Saami and Suomi

After a long absence from this space, I return with a bit of heritage. The Sami, or Saami are the indigenous people of northern Finland, Sweden, Norway, and Russia. You may have heard them called Lapps, from Lapland, but Saami consider the term Lapp derogatory, much in the way that the Inuit don't like the term Eskimo. The Saami are mostly nomadic or semi-nomadic reindeer herders, but there are some tribes who primarily fish or farm instead of herd. My grandfather was from a fishing village, and although I am not exactly sure of the location, I believe it was in the vicinity of Lake Inari, north of the Arctic Circle. My father just pointed to the area north of Rovaniemi and Kemi, Finland, and said that his family was from 'there'. Lake Inarijarvi is the body of water in northernmost Finland, up near the Arctic Ocean and the border with Norway and Russia.

Saami are not ethnically Finnish, but they are distantly related based on their language. The Finno-Ugric languages form a subfamily of the Uralic languages. Other closely related Ugric languages include Finnish, Hungarian and Estonian. Unlike most of the languages spoken in Europe, the Finno-Ugric languages are not part of the Indo-European family of languages, that is, they do not stem from Latin nor are they Germanic.

In the Old Norse language, Fenn and Finn are terms for Saami, but after the 19th century it was transferred simply to mean someone who lives in Finland and not specifically of the Saami people. 'Suomi' is still the Finnish name for Finland, and the word 'suomilainen' means Finnish.
Both words stem from the word Saami. There is a lot of confusion about the origin of the Finnish people, both Saami and non-Saami. New theories are proposed every year. Legend says that the khans of Mongolia chased these (Finnic) peoples across Russia until they reached the northern shores of Scandinavia. This happened over centuries, and the Fenns chose flight instead of fight. I once read that the word 'Fen' meant 'runner', but I can't recall where I read that. Anyway, when they could run no further, they fought fiercely and turned back the horde.
I've always liked that story.

The Saami seemingly share certain physical traits, like Mongoloid eye-shape, with other indigenous peoples of northern Asia. Modern theories of origin suggest that this is just chance, and that the facial features in common, such as high cheekbones, are more from cultural similarities than genetics. Europeans, who have a longer history or farming, have lost the high cheekbones necessary to support the musculature of those who eat a lot of meat. Many Saami are dark complected, but there are also fair-skinned blonds. The same is true of ethnic Finns. This phenotype variation further complicates the mystery of the origin of these people. In addition to evidence that these people came across the steppes of Russia, there is also evidence that the Saami and or Fenns have inhabited the Sapmi(Scandinavia to include all of Finland) since the last ice age.

I've included a few turn of the century Saami I found on the web, along with modern Saami. Since they were traditionally nomadic, their shelters were temporary, often tipis from animal skins or huts of stones and earth, as shown. I don't really look like any of these people(except for maybe the little girl second from the right in the front row back when I was 5 years old), but I consider myself of Saami heritage. If you don't know what I look like, then perhaps you have seen Renee Zellweger. She, too, is of Saami heritage. We both have those slanty eyes and round, high cheekbones and dirty blond hair. I'd rather look like Pamela Anderson or Christine Lahti (both Finnish, but not Saami),but, alas, Renee and I are distant cousins. I loved her in Cold Mountain, but I digress. For the record, speaking of celebs, Matt Damon is also Finnish.

I know you guys are rolling on the floor laughing at the traditional garb. That's okay. For a good chortle, zoom in on the shoes of the children. Now, you will understand why small Christmas elves are depicted with pointy shoes. Santa Claus is Saami, by the way, with his rosy cheeks, felt cap, reindeer, etc. I kid you not...now you know. The North Pole really is in the Land of the Midnight Sun.

