by Rick Revelle
Kànikwe
After Mitigomij and the women tended Odìngwey’s wound, the two warriors and the panther headed back to the village. I told them to be vigilant on the return trip since there remained three enemy warriors out in the forest who might return with others to take back the elk or to wreak vengeance. These warriors had to belong to a hunting party for a bigger group. Three of the dead were Hochelagan and the others Haudenosaunee. It was mix I did not like and a sign that Corn Dog was likely travelling down the big river raiding, and in the meantime having success bringing the Hochelagans into his party.
After Mitigomij left, I asked the two women to take turns with a couple of animosh patrolling the forest around us. I could only spare one of them at a time while the rest of us butchered the dead animosh and wàbidì. It would take us most of what remained of the day to do this bloody work. There was also the task of burying Kekek, which we proceeded to do before anything else. I did not like travelling at night, although we had to make an exception at this time. There was danger nearby and the sooner we left this area, the better the chance all of us should survive and make it back to camp.
After butchering the animals, we loaded the odàbànàks with as much of the meat as the five us could pull. We let the dogs eat their fill from the carcass of the wàbidì, and then we packed the pelts from the dead animoshs with meat and loaded the packs onto the dogs’ backs. Wanting to keep the wàbida’s pelt intact, we made a travois for our biggest dog to pull. With eleven dogs, we were able to handle most of the kill. Whatever meat we were unable to take with us the women wrapped with vines and hung in some trees until we could come back for it. The rest we left for the wolves and ravens. Agwanìwon led the procession and then we spaced three dogs between the twins, Kìnà Odenan, and me. It made for better control over the dogs and spaced us adequately for protection and vigilance. Before we left we made torches to light our way in the darkness. Only Agwanìwon and I carried them. We needed the middle three to have their hands free to manage the dogs and defend our group in case of sudden attack. Walking through the night was slow going. After walking for what seemed a long time, we crested a small hill and in the distance could see lights. Shawl Woman stopped the procession and called me up.
“What do you think she said?”
“Hopefully it is Kàg, Mònz, and their wives. We will know in a moment.”
I then made the sound of the wàwonesì. It echoed through the valley. Because the wàwonesì had not yet come back to our forest, it was a safe call. No answer and we would know that we were not among friends.
The call came back immediately and everyone knew that we would soon have help to relieve our aching backs.
When our two parties merged, Mahingan was leading them.
He embraced me and said, “Good work, Kànìkwe. You have saved our people from a great hunger. I have come back to our camp with more then fish. I came upon three young Susquehannock boys, news that my wife is alive, and that she has a daughter with her.”
“Mahingan,” I replied, “my heart is happy for you!”
“Thank you, brother. I love this woman very much and our time together was too short. I wait for the day when we will be reunited.”
“While we are still close to the kill, let’s double back with the extra odàbànàks you brought and pick up the remainder of the meat that we hung in some trees,” I suggested.
Nigig, Mònz, Kàg, Mahingan, and I grabbed some extra torches and took the dogs they brought, including Mahingan’s huge wolf, and struck out back for the meat we had stored in the trees.
“Kànìkwe,” Mahingan warned, “the three young men also told me other news.”
His voice had an ominous tone.
“The Susquehannock boys told me they had been captured by Corn Dog, and Morning Star helped them to escape. They also told me that Corn Dog is building a huge force of warriors and is heading for the land of the Mi’kmaq this spring. When he is done with them the Algonquins are the next target.”
“Mahingan, did Mitigomij tell you who we battled with?”
“Yes, he did. Corn Dog must have a lot of mouths to feed if he is sending hunting parties out this far.”
“Mahingan, when Corn Dog does attack, the Algonquin will not die easy!” I exclaimed.
“Spoken like a true warrior, my friend! When we get back, we will feast and have the women smoke the meat. Then our small group must strike out earlier than usual for our summer encampment. We will send out runners to call in all the family units to meet us there. Once the families start to come in, we need to send emissaries out to ask for help from the Ouendat and Nipissing,” he replied.
