Introduction

1In the 1920s, Kaj Birket-Smith (1929: 244) stated that, “the Sub-arctic Indians, the Eskimos, the Siberian tribes, and the Lapps, present certain fundamental points of resemblance in culture,” and that all these groups share a common resource, the caribou or the reindeer. Since, the idea that the Polar peoples or the Indigenous peoples of the Circumpolar North all live on this animal is strongly rooted as well as the idea that caribou and reindeer represent, in fact, a single animal (Rangifer tarandus). Thus, reindeer and caribou were (and still are) considered as belonging to the same single species (e.g. Ingold 1980: 17, quoting Banfield 1961: 103). Inuit, however, provide a contrasted perspective. They not only consider that caribou and reindeer are very different, they were and still are rather reluctant to become herders. An interesting context is the Amadjuak experiment that took place in the early 1920s, when the Canadian Government and the Hudson’s Bay Compagny tried to train them as reindeer herders, bringing Saami families from Norway and a herd in Baffin Island. The experiment turned into a failure, but some anthropological lessons can be learnt from this.

2In this paper, I will first make a short presentation of the Amadjuak experiment. I will then analyze how Baffin Island Inuit relate to the caribou, and why they consider that this animal differs so much from the reindeer. I will argue that although caribou are a good prey, they are potentially an ambiguous prey. They have to be hunted not to deplete and are a major source of food for the Inuit who also strongly connect them with their land. Caribou are not only, possibly, owned by a master-spirit, or by God, they are closely associated with the ijirait, mountain spirits of the land, and with the deceased and the ancestors. For these cosmological reasons, they cannot be mastered nor domesticated that easily.

Reindeer and Caribou in Amadjuak, Baffin Island

3In 1921, Stefansson’s project to introduce reindeer in the south of Baffin Island was accepted and thought to be promising by the Canadian Government. In May 1921, Francis Wood and Captain Mikkelborg were sent to Norway to purchase from Mr Sigvard A. Lyng of Elvebakken I Alten a herd of 689 reindeers. According to Tuck (1954: 331), the herd consisted of 488 does, 58 calves, 81 bucks and 62 draft deer for a price of $ 16,608. 73. The initial plan was to purchase 1000 reindeers but it turned out that the ship to transport them was too small. Finally, after an accident in Norway, 627 reindeer were loaded on board. The Hudson’s Bay Company sent The Nascopie to Norway to pick up the reindeer and Saami herders were brought to Amadjuak. On November 1, 1921, between 550 and 600 animals were disembarked under the responsibility of Captain J. A. Mikkelborg, Mr Ole Olsen and his spouse and five Saami herders, including four having embarked with their families. The disembarking of the animals took six days and problems soon started2 (figure 17.1 and figure 17.2).

Figure 17.1

Figure 17.2

4According to Tuck (1954: 353), 250 about reindeer escaped and the Saami herders did not manage to reach them with their pulkas, their sledges, as their reindeers were too weak. Mikkelborg (1950: chapter 5, n.p.) commented about the strategy that was adopted:

We soon found that the pastures would not permit us to keep a large herd under restraint; if we did, they would starve to death. Consequently, we had to divide them into flocks and let them spread over a wide area, after the style of the caribou. The caribou is the reindeer that runs about wild. Sometimes the caribou would come and mix with our reindeer-more often the reverse-and that was the last we would see of them. We divided our herders into three watches, two of us on each watch. There would be two on the mountains with the reindeer, two would always be on the trail, remembering that we often had about fifty miles to go, and two would be at the camp resting.

5But this plan turned into a fiasco and all the reindeer perished in a few years. Many of them died, not able to find proper food, the lichens being too dry. At that time, the Inuit did their best to help the Saami, but they clearly showed no interest in learning to become herders. Yet, their relationships with the Saami remained very friendly as noted by Captain Mikkelborg (1950: n.p.):

As far as I could ascertain, but there certainly was a similar mentality, and there was a great friendship between them from the first day we landed. […]. For hours they would sit together outside the tent singing and playing Sankey Moody hymns.

