Algonquin Spring

by Rick Revelle

  “Grandmother, I am here to serve you!” he replied.

  “Come, Tall Man. I will teach you something!” exclaimed Matues.

  We walked through the woods along a game path. Matues said, “The matues (porcupine) is plentiful in our homeland and considered a delicacy. Nukumi will boil it and it tastes a lot like apji’jgmuj (black duck). You have to be careful when you skin it because it is covered in quills.”

  Matues continued to tell me about how they used this animal.

  “The women of our village dye the quills and use them to decorate our clothing and make small baskets. Nukumi will gladly cook this creature in exchange for its pelt of barbs.”

  Suddenly Matues stopped and pointed to a tree. There I laid eyes on one of the strangest creatures I have ever seen. Pointy, stiff, white-tipped hairs covered this seemingly docile animal.

  Matues loosened an arrow and the animal fell out of the sapling with a thud. Quickly he turned the animal over with a stick and skinned it. He handed me the pelt. I carefully ran my left hand over it. It was very pointy.

  “Matues, from where I come from we have no such animal as this; it is very strange indeed.”

  We made it back to camp before sunset and gave Nukumi the matues. She was very pleased and quickly took the pelt, wrapping it in a skin.

  The meat was delicious, a little oily but very tasty. It did taste like duck. The seven of us made short work of the animal; Grandmother had also cooked some seal, so we were able to fill our bellies.

  After we finished eating Apistanéwj motioned to the two dogs to stay in the shelter with grandmother, and the men went to the adjacent one for the evening. Once we had a fire going, the place became very comfortable and I fell asleep in no time.

  At daybreak, Ta’s’ji’jg woke Apistanéwj and me.

  “Bring your weapons,” he said. “We are going hunting for apli’kmuj (rabbit). Little one, bring your dogs!”

  Apistanéwj made a clicking sound with his tongue and immediately the two dogs were at his side.

  With the dogs leading the way, we left the encampment and travelled south. It was not long before they started to scare up the apli’kmuj that we had come for. The three of us kept busy shooting the zig-zagging creatures. It was a constant barrage of the two dogs barking and these furry little animals running amok. By the time everything had settled down, our arrows had found their marks fourteen times. Taking some vines, we tethered their legs together and slung them over our shoulders for the trip back. Along the way, we stopped and picked some leeks. Grandmother would throw these into the water along with the meat.

  After arriving back at the camp, everyone helped in the skinning of the animals. Making an incision along the legs of the rabbit, I put my fingers in between the skin and the meat and pulled the pelt upwards toward the head. With this done, I cut the skin at the neck and pulled it off the body. Then, after cutting off the head, I gutted the rabbit and threw the head and innards to the dogs. We also kept the claws of the rabbit and gave them to Grandmother; she would use them for necklaces and decorations on shirts.

  Nukumi put the meat and leeks into the boiling bark container and soon we were eating. What we did not finish she wrapped in grass and moss and put in a sack to eat on the trail.

  With our bellies full, we quickly put packs on the dogs, struck camp, and headed for the Mi’kmaq village. The forest canopy was dense but the sunlight was able to streak through and in spots made it look like beams of light were showing us the way. The smells of the forest decay mingled with the aromas of new spring growth. It seemed like Gisu’lg (the Creator) was showing us only a small part of what he was capable of doing with just the sun and our surroundings. The smells, sights, and the sounds of the birds made the setting almost magical, everything coming together just for us.

  We had to veer north to avoid a river that was too high to ford this early in the spring. E’s mentioned that on the Mi’kmaqs’ return trip to their summer lodges near the ocean they came to this river to catch tagawan (salmon) as the fish returned from the sea to spawn.

  It was not long, though, before the glmuej (mosquitoes) started to feast on our bare skin. I stopped and applied more of the red ochre on my body and covered my little friend Apistanéwj with it. The Mi’kmaqs stopped and picked some ferns that were growing along the trail. They crushed them and then rubbed them on their skin. Two different methods, but both successful in keeping the small biters away from our exposed bodies. E’s took some of the fern and rubbed the two dogs’ muzzles. Now all of us had protection.

  Occasionally we came upon a meadow that a forest fire had created. In one of these areas we scared a couple of deer into the protection of the forest. Another time one of the clearings had a small stream babbling through it. Stopping here, we lay down on the ground and drank our fill, then filled up our water bladders. Taking our time, we rested and finished off the rabbit and enjoyed the warmth of the sun.