Anyway, genetic and language studies are rather inconclusive as to proof of the actual origin, but what is known is that the Saami are not related to other Europeans, so perhaps we do hail from the Urheimat. "Urheimat" is supposedly the homeland or origin of the language. The exact location of the Urheimat is unknown and disputed. Big surprise there, huh? Some believed it to be to the just west of the Ural mountains in central Russia, some 5000 years ago. There is evidence that before Slavic tribes lived in Russia, a sprinkling of Finno-Ugrians inhabited the whole territory from the Urals to the Baltic Sea. Other scientists place the Urheimat further south or in Siberia. My Sami grandfather told my father that his ancestors were from northwestern Siberia. I consider myself of Finnish and Saami ancestry, but technically, he emigrated from St. Petersburg Russia (Finland was a Grand Duchy of Russia at the time) and there is a good chance that some of my forebearers were Siberian, so I suppose I could be as much Russian as Finnish, ethnically speaking.

More later...and I couldn't resist the image of the Aurora Borealis over Lake Inari. It is magic, at least to me.

Moving On

Eleven years ago today, Halloween, we moved onto EarthNSky Farm. The beauty of Autumn was breathtaking, and I recall that I felt like I had died and gone to heaven-I was finally home. The sky was brilliant blue, the wind was crisp, and the leaf color was nothing short of spectacular. Before the moving truck was unloaded, George, our neighbor, came by on his old Ford 9N tractor to introduce himself and to visit. Throughout the years, we've had our ups and downs with George, but generally we get along pretty well, our only disagreement being about the type of fence that should go on the property line. He is our most immediate neighbor and I've learned a lot about homesteading from George and his wife. George taught us how to hunt and field dress a deer. Nancy taught me how to clean the meat and cook it. I recently bought the 12 gallon cast iron pot from him in which I learned to render lard. He's taught me how to raise and catch pigs, how to sight in a rifle, how to take care of horses, how to buck 70 pound alfalfa bales into a barn, and countless other skills. They were with me when I got my first chickens and they gave me my first ducks. Almost all of my current flock of chickens are from his Blue Laced Red Wyandotte rooster. His workmanship is all around me as he built this house from the trees on the land; his rockwork on my hearth is beautiful and everyone who comes into the house compliments the artistry. Over the years, we've been the beneficiary of his various hunting kills, wild goose (which looks and cooks like beefsteak), deer, turkey, and even bear. I'd eat bear again only if I were starving-there are much better meats to put on a plate. But tonight for dinner, I'll be enjoying native trout, caught this past Spring by George up in the Cohutta Wilderness. My son loved to watch George forge knives and other creations. He built wagons and learned to forge metal from Judd Nelson of Foxfire fame. He is a true artist, with skills in metalwork, woodworking, rocklaying, carving and painting. His wife is also an excellent wildlife painter and I have a beautiful walking stick with a carved and painted copperhead snake on the handle.

There have been a few times over the years that George has put up a for sale sign. I've never taken it seriously as he has family here and his wife and sister in law are the daughters of the original land owners, the homestead of which we now occupy. They have roots here. However, they have struggled financially over the years and most recently health issues have surfaced for both of them, making money even more scarce. A few years ago, after George recovered from chemo, his son sent him out to Arkansas on a fishing trip on the White River. George fell in love with the place, and his son bought some land out there. For the last two years, they've bantered the idea of moving to the Ozarks. While I know he would fit in there, he is what I would call a true, modern homesteader, I just could never see it happening, until yesterday when he told us he had a contract and buyer for his house and land. He was going to sell off, pack up the camper, and move to the Ozarks. I'm in shock. I'm trying to see this from their perspective in that it will be cheaper to live there and it will afford them a little financial breathing room.

In addition, there's always that anxiety about who will be buying in. All I know is that they are rather wealthy by local standards, have 3 kids, currently live in Atlanta, and will be using the cabin as a weekend home, a place where the kids can 'run free'. I don't know if they will appreciate the beauty and primitive nature of life out here or whether they will try to bring the city, and all of it's conveniences, with them. I'm sure they will be wonderful people, but it is hard to see the good side of anything when the loss feels so great. It is the first time in eleven years that I have even had a fleeting thought about moving away. I look out the window, and this Halloween is much scarier. The sky is overcast and foreboding. The Autumn leaves are wet and muted. Rock Creek will not be the same without George and Nancy.

