Part 38 (1/2)
It is unlawful for any non-resident of Alaska to hunt any of the protected game animals, except deer and goats, without first obtaining a hunting license; or to hunt on the Kenai Peninsula without a registered guide, such license not being transferable and valid only during the year of issue. The fee for this license is fifty dollars to citizens of the United States, and one hundred dollars to foreigners; it is accompanied by coupons authorizing the s.h.i.+pment of two moose,--if killed north of sixty-two degrees,--four deer, three caribou, sheep, goats, brown bear, or any part of said animals. A resident of Alaska may s.h.i.+p heads or trophies by obtaining a s.h.i.+pping license for this purpose. A fee of forty dollars permits the s.h.i.+pment of heads or trophies as follows: one moose, if killed north of sixty-two degrees; four deer, two caribou, two sheep, goats, or brown bear. A fee of ten dollars permits the s.h.i.+pment of a single head or trophy of caribou or sheep; and one of five, that of goat, deer, or brown bear. It costs just one hundred and fifty dollars to s.h.i.+p any part of a moose killed south of sixty-two degrees. Furthermore, before any trophy may be s.h.i.+pped from Alaska, the person desiring to make such s.h.i.+pment shall first make and file with the customs office of the port where the s.h.i.+pment is to be made, an affidavit to the effect that he has not violated any of the provisions of this act; that the trophy has been neither bought nor sold, and is not to be s.h.i.+pped for sale, and that he is the owner thereof.
The Governor of Alaska, in issuing a license, requires the applicant to state whether the trophies are to be s.h.i.+pped through the ports of entry of Seattle, Portland, or San Francisco, and he notifies the collector at the given port as to the name of the license holder, and name and address of the consignee.
After reading these rigid laws, I cannot help wondering whether the Secretary of Agriculture ever saw an Alaskan mountain sheep. If he has seen one and should unexpectedly come across some poor wretch smuggling the head of one out of Alaska, he would--unless his heart is as hard as ”stun-cancer,” as an old lady once said--just turn his eyes in another direction and refuse to see what was not meant for his vision.
The Alaskan sheep does not resemble those of Montana and other sheep countries. It is more delicate and far more beautiful. There is a deerlike grace in the poise of its head, a fine and sensitive outline to nostril and mouth, a tenderness in the great dark eyes, that is at once startled and appealing; while the wide, graceful sweep of the horns is unrivalled.
The head of the moose, as well as of the caribou, is imposing, but coa.r.s.e and ugly. The antlers of the delicate-headed deer are pretty, but lack the power of the horns of the Alaskan sheep. The Montana sheep's head is almost as coa.r.s.e as that of the moose. The dainty ears and soft-colored hair of the Alaskan sheep are fawnlike. From the Alaska Central trains near Lake Kenai, the sheep may be seen feeding on the mountain that has been named for them.
Cape Douglas, at the entrance to Cook Inlet, is the admiration of all save the careful navigator who usually at this point meets such distressing winds and tides that he has no time to devote to the contemplation of scenery.
This n.o.ble promontory thrusts itself boldly out into the sea for a distance of about three miles, where it sinks sheer for a thousand feet to the pale green surf that breaks everlastingly upon it. It is far more striking and imposing than the more famous Cape Elizabeth on the eastern side of the entrance to the inlet.
CHAPTER XXIX
The heavy forestation of the Northwest Coast ceases finally at the Kenai Peninsula. Kadiak Island is spa.r.s.ely wooded in sylvan groves, with green slopes and valleys between; but the islands lying beyond are bare of trees. Sometimes a low, shrubby willow growth is seen; but for the most part the thousands of islands are covered in summer with gra.s.ses and mosses, which, drenched by frequent mists and rain, are of a brilliant and dazzling green.
The Aleutian Islands drift out, one after another, toward the coast of Asia, like an emerald rosary on the blue breast of Behring Sea. The only tree in the Aleutian Islands is a stunted evergreen growing at the gate of a residence in Unalaska, on the island of the same name.
The prevailing atmospheric color of Alaska is a kind of misty, rosy lavender, enchantingly blended from different shades of violet, rose, silver, azure, gold, and green. The water coloring changes hourly. One pa.s.ses from a narrow channel whose waters are of the most delicate green into a wider reach of the palest blue; and from this into a gulf of sun-flecked purple.