  Jilte’g was not a man who said a lot, but when we were rising to leave this spot, he said, “We are not far from our winter village. If we see another deer, we will try to slay it for the coming feast. I want more than bear and seal meat to herald our return. E’s, take the red one that calls himself Tall Man and the dogs with you. Keep your eyes open for lentug (deer). If you see one, take the shot and set the dogs on it to run it until it drops. The rest of us will continue on to the camp area our people have always used when preparing to enter the village. We will wait for you there.”

  E’s turned to me and said, “Let’s go. We will try to get ahead of the rest and then walk as silently as possible. There is another clearing ahead. If we are to be successful, that is where we might find our prey.”

  Soundlessly, we left the main group and let the dogs take the lead. Walking as noiselessly as possible and only using hand signals, we found a game trail that cut across our trail. E’s signalled for me to follow, and we diverted from the main trail. It was not long before he stopped and picked something up from the trail. After handling it and smelling the object, he handed it to me. It was the warm dung of a lentug. Our quarry was close by.

  E’s handed me a piece of rope and we leashed both dogs. We did not want them to scare our prey before we got off a shot. E’s whispered that there was a clearing ahead and a small spring-fed pond where the lentug would probably be drinking.

  I am still amazed at how well trained and obedient these two dogs were. Once we put the leather leads on them they waited for our command.

  With E’s leading, we continued through the forest. The smell of the pine trees emitted an aroma that made me homesick with memories of days past. I thought of my dead friends from that ill-fated hunting trip and my friends and family from my village. They probably were wondering why we never returned and what our fate had been.

  A hand on my shoulder roused me from my thoughts. We were on the edge of a clearing. E’s pointed through the trees and I glimpsed five lentugs at the small pond. We were safely upwind from them and undetectable for the time being. Squatting down, E’s whispered that two of the does had fawns with them. We would target the one that did not; shooting the mother of a nursing fawn would doom the young newborn to death by starvation. We took only what was needed without upsetting the balance of nature any more than necessary.

  We each strung an arrow into our bows and slowly rose. I drew the bow back until the feathers touched my cheek. Together we loosened our taut bow sinews. I watched as my arrow travelled across the pond and struck the target with a thud. E’s arrow hit its mark the same instant as mine. We had struck where the neck met her chest. The animal dropped to one knee then as quickly rose up and ran. The other two does and their fawns ran in separate directions into the forest cover.

  Now it was time for the dogs to do their part. We let the two dogs loose from the small tree where we had tethered them, and they were quick to get the trail. Our plan was to try to keep up following the blood trail. The dogs’ job was to run the deer until it bled out. I hoped the a
nimal would die swiftly. In her panic, the doe crashed through the nearest avenue of escape, a thicket of thorns and tangled undergrowth. It was not long before our uncovered hands and legs were bleeding from the barbs. This did not hinder our dogs since their long hair deflected most of the spiny prickles. We could see clumps of dog and lentug hair on the thorny bush. Finally, we entered a forested area where we could make better time. The doe was leaving great blotches of blood and we could hear the dogs in the near distance. We soon realized that they were no longer moving because their barking was getting closer as we closed the gap. Running at full sprint, we rounded a small rock outcrop and almost ran into the tangle of animals. We found the lentug caught up in a deadfall, her eyes glazed over and the front of her chest covered with blood. The dogs stood over her, barking. I called them off and reached for my knife. I slit her throat to finish the kill, and E’s and I gave thanks to Gisu’lg for giving us the skill to take one of his creatures. E’s sprinkled some tobacco around the dead animal as a gift to the Creator while I started to gut the animal. E’s then made a fire so we could eat before we left for the prearranged meeting place where the others were waiting for us.

  I cut out the heart and shared it with E’s. He took the ribs and hung them over the fire for our meal. By the time I finished with the animal, our food would be ready. There was enough daylight left for us to reach the gathering place once we had finished. I threw the intestines and other guts to the dogs. They had earned their feast. They ravenously ate what I threw to them. As I continued my work on the animal, I looked over at E’s. He was popping chunks of bloody meat into his mouth. He returned my look with a huge smile reddened by the impromptu meal. We would use everything from this animal. Nothing would go to waste. Bones for weapons and tools, the hide for clothes, the stomach to carry water, the brain to tan the hide, and the sinew for bowstrings — everything had its use.

  After eating the ribs, we cut a small sapling about eight feet long and tied the lentug’s legs to it. We then boosted the animal onto our shoulders and, with the dogs in the lead, headed out. Being a foot and a half taller than E’s, I let him take the front, hoping that the slanting of the poles forward would be a better option for him.

