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Northland Footprints
by Kenneth Conibear
214 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #00-0082; ISBN 1-55212-418-5; US$22.00, C$25.50, EUR18.00, £13.00
This story describes, in the form of a novel, the lives of many animals in and around a small lake in the Northwest Territories. It is divided into two parts - before and after the coming of man, the hunter/trapper who created fear among the animals.
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About the BookThis is a realistic novel of the Canadian Northwest, situated on Little Bent Tree Lake in Canada's Northwest Territories, in which animals are the chief characters. It describes with humour, drama and pathos a whole community of animals and birds and their unceasing struggle to live. It is neither a fantasy nor a treatise. It is fiction, with creatures of the world playing the main parts in the drama- the beaver, the muskrat, the silver fox, the whiskey-jack, wolverine and many others. Along with all the emotions that make any story worth reading- love, hate, fear, envy- here are such animal/human qualities as heroism, devotion, mother love, fidelity, cunning, all portrayed through the lives of the book's characters. Their loves, hunger, feasts, fights, sadness, gladness, deaths, their interrelations, the part played in their lives by winter, summer, the snows, the winds, the buildings of the beaver, the introduction of fear into their lives because of the introduction of man, the hunter/trapper- these are combined into a unified plot which draws to an exciting climax. |
About the AuthorKenneth Conibear, was born in Orrville, Ontario in 1907, and moved with his family to the Northwest Territories in 1912, travelling there by rail, stagecoach and barge. He was raised in Fort Smith and, other than one year of formal education at the Fort Smith mission school, was educated to the grade 10 level by his parents and friends within that community. He was sent out to Edmonton to formally complete grades 11 and 12, and continued on to the University of Alberta where Kenneth majored in English and Philosophy. He was selected as the Alberta Rhodes Scholar in 1931 and spent 3 years at Oxford studying English. He spent the next three years in England writing and had his first novel, "Northland Footprints" published in 1936. He was referred to as 'The Kipling of the North'. In 1937 his publisher, Lovat Dickson, hired him to travel with and manage Grey Owl's speaking tour of England, and because of that close association, Kenneth has often been consulted as an expert on Grey Owl. In 1938 he returned to the Northwest Territories and had "Northward to Eden" published, followed in 1940 by the novel, "Husky" written in collaboration with his brother Frank, the inventor of the Conibear trap. In 1995 his fourth novel, "The Nothing Man" was privately published and his fifth is 'in the works'. All of these novels are based on his knowledge and love of the people, the northern environment and the animals of the north. Kenneth's careers 'down north' were writer, hunter, trapper, storekeeper and, following his service with the Canadian navy from 1943 to 1946, he returned to the territories and operated freight boats on the Mackenzie River system, chiefly on Great Slave Lake, while continuing his writing. These 'down north' careers were followed by his "outside" careers as executive secretary of the B.C. Hospital Association, part-time English instructor in English at Simon Fraser University, departmental assistant and student advisor in S.F.U.'s English department, lecturer in continuing Education for Senior Citizens and, following his retirement in 1977, Program Co-ordinator in the Dean of Arts Office, part time. In 1979 he became associate director of S.F.U.'s Senior Citizens Certificate program and is still an honorary associate director. This background makes his own life 'the stuff of novels'. |
Reviews
"Conibear opens up for every nature lover, and even those who rarely read books on animals, a new and exciting world. This realistic novel of the Canadian northwest was originnally written and printed in 1936. Fortuneately, the author is again making it available. He describes wild creatures on their own terms so that you truly learn about the community of muskrat, elk, beaver, fox, and other creatures. You'll discover how they live through winter and summer, through snows and winds, and through trappings by man."
The Compendium Newsletter, Book reviews by Fany Chavez
"A magical tale, after the form of Felix Salten's original Bambi...in which the animals are the main characters and somehow take on a believable substance despite the potential problems of anthropomorphization. A book that took consummate skill to create. Frontispiece pictorial map of "Little Bent Tree Lake", the spiritual central venue of the story, which lies "somewhere south and east of Great Slave Lake and the Slave River". Another nice touch is the List of Characters, all wildlife but for two peripheral humans, and all of which are named in Indian languages of the Northwest Territories: Ojibway, Chipwyan, Cree, and Sioux, but for one wolverine with the "French-Canadian" name Carcajou. In all, absolutely enchanting. An unforgettable gift for the collector of Canadiana, serious animal fiction, or naturalist fiction."