6Inuit and Saami also shared some Christian ideas and religious services given by Reverend Atkinson, an Anglican missionary living in Lake Harbour at that time, as this is noted by Mikkelborg: “The Lapps enjoyed his sermon greatly. They said he preached as good as if it had been Dr. Laestadius himself” (Mikkelborg 1950).4

7On July 17, 1922, an Inuk named Ishumangeko was appointed as an official guide for the Saami herders. With his help, Ole Johnsen and two Saami herders travelled extensively in the tundra to look for the lost reindeer, and in August 1922 they sadly discovered that 115 animals had died from hunger (Tuck 1954: 365). In June 1922, out of the 600 animals only 210 reindeer were left. Two Saami families were so desperate that they decided to leave Baffin Island on board of the Nascopie. The remaining three herders, Mijenna, Thuri and Nelassi, became more familiar with the local Inuit who did their best to help them. Kovianuktuk (Quvianaqtuq), Iktooloo (Iktuluu), Kakayok (Qaqajuq), Inukcheak (Inuksiaq) and Avalisha were among those. But, even if the reindeer became gradually more resistant, they were soon decimated again by wolves and dogs. During the fall 1923, the last three Saami families asked their employer to return to their homeland.

8On September 3, 1924, only 119 reindeer were now left. Their number decreased again to 107 animals fifteen days later and on October 13, 1924 only 102 animals were left. One year later, on May 6, 1925, only one animal could be found. The Amadjuak experiment was over.

9Here we cannot give all the details about the gradual disappearance of the animals, but in their final report, the Hudson bay Company stated, “Inuit have been more anxious to preserve the herd than the Lapps” (Tuck 1954: 556). Yet, we will see that they were never attracted by the idea of herding reindeer and always said that they preferred hunting the caribou (figures 17.3, 17.4, 17.5 et 17.6).

Figure 17.3

Figure 17.4

Figure 17.5

Figure 17.6

10According to Karen Monika Paulsen, the Saami herders felt very bad abandoning their herd (Interview with Paulsen in Iqaluit, April 2008; George 2008a). Mikkelborg relates an anecdote that tells much about the way the Saami took their herding job very seriously Mikkelborg (1950: n.p.):

One day Mrs. Mijenna had been on the mountains, and she returned much depressed. I told her that she had got paid for her reindeer that she brought with her from Lapland, but she said: “God has given me those animals, and one day I shall have to give an account for them”.

11For the Saami, the reindeer were thus connected to God. Already in frequent contact with Christianity, Inuit also referred to God. Mikkelborg relates another situation when Shotty explained that no hunt should be conducted on Sunday, and that the success they obtained on the next Monday was due to God. “Now”, she said, “you see, God sent us caribou today.” As we can expect, Inuit and Saami immediately got on well (Mikkelborg 1950: n.p.). Children not only played together, but a mutual understanding is noticed by Mikkelborg (Mikkelborg 1950: n.p.): “As far as I could ascertain, there certainly was a similar mentality, and there was a great friendship between them from the first day we landed.”

12A similar observation is made by Dorothy Eber who interviewed Peter Pitseolak about these relationships - he was a hunter at that time (Pitseolak & Eber 1993: 108-111):

They (Saami) were called Noovookeeolak because their hats had four points and their boots also had points.[…]. When we went through Amadjuak, for the first time, we met Noovookeeolak, the Laplanders. […]. When we entered their homes —their tents were made of blankets- I smelled birds’ nets. It turned out that I had smelled their footwear— they had grass for socks. All they had for socks was grass! They were very generous with their food. I was full. All they had for coffee was beans. We had so many beans that we were passing wind all day! All they had for coffee was beans. They would pound the beans first and then make the coffee.

13According to Paulsen (George 2008b: 2) Inuit used two other names to call the Saami: siargijarqit, “people with skis” and qimmilliit, “people with herding dogs”. This latter name illustrates how herding captured their attention. For the first time Inuit discovered how dogs could be trained as reindeer herders (Pitseolak and Eber 1993: 108-111), and how reindeer would obey to a bell when such a thing was used to call them. Pitseolak even suggested that should they had received money, Inuit would have been able to continue taking care of the reindeer (Pitseolak & Eber 1993: 108-111):

When the Laplanders left and the Inuit took over, the reindeer started dying. […] They had two good men, Kowmanik and Kakajuke at the beginning but Kakajuke, the chief, left because he had a terrible illness. Then Kowmanik said he didn’t want to be chief; he was getting old and if the Inuit didn’t listen to him he didn’t want to have to tell them what to do. Those who took over didn’t take good care of the reindeer —one of them was the laziest person. They took the reindeer for long walks and left them hungry for a long time. Eventually they started dying. I think today if Eskimos were to be in charge of the reindeer they would really like it. They are after the money today, and the people in charge of the reindeer had enough money.

