He is one of those who remembers the trapper’s life in the bird cliffs, from the time when bird hunting was an important food source for the people in the ocean gap. Today, the hunt is characterized as fauna crime.
Ever since the first humans waded ashore on Røst over 5,500 years ago, bird trapping and egg collecting have been an essential part of the diet, culture and everyday life. Management of and close interaction with the omnipresent nature on Røst has always been the key to survival for the permanent residents.
In addition to rich fishing, lush, evergreen pastures for goats and eventually sheep, the millions of seabirds that nest out there have been essential sources of food and utility. Egg collection and trapping of puffins, cormorants, black guillemots, guillemots, razorbills and other bird species have ensured variety and supplementation of the diet. The catching of birds has also been a source of recreation and outdoor life – yes, a sport and a lifestyle for many, right up to recent times.
Moved to the mountains
Obvious evidence of the importance of this ancient fishing and trapping culture are the thousand-year-old house ruins found everywhere in the bird cliffs, and the cave paintings in the cave with the sounding name “Hell” in Trenyken.
In the past, people lived in the bird cliffs west of the toad-flat Heimlandet, popularly referred to as “der veste”.
Today, all buildings are concentrated in Røstlandet itself. Proximity to resources was even more critical then than it is today. Open boats powered by hand and wind power made it opportune to live as close to the fishing grounds as possible.
Today, these factors have lost much of their importance, and bird hunting in the mountains is no longer an essential part of the diet of the Røst people. But there are still some who remember what life “there west” was like in the summer, when the bird cliffs swarmed with the hustle and bustle of millions of seabirds, like a football stadium during a cup final. One of those who remembers is former mayor Paul Normann Rånes. His family was among the last to maintain the custom of moving to the mountains during the summer months. We take the trip to the mountains together on a fresh and cloudy summer day, to see the saga kingdom of his youth. About the recent local history, he says;
“From the age of four, I traveled with my mom, dad, uncle, aunt and my brother Asbjørn to the mountains in May every single year. Then we lived and lived in the cabin in Storfjellet until the end of August. The adult men went into Røstlandet a couple of times a week, delivered fish, bought milk, salt, butter and coffee. Apart from that, it was the mountain and us, he tells Røstnytt.
Trapper’s life
Paul Rånes has two periods as mayor of the island behind him, but has his background as a fisherman, whaler, fisheries court leader, long-time tea maker – and bird catcher.
He thinks back with great pleasure to his childhood summers in Storfjellet, which with its 267 meters above sea level is Røst’s highest mountain.
The cabin the family lived in went by the name “Gammen”, and was built at least 150 years ago.
With its 9 square meters of floor space, stone walls, turf roofs and furnishings of driftwood and old herring boxes, the comfort was low.
Electricity, running water and toilets were of course not available, as there were hardly any in the residential buildings at that time.
“It was a very simple standard in “Gammen”, but I only have good memories from the summers there. We baked bread, fished halibut, caught birds, shot harbor seals and laid eggs. Otherwise, it was quiet and peaceful, it was the birds and us and the occasional guest who came rushing past in a boat,” says Rånes.
The preservative with which the food was preserved was mainly salt. Fish, poultry and seal meat were salted in barrels and half-barrels. In addition, a significant part of the bird was canned in two-liter jars. Reportedly a very effective and well-functioning way to make the food last until the next season – for those who knew the art.
“The longest-stored home-preserved bird I have eaten was cormorant chicks that had been canned 22 years earlier. They tasted as if they had been caught the day before.
Trapping – not hunting
The hunting of birds on Røst is special because it has not been carried out with firearms to a large extent.
In other words, it is literally a question of hunting – not hunting.
Puffins were caught with old fishing nets that were strung up between the mountain tops or laid out on the ground, so that the puffin flew into them when it was going into its burrow to feed the young.
Then it was “taped”, had its neck twisted, before it was gathered up in sacks, taken home and ribbed.
The down turned into warm down duvets. The cormorant and black guillemots were taken on nests before they were able to fly. For this work, a “cormorant spike”, a short rod with a fish hook, where the barb was removed, was used at the end to catch and pull the young out by. Razorbills and guillemots were caught with so-called “razorbills”, wooden frames with nets in them that were laid out at sea. When the bird came to dive, it got stuck in the net. Afterwards, the trapper came along, pulled up the window and thawed the bird.
“Once, the local boat drove such a device in the propeller. Then there was a commotion, Rånes remembers and chuckles. For those who were part of this life, it was a matter of good old trapping craft, where the skilled trapper was the one who could return to the “mainland” again in the autumn with barrels of delicious, tasty bird meat, year after year.
Was fined
The bird hunting that was carried out on Røst is today characterized by central authorities as fauna crime.
That was not the case then, that debate came later.
As late as 1995, four people from Røstværing were arrested for illegal trapping of puffins.
Fines in the NOK 10,000 class were issued to each of them, and the debate was loud in the media afterwards about whether local traditions and proximity to one’s own nature should weigh more heavily than dry paragraphs adopted at Løvebakken in Oslo.
The background for the hunting ban was that the puffin population has been in decline for long periods after herring – its main food – was almost wiped out by overfishing in the 1950s and 60s.
“I don’t remember any of the adults discussing whether the bird hunting we were doing was legal or not. In the past, bird hunting was pure food. We largely lived the rest of the year on what we caught and fished “there veste” in the summers. For us kids, it was a fantastic experience when we got old enough to join in and catch birds. We lived with and from nature,” says Rånes thoughtfully.
A common destiny
Today, there is not much left of “Gammen” in Storfjellet, but Paul Rånes and his family have set up a new cabin nearby, and there they spend every spare moment and every weekend during the summer months.
Mobile coverage is not there either.
“It’s nice to be able to disappear from the face of the earth once in a while,” he says.
Of course, the new cabin has a much more modern standard than his childhood fairytale castle, but luxuries such as solar panels and the like are not something Rånes wants. And the joy of nature, of the archipelago out there in the ocean gap, it is at least as great today as it was when he first stepped into his children’s shoes on Storfjellet over half a century ago. He has also retained the feeling of a shared fate with the raw and powerful nature of the archipelago;
“This is our recent history. This was an important part of what we lived on. Today, there are probably many of the youngest on Røst who do not know what they are talking about. They thus lose an important part of their history, their identity. Sometimes I almost wish the old times back. But I guess it won’t come back,” he concludes and looks up over the mountain scree once more.
It is inexorably heading towards black autumn now. The nests in the bird cliffs are empty and abandoned, and the silence reverberates between the steep slopes. We get in the boat and head back to the “mainland”. Next spring, Paul Rånes will be back in Storfjellet again. It is just as certain that the migratory birds that fly over our heads will also come back again, year after year.
Text and photo: Rune Kr. Ellingsen
