about this activity, an attitude prev- 
alent throughout the villages. It en- 
velops the entire issue in a smothering 
shame that only serves to make more 
difficult the search for solutions. The 
hunting of walrus solely for ivory is 
an understandable, albeit lamentable, 
result of an expanding ivory market. 
If the guilt were to be lifted from 
the Eskimos, perhaps by a realization 
that their position has been shaped 
as much by our culture as by theirs, 
the managing agency and natives 
could work together more harmoni- 
ously. 
Which agency will manage the wal- 
rus harvest is going to be a puzzling 
question. The state of Alaska returned 
| control of walrus to the federal gov- 
ernment on July 1, 1979. The federal 
restrictions placed upon state manage- 
ment were felt to be untenable and 
cumbersome by the state biologists in- 
volved. Just prior to this action the 
Alaska State Board of Game re- 
I scinded the walrus quotas, acknowl- 
edging that the walrus herds may be 
undergoing population stress. On a 
biological basis, then, the state gave 
tacit approval for an increased harvest 
I of animals. 
Under federal control the Eskimos 
| are again being allowed unlimited sub- 
I sistence hunting. Walrus will no longer 
i be subjected to sport hunting by non- 
| natives, which the state had allowed 
I shortly after it resumed management 
I in 1976. The number of walrus har- 
| vested by sport hunters in 1976 was 
I about 150 out of the yearly take of 
I 3.000. The Eskimos are divided over 
I the issue of sport hunting because 
I guiding associated with these hunts 
( brought substantial money into the Es- 
I kimo community. 
Management by the federal govern- 
3 ment creates an additional dilemma. 
I Under the Marine Mammal Protec- 
I tion Act the native exemption is 
I granted for subsistence and handicraft 
I use only. The state recognized that 
| walrus hunting is closer to a commer- 
I cial endeavor and was seeking markets 
I for the surplus products. Walrus meat 
I is strong and rich but quite palatable. 
Certainly in a world starving for pro- 
J tein this meat could be utilized. The 
thick hides of the bull walrus, al- 
though heavy, cumbersome, and dif- 
ficult to retrieve, are used in industry 
on buffering wheels. Walrus stomachs 
can be scraped, dried, and made into 
the traditional skin drum of the Es- 
kimos. This spring, coastal villages 
were buying prepared stomachs for 
Ora A * as* a 
Diomeder care ers find a ready 
market for walrus-ivory figures, 
such as this puffin. The income from 
such carvings is supplemented by the 
sale of ivory swizzle sticks and 
pickle forks to mainland tourists. 
$75 a piece from the Diomede hunters. 
This search for commercial outlets 
may be impeded, depending upon the 
most recent interpretation of the Ma- 
rine Mammal Protection Act. Al- 
though the wording of the act is vague 
regarding what constitutes waste of 
an animal, the native exemption is 
obviously aimed at subsistence use and 
not commercial enterprise. Programs 
such as the installation of large com- 
munity freezers in some villages to 
hold excess walrus meat are suddenly 
left on unsteady ground. .Although 
these freezers would hold additional 
meat for the Eskimos' use, they are 
meant primarily to facilitate the com- 
mercial sale of walrus meat. Restau- 
rants in Nome and Anchorage have 
expressed interest, and the Japanese 
have made inquiries. 
It is difficult to foresee what walrus 
management will be like under the 
federal government. If the present Es- 
kimo hunting practices are interpreted 
as wasteful, a herculean effort will 
be required to curtail their harvest. 
The ivory trade could be outlawed, 
but a flourishing black market already 
exists, as evidenced by the illegal traf- 
fic in polar bear skins traced to .Alas- 
kan Eskimo villages. And the Eskimos 
would not be easily dissuaded from 
hunting. They feel no one has the right 
to take that from them Biological evi- 
dence further complicates the picture: 
The walrus population may be at a 
level where it could absorb the Es- 
kimos' harvest w ithout serious impact. 
In the clear light of an .Arctic eve- 
ning I watched a drama unfold on 
the ice. one that summed up the com- 
plexity and intricacy of implementing 
effective walrus management. Our 
crew had fired into a w alrus pod. Most 
of the animals plunged into the sea, 
leaving behind three dead companions 
and a young, wounded bull, with tusks 
protruding a scant six inches, which 
struggled valiantly to reach the water. 
Normally, hunters quickly dispatch a 
wounded walrus, and I looked at our 
crew, expecting a rapid reaction to 
the bull left alive on the ice. But no 
one moved. 
.As the Eskimos continued to watch 
the walrus intently. I realized that 
they were hoping the animal would 
reach the water. If it w as not retrieved, 
the walrus would not be included in 
the village quota. 
I looked back to the young walrus 
and thought sadly what a strange rit- 
ual was being performed. Because lim- 
its had been imposed on the number 
of animals harvested, this walrus 
might have been wasted simply be- 
cause his ivory was small. .And the 
hunters, a people who have lived from 
the animals of the sea for centuries, 
have been placed in a situation w here 
they permit this to happen. 
The walrus writhed a few more 
times. At last, one of the hunters 
raised his rifle and fired. The animal 
lay still. We moved in to butcher the 
carcasses, an embarrassed quietness 
pervading the air. It was an impressive 
example of well-intentioned regula- 
tions having unforeseen effects when 
actually applied. 
When the cold winds begin to sw eep 
down from the Beaufort and Chukchi 
seas this fall, the walrus herds will 
funnel through Bering Strait and move 
into their wintering grounds farther 
south. Spring will come again to the 
Bering Sea Eskimo villages, and with 
it. the walrus hunting that is so much 
a pan of these people and their lives. 
Progress can be made toward a more 
efficient harvest, but the steps toward 
that end should be carefully weighed 
and closely scrutinized. The Eskimo 
way of life, whether it be called tra- 
ditional or twentieth-century main- 
stream. is at stake. □ 