14But this never happened. On the contrary, Inuit later explained that they had no interest in learning how to herd. Yet, they helped the Saami, and as Mikkelborg (1950: n.p.) reported it, “They seemed to think that as long as we were in their country they were responsible for our welfare.”

15In an interview, the hunter Pauloosie Kilabuk stated (Interview, March 31, 2006):

Nuvukiulaq [the Saami] were friendly people. Inuit made friends with them and enjoyed staying in their camp. People in that area found their clothing amazing, especially the way they make them. Saami people were different than the Inuit. They lived with similar animals but in a different way. I think the only difference is that you cannot get close to a caribou the way you can get close to a reindeer. Usually the reindeer has also more fat than the ground caribou you get here. I heard that there were some Inuit who brought the Saami into the land, so some Inuit were involved in helping the Saami. An elder from Cape Dorset could remember about Simiuni Qupaapik who died long time ago and was one of these people who worked with the Saami. Some Saami could learn Inuktitut because they lived with Inuit. We never talked English in those days. That’s the way it happened. When the Saami left, the Inuit took care of the reindeer for a while and enjoyed the work. But I think, we Inuit want to kill animals, not to live with them. That’s the only way. We are alive today thanks to the animals. Back then, there was probably nobody to look after the reindeer so Inuit left them.

16The idea of herding clearly did not attract the Inuit who preferred hunting. Later in the interview, Pauloosie Kilabuk even stressed that caribou meat is much better than the reindeer one that does not have much flavour and remains too watery for him.

17Pauloosie Kilabuk also insisted on the fact that Inuit never like the idea of seeing the animal mating, as if this was too intrusive (Interview, March 31, 2006):

At that time they were trying to increase the caribou here so they got the caribou and the reindeer together. The animals seemed kind of embarrassed by the people watching as they were getting together. They were looking at the people and were really embarrassed.

18Kilabuk (Interview, March 31, 2006) then stressed on the meat:

Some of the reindeer were killed to be eaten. The meat doesn’t have as much flavour as the caribou we have here. It’s a little bit watery. Our caribou is absolutely very much better.

19According to him, caribou and reindeer later mixed together (Interview, March 31, 2006):

Something I heard about this story is that a caribou around here was found from those reindeer. When the Sami left, the reindeer started mixing with the caribou. Now, there are some caribou mixed from reindeer. We see them sometimes. We know those are mixed but we would hunt them as well, even if the caribou meat is much better. We know that, we have been eating caribou for many years. They were here first and we prefer eating them.

20However, this does not mean that Inuit ignored domestication - they used dogs - or never adopted animals. Adopting an animal was possible for small periods. For example, Inuit adopted bear cubs (tiguat), wolves or even falcons. They would feed them and raise them. They also sometimes adopted caribou as mentioned by Simon Tookoome, an elder from Qamanittuaq (Tookoome 1999: 24). But it seems that whereas adoption was possible at an individual level or on an exceptional basis, it was never considered as a collective option at a cosmological level. Inuit always preferred to be hunters, even if faced with starvation as in the early 1920s.

21In Alaska and in the western Arctic where Saami herders were also brought in, hunters accepted better the idea and also welcomed the Saami. Environmental and political reasons played a part and explain that on the Seward peninsula, for example, Inupiat adopted some herding traditions. Elsewhere in Alaska reindeer herding developed but did not last, yet these activities changed the landscape (see Ellanna et al. 2004; Plattet & Lincoln 2014; Ongtowasruk et al. 2014). In the Canadian western Arctic some initiatives also worked better but in the eastern Arctic Inuit never abandoned their hunting activities nor invested much in herding. In Siberia some groups, such as the Chukchi, practice reindeer herding and hunting at the same time, which shows that herding and hunting can coexist (see Vaté 2007)7. In all cases, the transition from hunting to pastoralism is complex, and it is very difficult to imagine the effects of such an activity on Inuit nomadic traditions. When the Amadjuak experiment took place, Inuit were already semi-nomadic, they would travel but gradually set up their camps near the whaling and trading posts, or near the Anglican mission posts. But following the animals was still an entire way of life. We will see that the perspectives brought by Ingold but also by Willerslev and Vitebsky’s with respect to sacrifice and hunting are not appropriate with respect to the Inuit who relate to the caribou in their own way.

