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- VII. Lapland
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VII
LAPLAND
The sun had already gone down behind
Vassojarvi but the day was still bright
with flame-coloured light slowly deepening into
orange and ruby. A golden mist descended over
the blue mountains sparkling with patches of
purple snow and bright yellow silver birches,
glistening with the first hoar-frost.
The day’s work was over. The men were
returning to the camp with their lassos swung
over their shoulders, the women with their huge
birch bowls of fresh milk. The herd of a
thousand reindeer surrounded by their outposts of
vigilant dogs stood collected round the camp, safe
for the night from wolf and lynx. The incessant
calling of the calves and the crepitating clatter of
the hoofs gradually died away: all was silent but
for the occasional barking of a dog, the sharp cry
of a nightjar or the loud hooting of an eagle owl
from the far away mountains. I sat in the place
of honour by the side of Turi himself in the
smoke-filled tent. Ellekare, his wife, threw a
slice of reindeer’s cheese in the kettle suspended
over the fire and handed us in turn, the men first
and then the women and children, our plate of
thick soup which we ate in silence. What
remained in the kettle was divided amongst the
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Project Runeberg, Sun Dec 10 16:55:41 2023
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