attempts, he was able to get an animal with horns, a
caribou. At last he had grown to be a man. He would
get much food for his grandmother.
With his coming to manhood, the distantcliffs to the
west seemed to beckon to him until he could not resist
the call any longer. He made plans to leave his grand-

135
mother with plenty of food and, although the cliffs were
a long, long ways away, he had to go and see what was
there. Finally on the day he was to leave in his kayak,
he told his grandmother that he must find out what it
was that was drawing him to the cliffs.
For many days he paddled long and hard, finally
reaching the cliffs. They were very high and the water
washed right up to the base, so he continued to paddle
along offshore in front of the cliffs. Rounding a point
of rocks, he saw before him a large village. As he
paddled closer he could hear the people shouting.
"Kayak coming - visitor from up there."
When his kayak touched the beach, the people of the
village rushed forth and before he could get out they
picked up the kayak while he was still sitting in it. They
carried kayak and man away from the water before they
set the kayak down.
One man who seemed to be the chief came and said,
"Take this visitor to my home." When the villagers set
him down, he left his kayak where it was placed.
In all the games that followed, wrestling, high
jumping, and all, the visitor excelled over all the village
competitors.
One man asked the chief if the visitor could go with
them to a cave. The chief nodded his consent. The
visitor then followed the men to a cave where they
served a big dish of bumblebees. He could not bring
himself to eat from the dish, even though the others did.
When they were through they all returned to the Big
Dance House and the games continued.
He used all his strength and the tricks he had learned,
because he knew if he lost they would kill him. He was
always the winner. During the evening a woman with
a big fur ruff entered the room. The ruff was made from
both wolf and wolverine, an indication that the family
was rich (which meant a good hunter in the family).She
asked where Kar-ar-nark man was, meaning the man
from up there. When she was shown who he was, she
approached and asked him to go with her. Next morning
when he woke up, he found that he was in a grave with
a dead skeleton. (Eskimos in those days built graves
above ground because the ground was usually frozen
too hard to dig with their primitive tools, so they used

136
 driftwood to make an above-ground enclosure.}
When he returned to the village he told them what
had happened. They said that she was a woman who
had picked the salmonberries after they had turned
white. She had died last summer, but her spirit was still
earthbound. Then the villagers tried to get the better
of him in more games, but he was always the winner.
After this he was favored by the chief.
Soon he married the chief's daughter.
Later he remembered his grandmother and decided
he should visit her, so he started back in a skin boat
with his wife and some of her family. They found his
grandmother alive and well. He was glad. His grand-
mother was glad there were other people living beside
them. The grandson told her of the people of the village
and said he did not know there could be so many people
in the world. As the years passed there was much
visiting back and forth between his grandmother's place
and the village.

Inerluk paused when he finished telling the story, then

he added, "Hand will get well."

137
 CHAPTER 19
OOPICK DIES

T he cold, dark, and often stormy days of winter

were passing and then, after one very stormy
day, Oopick was found dead in her bed.
Kiachook did what she could to clean her face and
straighten her hair. Oopick had reached the very old,
old age when dark hairs start to grow in to replace the
gray. It was said this happened to the very, very old
and that their eyesight also begins to improve after a
certain age. Inerluk and his sons, along with other men
of the village, gathered wood for her grave.
Nedercook felt great loss and deep sadness. Oopick
looked so small and wrinkled, and although Nedercook
looked at Oopick's face, the crinkly smile did not come.
138
The men placed Oopick in the grave with her few most
treasured belongings. They did not cut the fur ruff from
Oopick's parka, because it was hers. If it had been a ruff
that was loaned to her, they would cut it off and return
it to the lender at this time. As they built the crude shelter
about her body to keep the dogs and animals away, tears
rolled down Nedercook's cheeks. She could not stop
them. Kiachook said nothing, but put her arm around
her daughter for a little while. She knew that some
grieving and tears were healthy.
That evening, and for the next six nights, villagers
brought food and gathered in the Big Dance House, to
eat and sing. There was some dancing to celebrate
139
Oopick's departure to the spirit world. Kiachook let
Nedercook cry without restraint for the first day, nor
did she say anything to stop the sniffling and sobs during
the first night. On the afternoon of the second day, as
the evening approached, she walked to where Nedercook
stood rubbing red eyes, and placing an arm gently
around her shoulders said, "You have cried enough.
Now it is time to stop, for they say that too many tears
will but wet the grave of the departed. She suffers not,
but she would be saddened to see you so unhappy."
After a brief silence Kiachook added, "Daughter, when
grief comes into your life, try hard to keep doing the
things you are used to doing, and eat as you always
have. If you don't eat and work, it will want to become
a habit and it will be much harder for you later on."
Then she looked into her daughter's red eyes as she said,
"We will go to the Big Dance House tonight and give
our help to the others who are celebrating Oopick's
admission to the spirit world." Kiachook added,
"Sometimes the spirit of a person will not leave and it
becomes what we call Earthbound Spirit. This is to be
pitied."
The early days of spring passed quickly with Kiachook
teaching Nedercook all she could, praising her when she
was deserving, keeping quiet when she thought she could
do better, but quick to correct if she saw her making
a mistake.
Some of the village women, like Oopick, had dark
lines tatooed on their chins. Usually there was one
vertical line in the center, but some had three lines; these
were always below the lower lip and stopped above the
end of the chin. Nedercook said that when she grew
older she was going to have three vertical lines on her
chin, but for now she would settle for a dark line going
around her wrist, like a bracelet. Her mother gave her
permission. Today Paniagon would do it during
brightest sunlight.
140
 A thin bone needle and twisted sinew were on hand,
with the darkest charcoal. The needle pierced a small,
pinched section of wrist skin and followed just below
the skin for a very short distance. Darkest charcoal was
rubbed all along the sinew and then it was drawn
through. This was repeated until Nedercook had a dark
line nearly two inches long. The pain was extreme and
she asked Paniagon to stop. This cured her of wanting
any future chin markings, and the wrist line was never
lengthened. (This practice should not be attempted by
anyone of this generation because it is likely to cause
infection and injury.)

141
 CHAPTER 20
BARTER

O ne day while snow still covered all of the land,

but the sun was starting to thaw little spots on
the sunny side, two men walked into the
village. They were from the village of Na-chiv-vic (White
Mountain). They brought a verbal invitation from their
chief to come to their village celebration. This celebra-
tion was held once a year. Each year it was held at a
different village just before traveling got too difficult
because of the melting snow. This year it would be held
on the Fish River.
The gathering of different villages together in the early
spring was a custom practiced by many villages during
Nedercook's childhood. Two men were dispatched by
the elders to each of the invited villages. The invited
would either walk, pulling a sled carrying gifts, or go
by dog team, a sled with a few dogs helping to pull. Not
many people, perhaps two or three families, had dogs
back in Nedercook's time, because dogs required much
food that people could use. At times this food might be
needed to get a family through the winter. So it was only
the good hunter who sometimes kept a dog. If a dog
team was needed, it would be formed by using all the
dogs from a village.
Visitors who came on invitation would gather at the
host village's Big Dance House. There would be much
feasting for everyone. Then the people of the village that
had sent the invitation would sing, and in their song they
would describe what they would like to receive from
the visitors.
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 Then came the visitors' turn to sing and they told the
villagers what they would like to receive as gifts.
Expensive gifts such as fur parkas were exchanged at
these meetings. The visitors would stay one or two nights
and then return home. Their sled would be filled with
the exchange gifts, such as mukluks, parkas, wooden
dishes, bed robes, and other prized objects.
This year Inerluk decided to remain at home. Last year
he had taken Nutchuk with him. It was the first time
Nutchuk had been away from his village on a trading
mission. They had gone up the coast to Solomon and
stayed two nights. The trip gave Nutchuk a chance to
see other people, mingle, and know the feeling of being
a visitor.
"You go this time," Inerluk said to Nutchuk after the
invitation came; then he added, "Next year take
Oolark." A big smile was on his face as he said this.
He purposely avoided Oolark's gaze because he knew
that Oolark did not like singing in public. "He older by
then," added his father.
Word spread through the village that Nutchuk would
be taking Inerluk's place this year. Excitement stirred
the villagers as they brought gifts to the home of Inerluk,
along with their requests for what they wished in
exchange. Five other men from the village were also
going. Each man had a certain number of gifts to take
along, with the responsibility for the requested
exchanges. The person responsible for an exchange gift
had to sing a song at the gathering before all the strangers
of the village. The song included the name of the person
sending the gift, a description of the gift, and the desired
exchange. He was responsible for making as favorable
an exchange as possible.
Nedercook wanted her brother to bring back a flint
arrowhead, because for years she had heard of the great
fight that had occurred by the Fish River, above the
village of White Mountain. It was told that a group of