“If we are in Corn Dog’s plans, he will have his battle,” I added.
We reached the meat at dawn without incident. Wolves and ravens were feasting on the carcass and they paid us no heed. We had tied our dogs and Mahingan’s wolf up in the trees above the valley. The last thing we wanted to do was break up a fight between a pack of wolves and our dogs. Once loaded, we headed for home and were able to make good time. The trail was well broken now because of the activity during the past couple of days and we arrived at the camp just before the sun reached its highest point.
As we entered the site, Makwa and Wàbek came running toward us.
“Father and Uncles, Mitigomij and the women have decided that we are going to have a huge feast and then he said that he would lead the women and children in defeating the warriors at a game of Guhn Achgook (Snow Snake). The women have been preparing the meal and the rest of us have been working on the track all morning and have added water to it to make it slippery. It is very long and well packed and will be ready for tomorrow. Tonight, while we eat and dance, Mitigomij said he will make the snakes.”
As soon as they said all that this, they turned and ran back. The four of us looked at each other and laughed.
That night, everyone filled their bellies with fish, elk, and dog meat. The twins and the three Susquehannock boys banged on the big drum until no one remained dancing.
The next morning Mitigomij awakened us all by going from lodge to lodge calling us to the morning meal. While we ate, he told us who would be on the teams.
“I have decided that the women, Kinebigokesì, Wàbìsì, Agwanìwon, Kìnà Odenan, Shangweshì, Àwadòsiwag, Ininàtig, Àbita, plus the three Susquehannock boys, Sischijro, Oneega, and Abgarijo, will be on my team. On Anokì’s team will be all the male warriors, Mahingan, Mònz, Kàg, Kànikwe, Nigig, Makwa, Wàbek, and Odìngwey, who can use his good arm to throw. Each thrower can have two deaths. After the second death, they will be out of the game. Anokì and I will mark at each end with an upright spear to indicate the distance the second thrower has to get past to defeat his opponent. Since my team has eleven players and Anokì only has nine, counting himself, I will not throw but he will. In addition, once Anokì’s team suffers its first two deaths, they can come back in to play for two more losses, which will even up the sides. Six of my players will stay on the end closest to the falls and the other five will come to the far end. Anokì will decide whom he wants to place where. Decide your lineup to throw, and it must stay that way. When you finish your throw, you go to the back of the line and move up to play your next opponent when the line comes to you again. Each player has one toss per turn and only one foul (a stick leaving the track) per turn. We will play the best of three total games. Losers must, for the next two days, prepare the evening meal and collect firewood and water for the meals.”
“One more thing,” Mitigomij added, “the dogs will be let loose to warn us of any danger, and those who are eliminated early must take it upon themselves to go on watch around the area. We start after our meal and will not eat again until there is a losing team to arrange the evening meal.”
The throwing spears that Mitigomij had made were as long as our tallest person and each weighted with small stones on the leading end. Each person had their own distinct way of throwing the sticks. Some ran great distances to gain momentum; oth
ers relied on arm strength to propel the staff down the track. There were some very good throws, and twice during the first round Kàg threw his shaft all the way down and off the end. This was quite an accomplishment because the trough was very long and level. Anokì’s team won the first match with four players remaining. The second round, it looked like his team was going to win handily again. However, Nigig’s daughter, Ininàtig (Maple), who was tall and slender, had mastered throwing the stick by running very fast up to the opening and a tremendous release. We had three throwers remaining, all with two lives, Kàg, Mahingan, and amazingly the Ouendat Odìngwey, who seemed to be making a very fast recovery from the wound that Mitigomij had been ministering. Ininàtig defeated them all, accompanied by a huge cheering section from her team. There was much laughter and competitiveness from both sides, as well as many side bets between the competitors.