Following “the lice of the earth” and the question of the owner of the caribou

22For Inuit, caribou hunting has always been essential for survival, and today it is still very important. Inuit greatly appreciate the meat, skins and bones of the caribou (see Laugrand & Oosten 2014 for more details). Most Inuit hunted for caribou, tuktu, in the spring and the autumn, and some groups in the Kivalliq area, such as the Ahiarmiut”, depended almost completely on it for survival.

23Simon Tookoome from Qamanittuaq related about caribou hunts (Tookoome 1999: 28-29):

The caribou used to gather in a very large herd to migrate. […] We would walk among them and pick out the fat ones. We would kill them carefully without frightening the herd. If we did not hunt caribou, they would multiply and there would become too many of them. Then they would suffer and starve until the herds were the right size again. Inuit would never set up camp in the path of the caribou. We wanted them to go their proper way. If someone put up a tent near a path, the caribou would change their route. When Inuit kill an animal in the traditional way, they give it a drink of water or, if there is no water, they melt snow with their mouths. The water is very helpful. Water eases the animal’s suffering even after it is dead.

We also removed the sinews before we cracked the leg bones. This was also to ease the dead animal’s pain. The spirit of the animal was grateful. We respected the animals and the animals allowed us to catch them. After we killed a caribou, the tradition was to point the skin towards your home or tent. It sent more caribou that way.

24This latter detail is interesting and today, with their permanent houses, Inuit often place a caribou skull on their house, as if they would still indicate the path of the hunter’s house to the caribou.

25Different traditions with respect to the caribou exist. The first one says that the caribou had no owner but that they came out of the earth as this was told to Boas (1907: 536-537). A man discovered that he would lift up a large flat stone and the caribou would jump out from under it. One day, the stone was turned and many caribou kept jumping out —that is how they scattered all over the earth. The caribou coming from the earth evokes the idea of a multitude. This idea is preserved in the term for caribou in the shamanic language, the word kumarjuait, meaning ‘big lice’, indicating a shift in scale, denoting the caribou as lice crawling the earth.

26The connection of caribou with the earth is always strong, and Rasmussen (1929: 202-203) relates that silaat, giant animals, that turn into caribou are called the children of the earth.

27The second origin tradition connects the caribou and the walrus. It says that these two animals were created as a pair by the mother of the caribou, who is sometimes equated with the owner of the sea mammals. Boas (1888: 588) also related that in Cumberland Sound, the walrus and the caribou were thought to be created by a woman from her breeches and boots, and he observed: “It is very probable that this woman was Sedna,8 as the Eskimo affirm that the observances referring to walrus and deer are commanded by Sedna and as the first tradition accounts for her dislike of the deer.”

28According to Rasmussen (1929: 67), among the Iglulik some people believe the sea woman, Sedna, also owns the caribou, whereas others think the caribou have their own owner. Rasmussen (1929: 67-68) provided an account of the origin of the caribou as related by Orulo, the wife of Aava, a shaman. The “Mother of the Caribou”, “the one with whom the caribou are” is described as an old woman who went up inland to make the caribou (Rasmussen 1929: 67-68):

She made their skins from her own breeches, and changed their original tusks into antlers, kicking them on the forehead which made the hollow one can still see in the caribou. And she went to live among them.