143
Indians had come to attack the Eskimos. Many were
killed on both sides, but the Indians finally retreated.
For years after, arrows and arrowheads were found
where this great battle had taken place.
Many villagers and children turned out early to see
the six men leave with the two sleds. One of the sleds
belonged to Inerluk, so Nutchuk could choose two men
as his companions. Each man had the packs he was
responsible for, along with food for the trail, and his
personal belongings.
After the men departed, Oolark and his father went
fishing for crab. Nedercook stayed home to help her
mother. There was much scraping of caribou legs to be
done, skins to be tanned, and mukluks to be made. In
between this work Nedercook also tended the cooking
pots. The scraping was hard work and she could feel
herself perspiring as she did this. The skylight was open
but it did not provide much fresh air. This handwork
was very tiring but she did not complain; she knew she
was helping her mother with things that her sister had
done uncomplainingly for years. "You sing," her mother
said, "Learn new song." Nedercook listened to her
mother sing the words:

WOMAN HAS
SEAL POKE OF FISH
I heard of a woman
who has a seal poke
full of prepared fish in oil.
What has she used for a kayak7
Her hands have been used for this.

"Short one," her mother said as she finished singing.

Then, as they both rubbed skins, Nedercook sang the
song as closely as she could, getting in all of the
"A-yong-eeh-yays." These phrases were in most of the
songs, filling in the song and carrying on the tune.
It was customary for the children of the village to learn

144
all the songs, stories, and legends that were told or sung
to them, because the Rocky Point Eskimos did not have
a written language. They depended upon the memories
of the children as they grew older to carry on the songs
and legends so they would not be lost for future genera-
tions. Therefore, the stories had to be memorized and
memorized correctly. The bedtime stories were also
lessons, because the next day Nedercook would repeat
last night's story to either a parent or an elder. Any
mistakes were always corrected.
The evening dusk descended without mother or
daughter being aware of it. They were trying to finish
the last round of squirrel skins, busily rubbing the skins
over and over again until the pelts were soft and dry,
then pushing them onto stretchers for the last time. The
skins would be left thus overnight to rid them of any
moisture. In the morning they could be sewn into
garments or tied in bundles and stored.
As they were thus occupied, Paniagon came upon
them. "Ar-nick-ka," she exclaimed as she stood in the
entrance way, looking at them in the dim light. "Why
no light?" she questioned.
"Too busy," her mother replied. They had been too
intent upon their work to notice the dimming light.
"I make some for you," Paniagon said as she passed
a bowl of Eskimo ice cream to her mother.
"Quana," Kiachook said happily as she took and held
the bowl in both of her hands. When she had it safely
on her lap she used her index finger to scoop up a finger
full. "Ummm, nuk-goo (good). Daughter, taste it," she
said, turning her head in Nedercook's direction.
Nedercook came to kneel by her mother's side. She
liked the moss berries that were in the ice cream. Her
sister, in the meantime, had taken a light from the coals
to light the seal oil lamp. Suddenly it seemed very light
in the inne. Kiachook offered the bowl to Paniagon but
Paniagon shook her head.
145
 "Keep tasting," she said with a smile. Then she added,
"I go before too dark."
"Quana," her mother called after her.
Shortly after, Oolark and Inerluk returned. The big
mesh bag was full of crabs and there were more on the
sled. Oolark spotted the ice cream and took a big finger
full.
"Paniagon make it," his mother said proudly.
That evening it was Nedercook's turn to tell what she
had learned, as she would do after memorizing anything
new. As she sang "Woman Has a Seal Poke of Fish" her
parents listened. They knew where every word should

146
be. Nedercook sang it correctly. Her mother listened
carefully, smiling her pride in the darkness.
Time passed swiftly as each day of early spring
brought more light and the nights became shorter. Now
the village was filled with excitement as expectation grew
for the return of the men with the exchange gifts.
One day before dark they returned. That evening the
villagers gathered at the Big Dance House, sitting in
semi-circles on the floor. The men who had taken
exchange gifts came from the opening to stand before
the crowd. In turn they announced the name of the
person who had sent a gift with them, and the name of
the gift brought back. Then from their bags they
produced the exchange gift for that person.
Among some families there was much rejoicing, while
others thought, next year we will make a big gift to send.

147
 CHAPTER 21
NEDERCOOK'S BIRTH

I nerluk seldom allowed himself the luxury of reflec-

tion during the precious daylight hours, but today
he had already hunted in the morning and brought
meat home. This afternoon he was going out on the ice
to fish for tomcod just as soon as his little daughter
gathered together her fishing gear. As he sat waiting he
remembered Nedercook's birth.

Over ten years ago Kiachook had complained about

a lump in her abdomen. It seemed she had carried it for
over three years and no child had grown from it. People
said she was too old to bear more children. He
remembered how she had grown restless. It was then
that they had agreed to go and see one of the wise men
of their village. They were the prophets, the healers.
A person went to one of them when in trouble. The term
used in those days was almost like "miracle men."
This lump was beyond Kiachook's control for it did
not change. It lay inert as a long upright lump, not the
normal shape for a pregnant woman. For a time she had
listened to the others in the village; they said, "Kiachook
too old to bear children." Yes, they were both old, but
Kiachook was dissatisfied with the advice of these
women.
Inerluk remembered that the miracle man had told
his wife to lie on her back while Inerluk sat on a log
nearby. The miracle man placed his hands over the
lump. Then he moved his gentle hands and carefully
felt the bump and all of its outline. Then, with his hands
still moving gently over the lump, he began chanting
his message. His voice rose and fell as he asked, "This
still, quiet, lifeless form held captive in this woman's

148
 womb - may it this day be given the spirit of life to
grow - and come into this world of the living as a
special child favored by the miracle men."
As the months passed the lump began to change and
later Kiachook felt the movement of life. Inerluk
remembered their joy.
They moved from the village to their summer camp
to be near the good berry patches and to where salmon
passed close to the beach on their migration.
It was at this summer camp on a bright, sunny day
in August that little Nedercook was born, outdoors on
the beach beside a large log. As was the custom then,
after the birth Kiachook arose and stepped upon the
small pebbles. In winter small pebbles were placed upon
the floor for the first steps of a mother after giving birth,
but here the pebbles were all over so she did not have
to bother with that.
In celebration of the baby's birth Oopick, being the
oldest woman of their village, would have the privilege
of asking them for whatever food she wanted. This was
the custom when a baby was born.
Years later when Nedercook could talk, she told her
parents about the brightness that hurt her eyes, and of
the big log that lay beside her. She remembered nothing
else of that day.
About that time of year the villagers gathered the low
salmon-colored berries that grew on the hillsides, those
they called salmonberries. A smile lingered on Inerluk's
face as he remembered how beautiful they thought this
little girl child was, how her mother had gathered the
berries so her milk would carry the good, strength-
giving fluid that would nourish this robust child.

