Shadows on the Koyukuk

by Sidney Huntington

  A few years later, Jimmy, our brother Fred, and I made a dog team trip from Hog River to the Eskimo town of Kobuk to buy supplies. As the raven flies it is about seventy-five miles, and twice that distance by dog team. At Kobuk, trader Harry Brown asked me where I trapped.

  “Usually on the Hog River, sometimes twenty or thirty miles above the Pah River portage,” I answered.

  “Who goes with you?” he wanted to know.

  “I go alone” (Jimmy seldom trapped the area with me).

  “What!” he exclaimed.

  “I trap alone,” I repeated.

  He then told me that several years earlier he had staked two Eskimos who had gone to trap at the Pah-Hog portage. They had soon returned, reporting “a big band of Indians traveling on the south bank of the Hog River.”

  “They said they had barely escaped with their lives,” said Brown. “They told me that the Indians were hollering signals to each other.”

  I realized then that my yells had been heard, and like me, the Eskimos had remembered the stories of danger in No Man’s Land and had fled. I wonder what their thoughts would have been had they realized that they had run from one youthful, medium-sized Indian, who was also somewhat spooked.

  As a youngster I heard from my relatives and other Koyukon Indians many tales of the murder and violence of earlier years. Some of the stories dated to prewhite times, seven or eight decades before I was born. Many stories of murders by both Eskimos and Indians originated from the Zane Hills and Purcell Mountains, the rugged low mountains and hills that lie between the Koyukuk and Kobuk country—No Man’s Land.

  Neither Indian nor Eskimo controlled No Man’s Land. Adventurous individuals who penetrated that remote area sometimes disappeared. Long before I was born, my uncle Frank, brother to my mother, went hunting in No Man’s Land. Hog River Johnny, his brother, was to meet him there. When Johnny arrived at the meeting place, Frank was gone. Reading the tracks, Johnny could tell that Frank had arrived and met someone, but the trail disappeared and so did Frank. He was never seen again.

  Years later a rumor drifted across the land: Eskimos from the Kobuk Valley had heard that Eskimos from the Selawik district had “taken” (killed) a man from the Koyukuk River. Based on the rumor, hunters from the Koyukuk, seeking revenge for the loss of Frank, supposedly went up the Dakli River and waited for some Eskimos to enter No Man’s Land. After some weeks an Eskimo family arrived. Local legend had it that the Indians killed every member.

  Old Toby, a Koyukon from the Kateel River country in the Koyukuk valley, died at an old age more than seventy years ago. His son, Young Toby, was one of the last of the Indians from the Kateel. Young Toby was also one of the great Koyukon song makers. During the early 1930s Young Toby told me this story:

  About 1850, Old Toby, then a young man, was hunting with a partner at the headwaters of the Kateel. The two men found evidence that strange hunters had taken game there.

  They consulted other Koyukon Indians. The group decided to send two of their finest hunter/warriors into the Kateel area before the prime fall hunting season. The Indians selected Old Toby and his partner for this assignment. Old Toby, a six-footer, was unusually tall for a Koyukon Indian.

  The two slipped into the headwaters region of the Kateel, making every effort to conceal their presence. While lying hidden in a brushy area one day shortly after their arrival, they noticed unusual movements of caribou on a high ridge of the Kateel valley. The animals trotted about nervously, as if human hunters were near.

  The two warriors studied a thick stand of spruce trees at the end of the ridge, about half a mile from the river. Nearby was a large lake that held a beaver lodge. They suspected that hunters were hiding in those trees—not Koyukon Indians, but Eskimos.

  Old Toby and his partner prepared themselves for a long stay in their hiding place. Only after darkness fell did they move from hiding to stretch and get a drink of water. They ate dried meat and fish, and lit no fire. Carefully, they observed what was happening.

  On the afternoon of the third day after the unusual caribou behavior, a small bunch of the animals wandered off the high ridge. When they reached the end of the ridge near the timber, all but one suddenly bolted. A remaining caribou staggered about for a few moments as if hit by an arrow, then it fell. As darkness came, the caribou remained where it had fallen, but by the next morning it had disappeared.