29Captain Lyon (1824: 361) distinguished between the sea woman and Pukimna, the owner of the caribou. Boas (1888: 588) could not find any trace of this tradition but Captain Low (1906: 169), stated, “There is a goddess of the land-animals called Pukimna, who appears to be closely identified with Nuliayok, and may be the same personage under a different name.” She may also be related to the Pinga, a spirit located in the sky by the Padlirmiut in the Kivalliq area (see Laugrand & Oosten 2008: 25-32). Rasmussen (1929: 113) also provides the name Pakitsumanga for the mother of the caribou, relating that she can provide angakkuit (shamans) with qaumaniq, shamanic vision. But Rasmussen (1929: 70) also stated that most Iglulingmiut considered the mother of the caribou and the mother of the sea game as the same being.

30Reverend Peck who helped Boas in translating some of his ethnographical text in shamanic language was told that the caribou were owned by “Tikkertserktok, the goddess of the land (noonaut innunga)”. Peck assumed that she was even more powerful than Sedna (see Laugrand et al. 2006: 369). She required gifts, soles and lines, at the start of the caribou hunting season, otherwise she would make people sick (Laugrand et al. 2006: 369).

31The Iglulingmiut also had to make a gift when they started caribou hunting. Rasmussen (1929: 195) observed, “People hunting caribou in kayaks on a river or lake must, while hunting, lay out a piece of sealskin under a stone as a sacrifice to Tugtut Igfianut, the Mother of the Caribou.” The value of all initial gifts appears to be small, but the success of the hunt depended on them. All gifts were intended for the owners of the game, who would then give the game to the hunters. Rasmussen (1931: 15) also refers to the initial gifts, soles, wicks, that open the caribou season in his discussion of the Nattilingmiut.

32Among the Nattilingmiut the caribou themselves instead of the mother of the caribou appear to be the receivers of the gifts.

33Not only the mother of the caribou or the caribou themselves received gifts. Rasmussen (1929: 194) relates:

When a caribou killed with an arrow is cut up, care must be taken not to break any of the bones, and when the animal has been cut up, a small piece of meat or suet is placed under a stone —qingaluklune— as a sacrifice to the dead —nErErquvlugit - piäkalik - manisinialungmat— it is desired that the dead shall eat, in the hope that they will procure game.

34Michel Kanajuq from Qamanittuaq related how the deceased would interfere on behalf of their descendants (Laugrand & Oosten, 2009: 79):

Some said that the mother of the caribou lived in heaven, and they thought that she was Nuliajuk. Our ancestors thought that all the people who died went to the underworld instead of up above, and that they went to Nuliajuk the mother of the caribou. When the caribou did not want to leave, their faces would change into human-like faces, and the people there would whip them so that they would go to where people were living. An elder would make a small whip, and whip the land, and give it to Nuliajuk and say, ‘Here is your whip. Now let us have some caribou’. That is what they used to do to get the caribou to go where they lived.

35Kanajuq is our only source for these rituals, however. Apparently, the deceased would use a whip to drive the caribou to the land. The whipping of the land probably prepared the land for the caribou hunting and evokes the use of the whip in rituals to calm down the wind. The gift of the whip to Nuliajuk appears to be an initial gift preceding the hunting season.

36Thus, relations with the mother of the caribou, the caribou themselves and the deceased all come into play in the initial gifts required for caribou hunting. Such a configuration indicates that the idea that the animal, and especially the caribou, gives itself to the hunter is probably much more complex. In contrast to Tim Ingold’s argument (Ingold 2000: 13-14), the relationship between the caribou and the hunter cannot be reduced as a discourse or an allegory as many rules were supposed to be followed. Inuit assumed that even the best hunters would be unsuccessful if animals decide to avoid them. But if human beings showed respect to an animal, behaved themselves in accordance with the rules of the ancestors, maintained the important separations between land game and sea game, between everything connected with hunting and all things concerned with human birth, menstruation and death, the game might allow itself to be killed. A hunter should also show an attitude of humility, imploring the game to come to him and to show itself to him. Finally, the hunter should show great joy at the catch and respect the body of the animal once it was killed. Not killing the animal would imply slighting it. If the game did not feel welcome, it would not show itself again.

37Offerings played an important part in caribou hunting. They could be made to the deceased, to the owners of the game or to the animals themselves. These small offerings (often miniature figures of animals) were required for successful hunting. Kappianaq (quoted in Laugrand & Oosten 2014) from Iglulik recalled the importance of offering (tunillai).