"Papa, papa, I am ready," Inerluk's thoughts were

interrupted as Nedercook came bursting from the inne,
clad in parka and mukluks.
Inerluk slipped his pack over his shoulder. He decided
against carrying his daughter's, knowing she would take
pride in carrying her own. They did not have far to go
to reach the hole he had cut yesterday. Nedercook
quickly cleared the ice from the hole and dropped her
149
line in. The line was wrapped around two sticks.
Nedercook held one in each hand, about two feet apart.
Then like an expert she wrapped the line around her left
stick a couple of times and began to jig with her right
hand. When she caught a fish she would raise her right
hand, and then with her left she would catch the line
with her short stick and pull it up. As she did this, her
right hand would bring the end of her short fishing stick
under to catch the line and bring it up, repeating this
until the fish was up on top of the ice. She would then
release the fish from the hook and drop the line back
into the water. With the short stick she would quickly
kill the tomcod. She had been taught early to kill things
quickly, never to let anything suffer.
They fished until the quiet darkness began to settle
about them. It was time to gather the fish, at least twenty
pounds. Inerluk shouldered the pack and they headed
home.
"Papa, can I go tell them what we got?" Nedercook
asked as they drew dose.
"Yes, go," he said gently. As he watched her run he
indulged in one small chuckle, for he knew the family
would be aware of their return. He could see the flicker
of the outdoor cooking light. They would see her coming
on ahead and all go inside before she got there, and be
busy about other things. She would burst excitedly upon
them and say, "Come see what we caught!"
When Inerluk came dose enough to see the cooking
fire he could smell the pot of seal meat. The fire was
reduced to coals by now, but the pot still simmered.
Kiachook had let the fire die down to save wood,
because it was the woman's job to gather the small pieces
of wood for the cooking fire.
The family gathered around the glowing coals by the
steaming pot. The chill in the air on that calm evening
did not disturb anyone as they filled their plates with
hot food. The stars twinkled brightly overhead while

150
the moon rose slowly above the horizon, turning lighter
as the minutes passed and sending down a soft light to
fall about the quiet people, whose only sound was that
of eating. It was such a calm evening that Inerluk turned
open the skylight. He carried the last of the glowing coals
indoors and placed them in the indentation dug into the
ground and surrounded by rocks . It was in the center
of the room. This was where Kiachook usually cooked
when the weather was too cold, or if she was busy
working at something and still wanted to keep an eye
on the cooking.
The dim moonlight, filtered through the skylight, plus
the glowing coals, gave the room and Nedercook a
warm, secure feeling as she prepared for bed.
"Papa, are you too tired to tell me a story?" she asked.
Inerluk was silent for a few moments as he thought
about the difference this child was making in their lives,
and how the stories he had told to each of his older
children seemed to take on new importance as he
repeated them to little Nedercook. lilt will be the story
of the shrew," he said. He began:

The Shrew
Once a shrew or mole heard someone smgmg,
"Shrew, shrew, he has very short hair." So the shrew
replied, "Ha, ha, my grandmother made my hair very
short so when I travel in stormy weather it will not matt
up. " Then the song continued, "Shrew, shrew, why do
you have such short legs?" The shrew replied, "Ha , ha,
my grandmother made them short so that if I am
traveling on slippery ice in a big wind I shall not blow
away. "
The song continued again, "Shrew, shrew, why was
your nose so long and skinny?"
He replied, "Ha , ha, my grandmother made my nose
long and thin so that if I am sometimes hungry and I
come across a seal poke tied up tight, it will be small
enough that I can still sip a little of its contents and not
starve. " Still the song persisted, "Shrew, shrew, why
are your teeth the color that they are, as if they have
been burnt or scorched?" To this there was no answer.
Only the sounds of a crying or weeping shrew were
heard.