Jeff Harvey, Whollymoly Store, N. Syracuse, N.Y. - 2000
The Sunday Times
"Mr. Conibear... has written a fascinating volume. It has the tenderness of the "Wind in the Willows," the interest of the "Jungle Books" and certain qualities of its own that will recommend it to every person of imagination."
Burlington Free Press
"In this realistic novel of the Canadian Northwest, animals are the chief characters and few dramas of human relationships are half so impressive as this superb tragi-comedy of a whole community of beasts, from the little muskrat, to the mighty elk, and their unceasing struggle to live. Here are all the emotions that make any story worth reading- love, hate, fear, envy- here are such "human" qualities as heroism, devotion, mother love, fidelity, cunning, portrayed through the lives of an endlessly fascinating group of furred and winged heroes and heroines."Northland Footprints" is neither a fantasy nor a treatise. It is fiction, with creatures of the world playing the main parts in the drama- the beaver, the muskrat, the silver fox, the "whiskey- jack," and many others. Their loves, hunger, feasts, fights, sadness, gladness, deaths, their interrelations, the part played in their lives by winter, summer, the snows, the winds, the buildings of the beaver, the trapping of man, the great disease which attacks the rabbits and through them effects all other creatures- these are the subjects of the book combined into a unified plot which draws to an exciting climax."
Book of the Month Club News
Northland Footprints is a thickly populated story of animal life in Canada, bright eyes and furry ears. Mr. Conibear went to Little Bent Tree lake and lived with animals who had never before seen men, and who knew only curiosity uncomplicated by fear for this new and strange behaving biped. He writes of animals as they should be written of. He does not try to make them as human as possible but endeavors rather to make them as humanly comprehensive in their animality as possible. The first two creatures met are Ahmeek and his brother Tsa. Lovely young beavers they are, swimming down-stream from their two year old home. In a very few pages one knows them both, Ahmeek with his hurt hind leg which prevents his ever quite bringing off his coup of swimming under water under Tsa and coming up leader, Tsa with his kindly directing nose and his gay sense of fun. Alas, poor Tsa so soon to die and Ahmeek to take a wife. And the three bears, Mahto, Peelish, and spoiled Sybley, the buffoons on the dam, so busy, so self-important, so intriguing. Then Mistigina, the charming young female muskrat; Mistiginish, the sour old female muskrat; and Mistigi, the much put-to-it husband of them both. Only a complete account of the dramatis personae of the book could do justice to its quality. And if you want all sorts of natural history facts, they are here too. But the animals dart in and out among them so that they never intrude."Chapter Excerpt
From Chapter 1: THE BEGINNING OF A JOURNEY
Down the middle of a small throatily-gurgling stream, over which the willows were so closely arched that the thin light of the sinking sun flashed but fitfully from its wave-jewelled, stone- broken surface, two round dark heads moved swiftly, curling white streamers of water before them. At first they were so close together that the narrow, pointed chin of one seemed to ride on the broad flat tail which belonged to the owner of the other. Then gradually the leader drew away, till the slowly spinning eddies that swirled back from his neck were all but lost in the deeper currents of the stream before the other reached them. He seemed to hurry, and had good reason, for narrow and shallow waters are unsafe places for young beaver people alone in the wilds of Northern Canada.
The stream broadened, the willows gave place to tall and upright spruce, the sun peered through green tops million-needled, while the waters ceased their urging cry, spreading contented and slow in the deep, wide basin which the creek had here formed for itself. The leader relaxed his pace, folded his front paws under his breast, and paddled with leisurely strokes of his large webbed hind feet. Once he stopped and turned half-around, treading water till his small eyes were high above the surface and his heavily-furred back glistened in the sunlight. Satisfied that his partner was not far behind, he slipped into the current again, and swam easily with the stream. An angle of waves spread from his head across the smooth water to the grass-lined shore. The grasses danced in them, whispered to each other, nodded, and were still.