The final game started, and what advantage the warrior team held up until now slowly began to wane. The women and the Susquehannock boys were catching on and quickly gaining an advantage in the final matchups. The sun was starting to set, casting a reddening glow on the snow and highlighting the track in a cascade of light. The final two competitors, each with only one life left, lined up at the waterfall end. The twin, Wàbek, was throwing against Nigig’s other daughter, Àwadòsiwag (Minnow). Àwadòsiwag threw first, and it was very good. Mitigomij and Anokì marked it. Just before Wàbek threw, Minnow walked up to him and planted a kiss on his cheek. Flustered, he threw his first throw off the track. Gaining his composure, he retrieved the stick, and crouching down to gain momentum, he rushed to the opening. With his moccasined feet crunching the snow underneath and with a huge grunting sound expelled from his lungs, as well as his face reddening, he propelled the stick with all his might toward the opening.
7
GESPE’G (LAND’S END)
Tall Man
“Grandmother, this is amazing!” I said.
There before us stood a huge rock with three arches carved into it and thousands of birds nesting on its summit. Then, to the west, an island with even more jipji’js (birds.) The sheer amount of birds made the island look snow-covered!
Grandmother then turned and spoke to me. “Tall Man, we will go to the island and collect eggs to take back to the village. Everyone will carry a leather sack and cover the collected eggs with layers of moss and grass to keep them from breaking. We will collect enough for our village to have a feast when we return to them.”
Once we stepped ashore, the two dogs immediately began to bark and chase the birds, which made it easy for us to rob the nests. When these birds lose the single egg that they have in the nest, they will lay another within the breeding season, enabling both of our species to continue, us by avoiding starvation, the birds by nesting again.
Everywhere I stepped there were bird droppings, eventually turning my moccasins white. By the time of the noon sun, we had collected all the eggs we could carry in the leather bags Grandmother had given us. When we returned to the boats, she had a fire going with a chunk of bear meat on a spit and tea boiling in a vessel. We called the dogs in because we were getting tired of their constant barking, and as long as the birds remained in the air, they would splatter us with their droppings. I reached into my hair, and when I drew my hand back I could see it was white with feces.
“The only predators on the island are wowkwiss (fox),” E’s told me, “and they are well fed, Tall Man.”
We decided that we would spend the night on the island, proceed in the morning to the Gespe’g shore, and continue inland to their village.
Right after we finished eating, Matues developed a toothache. He rocked back and forth on his haunches, gripping the side of his face with both hands.
Nukumi approached him and said, “Matues, chew on these willow leaves and inner bark for a while and your toothache will disappear. If it still bothers you after trying this, I will take my knife and a rock and knock it out.”
She then turned, winked at me with a smile, and went back to her fur bed.
Trying to find a place to lie where there was not any bird excrement was a futile endeavour. Furthermore, the constantly screeching birds made my ears ring. For entertainment, we sat by the fire and watched the birds dive from tremendous heights into the ocean waters for fish. Very rarely did a bird come to the surface without a fish in its beak. After the sunset, the colony became quiet and I fell asleep.
The night was chilly and we had to keep the fire tended. I woke once during the night to relieve myself and found Ta’s’ji’jg up tending the fire and eating eggs. I could see him in the glow of the fire with yolk running down his chin, feeding the dogs the shells. Matues was sound asleep, which told me Nukumi’s toothache remedy had worked.
Coming back to the fire, I sat beside him and asked about his people.
He answered, “We call ourselves the L’nu’k, which means ‘The People.’ Others call us Mi’kmaq, the friendly people. In the winter, we live inland and hunt tia’m and lentug (moose and deer). Once the snow leaves, the young men leave for the Island of the Bears and the rest of our people prepare to move to the coast. When the young hunters come home, everyone feasts on bear meat and spring moose. After the celebration, we leave for the shore to fish, hunt seal, and collect eggs. The women spend the summer drying fish and making sealskin clothing. We also trade with our cousins to the southeast and raid our enemies.”
I shared some eggs with him and talked some more about his people and mine. The stories that intrigued me the most were the ones about raiding and battles with enemies of the Mi’kmaq. Ta’s’ji’jg had a hard time understanding that our people were not warlike and that we really had no enemies. I told him that during my lifetime, we had one bloody encounter with a group of people that call themselves Inuit, but it was not a common occurrence. Our two peoples very rarely came in contact, and when we did, it was usually in the spring while we both were hunting seals, and most times it would be from a distance.