  That night Old Toby’s partner moved upstream so he could get a closer view of the other side of the river the next day. At the end of that day, after dark, he rejoined Old Toby. “I saw two Eskimo hunters feasting on the caribou they killed,” he reported.

  “They have made a foolish mistake, taking that animal in the open, revealing themselves,” Old Toby said. He smiled at his partner and added, “They’re not going to leave, because the beaver lodge in that lake has six beaver—two old ones, two medium-size ones, and two small ones. They won’t leave those fat animals alone. We will have our chance if we are patient. But we must be careful.”

  That night the two Koyukon warriors schemed, basing their plans on the presence of the six beaver. Before daylight, Old Toby’s partner crossed the river to await the opportune time. He and Toby believed that only one Eskimo hunter would go to the lake to take a beaver, while the Eskimo who remained behind stood guard.

  Sure enough, toward evening on the third or fourth day after the Eskimos had killed the caribou, Old Toby saw an Eskimo sneaking near the timber at the edge of the lake. At that moment Old Toby, still on the south slope of the valley, showed himself. Both Eskimos quickly spotted him. Old Toby simply stood in the open, a tall, ominous, distant figure. This frightened the Eskimos.

  The Eskimo who had started for the beaver lodge quickly disappeared. The Eskimo standing guard was too busy watching Old Toby far across the valley to worry about his partner. Realization that it was a trick didn’t dawn on him until too late. As he started to look behind himself, an arrow pierced his back.

  Old Toby, still standing on the south slope, heard the signal he was awaiting—one beat on a dry tree. This told him that his partner had killed the lookout. Old Toby then crossed the valley and went to the lake, searching for the beaver-hunting Eskimo. At first he saw no sign of him.

  A large fallen tree lay half in the water. Old Toby walked to the base of the tree. Stooping, he discovered slight but fresh disturbances; something or someone had crawled out on the trunk of the tree. He studied the water, but could see nothing.

  He walked toward the beaver lodge. Near the lodge a point of land extended into the water; reeds grew at the water’s edge. The grass was undisturbed. He walked to the point and silently looked in every direction. Still he saw no sign of the missing Eskimo. The growing darkness was making it hard to see anything.

  Then he noticed a movement of the water, ever so slight, at the end of the point. Had he imagined that the water lifted? No, the surface really was lifting and falling. Could someone breathing underwater cause the ripple by expanding and contracting his chest? Old Toby peered at the reeds that protruded from the water, stem by stem. Poised, with arrow ready to fly, he detected a single reed that was moving with a slight rise and fall of water. Old Toby strained his eyes as he peered into the depths. There, finally, he made out the missing Eskimo, lying on the bottom of the lake with his feet and body inside one of the tunnels to the beaver house. The hollow reed held in his mouth formed a breathing tube.

  Taking careful aim, Old Toby let his arrow fly, thus ending the hunt for the Eskimo interlopers.

  I have heard Eskimos tell similar stories, almost legends, about the old days, when enemy Koyukon Indians were caught in No Man’s Land. After about 1900, as whites came into the country bringing their laws with them, “disappearances” of Eskimos and Indians in No Man’s Land gradually ceased. Travel between the Lower Yukon or Koyukuk valley into coastal Eskimo country now requires only a few hours by snow machine, and Indians and Eskimos commonly visit back and forth without fear. The violent deaths, f
ear, and hate are vestiges of the past.

  15

  THE OLD KOYUKON WAYS

  I developed an early interest in my Koyukon roots, and in the culture and history of the Koyukon people. With firsthand experience living from the land, I gained an appreciation for the abilities of my forebears who had survived in the Koyukuk country without rifles, modern traps, fishing nets, modern tools, processed foods, and ready-made clothing.

  Interior Alaska’s Athapaskans were the last of Alaska’s Natives to come into contact with white men, when the Russian creole Malakof built a blockhouse at Nulato in 1839 (creole was a term used by Alaska’s early Russians for those of Russian and Native ancestry). Malakof found that the Koyukon people had iron pots, glass beads, cloth, and tobacco that had reached them through trade with coastal Eskimos.