38In their article “Sacrifice as the ideal hunt: A cosmological explanation for the origin of reindeer domestication”, Willerslev, Vitebsky and Alekseyev (2014: 8) suggest that there is an inherent double bind in the hunt, “a sort of irreductible paradox,” in the fact that on one side, the animal is said to offer itself to the hunter, and on the other hand, the hunter has to draw an arsenal of devious strategies to get its prey. They argue for a structural identity between hunting and sacrifice. The description above, however, does not seem to evidence this double bind, nor to this equivalence. On the contrary, among Inuit hunting and “sacrifice” —I prefer to call it offering— coexist. Moreover, some violence is clearly acknowledged in the killing and not denied. Peter Suvaksiuq, from Arviat, added that caribou hunts can be scary, as the animals have their own capacity to act (quoted in Laugrand & Oosten 2014):

What I know is that when there is loud thunder far away when there are no clouds or rain, the caribou are coming towards us. They say that there would be a large herd coming towards us because there was thundering far away. […] When there is a herd of bulls together they are scary. […] Even though they do not communicate like us, they know what they are doing.

39Caribou are thus credited with agency; they follow their bulls, their leaders. Inuit hunters acknowledge caribou autonomy.

Caribou and ijirait

40Caribou hunts are usually not dangerous compared to walrus hunts. Yet, hunters have to be very careful, especially when the caribou are in a big moving herd. As for any other hunt, it is impossible to predict the result of the hunt. In certain occasions, however, hunters are informed. And this appears to be the ideal way to hunt it. Dreams, for instance, predict hunters’ fortunes in hunting (see Kulchyski et al. 2003: 283; Kolb & Law 2001: 4, 91). In extreme situations, caribou could also be obtained with irinaliutiit (powerful words), or using Christian hymns and prayers, but these options would be only be used as a last resort. Angutinngurniq stated that indeed “It was not only the angakuit; those who were desperate could call the animals as well”. And very interestingly, he added (quoted in Oosten & Laugrand 2002: 112):

I heard this from my mother. She said that her father used to call game. Sometimes in the spring when he became older if he missed a caribou, he had an irinaliuti for calling it back. When he went back out, the caribou he missed would be there. But those caribou were never really good. Maybe it was the flesh without the tarniq that made it not good to eat.

41Thus a caribou without tarniq (a soul or better, a miniature image of its body), is easier to catch but not good to eat, a statement that would require more discussion, but that illustrates again this ambiguity of the caribou that is not only flesh. The tarniq would give it its capacity to retaliate in case of bad treatment, but also a taste and a connection to an owner. It also illustrates how much caribou are not just animals sent by a guardian spirit.

42Inuit were aware that caribou sometimes became scarce, but they did not attribute that to an overkill of caribou. Periodical scarcity as well as abundance of the caribou were often attributed to the owner of the caribou who closely watch the hunter’s behavior. Elsewere, Jarich Oosten and I have expanded on the specific rules of dealing with the dead bodies of hunted animal (Laugrand & Oosten 2002, 2007, 2014; also Mannik 1998; Rasmussen 1929, 1931), but instead, it is worth to look at ijirait, the category of non-social beings that were closely related to the caribou.

43Rasmussen (1929: 113; see also Boas 1888: 232; 1901: 213-214) observed with respect to the Iglulingmiut that the ijirait, or mountain spirits, were among the most powerful helping spirits of the angakkuit. Rasmussen (1929: 204) glossed the meaning of the word as “those who have something about the eyes”, explaining that their eyes and their mouths were not set transversely in their faces, but lengthwise so that they “blink sideways”. They have excellent eyesight. They live inside the hills, which they have fitted up like great stone houses, much resembling those inhabited by white men. They are not visible to human beings but only to shamans. One should never show any fright when one hears them, for they only attack the timid and cowardly.

44According to George Tataniq from Qamanittuaq, ijirait live in the ground and were known to visit human beings and to take one back with them by giving a drink to their victim (Laugrand & Oosten 2010: 77-78). Iqallijuq (IE 91) associated the ijirait with inurajait and recalled how her husband used to live with them. People who met ijirait tend to forget about them. Taparti observed, “I have heard that ijirait make you forget” (quoted in Oosten & Laugrand 2002: 132-134).

