Old Joe

Musk oxen are a prehistoric looking animal which was nearly extinct in the middle of the last century. They cannot be called beautiful as they have features that make them the perfect survivor for life at 75 below zero. Their appearance with the large head and inverted horns outfitted with that wonderful fur coat makes them comfortable in any climate.

They weigh about 800 pounds on average but some are over a thousand. They live in herds with a hierarchy of several generations in one communal family. I have seen large herds of 60 in the winter when they hunker down inland where there is some food. They eat pretty much everything that is edible but prefer lichens and Arctic willow.

Their poop has a peculiar quality. When collected and washed there remains a pulp which makes excellent paper when pressed and dried. As food the flesh of these animals ranks high on my list of favourite wild meats. I used to dry the meat and make mipku. It is delicious and NASA takes it into space when the astronauts travel out there. Very nourishing and tasty. In a year I would use four or five for my own use. The Inuit name for musk oxen is umingmak and the Inuit have depended on them for survival over the years.

Out there where my camp is located is home to caribou (tutu) and umingmak. These grazing animals are abundant and are everywhere during the summer months. One very special animal was Old Joe. He was a one horned musk oxen who lived near my camp all summer. He was very old and very large. He was almost blind and showed no fear of people or dogs.

My first encounter with Old Joe was when I was building my cabin. I was asleep and heard this snorting and heavy breathing and looked up to see Old Joe looking through the open hole which was to be occupied by a window. I was startled but not afraid because he could not fit through the opening but his next action really put me off.

Joe had an itch and decided to scratch his behind on the side of my unfinished and unstable cabin. He scratched and began to move the frame of the cabin and I became annoyed. I grabbed a small board and whacked the beast over the rump and he never moved. My dog Buck was barking and wanted to join the fray but was no match for Joe. After several minutes Joe had enough and decided to sleep. He sat down in front of the door and never moved. I would have been trapped but I had window openings. Buck managed to get out with my help and we made our way to the Quad (ATV).

After that we saw much of old Joe and he and Buck became sort of friends after Joe tossed Buck over his head a few times. In the late fall Joe used to disappear and we would see him in the early spring at the cabin. The last year I was up there Joe was nowhere to be seen. The whole hamlet wondered what happened but the mystery was solved when we found a skull with one horn on the tundra not too far from our cabin. He was a friend of sorts welcoming spring with his appearance and signalling winter with his going away. I took many pictures of Old Joe but this one of him in front of my cabin is the best.