Struck out

I went fishing again yesterday and struck out totally. I first went to a nearby lake at the Girl Scout camp. There was an algal bloom on the lake and it make fishing almost impossible, so I left after just a few minutes. Then, I stopped and tried my luck at a couple of local stream, including an area that we call the swamp. I could see bass, but they could see me, too, and were skittish. Finally, I decided to head to the river. Surely, I thought, I'd see action there. Nope. To my surprise, there was a lot of trash and debris piled up under the bridge. Two-thirds of the river width was blocked and there was only one side of the bridge where the current flowed unobstructed. Unfortunately for me, that section was on the other side of the river, and the only way to reach it was to walk and or climb the debris pile(a good 10 feet tall and 75 feet across), and that would be super dangerous if not suicidal, so I just settled to fish in a small area of the river about the size of a swimming pool. There was the lovely smell of a dead raccoon and the rotting debris of the all the crap in the debris jam under the bridge. I was just about to leave when I saw a large catfish practically at my feet. I could have reached down and grabbed him, I think, had I not been too scared. You gotta realize that I was under the bridge of a state highway. It was really isolated with no houses around. Had I slipped and fell in or something, or got hurt or pinned in the debris, I might have a long wait for help. Mr. Catfish was about 15-18" long and would have made a nice meal, though. I tried to get him to bite my crickets, but of course, he was interested in other stuff. He kept hanging around and I was wishing I had a spear or a stick of some sort to try to catch him. No luck.

Today, we ran errands in town and worked in the garden and yard. Skyguy mowed around the Paulownia trees which are, for the most part, dead. I have about 8 still alive and it is quite frustrating and disappointing. However, the black walnuts I planted are still alive for the most part, so at least the tree planting wasn't a total failure. Skyguy wants to order more Paulownias and I think we should plant them in the Fall this time. It is hard to nurse herbaceous tree saplings through summer heat. I wish I could find someone to trade with-black walnuts for white or green ash trees.

Awesome Little Cats

Is there anything better than a couple of young cats for dinner?

Yup, I went fishing today. My stepfather and I first went over to Carter's Lake reregulation dam and tried out luck there with some medium large shad. I'd heard that the stripers were stacked up near the water outlet, but we couldn't cast over there. They were letting a lot of water out and the current was so swift and the bottom so rocky that all we were doing is losing tackle. It was frustrating. Several other fishermen(and women) were catching some drum, but I have always dreamed about stripers (hybrid striped bass)and that's why we were there. So by 11 AM, we packed up and headed to a more peaceful locale, Salacoa Creek Park. It is a county owned park, complete with lake beach and campground. It is a very nice, deep, spring fed lake that looks very clean. At Salacoa, we had the lunch I had packed for us, and then began throwing crickets at the bream. It is just past the full moon, and I think there were a few beds still active. There was a spot right off the dock that produced a fish almost every time the bait hit the water. We must have caught 30 or so between us, throwing them back as they were palm sized bream of varying species. Had we known we would be catching that many, I think I might have saved all of them. At any rate, there was a lull in the action, and when it picked back up, I caught a keeper bream and was walking back to the shore to get my 5 gallon bucket for the bream when my stepfather caught a small catfish on a cricket of all things. I had one line in with cut bait, fishing for cats on the bottom, but wouldn't you know those catfish wanted crickets. At the end of the day, just as a thunderstorm approached, we left with 2 small cats and about 10 average sized bream. It was pouring rain when I got home, and by that time, the bream had died. The cats were still alive, however. To save time, I decided not to clean the bream, instead, I cut them up and fed them to the chickens. It had been about 20 years or so since I cleaned a catfish, and I was a bit out of practice, but finally managed to get 'er done. We had 8 minnows leftover, so they are now happily living in my aquarium, which luckily is set up for goldfish/cold water. All the fish are about the same size. Maybe I will get lucky and they will breed, but I doubt it.