45The notion that ijirait capture people is also a recurrent feature of ijirait stories.

46When they capture human beings, they make them into fast runners by having the flesh from their shinbones or toes eaten away by worms in the earth or tiny creatures in the lakes (Rasmussen 1929: 205).

47Ijirait look like humans and live like humans, but they often take on the shape of caribou. Their faces look like the muzzles of caribou, they use caribou skins as clothes and they dislike everything originating from the sea. Rasmussen (1929: 205) reports, “The men are dressed in human fashion, only the women’s garments are otherwise, their breeches consisting of the white skin from the belly of the caribou; white belly skins all cut up into strips.” Thus, the women are dressed with the pukiq that is used in many ritual contexts. According to Rasmussen “They are as strong as wolves; when they have killed a caribou, they run home with it, slinging it over their shoulders just as a wolf does with its prey.” (Rasmussen 1929: 205).

48Deceased people may join the ijirait (see Saladin d’Anglure 1983). Nutaraaluk from Iqaluit suggested, “Maybe they are the deceased’s people’s tarniit that remain on the land” (quoted in Saladin d’Anglure 2001: 54). And Aupilaarjuk from Rankin Inlet stated, “Dead people turn into ijirait. That is what I have heard. I have not seen this personally, but I believe it […] ijirait are said to be deceased people that turn into caribou” (Saladin d’Anglure 2001: 56, 60). Nutaraaluk suggested that ijirait live forever: “Some of those who roam the earth are said to never leave it” (quoted in Saladin d’Anglure 2001: 55).

49Encounters with Ijirait are numerous in Inuit oral traditions and violence is involved.

50Rasmussen (1929: 205-206) related an encounter of the angakkuq Qingailisaq or Oqaminiq, the father of the angakkuq Aava, Rasmussen’s main informant, with the ijirait. One ijiraq tried to throw him down, but the angakkuq withstood the attack. They separated on friendly terms, and the angakkuq had a coat made with ornamentations that depicted the encounter.

51Today, Elders still recall many experiences with them. Angutinngurniq from Kugaaruk related, “Because my mother was named Ijiraq, I often thought that maybe it was because of her that I saw ijirait. I have seen them more than once. Even though they are close by, and there isn’t anywhere for them to hide, they tend to disappear” (quoted in Oosten & Laugrand 2007: 167). John Makitgaq from Qamanittuaq remembered he had seen one and “its legs were like the kamiks (boots) that women make from caribou leg skins” (quoted in Mannik 1998: 139).

52Aupilaarjuk commented that although ijirait can easily retaliate if one of them is killed, Inuit who had a tattoo between the eyes, a kigjugaq, were usually protected from their attacks. The marking provided protection (quoted in Saladin d’Anglure 2001: 60, 62).

53Kappianaq gave an extensive account of an encounter with ijirait: “An ijiraq is able to make the land ripple. […] I got lost for three days because of them. […] I know that there are ijirait even though I am Christian.” (quoted in Oosten & Laugrand 2001: 71-74)

54The ijirait thus appear as caribou people, sharing features of caribou and also hunting them, and human beings can join them after death. The contrast between ijirait and ordinary animals is marked by eyesight -whereas caribou see very badly, ijirait have excellent eyesight- and by the drink of water, as described by Tookoome.

55Whereas the relations between human beings and caribou seem straightforward, as hunters and prey, this relation is complicated by the ijirait, who appear to identify both as caribou, in their capacity to transform into caribou, and as deceased human beings, in the fact that deceased as well as living human beings can join them. When they transform into caribou, they should not be killed, and they are very capable caribou hunters themselves.