152
 CHAPTER 22
SEAL HUNTING

N ext morning the two brothers decided to go seal

hunting. They checked the weather as their
father had taught them. This was the time of
year when the seals lay on top of the ice, sunning them-
selves in the hot spring sunshine. They raised their heads
to look around; if nothing was moving they would lie
down again. If they raised their heads and caught the
movement of a hunter - flip! - almost before you
could make a move, the seal would be down a hole and
out of sight. This time of year the sun shone bright and
hot, reflecting from ice and snow a burning, tanning,
snow-blinding brightness as the days lengthened. The
sun melted the snow in spots to make little fresh water
pools on top of the salty sea ice.
Nutchuk and Oolark climbed over several pressure
ridges, heading for the highest peak of ice, and then sat
close together so their elbows practically touched. They
were wearing primitive eye pieces to protect themselves
from snow blindness. (The eye pieces consisted of two
pieces of bone or wood, with small horizontal slits to
see through. The pieces were attached to each other at
the nose with rawhide and tied to the person's head.
Others were made of one front piece with slits and tied
to the head. Snow blindness was a very painful thing;
one would have to stay in the dark part of the inne for
three or more days until the eyes recovered.)
Oolark saw a dark spot on the ice to the left and
nudged his brother, who looked and nodded his head.
Both knew that the less they talked while hunting, the
153
better their chances. Oolark was looking at the dark line
and could barely see one end rise a little, when, ever
so gently, his brother gave his elbow two nudges. Years
of hunting had taught them not to make sudden moves
while watching for game, but each man was capable of
great speed and quick movements when it was necessary.
Ever so slowly Oolark turned his head to the right,
just in time to see a seal's head come out of the ice. It
poked its head high and looked about two or three times,
sinking back out of sight each time. Then it crawled out
onto the ice, flipped a little, and lay still.
They saw there was no cover close to the seal. A little
to the left there was some rough ice, enough to hide them
if they were careful.
"We try," whispered Nutchuk as they waited for the
seal to drop back to sleep. Quickly they were off the
high ice and each froze in position before the seal looked
up. Bit by bit they worked their way around until the
ice was between them and the seal, then they crept
forward on hands and knees. There was no more
concealment. For a short time they looked, then
Nutchuk motioned with his hand that his shorter brother
should try. Oolark was wearing his lightest-colored
clothing for hunting on the ice. Nutchuk watched his
brother. He was doing well - if only he could make
it another hundred feet. As Oolark started forward from
his crouched position, another seal suddenly poked its
head up a few feet in front of him. It made a sound as
it ducked out of sight. This must have warned the
sleeping seal, for it raised its head and caught the
surprised Oolark in movement. He stopped to crouch
too late. The seal disappeared. .
Nutchuk quickly came forward and silently indicated
that Oolark should stand guard at the first hole, while
he hurried on to the sleeping seal's empty hole. They
knew that either the first seal or another one passing
just might try to poke its head out again. When Nutchuk
154
reached the sleeping seal's hole he looked back at Oolark
and saw that he was ready to thrust his spear on a
moment's notice. Almost an hour passed while the
brothers stood like two statues, poised to strike.
Then Oolark saw a very slight change in the water
hole. The water rose and fell ever so slightly. He tensed
as his grip tightened on his spear. Soon there was more
movement in the water and he knew that a seal was
about to surface. He saw the nostrils first, and as he
jabbed the spear with all his strength, he saw its head.
He knew he had made a hit. The spear point came free
from the shaft. The attached rawhide held fast. Nutchuk
came running and together they pulled the mammal from
the water. The seal was speared through the nose.
"Young be happy," Nutchuk said as he looked at it.
Oolark knew that a ban was placed on ball playing, to
be lifted only when a hunter speared a seal in the nose.
They took their places again for a time longer, but no
more seals came.
They decided to return early enough that the children
could have some fun that evening. As they began to
climb the hillside in front of the village, children, anxious
to know whether the ban was lifted, ran down to meet
them, just as they had run to meet all the other lucky
hunters before them.
The children's joyful shouts alerted the villagers.
When the two brothers dragged the seal through the
village, the restrictions on ball playing were automat-
ically lifted. Children appeared carrying their balls. Once
again the happy squeals and laughter of the children
were heard.
That evening, as soon as she could, Nedercook took
the nice new ball Paniagon had made and given her at
the big festival. It was one of the better balls, made from
caribou skin and filled with the hairs of the caribou. Her
ball was light and bouncy. The balls of some of the other
children were made with thicker leather and filled with
ISS
finely scraped wood shavings. She joined the children
below the village, where the ground was beginning to
show through here and there. It was the flattest area.
This was the time of year for hunting seals and
oogruk. The Inerluk brothers decided to go out the next
morning. Open water was visible from the village, and
they knew the animals liked to swim along the edge of
the open water and sleep on the ice. Nedercook asked
if she could go but her brothers refused, saying that if
the ice went out they would have enough trouble getting
themselves back to shore.
They decided to take the kayak today, so they stored
some food in it along with their primitive gear and plenty
of rawhide. They put the kayak on the little sled with
ivory runners, a sled made especially for the kayak. The
brothers checked the ice, as their father would, before
leaving the shore. About half~/ay out to the open water,
at a point where their father could see it from where he
was working on a net, they stood a pole up. It was about
five feet tall. This they would call a marker for help.
The sun was hot and the reflected rays from the snow
and water burned their faces and hands even darker.
This was a good year for game. They could see several
seals and oogruks. Back in those days, when game was
plentiful it was much more tame, perhaps because of
the Eskimo's quiet method of hunting. Oolark and
Nutchuk pulled the kayak as near to the water as they
could and still keep it hidden behind a pile of rough ice.
Taking their spears, they climbed to the top of a pressure
ridge and peeked over.
Two seals were swimming in the water; farther out,
an oogruk was swimming and diving. To the right, a
few seals lay about on a little open area of ice. To their
left they saw what hunters of their day always hoped
to see and seldom did - two oogruks, a harpooner's
perfect targets. The pressure ridge they were on
continued in an angle until it was near the triangular
156
piece of ice. They looked it over carefully.
While they were looking out to sea they saw a long,
dark line above the water and knew right away that the
murres were coming back. The birds arrive annually
around AprilS to 10. When they first arrive, they fish
and fly in large groups, gathering by the hundreds,
swimming and diving in the open water. Within a few
weeks they fly in smaller flocks during the evenings,
toward the high cliffs, approaching them to within a
quarter of a mile or less, then veering sharply and flying
back to the water. Flock after flock will go through this
ritual for a few weeks, flying closer and closer to the
cliff each evening. Then, as if by signal, they will all
rest on the cliff overnight, but leave after sunup in the
morning.
The two brothers were happy to see the birds return,
but they did not sing songs to the new arrivals, as the
women of the village did. With the coming of the
murres, the eider ducks and the oldsquaw ducks were
also on the open water. The sounds of the murres splash-
landing in the water, and their calls filling the air, seemed
to help as the two brothers worked their way along the
back side of the pressure ridge until they were directly
behind the two oogruks.
They both knew they would be lucky to get one
oogruk, but the brothers were daring and resourceful
hunters. They were willing to take a chance if there was
something to be gained, so they devised a plan.
Nutchuk, being the taller and the faster runner, would
try to get the oogruk nearer the water. His brother would
try for the closer one.
Being careful and quiet, they crept forward until they
were behind the piece of triangular ice readying their
spears and themselves. Then a slight nod of Nutchuk's
head and both sprang forward. Oolark went to the right,
his brother to the left of the triangle of ice. Oolark's
oogruk was so close. He thrust with all his strength as
1S7
he rounded the ice triangle. Nutchuk rushed toward the
other oogruk, which had not made a hole in the ice but
had crawled onto it from the open water. He flung his
spear with all the force he had. The spear went deep,
but the oogruk rolled into the water and dived out of
sight. As it did so, the inflated seal poke tied to the end
of the rawhide and fastened to the spearhead was
dragged into the water. Nutchuk turned to look at his
brother. The oogruk lay beside Oolark on the ice. The
spear had plunged into the back of the neck in the area
of the spinal cord. Both brothers had happy smiles.
While Oolark rolled his oogruk farther from the hole,
Nutchuk went for the kayak. The inflated seal poke was
bobbing some 50 feet away.
The brothers quickly put the kayak into the water.
Oolark steadied it while his brother got in. Nutchuk
paddled out to the inflated seal poke, took the pole with
the hook on the end, and hooked the rawhide. Then he
fastened a strong line to the rawhide that held the
bobbing seal poke. He paddled back to the ice. He said,
"Next time we leave long rawhide tied to poke." Oolark
took the line and tied it to the triangle of ice. Then he
offered to run back to the marker and put a dark parka
over it.
Inerluk was busy working on the net, but as he
worked he kept looking out to sea for a signal. He looked
up as he had a hundred times before. His eyes caught
movement, one of the sons traveling fast, reaching the
pole post and leaving a dark object. The figure started
back from where it had come.
Inerluk picked up his net and took it indoors; one
never left something like that out where dogs could eat it.
"Sons need help," he said to his wife and daughter,
"I go with sled." He continued, "Nedercook go to Kimik,
tell him."
"Can I come out?" Nedercook asked her father.
"After you tell him," he said as he started out the door.
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 Nedercook grabbed her parka and mittens and was
right behind him on her way to Kimik's. Breathlessly
she burst upon them. Paniagon was preparing to go
fishing. Kimik was repairing a broken spear. Everyone
became excited. All rushed out the door. Kimik got his
sled and rawhide and the three were off. For an expectant
mother, Paniagon traveled fast.
Inerluk traveled sWiftly and they did not catch up to
him until they reached the pressure ridge, where they
could see the young men cutting up one oogruk. They
saw the rawhide line and the seal poke floating in the
water. For a few minutes they did quite a lot of talking.
Then Nutchuk said, "We got one in water." He drew
on the line, bringing the seal poke to the edge of the ice.
Soon the oogruk was visible. Oolark jabbed his spear
into it to make sure it would not get away. With some
struggle they finally got a stronger line tied to the
oogruk. Everyone took the line and pulled and pulled
until it was out of the water. After exclaiming over it,
the two brothers began to skin and cut it up, while
Inerluk and his daughters loaded the first one into the
sled he had brought.
When the second one was ready, it was put into
Kimik's sled. The skin went in first with the bloody side
up, then the meat was piled on along with inner parts.
All washed their hands, then the kayak was lashed to
the little sled with ivory runners.
Nedercook looked out to sea. Seals were swimming
about and the ducks and the murres were making much
commotion as they splashed in the water. The sun felt
warm and friendly. It was such a beautiful, peaceful
sight, one that would remain with her, returning again
and again to haunt her childhood memories.
Nutchuk and his father took one sled, Kimik and
Oolark the other, while the sisters brought the kayak.
When they reached the pressure ridges, all the men
helped one sled and then the other over it, and last the
159
kayak. As they started on again there was much giggling
and laughing between Nedercook and her sister as they
pulled, pushed and guided the kayak over the ice.
Inerluk had picked up the signal parka on the way out
to the kill.
By late sunset they made it to the beach. They took
the shoreline to the bottom of the incline below the
village. All slowed considerably as they started up the
hill. Fellow villagers came running to help them as far
as Inerluk's home. Some of the not so good hunters
decided they would go hunting the next day.
Kiachook had made a fire outdoors and was by the
big cooking pots. The expression on her face showed
joy. She moved about like a young woman - here were
two sleds of food. She was never afraid to show her joy,
affection or appreciation. She threw her arms about her
two sons, her husband, and then her daughters. Raising
her head, she looked skyward as she said, "Quana,
quana." Her thanks were words of deep gratitude, meant
for a kind and all-giving spirit of the universe.
Then, as if remembering, she said, "I cooked." As she
moved toward the pots, her family moved with her.
Everyone had been so busy and excited that food had
been forgotten. As they approached they were pleased
to see that she had carried out bowls and plates for
everyone.
Dusk was falling by the time they finished eating. The
two brothers told of their experiences for the benefit of
their mother.
"I come help tomorrow," Paniagon said as she and
Kimik left, with Komo pulling a sled carrying oogruk
parts. Most of the meat was put on the cache for the
night, some in the first entrance way, and some the sons
took with them to the Big Dance House.
Kiachook knew that her husband had put forth much
energy on this day, so she decided to tell Nedercook a
story while her husband rested.
160
 I will tell you about your grandmother, who is no
longer living. She was not as tall as I am, but she was
a good woman and a good sewer. She made little
stitches like Paniagon, not big, careless stitches like
mine. She always tried to sew and help the less fortunate
whenever she could. She used to tell me, "Anytime you
help somebody, it is not lost, someday it comes back
to you."
She used to say to us children, "Don't make fun of
old people because one day you too will be old. And
do not make fun or ridicule people, because if you do
it will someday come back to you."
When your grandmother was a young girl our village
would be visited by little men - they were not very
tall. When I put my arm straight out in front of me and
look straight ahead from the tip of my nose to the tip
of my finger, it would be nearly a hand taller than they
were. (Her mother's estimate was a bit under three feet.)
These little men possessed great strength. Though I was
young, I can still remember how their little tracks
looked. There is one woman we knew in the village of
Nome; this woman claimed that the little men had once
come to her home. One of them was determined to
become familiar with her. She was afraid to say no, but
she started to resist his hands and realized that the little
man possessed great strength. So she gave up any
resistance and let him have his way. Afterwards she
knew he had not only unusual muscular strength, but
his male part also swelled to such a size that it was
painful to her and caused her loss of blood.