Skyguy has never been fond of freshwater fish due to the size vs. the bones, but his palate is changing. It was only a week or so ago that I mentioned to him that those big river cats were edible, but the best catfish were the small ones. There was no way I could allow myself to fail in the preparation of that fish...I knew if I botched it, he would never try catfish again. Luckily, it was delicious, and we were wishing we had about 10 more of them! Our dinner this evening consisted of the catfish(on the plate 1.5 hours after being in the water), grilled squash with olive oil and garlic brushed on (on the plate 30 minutes after being on a bush), new Red Pontiac potatoes (one day after being plucked from a barrel of dirt), cornbread, made with an egg that was an hour old and sadly, store-bought oil and cornmeal (we will be rectifying that situation hopefully in a few months), coleslaw, made with garden cabbage and carrots, and I made some 'hushpuppy patties' with the leftover batter plus some onions and such(also from the garden). When you pan fry, hushpuppies become hushpatties. :)

I just love to fish, even if I'm only catching little bream. Get about 40 of them, fry them up, and you've got a meal of very sweet meat, even if it is only a few bites per fish. I eat the crispy tails, too, love that! Skyguy never fished or camped as a kid, and he still hasn't caught the fishing bug, but I am hopeful that one day I will have a partner that loves to fish as much as I do. I got him camping, I got him eating Chinese food, I got him loving the country life, I got him growing herbs and veggies, and I'm hoping I can entice him to fish.

Vacation Post #1: Activities and Sights

We left Saturday for a quick vacation. We haven’t been anywhere in several years, and after Skyguy’s cancer diagnosis, we promised ourselves that we would start taking vacations as soon as the hospital bills were paid. You gotta live life and not work ALL the time. We’ve spent the last 4 days soaking up South Carolina’s Lowcountry culture and riding bikes. We camped at a KOA to keep costs down, and we took a lot of our own food. We did eat out once a day though, after all, it is vacation! We spent a day at Hunting Island (biked around the island-15.5 miles) a 'natural', island with a pretty lighthouse, a day in Bluffton (10.5 mile residential ride) and Port Royal, a day in Charleston(Patriot’s Point and Ft. Sumter-photo of USS Yorktown and the tour boat to the Fort) , and one day we just rode bikes near the campground (9 miles). We fished some, and Skyguy skunked me by catching a nice sized catfish. I wish I could have fished more, but the mosquitoes and ticks were horrific. At night, we relaxed in the campground’s hot tub and went to bed early.

We saw quite a few animals that we don’t see at home. On the first day, while riding our bikes along the lakeside(in the picture-the lake is actually much, much larger than the image suggests), we spooked a small 4 foot alligator as he sunned on the bank and he made a huge splash as he lept for the safety of the water. Fishing in a lake with alligators is always more exciting than fishing in a lake where there are only turtles for reptilian representation. On the boat ride to Ft. Sumter, we saw quite a few dolphins coming in the feed at high tide and one was positively huge-maybe 10 or 11 feet long. He/She came within 15 feet of the boat so I was able to get a good, however brief, look at him. Later that day while dining in a restaurant on the intracoastal waterway, we saw a family group with a young 3 foot long dolphin racing around at play. It reminded me of the way kids run ahead of their parents at an amusement park, then Mom reins them in, then they run ahead again, etc. It was fun to watch-great food and great entertainment. In Beaufort, we saw an osprey nest, and she was rearing young. We stopped on the roadside, took some pictures(click on the image for a better view), and I could hear the chicks calling, much in the same way that our resident red shouldered hawk chicks chatter. While on the fishing pier at Hunting Island, an old woman caught a small shark, and that got everyone excited, especially the kids on the pier. In Bluffton, while riding bikes along the roadside, I was fighting the wind in the lead position. I had my head down concentrating on a cadence to maintain speed. A nearby noise startled me(I later learned from Skyguy that it was a Canada Goose) and I looked up to see a positively huge snake at the edge of the road just ahead of me. I swerved, but words failed me. Luckily, he saw the snake, too. It was a dead king snake, but it had to have just eaten the largest eastern diamondback on the coast because that was the largest king snake I've ever seen. I did not even know that they got that large, and even though I clearly saw the yellow markings on the snake, my brain just would not register that it was a king snake due to its size. I swear it was the size of my arm, but Skyguy says it wasn’t quite that large. Of course, we saw gulls, Brown Pelicans and other shore birds, too. I never realized this until we got home and I looked it up, but we don’t have Black Vultures here, only Turkey Vultures.