Smells Like Death | Janice Grey
December 5, 2024
photograph: Minik Bidstrup
Based on a true story
Richard was excited, he’d never been in the north before. Not only was he honoured by the opportunity to collect samples with Dr. Van der Belt’s renowned team, but he would get to experience the midnight sun.
The small plane flew low over the expanse of tundra, a treeless landscape dotted with glistening wetlands made brilliant by the shining sun. They flew ever lower as they approached the destination. The gravel runway was visible from afar, a perfect symbol of progress on top of soft tundra marsh, stacked at the edges with boulders tapering in at the top to support the smooth landing strip; it glistened in the sun and he wondered what that rock was. Richard soaked up the sight of the approaching village. Only a few brightly coloured houses, clustered together on the shores of an unforgiving arctic peninsula. So tiny and surrounded by a grand nothingness, he wondered how or why the local people could live here. A vast and barren plain stretched as far as the eye could see. Truly the middle of nowhere. He couldn’t believe he was still in Canada.
Their assignment was to catalogue the biodiversity immediately around the town, within a radius of three kilometers, with a special interest in the insects they could find.
The sun was hot, and the warm, dry breeze smelled like the stinky, briny mud exposed by the lowest tide Richard had ever seen. He was vaguely aware that the tides around these parts were extreme, but he wasn’t prepared to see it for himself. Despite the foul odour, it was a marvel to behold.
Soon they were on their way inland crowded inside and spilled over into the bed of the brand new souped-up pickup truck. They had hours of daylight left, so they took the opportunity to start setting up their equipment. They were lucky, in that old mining roads surrounded the village and they could access all their sites by truck.
Their guide slowed down, but Richard could tell they hadn’t reached the coordinates yet. “Are we stopping here?” he asked, curiously.
“Just letting them pass,” the guide mumbled, as he waved at a passing ATV with two riders bundled up for camping. Another quad followed just behind, trailed by three beautiful dogs, truly in their element. Richard gaped, as the smallest of them flew past in a black and brown blur, followed by a big white and black male. That must be the lead dog, he thought, as the last dog made its more leisurely way past. This one slowed down enough to take them all in and Richard saw the deep intelligence in those amber eyes. Tongue flopping, the dog picked up its pace and caught up to its pack.
“Wow, those are real huskies,” Dr Van der Belt said, “amazing to watch them run full tilt . Did you notice their paws barely make contact with the ground, or were they going too fast for ya?” he said to Richard, who laughed.
He would keep his eyes on the paws next time.
They put up a tall thin pole with various measuring instruments, and vessels to catch any creepy-crawlers.
“Do you think we should use this bait?” Dr. Van der Belt asked Richard, smiling. Honoured to be asked his opinion, Richard puffed up his chest and unconsciously lowered his voice. “It wouldn’t hurt to try,” he said, as he took the proffered container and unscrewed the top.
Immediately, Richard reacted by scrunching his nose as he was hit by the worst smell he’d ever experienced, and the Doctor was laughing heartily. Everyone was laughing at Richard’s reaction. He quickly screwed the top back on before he started gagging.
“Sorry about that kiddo!” Dr. Van der Belt said. “I like to tease all the newbies.” He took the container back and baited the trap himself, carefully pouring some of the viscous liquid into a specially designed vessel on the pole. “It’s for larger predators. We can’t really do much with it, but it would still alert us to their presence to catalogue.”
Field Log
3rd August 2019, Saturday
8:30 AM
Incredibly, after only two days, the bait trap has attracted a large predator. When we arrived to the site just south of town, the pole was knocked down and the ground around it scraped and rutted by large paws. It was amazing that a creature so huge could go undetected by the community. I asked the local guide if there were wolves around, and he just shrugged his shoulders: a man of few words that one. He always holds himself slightly apart from the group quietly observing with a gun strapped on his back, but he’s really increased the gap since we started using the stinky bait. No one else has noticed wolves or black bears either.