Kiachook paused in her reminiscence and as she did

she was conscious of the deep, steady breathing of her
two companions. Sighing, she rolled over to invite sleep.

161
 CHAPTER 23
BABY

K iachook had barely fallen asleep, it seemed,

when someone was gently shaking her shoulder.
First she thought she was dreaming, then she
heard Kimik's low voice, "Come, Paniagon say maybe
baby come." Kiachook awoke immediately, quickly
dressed in the dark, then followed Kimik out of the inne.
When Nedercook awoke the next morning she found
she was alone. She dressed quickly, thinking how strange
it was because as a rule she was the first one to wake
up. She ran to the little knoll above the inne to see
whether she could see any of her family from there. She
saw her father coming from the village and ran to meet
him.
"Got granddaughter," he said, then added, "Kimik
come late, get your mother."
"Can I go see?" she asked eagerly.
Her father nodded his head and she was off running.
Paniagon was up. She had already crossed on the small
pebbles which her mother had put on the floor.
Back in those days it was customary for a girl to be
named after any woman who had died in the past year
or so; a boy was named after a man in the same manner.
"We call her Oopick," Paniagon said, looking at her
sister. Then picking up the small bundle, she let
Nedercook hold it. Nedercook looked at the little
wrinkled face and smiled. Surely this could be Oopick.
Suddenly she was happy. She knew that the people of
her village always loved the children; they cuddled, held,
and sang to them a lot while they were young, praised
162
them, and gave them pet names. She would be able to
hold little Oopick often. After the baby grew older,
Paniagon would want her to eat more solid foods . She
would chew part of her food until it was soft and fine,
and then she would feed it to the baby, until she could
eat like adults did. A child was never ignored; it knew
love and caring from the time it was born.
"We go home now. Let Paniagon sleep," it was her
mother who interrupted her thoughts. Gently she put
little Oopick down on Paniagon's bed. Then she put her
arms around her sister and said, "Happy for you."
Paniagon gave back a hug, then went to her bed.

During breakfast that morning Nedercook's brothers

said, "Ice go soon. We hunt today." After they left she
helped her mother and father cut and care for the
oogruks. Inerluk hung the heavy pieces to dry. Kiachook
filled seal pokes with blubber which would render of
its own into oil. These were stored in the stormy day
room, because it was now too hot outdoors for storing
oil. The wann, gentle breeze was perfect for drying meat.
The family busied themselves with the oogruk through
the day, until Paniagon came. She was carrying little
Oopick in the hood of her parka, using a long belt to
tie around her. The belt went over Paniagon's right

163
shoulder and under the baby's seat, then under
Paniagon's left arm, and tied in front of her chest. This
was the standard way of carrying children. As Paniagon
sat on a log, Nedercook had to stop and peak at the
baby. Then both grandparents did the same. Kiachook
brought a pot of freshly cooked oogruk from the fire
and said, "We eat."
Evening brought the hunters home. One pulled a seal,
the other the kayak. Kimik also pulled a seal. They came
to Inerluk's knowing Paniagon would be there.
Nedercook liked having a fire outdoors. She put on a
couple more pieces of wood to make it look cheerful
as the hunters approached. Happiness showed on their
faces.
"Tomorrow we fish for tomcod," Kiachook told
Nedercook, because the ice would soon be gone and it
would not be back until fall. Fishing was good now.
Others of the village were seen on the ice every day,
fishing close to the beach.
That evening, since Inerluk had worked on two
oogruk windpipes during the day, preparing them for
leather, he decided to repeat to Nedercook one of the
old, old, beliefs of the village. Back then a woman's
sewing kit was even more primitive than Nedercook's.
Nedercook's sewing kit was a circular gut bag with a
drawstring at the top. Inside were bone needles, a skin
thimble and usually a small ulu. The kit her father
described was just a piece of skin wrapped around some
bone needles and a piece of tough skin for a thimble.

If a man out hunting should happen to see one of

those sewing kits lying on the ground, he was warned
never, never, ever to pick it up, because he just might
change into a woman.
If a woman out walking or picking berries should see
a piece of a man's spear -leave it alone - or she might
change into a' man.
These objects seem to have a strong hold over the

164
/

\
f
'" .i
1.

,,
f

165
 viewer; he is seized by a great desire to pick it up.
I saw one once, long ago, but I had been warned so
I knew of this belief. I did not pick it up. For they say
of these things, that if one knows of the belief it is easier
to resist the desire to pick it up. Knowing this, it will
give you strength so you can step away from it. If you
stoop down and look, you will see that it does not touch
the ground, but hovers just a little above it.
There is a legend about a man who lived at T op-Kuk.
He had two wives. Years and years ago, some men who
were good hunters had two wives. Most men could not
afford two wives, so it became standard to have only
one wife.
One day this man left his home to go hunting. He
climbed a little knoll where he would be able to look
down and out across the sea. He was hoping to spot
a seal from this higher place. As he glanced down he
saw a sewing kit on the ground near him. Without
thinking, he picked it up. He returned to his home -
and then there were three women living in that house.

