Being Caribou

$ 24.95, 256 pages

Available in Canada in April

“Back then, the people could talk to caribou, and caribou could talk to people.” With that quote from a Gwich’in elder, which arrives near the end of the prologue, Karsten Heuer informs the reader that the book they hold will detail an expedition that took its participants somewhere they may not have expected. Heuer reflects on that moment, indicating that at the time, he felt the cultural divide between himself and his interlocutor was too great to be bridged. By the time he had returned from his journey with the Porcupine caribou, however, he knew just what the old man had meant.

At first, this spiritual, emotional connection between subject and author seems unlikely. But by the time you’ve read to the end of “Being Caribou”, you’ll know that the connection between Heuer, his wife Leanne Allison, and the herd is both real and profound. Further, after reading the epilogue, you’re likely to find a sense of connectedness to the journey, to the author and to the caribou as well.

In achieving this linkage, Karsten Heuer takes us along with himself and Allison on a trek of staggering proportions and, at times, remarkable hardship. To follow the caribou from their spring grounds in the Yukon to the shores of the Beaufort Sea in Alaska, where they gather to calve, and back again, Heuer and Allison travelled for more than five months. They journeyed an estimated 2,500 kilometres by foot and on skis, in territory so remote that they did not see another human being for weeks at a time. The pace of their journey was even more impressive than its scale. While there is a great deal of variation from day-to-day, the caribou herd moves at an average rate of 20 kilometres per day. Considering the terrain that dominates the route taken, this is difficult indeed.

A detailed account of the journey from this perspective alone would make for a gripping read, and the misadventures and glorious moments that Heuer does describe do quicken the heart and leave the reader’s mouth dry in anticipation. Close encounters with grizzly bears and awkward creek crossings in frigid temperatures merely provide the backdrop for the real narrative pursued by Heuer and Allison.

Being Caribou is at times an adventure story, at times a detailed explanation of wildlife biology, but at its heart, it is a tale of an endangered group of animals and the fight to preserve its precious habitat. In the world of the Porcupine herd according to Heuer, the why is every bit as important as the how, and many times more significant than the who.

Not that the author neglects to keep his readers engaged in his own personal struggle and story, as well as Leanne’s. The pair share awestruck moments, witness to the power of the animals they are tracking, and they also spend time close to 

despair; hungry, footsore and falling behind the caribou. This human drama is woven into the work with a deft touch. It does not drive the story, nor our interest, but it helps to maintain it.

It’s the caribou that are the true protagonists, and never more so than during the section of the book devoted to describing the calving season. Alone with the thousands of animals, newborn and otherwise, Heuer and Allison begin to feel less like foreign observers and more a part of the momentous events happening around them. This sense of belonging is further reinforced when the two inadvertantly walk amidst a small group of caribou, rather than alongside them.

“We had broken free of the textbook mentality that separated the world into needs, wants and resources and had returned to a younger, sweeter version of what was possible in life,” Heuer wrote in the aftermath. In fact, their entire journey was in many ways a reaction to that “textbook” divsion of the world.

The Porcupine calving grounds are part of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, land that, for now, is not open for oil exploration and development. But this may not last. Under the calving grounds, geologists believe, sits the largest oil reserve in the United States. After September 11, 2001 in particular, the pressure to explore and develop the potential of this reserve has grown ever-stronger. Heuer was well aware of the debate, and the positions of the pro-environment and pro-development camps. But, as he writes early on in Being Caribou, the one voice he had not heard was that of the 123,000-member Porcupine caribou herd. Now, through his book, he has given that voice, those voices, a chance to be heard, and hopefully understood.

Being Caribou concludes in truly heartbreaking fashion. Returned from the Arctic wilderness, Heuer and Allison venture to Washington D.C. to present their story and their opinions to the politicians and bureaucrats with the power to make a difference. What they find is a hardened indifference to their emotional experience. In the place of connectivity to established patterns of nature and symbiotic relations between the caribou and the aboriginal people, they find a cynical determination to pay heed to the whim and fancy of the voting population and the price of oil. The bottom line, they are informed, is cheap gas.

Being Caribou is powerfully inspiring, profoundly moving, and wonderfully informative. 

The story told by Heuer and Allison, through her award-winning film of the same name, is intended to motivate people and influence outcomes. Canadians may feel that they have little to do with the process of determining what to do in ANWR, but after reading Heuer’s book, there can be little doubt that we are involved indeed.