After we shared our stories, I went back to my sleeping spot beside Apistanéwj and the two dogs, Na’gweg and Tepgig. Just before I fell asleep, I thought that the Mi’kmaq really were no different from the Beothuk. Were all peoples the same?
“Rise up,” cried Grandmother to the camp, “we will eat and then embark for our lands.” She looked at me and smiled. “Tall Man, our adventures are just beginning!”
Nukumi had me puzzled because she seemed to know my future. I must admit, though, whenever I was around her I sensed a great calm.
After eating, we hurriedly loaded the canoes trying to leave before disturbing the island’s birds. We had had enough of their bowel movements showering us. E’s told me that it would take most of the day to get to Gespe’g. He added that our small group would hug the shoreline for safety. Once we reached the peninsula, it would take us another couple of days to reach the winter village.
The voyage along the coast was uneventful and the shoreline was heavily wooded and misty, not unlike my homeland. We entered a deep bay after leaving the three-arched rock and did not leave the area until the noon sun. Rounding a peninsula, we came upon a seal rookery and speared a half dozen of the animals. Jilte’g stated that we would put ashore in a sheltered bay where they had camped before. There we would skin the seals and camp for the night. The two dogs, Na’gweg and Tepgig, amazed me with their seaworthiness when they were in the boats. They were usually doing one of two things, standing at the prow of their respective vessel or sleeping. The pair became Apistanéwj’s guardians, always following him around and sleeping with him between them at night. They were also very fond of Grandmother, who spoiled them with food. When I put a pack on them, they never put up a fuss, nor did they strain under the load. Both of them had amazing stamina, and even though they had yet to prove it, I had no doubt they were vigilant and protective camp dogs.
The sun was partway down to the horizon when we reached the small sheltered bay. Dragging the seals from the canoes, we were not long in skinnin
g and dressing them, with the two dogs feasting on the guts. We boiled the seal fat, and once the oil floated to the surface Grandmother dipped it out and put it in moose bladders. In the future, this precious liquid would be of use to the Mi’kmaq for food flavouring and hair and body oil. That night we gorged on seal meat and Grandmother’s boiled cedar tea. Apistanéwj, who was a very descriptive storyteller, kept us in suspense with his narratives. The night air was damp and the smell of the salt water hung heavily in the air, but the fire cast warmth that made me drowsy, and my newfound friends made me feel welcome and safe. The stars were bright in the sky and the moon looked like you could reach out and touch it. I looked to see where Apistanéwj and the dogs were sleeping and nestled up to Tepgig for extra warmth against the dampness of the night. Sleep came quickly.
Our group rose early, loaded the canoes, and struck out for the last leg of our journey. In the future there would be more people to meet and things to see. I had become very close to the friends that I had acquired since my escape from the Eli’tuat. Grandmother in particular seemed to know something about me and what lay ahead for us all. I could not figure her out; she was harmless but mysterious.
The only breaks in the forests were where a river flowed into the sea or where there had been a forest fire, which had burned up to the edge of the land and was halted by the ocean. Occasionally we saw seals and once a pod of whales in the distance. The wind was calm on the ocean that day, forcing us to paddle.
With two hours of sunlight left, Jilte’g motioned for us to go ashore. He had us pull the canoes onshore, turn them upside down, and cover them with brush.
“We will be going inland tomorrow to our winter village. Tonight we will stay in one of our summer wikuoms (wigwam),” he explained.
Our small party of six men, one woman, and two large dogs proceeded into the woods and after a short time came upon a deserted summer village. Some of the wikuoms were in need of repair but we found two side by side that would serve our needs that night. Nukumi, who had a fire going in no time, turned to Matues and said, “I want to serve matuesuei (porcupine meat) tonight, so you have been elected to get me one. Take the big one with you. Leave the dogs here, because I do not want to be pulling quills out of their mouths tonight.”