The second beaver hurried. All four feet moved quickly in the water, sending up swirling footprints which rose behind him, shapeless, distorted, slowly spinning, and were soon lost, with every other mark of his passage, in the all-enveloping, eternally-lasting order of the woods and streams through which the young couple made their way. Sometimes in his eagerness he thrust deep into the water with his tail also, but whether such action was a help or an impediment in his progress it would be hard to decide. As he neared his brother half-way down the wide reach a change came over his expression and his manner. Swimming quickly still, but cautiously, careful not to make a sound, he half-lifted his lips over long, curved, yellow teeth, and puckered the stiffly upright hairs on his brows till his eyes could be seen to gleam with excitement; he seemed to grin. Suddenly, close on his brother's tail, he dived quietly under water, and there swam as quickly as he could.
The leading beaver, feeling against his sensitive skin unusual movements of the water below him, looked down, and saw the dark, wide, shadowy outline underneath him. His eyes shone; he too, seemed to grin. He dropped his front paws from his chest, dug them into the water, and paddled at full speed on the surface.
Foiled in his attempt to take the lead, the slower beaver rolled himself aside with a single twist and thrust of his tail, and shot up beside his brother. The two faced each other in feigned astonishment, with surprise, alarm, and consternation written all over their faces in the exaggerated lines adopted by children in games of pretence. One slapped a loud challenge on the water with his tail; the other answered. Both backed-water, and a minute later they were circling cautiously about each other, manoeuvring for position.
At first they seemed in deadly earnest, but it became more and more apparent as the tactical struggle progressed that it was merely part of a game which both animals were enjoying greatly. A few feints and strategic retreats roused their excitement to such a pitch at last that their assumed astonishment and antipathy broke down in squeals of delight. Then they rushed upon each other, the forepaws of each breaking the water in his attempt to gain speed before the other. They met shoulder to shoulder, and a most enthusiastic and lively set-to began.
Tumbling, rolling, pushing each other under, slapping the water resoundingly with flat tails, putting their short arms about each other's necks, gurgling and squealing with glee, the two beaver played for five or ten minutes as if they were the most irresponsible creatures in the world. Then, apparently, one of them remembered the dignity and destiny of their race and the own pressing problems of this pair of adventurers. He touched the other's nose with his, communicating some well-understood message. Both dropped their antics, and a moment later they were paddling sedately down the creek, side by side.
The sun was lower now, and when they came to bending willows again, arched over a narrow stream, its light was scarcely effective. They hurried on, through twilight, through the first hours of dark. They played no more; there was no friendly contest for leadership now. He who had led first led all the way, often pausing to allow his brother to catch up to him. The slower one laboured behind, working hard, and often, as he grew tired, swinging partly out of the line of travel by imperceptible degrees, and bringing himself back to it by sharp angry flips of his tail. His left hind foot handicapped him when speed was called for; it was slightly deformed, and the web was torn with a wound of long ago.
Many places suitable for beaver to sleep in they passed with scant inspection: hollow banks, willow-embowered islands, and spits of sand on which the green reeds grew like a jungle. Clearly they looked for something else, and were uneasy. At last they found it; against a hollow bank a peeled stick lay half in the water, cloudy white in the darkness. The brothers hastened to it, smelt it, examined its sharp-bitten ends, whimpered sounds that were almost speakingly human, expressive now of delight, now of loneliness, and at last hurried ashore, dragging their tails on the mud. In the hollow they found more sticks, chips, and a bed of soft dry grasses rounded down in two forms side by side. Other beaver had slept there, others whom these two knew, and whose scent was rich in memories. Bustling awkwardly out of the hollow on short legs, the two creatures who had been all grace in the water waddled clumsily to a small tree, reared themselves on each side of it, and cut it down with quick, sharp bites of teeth that went through it like a saw. They carved it into lengths, dragged them to the hollow, and ate the juicy, Spring-rich bark. Then they put fresh chips and grasses on the floor, not so neatly disposed as those they had found there, lay down, and went uneasily to sleep.
They cuddled tight in each other's arms, each gripping his brother's fur with small hand- like front paws, shoving noses into each other's soft throats, shutting out all the exterior world which crept along the slow shadows of night. Often they woke in the darkness, whimpered, looked about with peering, shifting eyes, and drew closer together again. They were but young beaver, Ahmeek and Tsa, and it was the first time they had ever spent a night away from the home of their birth a long day's journey up the creek.
