Many a party have been waylaid by wolves like this, and have not had the good fortune to survive. Should there be a shortage of food, resulting in subsequent sickness and weakness among the travellers or hunters, they fall victims very easily to the rapacity of the savage animal denizens of the wild. The male dogs of the teams get killed, and the females join the marauding horde and revert to their wolfish state. THE SONG OF THE PINTAILED DUCK. As sung in Competition in the Kagge. Samane samiyeyiya, iya, neakoa koololotingoâle Sigoole kokiglotingoale aglokugle pooarkretingoagle Okagle allotingoarkinna ikkoâto kettemalotikogikgoa Ookeonne pissorayakattalale ipâ adyelikjolikpanma Iya annungmenik ipa sosooktelaneyonele annamane Adyegegaloâgoone kattargit nippotenekpategikkoa Issungatoot annenarsuarâyakto. Free Translation of the Song of the Pintailed Duck in Competition with the Ptarmigan. “His head is like a swollen thumb joint, His beak is like the thumb nail. His lower beak is like a shovel, and his tongue is like a spoon. They come together (the Ptarmigans) in the winter; They walk together, and make a soft sleeping place By covering the hard rocks with dung. But their breasts freeze hard down to this, They flap their wings, And try to fly away ...” The singer goes through all the appropriate (if somewhat broad) actions of this bit of burlesque, flapping his arms to ridicule the birds caught fast on the rocks in their own frozen droppings. The Ptarmigan is not slow to respond. THE SONG OF THE HUNTER. Panneyukpayiyeyâ â sakkokalemukkoa Panneyuktarrekâ okeoksaktalimingmat Samaniyiyeyeya â sakkokalemukkoa Panneyuktarreka oonarramanna panneyaktarrega Okeaksaktalemingmat sammiyiyeyiya â Ipparramanna toosneksaktangmeta innarlo Sângane samiyiyeyeya â oonaralelidlugolemanaeyâ Iyuksaktareka innâlo sângane samiyiyeyiyâ â Kinnalena imnarlo sângane. Free Translation of the Song of the Hunter: “He is preparing his hunting weapons and his ammunition. Mine also are being prepared, Because it is again autumn. My spear is prepared, and my seal warp. Because they catch the sound of my preparing, Of my placing my spear, In the front of the high cliffs The seals have gone away. Although the face of the high cliffs Smells of the seals” (Understood, yet they have gone away.) CHAPTER XVIII THE CREATURES OF THE WILD Bear hunting, again, is pursued by the Eskimo with no less zest than that of the seal or deer. It forms quite a subject by itself, and calls for some description of its own customs, methods, and superstitions.