Dienstag, 24. März 2009
Montag, 16. März 2009
Sonntag, 15. März 2009
Dienstag, 10. März 2009
"The Art of Driving a Dog Sled"
Here I have a nice extract from "Greenland then and now" by Erik Erngaard.
For all of us, who could not imagine how it is to drive a dog sled with Inuit dogs and all the others could reminisce about their experience with the dogs.
Yes, we do not use the mentioned "fan" and the whip, but anyhow it doesn't matter.
"Before the dog sled is completely replaced by the snow scooter, it might be appropriate to tell what it is all about. The late Danish paleontologist, Dr. Eigil Nielsen, has given one of the best descriptions from which this is an extract:
All of my readers probably know how a dog looks. A hairy body with a head at one end and a bushy tail at the other. The tail is the most important of the three. By watching the position of the tail it is possible, with certainty, to determine the mood of the dog. If the tail is held upright with an elegant curve over the back, the dog has no appreciable worries. If the tail, on the other hand, is sagging, it is a sure sign that troublesome personal worries weigh heavily on the dog's mind.
The dog is tied to the sled by means of a pulling rope. If you drive with eight dogs, eight equally long ropes are secured in the same spot, forming a fan and ending in a dog. To place the eight dogs in front of the sled in the correct fanshape sounds so easy and simple that anyone will be struck with consternation when he views the results of his first try. For the sake of convenience I have in the following numbered the dogs in the fan from 1 to 8, beginning at left with no. 1.
Anchoring the pulling rope to the sled does not present any great problems, however, it is advisable to start the process by securing the sled to something which cannot be moved by less than two horses.
As soon as the dogs have been placed, the following will take place: Dog 3 will jump over rope 4 and 5 and slip under rope 6 to say hello to dog 7. Dog 4 and 5 will walk with calm dignity 11 times around each other. Dog 2 will stand a moment with a deeply furrowed forehead and then he will remember that the dastardly dog 8 stole a mitten of sealskin from him yesterday. Without hesitation he pushes his way through the rope fan in order to punish dog 8. Dog 3 takes a spectator's view of the fight until he discovers that dog 8 is defeated whereupon he enthusiastically digs his teeth into the loser's left thigh. All this is contemplated with cool indifference and through half closed eyes-by dog 1, the lead dog, while slowly lifting one hind leg in order to baptize the left runner of the sled.
The episode here described happens in less time than it takes to count to one hundred. Finally, the pulling ropes are so entangled that the dogs are unable to move a leg-unless you already have intervened with your dog whip.
A Greenland dog whip has a wooden handle approximately 16 inches long, to which is fastened a l8-24 feet long whiplash made of skin from the bearded seal. You hold the beast by the handle, swing your arm, and, theoretically, the very end of the whiplash hits firmly and forcibly the one dog in the team that you wished to punish. Practically speaking, you still hold the whip by the handle, swing your arm, and, after having described a fantastic curve through the air, the whiplash hits, not a dog, but your own face. Fortunately, I might add, this does not happen all the time. Equally often the whiplash will coil itself six times around your body, so that you can no longer use your arms, or around your legs, so that you fail and hit your forehead on the only stone sticking out of the snow within a radius of several miles."
Eigi Nielsen continues to describe how you direct the dogs by hitting with the whip in the snow at the left or the right of the team. "The whip is held in your right hand, and if it is to hit the snow to the left of the team, the path of the whiplash moves directly across all the dogs' traces. When the whiplash is pulled back it will entangle itself in the most ingenious way in the traces. It will take some time to free the whiplash by pulling the traces so close to the sled that you can reach the knots.
It might dawn on the intelligent driver that if you could turn the team to the right you could drive around the compass. He has a go at it and the dogs obey him! They are turning right, and it is a pleasure to watch. They only keep turning until a certain point, however. The point where the team crosses the sled tracks in the snow and where they are facing the house they have just left.
In all probability they do not see the house, but a fresh sled track is in any case enough to make a dog team think. The thought is always the same, 'Where in the world is this lovely track leading to?"'
When, after 35 minutes' absence, you are driving up in front of the house at full speed, and everybody comes streaking out, Eigil Nielsen's only advice to you is to look unperturbed and remark casually, "Oh, I just forgot my pipe!"
