571 



Mrs. Perkins expedition began in Charlottetown, on Prince Edward Island, 

 the smallest province in Canada. "It looks like a small town in upstate New 

 York," she related, "with handsome Victorian houses and frame homes painted 

 gay shades of peach, yellow, red and green — so bright and cheerful against the 



drab gray landscape." . ^ . ^i. 



More than 20 persons coveri:ly scrutinized one another as they waited in the 

 tiny airport for the plane that would take them to Grindstone. 



The cast, like the motley assemblage at a country home in an Agatha Christie 

 novel, was richly varied. 



After a day's delay in Grindstone because of bad weather, Mrs. Perkins set 

 off by helicopter early on March 13 for the ice floes on which the female seals 

 have their young each spring. 



Usually the hunt is conducted by about 350 men who work from as many as 

 10 large vessels, first gathering pelts in the Gulf and then moving north to 

 kill seals in the "front herd." the seals that live off the east coast of Labrador. 



This spring, for the first time in about a decade, the ice floes came so close to 

 shore that the "landsmen," as the Magdalen Islanders are called, could walk the 

 four miles to the seals. 



"In the earlv morning light, we could clearly see the dark shapes of the men 

 against the white ice, fanning out in all directions," Mrs. Perkins related. Many 

 of the men rode out in snowmobiles, others pulled sleds or even rowboats to bring 

 back the pelts. The landsmen sell skins to a co-op for about $8 each. 



"A regular fever had come over the islanders, much like hunters at the start 

 of the deer season," Mrs. Perkins said. The reform measures instituted by the 

 Canadian government after the 1964 conference outlawed such methods of killing 

 as "long-lining" (placing of large baited hooks), drowning in nets, and gaffing— 

 driving a spike into the animal's head. 



The Fisheries Department also specified the kind of club to be used, established 

 a quota and required that all seal hunters be licensed. Of the 13,000 Magdaleners, 

 2000 purchased $1 licenses to participate in the hunt. 



Mrs. Perkins was exhilarated by the spectacle of sky, ice and water as viewed 

 from aloft, "when suddenly I saw it. Great red stains on the snow-packed ice. 

 Darker si>ots — the small skinned bodies. And bloody streaks where the little skins 

 were dragged to collection spots." 



Deeply affected, she put on her ski goggles to hide a sudden rush of tears. 



Once on the ice, far from any hunters, she was again entranced by the scene. 

 Wearing her husband's Arctic jumpsuit ("the seat of the pants came down to my 

 knees, but I was warm") she tried to remember the Martin Perkins First Law 

 of Ice : Always walk behind someone else. 



"I just laughed out loud with delight as suddenly a dozen heads popped up 

 from the water — mother seals checking out the intruders. Then I .saw their pups 

 huddled near a mound of ice for better camouflage," she recalled. 



A baby seal is a ball of white fur for about the first three weeks of its life, 

 putting on as much as 3 i>ounds of blubber a day on its mother's extremely rich 

 milk. 



The female leaves her pup after two and a half weeks, but he survives easily on 

 his fat for a week or so until his white coat is shed. The young seal is then a 

 "beater." ready to swim for fish and wearing a blue-gray coat that gives excellent 

 protection from his natural enemy, the killer whale. 



Mrs. Perkins and her companion were delighted watching the pups "when the 

 sealers approached. Never glancing in our direction they went to work. A man 

 stalked up to the baby nearest me, kicked it roughly into position and hit it with 

 his club. But the baby squirmed and the blow caught him across his bact. 



"The next blow landed on his head and blood spurted out over the snow. Still 

 squirming, the little body was rolled over on its back — the man held the baby 

 between his feet as he calmly sharpened his knife. He quickly slit the baby down 

 the stomach and blood poured onto the snow as the man sliced the skin from 

 the little carcass. The bloody skin was thrown to one side, the little body was 

 tossed to the other side as the man moved onto the next baby. 



"I was choking on sobs. I knew it was no place for a weeping woman, that 

 Brian Da vies (head of the International Fund for Animal Welfare), had too 

 many problems to inflict a bleeding heart on him at that point. But the tears 

 just kept running out of my eyes. A mother seal came up onto the 5ce. went 

 up to the remains of her baby and made pathetic, questioning, heart-'breaking 

 sounds. She circled and circled the body and finally lay down beside it, still 

 calling out in a way that I shall hear as long as I live," Mrs. Perkins said. 



