364 LABRADOR 



trader here a whole boxful of tusks at thirty cents a pound. 

 The largest tusks I have had from a Labrador walrus 

 weighed, when cleaned and dried, six and one-quarter 

 pounds. Possibly a very extraordinary pair might weigh 

 ten pounds. 



The old male walrus would scale twenty-five hundred 

 pounds, be about fifteen feet long, and has measured as 

 much around the waist. They are clumsy, lethargic beasts, 

 gregarious and monogamous. They are slow in the water, 

 and dead slow on the land, advancing by hauling painfully 

 along by their fore flippers, or if hurrying into the water 

 " rolling over anyhow." Amusing accounts have been 

 written as to how they wait for succeeding waves to heave 

 them out on sandy beaches, rather than scramble up them- 

 selves ; when thousands are together, the last comers lie on 

 top of the earlier arrivals, simply because they are too 

 apathetic to move on. They appear to have a fair sense 

 of smell, but not to rely on sight or sound for protection 

 from their enemies, among whom is the polar bear. 



Professor Elliot describes how he watched a herd basking 

 on an Alaskan beach, and before one dodged off to sleep, 

 it poked the next one and woke it up. This grape-vine 

 telegraph seemed to be for the purpose of having one always 

 somewhat on the alert. They are shy and harmless, 

 digging up clams with their tusks for food, and also browsing 

 on some of the seaweeds. They have been known to attack 

 a kayak, or boat, but only when wounded or when defending 

 their young. They use their tusks for helping themselves 

 out on an ice edge. 



Though to Europeans of so little value, to an Eskimo 

 the walrus may mean everything, meat, clothing, light, 