  From Nulato, fur-seeking Russian traders traveled up the Yukon to the mouth of the Tanana River. The Athapaskans they found were eager to obtain blankets, axes, knives, muzzle-loading rifles, powder horns, lead balls, kettles, and files. They didn’t care much for the clothing offered by early Russians and Hudson’s Bay Company traders (who arrived at Fort Yukon in 1847), because their own skin clothing was superior in warmth, durability, and appearance.

  In 1866, the explorer William Dall wrote, “The Koyukons are the most attractive in appearance of the Indians in this part of the Territory. The women do up their hair in two braids, one on each side. The original dress of the male Koyukons consists of a pair of breeches of deerskin, with moccasins attached, and a deerskin parka without any hood, long and pointed before and behind. They are fond of ornaments and gay colors.”

  Another early writer said that in winter the trousers of the Athapaskans along the Yukon were of fur. Mittens and a hood or fur cap were also worn in winter. The clothing was often decorated with dentalium shell, a trade item from coastal Alaska, or porcupine quills. After white contact, trade beads were commonly used for decoration.

  Change came swiftly to the Koyukon people after arrival of the Russians, and swift change has continued to this day. Edwin Simon, born in 1898, considered that he lived three lives in his eighty-one years. His “first life,” until 1930, was mostly primitive by today’s standards, and basically the same as that of his parents. He used birchbark canoes and poling boats for river travel. Candles provided light. Dogs pulled his sled as well as his poling boat while he poled or paddled. He carried a muzzle-loading rifle, bow and arrows, and an axe. Wherever the family stopped to live for a time, they built a sod igloo or house (igloo is an Eskimo word borrowed by the Koyukons; it means house). By digging about four feet underground, the house would be half below ground level. With the axe they cut poles and sod for walls and roof. A fire burned in the center of the floor, and smoke escaped through a hole in the roof. The family moved frequently to where they could most easily catch fish in traps they built, or where they could shoot game. Much of their clothing was made of animal skins.

  As an adult, Edwin once asked his mother, “What did you do with all your things when you traveled all the time?”

  “What things?” she replied. “We had nothing—a rifle, bow and arrow, one axe, and the clothes we wore. We didn’t leave anything behind.”

  In his “second life,” from 1930 to 1960, Edwin owned a gasoline-powered boat with an inboard engine. He used oil and white gas for lamps and lanterns. He wore manufactured clothing, roamed less, and lived in log houses. He was not entirely dependent on wild game and fish for food, because food could be purchased at trading posts.

  In his “third life,” 1960 to 1979, he enjoyed electricity and running water in his permanent log home. He owned a snow machine, a three-wheel all-terrain vehicle, a refrigerator, a freezer, and a radio. He fished and hunted game for food mostly within easy traveling distance of home.

  Many of the old ways of the Koyukon are entirely gone, others are disappearing. Even the skills of hunting, trapping, and fishing in the old way are changing—altered or eliminated by outboard motors, scope-sighted rifles, and snow machines.

  As a boy I admired the knowledge and abilities of many of the Koyukon elders, and I loved listening to their stories of the past. I learned from them that during the 1800s the Koyukuk valley was poorer in fish and game than other areas in Alaska. In contrast, the Yukon River, with its great runs of salmon, was considered a paradise. At the time, if you didn’t kill, you didn’t eat; the people’s very existence depended on fish and game, and they hunted and/or fished year-round. They didn’t farm or grow crops. They harvested some berries and dried fish that they caught, but when they had to make long treks to go where game and fish were more abundant, they could carry only a limited amount of such food.

  The following is a story told to me by Chief Henry (1883–1976), who had learned it from his grandfather. He believed it was based on an actual event. Chief Henry was famous for his story-telling, songs, and philosophy of life. For me it illustrates how precarious the lives of the Koyukon people were in the old days:

  Times were hard in the Koyukuk River valley in the 1820s and 1830s, with virtually no game and no fish. There were no moose. The Koyukon people had overfished the streams and lakes. They had blocked some of the streams with fish traps for too many consecutive years, wiping out returns of salmon to the Koyukuk River.

