Russian Christmas

Here on the lower Yukon and many other parts of Alaska, Christmas is celebrated twice.

We have the traditional Christmas on Dec 25th with Santa Claus and presents- just like the rest of the lower United States. But some villages celebrate Slavic as wel. It's the Russian version of Christmas. It comes from the early eighteenth century Russian influence on Alaska.

Many villagers still bear the names of there Russian ancestory.

It begins on the seventh of January. The Russian orthodox priest will start the proceedings with a mass in the church, then followed by a procession of singing villagers following behind the priest. A boy will also follow holding a three foot star on a spindel. The star is hand spun the whole while, by the boy, as the procession follows to the first house that will host the feed.

The star is brought into the house while the procession follows singing the whole way.

After gathering into the house the priest says a small prayer and then another over the table and spread of food.

Then the feasting begins. Most of the villagers will converge on the house that is feeding and everyone eats in shifts so everyone gets fed. On the menu will be things like moose soup or beaver, baked salmon, dryfish and agutak for desert (Eskimo ice cream made of fish, berries suger and whipped shortning) along with fry bread and tea or coffee.

Small gifts are also given away by the host that is feeding. Some will get a pair of gloves or soap or wash cloths, decks of cards or other small items.

The star will spend several hours at the house and then the whole singing procession will start up once again and head off to the next house led by the priest. And the spinning star to repeat the feast again in the next house. This goes on nonstop for several days or up to a week or longer depending on how many houses in the village want to host the star and have a feed.

The Cabin

When I first moved to the village I was quiet fortunate and was able to procure a small log cabin on the edge of town located right on the bank of the Yukon River. It had no plumbing, but was in a great location. I lived there more than ten years and grew to love the place. It was totally the best time of my life.


It was one room with a small woodstove in the middle of the room. And there was a small partition in one corner that was used as a bathroom. To the immediate left, along the wall, was a small table with a basin for washing and a towel hanging on a hook. A mirror and a bed was on the far wall. And there was yet another bigger table by the window facing the river. There, I could have coffee in the morning and dinner in the evening while watching the geese fly by and the beavers swimming up the banks as the salmon jump in the channel. I once watched a muskoxen walk across the frozen river one winter and right through the yard.

It did have power; as in two light bulbs and two wall sockets. So I was not totally in the dark. It was quite a luxury as far as bush living goes. I was able to have a freezer and small compartment under the floor boards acted as my fridge. It would keep most anything cool even in summer. I had a radio and could listen to KNOM in Nome.


The cabin was old, built in the 40s, and the logs were getting rotten. Voles ran through the hallow walls most nights while I lay awake listening to them. The ones that came in the house got trapped. And in that way, I could keep the numbers down and my sanity intact.

I made my living at the time running a tender boat up and down the Yukon buying fish for various fish companies during the summer. I also supported my major existence by trapping the winters.



Once, during the spring, around April I was getting caught up on my beaver skinning. I had a large beaver laid out on a bench in the middle of the room. The door was propped open. It was such a nice day, with the long spring daylight hours things were warming up nicely.

I started skinning the beaver by first removing the paws and tail and tossed them on the wood pile that I kept by the door. When I had the beaver about half skinned, I looked up, and to my surprise here comes a white long tailed weasel (ermine) hopping through the open door.


I put down my knife and watched as he slowly hopped through the cabin, checking under the table, then the bed, and back out again. He was on his way out the door, and then he stopped dead in his tracks. He appeared to be stretched out and stiff. And with careful steps he started creeping closer to the beaver feet in the woodpile by the door. I chuckled to myself realizing the little white mouser, was about to be fooled into thinking that a small front beaver paw with a bit of fur still on it looked like a live vole. He was in the process of putting the stalk on it (much like a cat would) and after a few moments and a few steps closer, he made a mad dash in and pounced on the small fur ball. And, to my surprise, I could hear an audible squeal and could not believe my eyes as he lifted his head and held in his jaws a limp small shrew that was apparently munching on one of the beaver paws totally unnoticed by me.

The weasel pranced out the door with his prize, seemed not to even notice me watching, and left me feeling as if I just witnessed a lion kill a wildebeest.

Fur Season

As December rolls in, the men are once again setting their traps in hope of catching some prime beaver, lynx, fox, mink, marten, wolf, and wolverine. Once the fur is caught, skinned, stretched, and dried it will be traded for much needed cash to buy Christmas presents, fuel, oil, gas, and pay bills and other needs.

During the winter, the few jobs in the construction have shut down. Fishing and wild-land firefighting is over. So it can be a economically challenging time for villagers as they try to make a living. Fur sales is one way they can make it, rather than welfare and government subsidies

The animal populations here are just short of amazing. Since we have so few people per square mile, the fur resource is hardly even fully utilized. We have beaver everywhere and lots of fox and we are in a high cycle for lynx. We can harvest these animals during the season as a renewable resource. And it will not harm the population as a whole. As one area is trapped, it makes room for the young of the past year to fill in the void and reproduce in that area. It's a never ending cycle that works pretty good. The alternative to controlling the populations is disease and starvation naturally, and that is cruel and such a waste in my opinion.

There are people that are dead set against trapping; claiming it's cruel and unjust. But the alternative is worse and can be way more devastating to the populations than what the trappers can ever do. And if the populations ever get low enough to warrant a decrease, trapping seasons are adjusted or even closed entirely to let the population recoup until they are healthy again.

Fur is truly a green renewable resource and very warm. The folks that live in northern climates still wear fur. Since there is no real substitute that is comparable in warmth and style, it's the only logical thing to use. And it looks great as well.

Many trappers feed themselves with there catch. Beaver, muskrat, lynx, and even otter are eaten. And if not being eaten by the trapper and their family- the village dogs get their much needed protein (that is so important to survive the sub zero temperatures in this northern climate).