For all of us, who could not imagine how it is to drive a dog sled with Inuit dogs and all the others could reminisce about their experience with the dogs.
Yes, we do not use the mentioned "fan" and the whip, but anyhow it doesn't matter.
"Before the dog sled is completely replaced by the snow scooter, it might be appropriate to tell what it is all about. The late Danish paleontologist, Dr. Eigil Nielsen, has given one of the best descriptions from which this is an extract:
All of my readers probably know how a dog looks. A hairy body with a head at one end and a bushy tail at the other. The tail is the most important of the three. By watching the position of the tail it is possible, with certainty, to determine the mood of the dog. If the tail is held upright with an elegant curve over the back, the dog has no appreciable worries. If the tail, on the other hand, is sagging, it is a sure sign that troublesome personal worries weigh heavily on the dog's mind.
The dog is tied to the sled by means of a pulling rope. If you drive with eight dogs, eight equally long ropes are secured in the same spot, forming a fan and ending in a dog. To place the eight dogs in front of the sled in the correct fanshape sounds so easy and simple that anyone will be struck with consternation when he views the results of his first try. For the sake of convenience I have in the following numbered the dogs in the fan from 1 to 8, beginning at left with no. 1.
Anchoring the pulling rope to the sled does not present any great problems, however, it is advisable to start the process by securing the sled to something which cannot be moved by less than two horses.
As soon as the dogs have been placed, the following will take place: Dog 3 will jump over rope 4 and 5 and slip under rope 6 to say hello to dog 7. Dog 4 and 5 will walk with calm dignity 11 times around each other. Dog 2 will stand a moment with a deeply furrowed forehead and then he will remember that the dastardly dog 8 stole a mitten of sealskin from him yesterday. Without hesitation he pushes his way through the rope fan in order to punish dog 8. Dog 3 takes a spectator's view of the fight until he discovers that dog 8 is defeated whereupon he enthusiastically digs his teeth into the loser's left thigh. All this is contemplated with cool indifference and through half closed eyes-by dog 1, the lead dog, while slowly lifting one hind leg in order to baptize the left runner of the sled.
The episode here described happens in less time than it takes to count to one hundred. Finally, the pulling ropes are so entangled that the dogs are unable to move a leg-unless you already have intervened with your dog whip.
A Greenland dog whip has a wooden handle approximately 16 inches long, to which is fastened a l8-24 feet long whiplash made of skin from the bearded seal. You hold the beast by the handle, swing your arm, and, theoretically, the very end of the whiplash hits firmly and forcibly the one dog in the team that you wished to punish. Practically speaking, you still hold the whip by the handle, swing your arm, and, after having described a fantastic curve through the air, the whiplash hits, not a dog, but your own face. Fortunately, I might add, this does not happen all the time. Equally often the whiplash will coil itself six times around your body, so that you can no longer use your arms, or around your legs, so that you fail and hit your forehead on the only stone sticking out of the snow within a radius of several miles."
Eigi Nielsen continues to describe how you direct the dogs by hitting with the whip in the snow at the left or the right of the team. "The whip is held in your right hand, and if it is to hit the snow to the left of the team, the path of the whiplash moves directly across all the dogs' traces. When the whiplash is pulled back it will entangle itself in the most ingenious way in the traces. It will take some time to free the whiplash by pulling the traces so close to the sled that you can reach the knots.
It might dawn on the intelligent driver that if you could turn the team to the right you could drive around the compass. He has a go at it and the dogs obey him! They are turning right, and it is a pleasure to watch. They only keep turning until a certain point, however. The point where the team crosses the sled tracks in the snow and where they are facing the house they have just left.
In all probability they do not see the house, but a fresh sled track is in any case enough to make a dog team think. The thought is always the same, 'Where in the world is this lovely track leading to?"'
When, after 35 minutes' absence, you are driving up in front of the house at full speed, and everybody comes streaking out, Eigil Nielsen's only advice to you is to look unperturbed and remark casually, "Oh, I just forgot my pipe!"
Montag, 9. März 2009
By the way, have you seen these little details
Some of you may have visited us, but have you seen these little details at Kivi-Kiekki:
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