Nanuq- Inuit SpiritSpirit"Master of Bears"

The Hunter and the Bear

A man on the sea ice, alone with a polar bear. The bear could kill him with one blow. He knew this. The bear knew it too. In Inuit understanding, every animal had an inua, a spirit owner who governed it, and the inua of polar bears was Nanook. When a hunter looked into a bear's eyes on the ice, something of Nanook looked back.

The bear that fell to a hunter's spear had agreed to die. Nanook decided which bears would offer themselves and which would turn and attack. He watched how each hunter behaved: whether the man showed respect, whether he shared the meat. A hunter who fulfilled his obligations sent the bear's spirit back to Nanook with a favorable report, and Nanook sent more bears. A hunter who boasted or hoarded sent a different report. Nanook would withhold game from that hunter, or send a bear to hunt him instead. The outcome of every hunt was, in some sense, deserved.

Fresh Water for the Dead

When a bear was killed, the first thing poured into its mouth was fresh water. Polar bears spend their lives surrounded by salt water and crave fresh water above all things. This offering honored the animal's deepest desire. Rasmussen recorded the practice among the Iglulik, and Boas documented similar rites among the Central Eskimo.

The skull was placed facing a specific direction so the bear's spirit could find its way back to Nanook. Among the Netsilik, elaborate ceremonies ensured the proper orientation. The meat was distributed according to strict custom, portions allocated by rank and kinship. Nothing was wasted. Nothing was kept without reason.

Before the hunt, wives in camp followed their own codes. A woman who worked on sewing while her husband stalked a bear might tangle his weapons. What happened in camp affected what happened on the ice, and Nanook watched both.

When the Bears Stop Coming

A bear that entered camp and attacked was not random misfortune. It was Nanook's answer to something the community had done wrong. The practical response came first: defend against the bear. The spiritual response followed immediately. What taboo had been broken?

Shamans investigated. A young hunter had boasted, or meat had gone to the wrong household. The shaman journeyed to Nanook to negotiate, and these negotiations were dangerous. Nanook was not forgiving or easily appeased. Communities that suffered repeated attacks held collective confession ceremonies. Each person spoke their transgressions before the group. The shaman performed rites to restore the balance between humans and bears, and the people waited to see if Nanook would relent.

The Skin Beneath the Skin

When a polar bear stood on its hind legs, it looked human. When hunters butchered a bear, the anatomy beneath the fur resembled a human body in ways that unsettled even experienced men. Narratives recorded by Rink among the Greenlandic communities described bears as people who donned bear skins to become animals, removing those skins in private to resume human form.

A hunter who killed a bear and found an amulet or tool beneath its skin had confirmation: the boundary between human and bear was thinner than it appeared. Nanook himself could take either form. He appeared sometimes as a polar bear of impossible size, sometimes as an old man dressed in white fur who commanded ordinary bears the way a man commands his dogs. He stood on both sides of whatever line separated the two species, and every hunt was a transaction across that line.