The summer voyage out among the Aleutian Islands is lovely beyond all description. It is a sweet, dreamlike drifting through a water world of rose and lavender, along the pale green velvety hills of the islands.
There are no adjectives that will clearly describe this greenness to one who has not seen it. It is at once so soft and so vivid; it flames out like the dazzling green fire of an emerald, and pales to the lighter green of the chrysophrase.
Marvellous sunset effects are frequently seen on these waters. There was one which we saw in broad gulfs, which gathered in a point on the purple water about nine o'clock. Every color and shade of color burned in this point, like a superb fire opal; and from it were flung rays of different coloring--so far, so close, so mistily brilliant, and so tremulously ethereal, that in shape and fabric it resembled a vast thistle-down blowing before us on the water. Often we sailed directly into it and its fragile color needles were shattered and fell about us; but immediately another formed farther ahead, and trembled and throbbed until it, too, was overtaken and shattered before our eyes.
At other times the sunset sank over us, about us, and upon us, like a cloud of gold and scarlet dust that is scented with coming rain; but of all the different sunset effects that are but memories now, the most unusual was a great mist of brilliant, vivid green just touched with fire, that went marching down the wide straits of Shelikoff late one night in June.
Early on the morning after leaving Cook Inlet, the ”early-decker” will find the _Dora_ steaming lightly past Afognak Island through the narrow channel separating it from Marmot Island. This was the most silvery, divinely blue stretch of water I saw in Alaska, with the exception of Behring Sea. The morning that we sailed into Marmot Bay was an exceptionally suave one in June; and the color of the water may have been due to the softness of the day.
We had pa.s.sed Sea Lion Rocks, where hundreds of these animals lie upon the rocky shelves, with lifted, narrow heads, moving nervously from side to side in serpent fas.h.i.+on, and whom a boat's whistle sends plunging headlong into the sea.
The southern point of Marmot Island is the Cape St. Hermogenes of Behring, a name that has been perpetuated to this day. The steamer pa.s.ses between it and Pillar Point, and at one o'clock of the same day through the winding, islanded harbor of Kadiak.
This settlement is on the island that won the heart of John Burroughs when he visited it with the famous Harriman Expedition--the Island of Kadiak.
I voyaged with a pilot who had accompanied the expedition.
”Those scientists, now,” he said, musingly, one day as he paced the bridge, with his hands behind him. ”They were a real study for a fellow like me. The genuine big-bugs in that party were the finest gentlemen you ever saw; but the _little_-bugs--say, they put on more dog than a bogus prince! They were always demanding something they couldn't get and acting as if they was afraid somebody might think they didn't amount to anything. An officer on a s.h.i.+p can always tell a gentleman in two minutes--his wants are so few and his tastes so simple. John Burroughs?
Oh, say, every man on the s.h.i.+p liked Mr. Burroughs. I don't know as you'd ought to call him a gentleman. You see, gentlemen live on earth, and he was way up above the earth--in the clouds, you know. He'd look right through you with the sweetest eyes, and never see you. But _flowers_--well, Jeff Davis! Mr. Burroughs could see a flower half a mile away! You could talk to him all day, and he wouldn't hear a word you said to him, any more than if he was deef as a post. I thought he was, the longest while. But Jeff Davis! just let a bird sing on sh.o.r.e when we were sailing along close. His deefness wasn't particularly noticeable then!... He'd go ash.o.r.e and dawdle 'way off from everybody else, and come back with his arms full of flowers.”
Mr. Burroughs was charmed with the sylvan beauty of Kadiak Island; its pale blue, cloud-dappled skies and deep blue, islanded seas; its narrow, winding water-ways; its dimpled hills, silvery streams, and wooded dells; its acres upon acres of flowers of every variety, hue and size; its vivid green, gra.s.sy, and mossy slopes, crests, and meadows; its delightful air and singing birds.
He was equally charmed with Wood Island, which is only fifteen minutes'
row from Kadiak, and spent much time in its melodious dells, turning his back upon both islands with reluctance, and afterward writing of them appreciative words which their people treasure in their hearts and proudly quote to the stranger who reaches those lovely sh.o.r.es.
The name Kadiak was originally Kaniag, the natives calling themselves Kaniagists or Kaniagmuts. The island was discovered in 1763, by Stephen Glottoff.