Spring in Old Crow

It's not every day that you learn to pluck, singe and gut a duck. Today I learned to pluck and singe a duck with my class. An elder in town had shot two white-winged scoder ducks a few days ago and the educational support worker at the school taught the lesson. We plucked and singed the duck outside (in the sunshine and without coats on!) this afternoon. Plucking involves pulling out the feathers, first from the belly side and then from the top. There is quite a technique to this, (which one of my students taught me) that involves using your thumb to pull out as many feathers at once as possible. Then you remove the tail feathers and the duck is ready to be singed.

The duck is still whole at this point, head and all. It is just featherless. A fire was made in front of the school. Lots of flames are needed to burn the feathers off (I got a few for a pair of earrings before the duck was brought to the fire). The ducks were placed directly on top of the sticks and left there until all the feathers were burnt off. Burning feathers smell a lot like burnt hair. The singing part was my favourite part of the process.

Gutting the duck was next, or else the duck would rot between the time we singed it and the time we make soup from it. Gutting is pretty self explanatory, so I won't go into detail. Our ducks are in the fridge and we will eat them as soup (with the elder who shot them) tomorrow afternoon. I can't wait! It was a really neat process to watch and learn.

Ayla on the Porcupine River before our trip to the School Cabin 12km upriver

I have never experienced light returning so quickly. It is absolutely amazing and puts everyone in good spirits and has given me much more energy. It is now light as midday when I go to sleep and when I wake up.

The river is starting to melt and the places I used to walk and ski aren't accessible anymore. Kind of sad, but really exciting too.

Patches of earth are starting to appear. Ayla my pup is incredibly intrigued by the ground and all the smells and doggy treasures (pieces of dead animals--yes she found a small rodent skull and a scapula of an unknown animal) that appear when the snow melts.

Ayla and I walking home from Easter festivities at community hall

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The air strip late at night

The school cabin, 12km upriver at a place called Caribou Crossing, or Thoh

I spent this past weekend in Dawson. I was there for a fiddle residency that was put on by Robert Service School and instructed by an amazing fiddle instructor from Victoria, B.C. The purpose of my trip was to brush up on my violin skills and learn teaching techniques that will let me start up a fiddle club here in Old Crow. I will post more about this later.

Fiddling is a big part of the culture here in Old Crow. Up until this weekend I thought that fiddle music would have been brought to the North by fur traders. Not the case though. This weekend I learned it was whalers who brought the fiddle to Northern Canada and that it began in Northern Quebec. Fiddle music and jigging were a very fun part of Easter weekend in Old Crow

Ayla on the river (before it began thawing)

Thanks for reading my blog. I apologize for the lack of posts and photos. I have borrowed a card reader, so more photos to come. Hope you are all well.

Warm Regards from Old Crow,

Haley