When her father finished Nedercook thought how

advanced her people were to have a real sewing kit.
Next morning Nedercook's two brothers and Kimik
left to go hunting. They took the kayak because they
would be at the water's edge.
Nedercook carried the fishing gear for her mother and
herself. Kiachook liked to get out and fish in the warm
sunshine. She carried her walking stick whenever she
was going any distance from the inne these days. It
served three purposes: to help her on slippery places,
to check where she was going when the footing was
uncertain over thin ice, and to help when water covered
a soft bottom. When footing was doubtful she would
jab her stick in front as she cautiously chose her steps.
When footing was safe the stick barely touched ground.
She traveled fast.
Happily she took her place near Nedercook. Other
women were scattered over the ice, all fishing. The
women differed from the men in that, when knowing
166
there was no other game to scare away, they laughed
and talked as they fished. But they did not stomp their
feet, because that would scare the fish. In general, they
had a good time. They would exclaim over an extra large
or small fish. Sometimes they exchanged fishing holes
or told stories.
Nedercook's mother and other women of her village
would always stop what they were doing and sing a song
to the first bird of any species when it returned in the
spring. Each kind was welcomed with a different song.
Nedercook and her mother were happily fishing when
they heard the call of a gull. Looking seaward, they saw
two birds flying. Kiachook stopped fishing and so did
the others, who knew the words of the gull song, and
together they sang to the gulls.
By the time Inerluk came with the sled they had a load
of fish for him. When he returned the second time it was
getting late, so they helped him load the fish. Paniagon
joined them earlier. She and Kiachook walked behind
with Inerluk, because Nedercook wanted to take the sled
back alone. Nedercook pushed, pulled, laughed, slipped
and giggled her way back to the beach. Then her father
said, "I help." Together they got it up the incline to the
inne.
The sisters built a fire outdoors and put on some pots
of fish to cook, using part sea and part fresh water. They
all gutted and strung the fish on pieces of rawhide about
six feet long. These they tied and hung over a pole on
the drying rack, forming a half circle on each side of
the pole.
Long after sundown that evening the hunters returned.
The days were getting so long now that it did not get
totally dark, especially during the time of the full moon.
Kimik had managed to get an oogruk; the brothers, a
seal each. One had to pull the kayak and the other two
each pulled a seal. The oogruk took all three. Thus they
had worked their way to the shore. There they had left
167
the oogruk with Kimik's spear across it, a sign that they
would soon be back. "We go back first, then eat." They
took off in the dwindling light. Without anything else
to pull, the three could pull the oogruk back easily. They
would go to Kimik's inne. Paniagon was happy. Her
mother told Nedercook to go with her sister and carry
one of the pots of cooked fish.
Nedercook waited at Paniagon's for her brothers and
then returned with them.
That evening it was Nedercook who repeated a story.
She had been too busy all day to tell it to anyone. Her
mother made two corrections and then said, "Tomorrow
you tell it right." She did not say this as a reprimand.
It was said as encouragement. Tomorrow she would
have it right.

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 CHAPTER 24
CATCHING MURRES

T he murres had been flying nearer and nearer to

the cliff each night. Now they were roosting
there, and flying back to the open water after
sunup. The reason they waited so long was that the
nights were still freezing. Sitting overnight on the cold,
bare rocks made them so cold they could not fly until
the sun warmed them.
On this morning, long before sunup, Nedercook, with
her two brothers and her father, traveled along the
coastal ice by dim light, reaching the cliffs by early
daylight. Each carried a stick two to three feet long.
Inerluk also carried a small drum. The two brothers
carried their spears.
When they were below the first high cliffs where the
murres were overnighting, the children spread out,
roughly fifty feet apart. They were about three hundred
feet from the cliff.
Inerluk walked until he was standing on a higher piece
of ice. He turned and gave a nod to his children.
"Boom, boom," went his drum. He quickly put it
down.
Startled, the murres naturally tried to fly but they
were too cold. They fell fluttering to the ice and started
running and flapping their wings, headed for the open
water. Their movements at the beginning were slow.
Inerluk and his children began a wild chase, catching
some. The children had been taught early how to use
the stick, so no living thing would be left injured or
suffer. As soon as one murre was taken care of, it was
169
dropped into the packsack and the fast chase of the
second one began. Most of the time the second one
would outrun them, as by then it would have warmed
up, so it was generally just a wild chase.
They walked around the next projection of rocks and
repeated the drum beat and chase. By the time they had
gone around the third point of rocks, the sun was up
enough to warm the murres, so most of them flew past
the hunters a few feet off the ice.
Of those that fell, Nedercook got only two. This was
her first year at this. Most of the birds were too lively
and escaped her. It had been an exciting morning. They
headed home with hungry appetites.
Kiachook was pleased. After breakfast she and
Nedercook skinned and cleaned the birds, saving even
the skin on the neck and head. They did not pick the
feathers because the diving sea birds had tough skins
that were used for parkas. The thicker, feathered part
was used for the body of the parka, while the skin of
the necks and heads was used for the hood and under
the arms. Maybe this spring they would get enough to
finish a parka for Inerluk.
Nedercook gathered wood and kindling for an
outdoor fire before going off to fish. Her mother would
not be with her today. She planned to help a woman
who had slipped and hurt herself. Inerluk worked at
finishing the herring net, because he had had enough
exercise for today.
From where Nedercook fished today she could see
quite a distance up the side of one of the hills. As she
fished, she recalled that her mother used to tell her about
the grave that stood alone on the high hillside. She
remembered her mother saying:

Some years ago, as was the case in Alaska long ago,

the early days of spring always brought a certain
amount of hard times. These were the days when the

170
 food that had been put up for winter was usually gone.
There would not be much food around for a time but
a few tomcod.
One man in the village of Rocky Point was a very
good hunter. He had been out hunting and came back
with a black whale. He knew that his sister, who lived
on another part of the point, was also hard up for food.
He sent a man to go and bring his sister over to feast.
His sister had caught a few tomcod and she was eating
them when she saw the man coming. Fearing that
something had befallen her brother, she accidently
swallowed a large fish bone. She started out with the
man, going to the village, but she made it only half way.
The bone made her throat swell so it closed shut and
choked her. She was buried there high on the hill where
she had died.

As she continued to fish her mind turned to Oopick.

She too was now in a grave, and Nedercook remembered
how Oopick used to tell her of things long, long past.
One tale began:

Long, long ago, when the village was small and the
people decided that they wanted to have a village here,
the elders voiced their disapproval of anyone running
away from the village. They said that others who had
run away from their village became what was called
Ie-thre-gook (one who hides from other people). They
have skin that has dried to their bones. They cannot
die, but whistle through their dried lips, and when they
are thirsty and want a drink, the water recedes.