That’s all for now,
Richard
The pole was designed to take hair samples of anything that brushed against it, and the animal had left a lot of hair, coarse black guard hairs and a soft second layer. More than enough to get a data sample. The problem was that the animal kept returning and knocking down the pole every day for the rest of the week. It was so peculiar that the Doctor dedicated a day to renting some quads to go looking for a den.
“The wolves follow the caribou, they been going north lately. Not much around here,” said the man renting out his quad.
“No, I’m sure we’ll find something. Maybe a black bear. Something with dark coarse hair has been disturbing our traps.”
“Alright, good luck then,” said the local man, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips.
They had no luck, but it was a beautiful day spent in the open air, speeding through incessant clouds of black flies and mosquitos.
Before Richard knew it, it was time to pack up and head back home.
The twin otter was so full of their equipment, some of the longer pieces were strapped to the bulkhead on one side of the plane. Luckily, only one other passenger flew with the team, so all of their equipment was able to fly out with them, a rare occurrence, according to the Doctor.
Richard got the back seat of the Twin Otter once again, sitting across the aisle from a young Inuk girl. She had her headphones on and an iPod in hand despite there being a herd of muskox north of the community. The pilots graciously did a fly by so the passengers could see them.
Richard was amazed to watch the muskox run. At first he thought it was the plane startling them into a frenzied stampede, but soon saw they were being chased by a pack of wolves.
When the girl in the other seat failed to glance out, he tapped her on the shoulder and pointed out the window at the muskox. She peered past him out his window without removing her headphones, then looked back at him, unimpressed and irritated. Richard gave her a meek smile, cheeks going red. He did not try to interact with her again.
“Dr. Van Der Belt, look! We’ve found our wolfpack!”
“Good eye, my boy! Healthy looking specimens, if only we could have seen them for ourselves on land!”
“We can add it to our list of observed fauna, same as that herd of muskox,” Richard said, proudly.
Looking southward, he saw the wake of dust left behind by several quads and sat with his gratitude until they finally made it to the next community.
Emma got home before everyone else because her Honda wasn’t weighed down by passengers or a trailer.
“Jory is chasing muskox!” her nephew yelled, as he ran towards her. He lifted himself up, holding the front rack of her Honda, and stood on the bumper to bounce on the front tires. His tanned face was dusty with dried snot around his nostrils.
“That damn guy! He left on the first night of fishing and never came back.”
“He’s been around with Bibi. She’s in heat and all the dogs been fighting. Jory too.”
“Damn it! I’m gonna go see if he’ll follow me.” Emma gestured for her nephew to get down.
Before she could start the machine again, she saw the dog crest over the hill. He came running to his owner, tail tucked so far between his legs it was poking out under his chest.
“Bad boyyyy!” she yelled, grabbing the dog’s collar before recoiling. “What the hell is that smell!” she yelled, gagging violently.
The smell was very strong, and Jory was nearly as tall as Emma when he jumped, which of course he did. He happily licked her face, big paws pushing against her chest. Excitement and joy trumped his cowering reverence.
Emma doubted she would get the smell of whatever this was out of her good puffer jacket.
Janice Grey is a Haitian-Inuk writer from Aupaluk, Nunavik. Grey draws inspiration from the land and her upbringing in the north while using stories as means to process the unique experiences of contemporary Nunavimmiut. The eldest daughter, auntie, and dog mom currently resides in Tiotiah:ke/Montréal as Editor of Tumivut Magazine. Grey’s first collection of short stories Cautionary Tales was published by Publication Studio in 2024 as part of a series curated by Taqralik Partridge and facilitated by Elwood Jimmy.
Minik Bidstrup (b. 1990, Upernavik, Greenland) is a freelance photographer specializing in conceptual documentary photography and photojournalism. His work explores themes of social justice, post-colonial identity, and conservation. A graduate of Fatamorgana, the Danish School of Art Photography, and the International Center of Photography in New York, Minik's projects often reflect his Greenlandic heritage and global perspectives. minikbidstrup.com