  Dulbi Slough and Dulbi River were the last two streams that still supported salmon runs. (It has only been in modern times that the Koyukon people have been aware of the life history of salmon: that the tiny fish, which hatch from eggs buried in the gravel of a stream, travel downriver to the sea, where they mature so they can return to the very stream of their birth.)

  Most of the Indians left the Koyukuk River to search for a place where they could find fish and game. Many moved to the Yukon River where they knew they could catch and dry enough salmon during summer to last through winter.

  Some of the Koyukon families that remained in the Koyukuk River valley starved to death, still hoping that fish would arrive. They could have moved to the fish-rich Yukon River with other families, but they had gambled and lost.

  Four springs passed. The people who had moved longed for their Koyukuk country homes. They decided that by this time the caribou would have returned to their old home. The rabbits, long gone, should be returning now, too. With such thoughts, despite warnings of the elders who doubted that fish and game had returned in such a short time, some of the people left the security of the Yukon River and returned to Hog River.

  Fall set in. At Hog River the fish traps that blocked the streams produced very few fish—not enough to see the people through the winter. In those days of famine, the Indians moved on their own legs, pulling a sled to carry only what they needed for existence. There were no dogs to pull sleds, because there was no food for the dogs.

  With starvation near, some of the men went hunting in the nearby hills and mountains. They were away many weeks. Finally, in January, as days were beginning to lengthen, some of the men returned. Others did not. Perhaps they had starved to death.

  Those who came back had found caribou a long way off in the headwaters of the Melozitna River. They brought with them some meat, but not enough to feed everyone. They had cached meat along the way, planning to eat it for strength as they returned with their families to the Melozitna headwaters, where they had left their main meat cache.

  A young man who had qualified for a woman the previous year returned home from this long hunt. He found his wife with a baby boy born just after he had left.

  The young father found his family hard-pressed for food. His mother, especially, was weak. Food she could have eaten she had given to her daughter-in-law, the mother of the newborn baby. Slowly but surely, she was starving herself to death, giving away her life’s energy so her only grandson might live.

  Everyone in the camp hurriedly prepared for the long move to the Melozitna, except for the old grandmother. “I cannot go, my son,” she said. “I do not have enough strength.”

  “I will pull you i
n my sled. You raised me well; I cannot leave you behind to die,” the son promised.

  The mother did not speak for a long time. Finally, she called to him and his woman and asked them to listen to her. As she spoke, she cradled her grandson in her arms.

  “Son, I am old now. I worked hard all of my life to raise you. We have had hard times for too many years. I raised you properly even after your father starved to death. We kept going. I can do no more. But even while I die, I am going to help you. Without me, you and your young wife and baby boy might survive. With me along, you would not survive. The trail is too long and hard for me to walk; pulling me on the sled would take all of your strength.

  “You must listen to me. Use your head, not just your eyes to cry. Be a brave man, not the kind of brave that it takes to kill big animals. You must be braver than that to make me happy, and to let your wife and son perhaps live a longer life.

  “I am sure they will not live long if you do not do what I ask you to do. I took good care of you. Now you owe me. Show me how brave you are. I will not go with you, and you must not leave me here to slowly starve and freeze to death.”

  Understanding what his mother had told him, he sadly left the igloo. He went to the leader, the medicine man of their little tribe, and told him what his mother had said. The leader explained to the young man that this had happened before. “She is right. Big animals are easier to take than the life of the woman who brought you into this world. I watched your mother raise you. She did a good job. She is still trying in her last hours to help you.

  “You must be strong and brave. If you do not do what she asks of you, you will slowly put to death your young wife and your only baby. I know you are strong. You are not going to do something you have to hide from or be ashamed of. You will be doing something to make your mother happy, the mother who worked so hard to raise you, the mother who is still looking out for you. Are you brave enough to do this?”