Conclusion

56Drawing on the Amadjuak’s experiment and on the Inuit perception of the caribou, why did these hunters resist herding so much? One could argue that they are in fact already familiar with the idea of mastering animals or using them for transport, as this is illustrated by the dogs. Using Taber’s paper, Tim Ingold (2000: 73) who studied the transition from hunting to pastoralism in North America and Eurasia, suggests that domestication implies “a kind of mastery and control similar to that entailed in slavery”. Inuit never developed that dominant relation of production, and they probably always were and still are very reluctant to such a system. They remain predators. Similarly, Inuit never felt themselves as people protecting the caribou, as this scheme of protection seems essential in herding cultures (Ingold 1980: 27; Descola 2005). Inuit are more inclined to think that caribou have their own mind and that humans can only follow them and respect their nabluit, their paths. They might be connected to an owner but this connection is not straightforward. We do not find any double bind as Willerslev, Vitebsky & Alekseyev (2014) characterize it. Inuit consider caribou autonomous; they cannot be appropriated as they remain closely connected to the land and the deceased. Reindeer herders are seen like ‘cousins,’ yet Inuit identify themselves as hunters. In the past, Inuit performed rituals before the hunt as if they would prefigure the future result of the hunt (see Laugrand & Oosten 2014). Many cultural and spiritual rules apply to the caribou, and Inuit still respect these rules.

57The connection between the caribou and the land is always strong, and ijirait seem to be present everywhere in the Canadian Arctic. The ijirait are connected to the land, the caribou and the deceased. They carry connotations of caribou as well as of caribou hunters and may to some extent represent the owners of the caribou. But Pukimna or Pinga, the owner of the caribou mentioned earlier, may also have been an owner of the caribou. Moreover, the deceased also figure as owners of the caribou in the account of Kanajuq, when they send the caribou to the hunters to be killed. A fixed model of ownership did not exist, and more than one agent could represent the owner(s) of the caribou.

58With respect to the Inuit of Canada, not only the ijirait but the caribou themselves may also have been connected with the deceased. According to one of the origin myths they came out of the earth, which receives the dead bodies of human beings after death, and their bodies were brought in through the back of the igloo, just as the corpses of people, wrapped in a caribou skin, were brought out. The human faces of the caribou described by Kanajuq would also fit into such a pattern as well as the drawings collected by Bernard Saladin d’Anglure from Davidialuk Alasuaq that inspired Tim Ingold (2000: 117-123). The caribou may have represented anonymous deceased ancestors. This interpretation gives more meaning to a painting by Nick Sikkuark (1976: 16) in his booklet What animal think that depicts a caribou buried with stones, as this was usually done for dead humans, with the statement: “When I was alive, I waited for man to kill me. Now that I am dead, I am still waiting”.

59To conclude, the symbolism of the caribou remains very complex. Its tarniq makes it more difficult to catch but gives more taste to its flesh. On the contrary, reindeer are said not to taste good according to the Inuit hunters.

60Hunting caribou was -and to a large extent still is- considered the only way to preserve them, and Inuit hunters very much dislike the way biologists pursue and capture caribou with helicopters and nets to study their behaviour. The size of caribou herds has been an issue of debate for a long time, and Inuit hunters and qallunaat (White people) often disagree with biologists on the estimates. In the Inuit’s view, the caribou and their lifestyle have to be respected.

61Closely associated with nuna (the land), caribou are referred to as the big lice of the earth. —Like the qupirruit, small beings, they are considered masters of life and death. They always return in great numbers despite the recurrent cycles of increase and decrease that characterize the great herds in the north. They are often defined as a multitude and the sound of the herds is associated with thunder. Thunder is also connected with the apsait (non-human beings who cause the earth to shake), and that connection should be explored further. In the past complex feasts connecting successful hunting with the fertility of women were celebrated. Ritual injunctions ensured that caribou and sea game were separated. Women, especially menstruating and pregnant women, were subject to all kinds of restrictions with respect to the caribou, and these applied particularly to the nablut, the crossing places of the caribou, where they used to be killed in multitudes. Today, many of these practices have disappeared, but caribou remain a major prey and remain closely associated with the ijirait. Killing them implies some violence -that of a killing- but is also a matter of respect -it avoids depletion of the game- and essential for humans to survive. Yet, from the hunter’s perspective, hunting is not sacrifice. To what extent the owner of master dominates his herd, as Ingold (2015: 24) explores in the Siberian context, cannot be applied here either because caribou are not always associated with an owner. Rather, they are connected to the land and to a multitude. The master is by no means a “spiritual pastoralist.” On the contrary, and like the Inuit themselves, the master cannot control these animals. The situation is different with seals and sea mammals, but that is another subject.