Of War and Peace (The Dog Fight) (continued)
The sledge has already been loaded and the centre trace picketed at the front. Then each dog separately is brought from the span, harnessed and clipped into the appropriate side trace. The bitches and least troublesome dogs will come first but they can now get at each other and the arena for a free for all tag match is being set. As teeth begin to bare and growls turn into actions, speed is of the essence. Finally the bad boys arrive and the immediate future is balanced on a knife edge. Either, to a crescendo of snarls and growls, the front picket is removed and on the command of ‘Huit Boys’ the journey will begin. Or, more likely, just at the critical moment Frankie has sunk his teeth into Johnnie’s foot and a free for all has been called. The rules of a dog fight are few. For sure if you see a leg sticking out of a fur pile you grab it. Likewise, for a tail or an ear irrespective of who it belongs to. Petty grievances have now been overtaken by the joy of the fight. Opting out is not in the husky character and something must be done quickly if serious injury is to be avoided. In all but the husky context our method of breaking up a dog fight may be felt to be cruel. But the operation was carried out with love and with the sole objective of minimising the resultant injury. I have yet to see the bonker used in anger.
The dog bonker comprised a length of thick rope with the end spliced back on itself to provide a handle. The rule for breaking up a dog fight was much the same as the rule for starting one. Any back or flank that was accessible should be bonked. This lack of discrimination may sound unfair but it must be remembered that there is no single aggressor in this free for all and that only seconds may be the dividing Iine between superficial and serious injury. The vocal side of this peace making was also very important and such expressions as”Break it up you bastards” would hold a lot of weight.
Sooner or later the consensus of “We’ve had enough of this” would prevail and several seconds opportune for making a departure would elapse before a grudge became too strong again. Fortunately life did not remain so precarious and many sledging days may pass without incident. Then one day some occasions such as a sledge turning over would trigger them of and they would be at each others throats again.
But the greater wars rage between men. The 1958-59 season saw six of us living closely in the confines of the old base hut at Stonington which was completely covered by ice and drift. From these confines we appreciated the friendship of the Argentinian base a few miles to the north on the Debenham Islands. During these days of Antarctic rivalry the occupation by these ‘Argies’ was not politically acceptable on the Graham Land Peninsular and we were required to hand over protest notes. Likewise they would hand a similar note to us. On a typical get together the two parties would exchange protests with mock seriousness, pretend to read, tear up and the party would begin. Such friendship was only rivalled in pleasure by the large sides of beef hanging in their freezer. Then the 1960-61 season saw four of us living closely in one room of the iced up Stonington hut. The resulting pressures and stress of such close living proximity are obvious. Likewise, for the sledge journey when two men may lie up in a tent for a week or more during a blizzard. On some occasions silly little things become enormous issues.
I can remember clearly to this day how one of my tent companions used to clean out his pemmican plate with his finger after each meal and how completely unreasonably this would make me squirm. There again some of the finest friendships were moulded in this close proximity. The saving grace for this stress of close living without privacy was undoubtedly the dogs. You would emerge from the hut into the Antarctic winter twilight to a welcoming chorus of barking and howling. Perhaps they are expecting to be fed? No, they were fed seal several hours ago. This general excitement and span pulling is just for you alone and already the oppressions of base life are beginning to lift.
Alpha is the first dog you encountered. He greets you by stretching up his 100 Ibs to place his paws on your chest. You stoop down only a litte for a hug and the inevitable face wash. Then it’s Moose’s turn and as he is wearing “blubber wellies” you discourage the legs up approach. Instead you are lashed by the wagging tail and your leather gloves are all but consumed by a mouth so practised at chewing. Also given half a chance in the general excitement Moose will try to pee on your mukluks. Frankie is next and torn between greetings and keeping his eye on Bebe on the next span who is on heat. He decides that Bebe is not going to go far so you get together in a close hug to discuss the merits of a remaining bit of seal blubber.
Buster has no such problems with sex after an operation some time in the past. Instead, he can concentrate his full attention to food and weighs the heaviest at 108 Ibs. The bitches are like a different breed with a full quota of feminine qualities. Ruth is the lightest at 64 Ibs and almost breaks in two in attempting the biggest of tail wags. According to the 1960-61 dog report for the Spartans “Ruth is extremely feminine and outrageously flirtatious.” Her blandishments may cause dissension amongst the front three dogs and her habit of coming back to flirt with Moose and Steve must be discouraged.” Bebe was more subtle but no less welcoming. I got on my knees in a clinch of a salivary tongue and little whines escalating in reaction to the wagging rear.
Bessie, my lead dog, was very special to me and highly intelligent. We discuss some of the silly things that were troubling me with base life and her concrete of this moment answers were a great help. Occasionally the dogs for no apparent reason would chorus a long primordial howl befitting of any Arctic tundra. One returned to the fog of the hut refreshed and invigorated and realising more deeply that without those husky friends life in this wilderness would be so much poorer.
Peter Forster – Surveyor/BC – Stonington 1957-61