Nedercook remembered how Oopick would not say,

''This is untrue," but made Nedercook understand that
it was just an old story of long, long ago. As she fished,
Nedercook wondered whether anyone ever had run
away from her village and dried up. She dismissed it
and remembered something else she had heard. On the
other side of Rocky Point, inland and back from where
the Women of the Sea fished, but near enough that it
171
is called Cheer-kook, is a large lake. It is supposed to
be inhabited by a strange animal. If people swim in it,
they are always drowned, they are always pulled to the
bottom. This made her feel spooky just thinking about
it, especially as the day was getting on, so she loaded
up the sled and returned home. She had fished enough
for today.
That evening her father said, "You have learned nearly
all the stories. There are two or three left," and he began:

Once there were a man and a woman who were living

as man and wife. The man went out seal hunting and
came home dragging a seal. She ran down joyously to
meet him and help drag it back. He would not let her
help him with it. She offered to help cut it up.
"No," he said, "I am going to do it myself."
So she offered to cook it.
"No," he said, "I am going to cook it and feed myself."
When it was time to eat, he would not let her eat any
because he was going to feed himself. Hurt and
discouraged, she left him and moved to another part
of the village. All that summer she gathered berries and
put them up for the coming winter. When winter came,
hunters traded other foods for her berries. Later a
famine struck the village and everyone was hungry
except the woman who had picked all the berries.
One day her husband came to her place while she was
eating berries mixed with Eskimo ice cream. He said,
"I want some of your berries."
She remembered the times she had begged, and he
had not given her even a mouthful of food. So she said,
"No, I am going to feed myself," and she kept on eating.
He was thin and he repeated, "Let me have some ber-
ries."
"No, I am going to feed myself," she answered, but
he persisted.
She then sucked a seed of the salmonberry and she
threw the seed out onto the dirt floor in front of him,
repeating, 'TIl feed myself." He scrambled to find it in
the dim light, and as he searched for it he collapsed and
died.

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 CHAPTER 25
ROCKS

A fter the cold, dark nights of winter these nice

days seemed to pass quickly for Nedercook.
Now it was time for her brothers to get ready
to go on the black whale hunt, the most exciting of all
hunts.
All the men who were going on this hunt would gather
the night before, in a cave, and sing and go through
motions of spearing the whale, preparing for the hunt.
This practice was to insure success.
The first evening Nedercook worried a little about her
brothers. As her parents settled for the night, her father
said, "Tell one more story," and so he began:

Long ago they say that in this village there was a

brother and sister. They lived in different parts of this
big village of Rocky Point. The sister had put up a seal
poke of half-dried salmon which they called Un-I-Mark.
One day the brother sent a young man to his sister's
for some of the half-dried fish. He said, "Your brother
sent me for some of your half-dried fish."
"No," she replied, "When the sun reaches that bump
on the horizon there will be a storm."
Her brother's feelings were very badly hurt. All of
the people of the village were gathered at the Big Dance
House and heard that his sister had refused to send him
any fish. (People attending usually brought some food.)
When spring came, the brother went hunting and got
a black whale. He brought it to shore and the job of
cutting it up began. While he was doing this, his sister
came carrying the seal poke of half-dried fish and said
to her brother and his helpers. "Here, help yourselves
to this."

173
 Her brother told his sister to take her bag of fish back
home, as he said, "When the sun reaches that bump on
the horizon there will be another storm, you can eat
it then." He also told his helpers not to give her any
of the whale. This time it was her feelings that were hurt.
She returned home carrying her seal poke. After she had
eaten up all the half-dried fish, she was found dead,
starved to death.

Next morning Inerluk said to Nedercook, 'T oday we

go see rocks." He put some food into his packsack as
he continued, "I have taken all my children on this walk
when they were old enough to remember. Now it is time
for you to know the rocks."
Nedercook removed her soft-soled, slipper-like boots
which she wore around the inne. Taking a handful of
dry grass, she broke it by folding several inches over.
Then from the broken end of the grass she roughly
measured the length of the sole of her mukluk. Then
she bent and folded the other end of the grass over to
the same size and inserted it into the mukluk with the
folded ends underneath. This would serve as the inner
sole. She fixed the other the same way. Then she put
on these walking mukluks which had harder soles of
oogruk. She put some dry fish into her pack and she
was ready.
Today Inerluk said they would go toward Little Rocky
Point. They called the long end of land that protruded
into the sea Big Rocky Point, and the smaller one Little
Rocky Point.
Nedercook was always happy when walking the
tundra, rocks and beaches. Some of the birds were
nesting now, so they were not singing as much as they
did earlier in the spring, but robins, sparrows and other
little tundra birds sang.
Father and daughter walked from the old winter
camp, passed the rocks from which Nedercook often
fished, and walked on until they came to the stone that
174
looked like a man sitting down. Inerluk told his daughter
what he had been told about this man-like rock. Then
they walked on until they came to where there was an
indentation in the rocks that looked just as if two caribou
had bedded down. In between there was a big scratch
mark.
Inerluk, walking ahead, heard Nedercook say in a
hushed tone, "Papa." He turned to see his daughter
pointing ahead. He smiled at her. "It is like the man rock.
This one is walrus." Nedercook walked close to her
father until she was sure the walrus-like form was really
made of stone. Then she walked ahead, her dark eyes
bright with excitement. Inerluk answered her questions
as best he could.
"Now we go there and eat," Inerluk said as he raised
a hand and pointed to a little knoll off in the distance.
The walk over the tundra was easy and shortly after
noon they reached the knoll. From the sea a warm spring
breeze blew.
Inerluk removed his pack and sat down. Nedercook
did the same, but sat so she could see behind her father.
This was a precautionary measure the villagers took so
they could eat in peace, with no worry of something
sneaking up behind. When they finished eating, Inerluk
said, "See that." Nedercook looked at a big, dry hole
which had an oblong shape. Then she saw the marks
that showed in front, leading away toward the salty
waters of Golovin Bay. As her father sat on the knoll
he looked down toward the big grass-covered hole.
"When I was young," he said, "there was a little water
still in it. At that time one could see clearly the markings
going from it. The people said that, before my time, this
was a lake, and a very large animal (his description
sounded like a dinosaur) was living in this lake. When
the water started to recede, the large animal decided to
go to the sea water of Golovin Bay. He burned the land
as he went, leaving a trail like someone had rolled down
175
across the tundra. When the animal reached the salt
water he is supposed to have died in it. The lake he had
lived in dried up after he left. Now it is just a big depres-
sion grown over with grass."
"See that place down there," her father said as he
pointed toward the shoreline. Nedercook looked.
"That," he said, "was where your grandmother used to
have her fish cache."
After they got to their feet her father pointed toward
Big Rocky Point. "Too far today, but soon we go there.
I show you big cave where men go to perform rituals
before going on big black whale hunt in the spring. We
will make a trip to the top of the highest hill {elevation
1,688 feet}. There you will see a very, very old ring of
driftwood that makes a complete circle around this, the
highest hill. In the center at the top it looks like someone
during the big flood had tried to make a shelter. When
we return from that trip we will come back by the cliffs
there. I will show you where there is a mark on the cliff.
It is like a big king salmon has slapped his tail against
the cliff. We will come back above the big crack that
runs up the cliff. I will show you the little trail, which
we must not take. If a dog takes this trail it always falls
to its death. The trip will be a long one for you, but
you should see these things so you, too, will know."

176
 CHAPTER 26
SPRING

A s Nedercook and her parents sat around the

dying embers of the dinner fire, Kiachook sat
as if she was unaware of her husband's eyes, as
they kept scanning the waters for their sons' return. She
knew her husband was thinking of Nutchuk and Oolark,
out at sea. This was the first year he had not gone on
the black whale hunt, but he had let his sons take his
oomiak as captains, with a crew of their choice, which
included Kimik.
Kiachook would do what she could to make the wait
for their sons' return pass easier for her husband. She
would make this outdoor part last as long as there was
light enough for him to see any object on the distant
waters. Turning her head toward her daughter, she said,
JJI sing short old song." She began with humming:

The Man From Rocky Point

Long ago there was a man
living at Rocky Point.
He walked to the rocks,
Whales and seals were swimming
toward the shore.
They were feeding on the schools of fish
that were there. He stood looking
and wishing that he had a spear.
All that he had was a bob-tailed weasel skin,
which was his charm or idol
or good luck piece.

