Byrd and Igloo: A Polar Adventure: Chapters 5–6

Like a lion stalking his prey, Igloo crouched down on his haunches and waited patiently for just the right moment.

Feigning an attack, Igloo barked savagely and enjoyed scaring the living daylights out of the unsuspecting sailor.

“Neither modesty nor humility, I regret to say, was in his attitude,” said Byrd.
However, Igloo was always very careful to avoid pulling his prank on the officers.

“Neither modesty nor humility, I regret to say, was in his attitude,” said Byrd.
However, Igloo was always very careful to avoid pulling his prank on the officers.

And, unlike other steamships, the City had a V-shaped hull covered with tough and slippery wood.

The cold temperatures cause glass jars to burst and tin to become brittle.

A noncorrosive metal, such as a nickel-copper alloy, would have to be used.

Greason, who had fifteen years of experience as a butcher, did not skimp on quality and personally picked out every ham and turkey himself.

“I’m buying the best…. If I have any claim to distinction, it is that I know good food, and that I get it,” he said.

The odor was unpleasant, but it didn’t deter him.

Like the boots, the gloves were made of caribou and sealskin and were oversized so wool mittens could fit inside. The sleeping bags were also made of caribou skin.

He met his superiors, however, in the Eskimo dogs, and in admitting to himself their superiority, his spirit underwent an extraordinary change. He hardly dared venture on deck alone.

Those huge creatures would assassinate him on the spot, as he was shrewd enough to realize.

Their job was to haul the supplies over the snow, ice, and deadly crevasses to the campsite where the crew would be busy building underground houses for shelter.

The most famous sled dog on the expedition was Chinook, who was part Eskimo husky and part mutt.

He was big, at one hundred pounds, with a golden coat of fur and silver muzzle.

Chinook’s driver, the grizzled Arthur Walden, was considered the best sled-dog driver in the country.

Although Byrd was bringing the most cutting-edge technology with him to the Antarctic, he knew that mechanical equipment was prone to failing in extremely cold weather.

The stormy weather subsided, but the ship was soon dodging icebergs, and by December 15, there was thick ice everywhere.

Taking the lead, the Larsen cautiously pushed her bow against the ice and then lurched forward at full speed, breaking through.

Igloo gazed out at the endless barren ice when he caught a glimpse of something moving.

“There was great hilarity aboard for awhile,” said Byrd. “These comical creatures came to us unafraid, with friendly waves of flippers, tobogganing with great speed on their bellies across ice floes.”

Some of the crew jumped off the ship onto the ice to play with the penguins. Igloo tried to jump off, too. But his plan was thwarted when someone grabbed his collar before he could join in on the fun.

Two days later, on Christmas Day, there was a shout from high above in the ship’s crow’s nest: “Barrier on the starboard bow!”

Not long after, Byrd found a spot where they would build their winter base, which he dubbed “Little America.”

Unloading and moving the supplies was a grueling, nonstop task that exhausted everyone.

As the sled dogs stepped off the ship and onto the ice for the first time, finally free from their cages, they were wildly excited, rolling in the snow, running in circles, and sometimes pouncing at one another’s throats. Nevertheless, they were always eager to start work, trotting to their places, waiting to be harnessed.

Moose-Moss-Mouse’s best friend was Tickle, a skinny but strong lead dog with black fur and a lot of pluck.

Setting his sights on Tickle, Igloo charged at top speed right toward him and his team. When Igloo was just inches away, his plan was to veer away, wanting only to taunt Tickle.

With Byrd by his side, Igloo was the top dog.
Buoyed by this thought, Igloo devised a new game that delighted him, but he only played it when the sled dogs were harnessed.

Buoyed by this thought, Igloo devised a new game that delighted him, but he only played it when the sled dogs were harnessed. Now, whenever the sled dogs ran by, pulling the heavily loaded sled, Igloo would run as fast as he could alongside them, but not close enough that they could reach him.

His game made the dogs so angry that they would get tangled up in the harness, and sometimes the sled toppled over. It wasn’t long before Igloo was no longer allowed near the sled dogs, much to his chagrin.

He liked to line the Adélies up in a row and tackle them. It was fun until they started clobbering him with their wings.

When the penguins weren’t up to playing games, Igloo enjoyed yanking the big gray Weddell seals’ tails—that is, until Byrd reprimanded him.

Soon after, the ships rocked, jolting the edge of the ice barrier.

The ships rolled dangerously, nearly capsizing.

Igloo slid willy-nilly across the tilted deck, only to be saved from going overboard by landing in the scupper, or drain.

On the surface, there wasn’t much to see of Little America, with the exception of the three radio towers with blinking lights and the stovepipes and ventilators. The rest of it was buried under the snow to help insulate against the cold.

Building Little America was one of the hardest jobs the crew undertook. Using shovels, the men dug down eight feet into concrete-hard ice.

One snow tunnel in particular captured Igloo’s interest—it was the one called Dog Town. Inside this tunnel there were niches carved out of the sides of the wall for the sled dogs’ crates.