The Lansdowne Letters: The Howling of Dogs

If you head into the northern bush,
you understand solitude.

As a young girl in isolation,
I sometimes thought
No one in the entire world 
knows where I am right now.
No human may ever have stood
on this exact spot.

I was caught up in the Romance
of the stunningly beautiful wilderness.

pixabay

When you are off by yourself
you experience profound silence.
Only the sounds of nature intrude.
At times I could hear my blood 
moving through my veins
and the Lub dub, Lub dub of my heart.

But sometimes during the day
and often at night,
it was not silent.
A constant noise cut the silence:
the eerie, unforgettable howling 
of the Indian dogs.

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Tuesday, October 11, 1960 
My father wrote:


Hi Everyone:   
This is going to be fairly short, 
because I’m feeling quite miserable tonight.  
I am, and have been having, 
a session with the flu.  

Bill Mitchell  tells me that 
every new arrival at Lansdowne House 
usually has one or two bouts 
before he becomes acclimatized.

I didn’t do too much today, 
didn’t even eat, 
just went to school 
and let the pupils in out of the cold.
  

I didn’t teach, 
because I only spent 
about a quarter of my time in the school. 
The rest was spent 
in the backhouse behind the school.
  
After school, 
I came home and went to bed.
   
I want to go back to those Indian dogs 
and their howling for a few moments.

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I mentioned the howling to the Father today, 
and he told me that the main reason 
the dogs howl is that they are starving, 
and they are howling with hunger.  

That piece of news makes 
me feel worse than ever.  
Before I was just annoyed 
when I heard the poor brutes howling, 
but now, I will feel sorry for them.

It is very easy to believe this, 
because the Indians are 
very cruel to their dogs.  

They never pet them, 
or let them into the house, 
or feed them, 
and the poor brutes are half starved 
and go slinking around 
with their tails between their legs 
all the time.


                         

flickr ~ philippephotos

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They exist on whatever 
they can find in garbage piles 
or catch in the woods.  

Occasionally their diet is augmented 
by one of the weaker dogs 
or a cat who happens to get careless.

                         

flickr ~ philippephotos

license

When a cat happens to get eaten though, 
the Indians are quite annoyed, 
because for some reason, 
the Indians treat their cats just as kindly 
as they treat their dogs unkindly.  

The cat is always allowed indoors 
and is always given the choicest portion 
of whatever the family is having to eat.  

The Father tells me, 
that in spite of all his efforts 
and the efforts of the Protestant Padre, 
the Indians still consider 
that all cats have either 
a benevolent or malevolent spirit 
residing in their bodies 
and treat them with considerable deference.

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We will have to be careful 
when we take Gretchen up here, 
to see that she doesn’t end up 
as a tidbit for some of the Indian dogs.

We Five with Our Dachshund Gretchen

Donnie, Barbie, Louise, Bertie, and Roy

Margaretsville, Nova Scotia

Spring, 1959
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved

Another custom of the Indians 
that I find a source of 
never ending amusement 
is the habit they have of 
always letting the males go first.  

The males always enter church first 
and leave it first.  
They also eat first 
and always enter 
and leave a building first.  

This habit is even strong 
among the children in school.  
At recess and at noon, 
the girls never leave their seats 
till the boys have put on their coats 
and have left the building.
  
If there are several girls 
waiting at the pencil sharpener 
to sharpen their pencils 
and a boy comes up, 
the girls automatically stand aside 
and let him sharpen his pencil.  

I have been trying, 
with very little success, to teach 
the boys to treat the girls with respect, 
but they only think that it is foolishness. 
Even the girls look at me askance 
when I try to get them to go first.

I have never seen a man 
haul water from the lake yet, 
and only once have I seen 
a man cutting wood 
and hauling it into the house. 
That is woman’s work.

Well, so much for today.

Bye now,
Love, Don.


Like my father, I could never forget 
the howling of the Indian dogs.

This is the best best video that I could find
to show what sled dogs howling sound like.
These dogs (and the ones in the photos above)
are much healthier and better cared for than 
the Indian sled dogs of Lansdowne House.




Till next time ~

Fundy Blue