Then, as unexpected by her husband as it was by

Nedercook, her mother began a story:
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 One spring some years ago, when starvation was
spreading through the village, one man left in a blizzard
to go and try fishing for tomcod. He met a caribou, who
changed into a man. "A wolf is after me and I need help.
Save me from the wolf and I will pay you back. Hide
me quick." And he changed back into a caribou.
Grabbing the caribou, the fisherman sang and patted
it. As he did so the animal became smaller and smaller
until he could put it into his hunting sack. He met the
wolf and the wolf asked him if he had seen any caribou.
"No," he said, as he had the caribou in his hunting sack.
After the wolf left he took the caribou from the sack
and the caribou told him, "When you get to your camp,
go out a little ways from your camp and jump the best
way you can." People of his village were starving and
weak, but the next morning when he got up he went
a little ways from camp and he jumped as best he could.
He landed on top of a big black whale. He went back
to get the people and they all came with him. There was
no more starvation.

When Kiachook finished the story a faraway look

came into her eyes, as she looked across the calm waters.
As if deciding on something, she moved a little closer
to the fire and added some small twigs that threw a
cheerful light about them. "Daughter," Kiachook said,
"In years past when I was confronted with a very
puzzling question, one beyond any answer that I could
find but one that needed an answer, there was one way
I found an answer.
"I would bind the feet and arms of a person. Then
using a piece of wood, I would put it under the person's
calf and try to lift. Then I would place it under the base
of the neck and try . 'Yes' was the answer when no power
I used could raise either end. 'No' was when little effort
raised either end of a person.
"I used to do this in the earlier days, before you were
born," Kiachook continued. "Back in those days there
were many puzzling questions, that seemed to have no
answers until I asked, but things are changing now. I
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have seen it. There will be more changes too where our
people are concerned. Somehow I feel it, daughter, in
a strange way that I cannot put into words. But you are
young, note the way we live now, like I did in my youth,
and watch as the years pass - you will see."
"Car-car." Suddenly a raven interrupted her. Looking
at it winging by, Kiachook said, 'They say that the raven
is a wise bird," she continued as if talking to herself.
"Perhaps the raven thinks I talk too much. Maybe I do,
but I think I should tell you about the Oook-ka-mute.
These people lived in the direction the sun rises in
midsummer. They lived near the mouth of the large
river. We had heard many things about how differently
these people lived from us, how they did not keep their
bodies clean.
"Once long ago, two of these men came to our village.
They both wore caps that fit close over the tops of their
heads. The caps were made of sealskin with the skin side
next to the head. We were short of food and had opened
a hole of the food we called rotten {salmon heads}, and
when they came in and smelled it they acted like they
wanted some. When it was offered to them, they
removed their round, bowl-like caps and put the food
in them. Looking inside of the caps one knew they used
them for their eating dishes. When they had finished
eating they put their hats back on."
Kiachook paused as if remembering that long ago day.
The light on the water was dim by now and the coals
nearly gone. "Tomorrow we walk up to high place and
look," Kiachook said. Nedercook felt happy. She loved
walking on the tundra and hills. Now it had the good
smells of spring, the little tundra birds would sing, and
new plants would be starting to grow.
Dusk had fallen; it was time to enter the inne. As
Nedercook rose her mind was on thoughts of the coming
day, and she did not see until too late that her mukluk
toe had turned over the bowl of seal oil, spilling it to

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be lost in the cracks of the earth below her.
"Mama!" she cried in panic as she realized what she
had done.
Kiachook valued food as much as anyone, but she
knew the oil was beyond recovery. So she said what
she had been taught to say whenever food was accidently
lost. "That will be for grandpa," Kiachook said as she
picked up the empty bowl and carried it into the inne.
When they had settled for the night, Nedercook's
father spoke, saying, "Tell you last new story." He
began:

This story is one that has been handed down from

years and years ago. It is about King Island.
King Island was supposed to be originally an inland
mountain, and years ago it was supposed to be
connected by a channel of water to the sea.
The start of King Island was when a big piece of land
broke loose from a mountain and went seaward, diving
up and down, like a big whale, but when it reached its
present location and was surfacing, a raven flying by
speared it. It turned into the present island and moved
no more. In ancient times the top seemed to have a large
spear protruding from it.
Later an old grandmother and granddaughter
inhabited the island. When greens would appear in the
spring they would always go out to pick them. On one
trip they found some very young cormorants and
carried them back home.
One day after berry-picking they returned to find that
someone must have been in their house while they were
away, as everything was all mixed up. After a time they
became suspicious because it looked like the doings of
people. One day after preparing to go out to pick berries
or greens, they hid out near the door. They heard the
sound of human voices inside and they entered
suddenly. There were the young cormorants as human
beings. Surprising them broke the spell. They could not
return to their cormorant forms, so they remained as
human beings.
Thus began the people of the island and their accent,

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181
 which the Rocky Point people always referred to as
similar to that of a cormorant's noise.
The first generation was supposed to bear the flat
head of the cormorant. Later generations had normally
shaped heads.

When Inerluk finished he said, 'This story was of

long, long ago. Things have changed since then and the
people of King Island no longer remind anyone of cor-
morants."

Next morning dawned calm, clear and warm.

Nedercook ran to the little knoll above their inne, as
she often did, and looked across the water. Far off she
could see a dark object. She turned her head away and
then looked again; it was still there. Back to the inne
she ran. As she was about to enter, her parents came
out. "See something dark on water," she said excitedly.
All hurried to the little knoll.
Inerluk stood with one hand shading his eyes, then
his face broke into a big smile. flOur relatives come,"
he said with happiness and relief. Nedercook hopped
about on the knoll and said as if to herself, 'They are
coming, they are coming."
Great excitement stirred the villagers as they watched
the approaching oomiak. As it drew nearer they could
see that it was towing a darker object. The villagers were
happy. Around the fires on the beach tonight there
would be much feasting.
Nedercook felt that she could hardly wait for the
oomiak's arrival, it moved so slowly over the water. She
went to the knoll. As she stood tall on the little knoll,
she saw her parents and people of the village going to
the beach. She knew they were going to start the fires
and put the pots of water to heat.
Just then a swallow flew past her. With the arrival
of the swallows her people believed that the freezing
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nights were over. Happiness flowed through her parka-
clad body as she breathed in the sweet air and whispered,
"Spring," than ran toward the beach.

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 About the Author
Edna Wilder was born in Bluff, Alaska, at that time a small
mining community just northwest of Rocky Point, where this
story takes place. She is the daughter of the late Minnie Neder-
cook and Arthur Samuel Tucker.
Sam Tucker came over from England to cross Chilkoot
Pass. On the other side of the pass were the Klondyke and the
1898 gold rush. Soon afterward, gold was found on the beach-
es of Nome. Tucker floated down the Yukon River on a raft,
going to Nome. At this time Minnie Nedercook was a young
woman in the village of Rocky Point. Edna wrote about their
life together in her book The Eskimo Girl and the Englishman,
published in 2008 by the University of Alaska Press.
Edna was one of Sam and Minnie Tucker’s five children
and grew up in Bluff. She married the late Dan C. Wilder and
moved from Nome to Fairbanks, where her creative career
began. She paints in watercolor and oil, and sculpts with wood
and soapstone. She has instructed classes in skin-sewing and
basket-weaving at the University of Alaska Fairbanks. Her art
appeared in the A-67 Centennial Exposition in Fairbanks in
1967 and a Fairbanks Art Association show in 1969. In 1980
her paintings and sculptures were shown at the Charles and
Emma Frye Museum in Seattle.
Her first book, Secrets of Eskimo Skin Sewing, is available
from the University of Alaska Press.
Now Mrs. Alexander P. Cryan, Edna lives and works in
Fairbanks.