  8

  THE LAND OF THE MI’KMAQ

  We reached the appointed meeting place just before dusk. With everyone working on the carcass, we had it cut up in no time. In addition to the venison, we also had the seal and bear meat. The whole group, including the dogs, now would be loaded down for the remainder of the journey. Enough hopefully for the feast ahead to mourn the dead warriors left behind. After we butchered the animal the flies became thick on the meat so we built up our fire, making it smoke by placing it under a lean-to of branches and bark.

  Like the Beothuk, the Mi’kmaq spent their summers by the sea, for the fish, lobster, and clams. Sea breezes kept the flies and mosquitoes away.

  During the night, the temperature dropped to near freezing and we awoke to a frost and no flies. Jilte’g said we would reach the village by noon. Quickly eating our morning meal, we broke camp and headed west. The sun rose brightly in a cloudless sky as we set out for the final leg of the journey. We followed a well-worn path that the Mi’kmaq had used for years to make their way to the ocean from their winter camps. With Ta’s’ji’jg leading the way and Apistanéwj keeping pace by holding onto the dogs, our small group made good time.

  I could smell the village before we came upon it. My nostrils picked up the aromas of midday fires and cooking meals. As we approached the community, a pack of camp dogs ran out to defend their terrain. The alpha male was a long-legged, wolf-like creature that postured and barked at us. Seeing the two dogs with us, he approached them and issued a challenge. Without even a returning growl or bark, the black dog broke away from Apistanéwj’s grasp and leaped upon the challenging male. He gripped the challenger by the nape of his neck and violently shook him, as if he were nothing more than a small rabbit. With a mighty twist of his head, he tossed the Mi’kmaq dog into the air. The dog hit the ground with a yelp and rolled three or four times. He quickly regained his stance and composure, took one more look at Tepgig, and sulked back to the village. The big dog then returned to Apistanéwj’s side. Jilte’g and the other Mi’kmaqs at first stood in awe, and then they all started to laugh. E’s was laughing so hard that he dropped to one knee and tears were flowing from his eyes.

  Matues exclaimed, “I have never seen anything like that before. That camp dog is not used to a challenge returned! That was a blow to his ego!”

  Walking into the village, we passed a group of young children taking part in a game with long sticks that had leather netting on the end, playing with a ball of leather. It seemed very rough and a few of the children were bleeding from various parts of their bodies. Nevertheless, they were all shouting, laughing, and having a good time. The constant clatter of the sticks told me they were playing this game for keeps.

  As we passed the playing field, the rest of the village soon became aware our presence and ran out to meet us. One thing that was common among most of the men, women, and young children was the redness of their eyes. The cause of this was spending most of their time during the winter inside their birch-enclosed, smoky wikuoms. My people suffered the same ailment. We, like the Mi’kmaq, used the centres of the mountain maple’s small twigs to make a poultice to treat the smoke-irritated eyes. Both tribes also burned the stems of the willow and used the ashes to treat the redness. Anything to ease the watering and itching of our eyes was a welcome relief.

  One young boy walked up to me and looked up with his mouth hanging open. He turned to one of his friends and said in his language, “This man is as tall as a tree, and look at the strange shield and weapon hanging from his waist!” Then, taking one more look at me, he smiled and quickly ran away. I laughed to myself. The strange weapon he had talked about would have been the axe that I had taken from the dead Eli’tuat. I had almost forgotten about it. It seemed such a part of me now. E’s had taken a shield plus one of the weapons that the strangers had used to hack off arms and heads. Matues had been content to take control of a spear and as many arrows as he could carry in his quiver. Some of the men gathered around E’s as he handled the weapon, asking him what it was.

  I interjected, telling them the Eli’tuat in their language called the weapon a “sverð.” They looked at me, shook their heads, and walked away talking amongst themselves.

  I realized that I had talked to them in the language of the Eli’tuat. Where were these powers coming from?

  E’s said, “They have never seen a weapon as heavy as this. It does take strength to swing it, but from my first-hand experience watching the strangers fight with them, they can cause horrendous wounds.”

  The village was scattered along a small, quick-flowing, and very clear stream about seven feet wide. There would be no problem walking across the waterway since it was only a couple of feet deep. However, the inhabitants of the village had built a narrow bridge of wood over which they could come and go from each side. At a quick glance, I counted a little over twenty shelters giving refuge to over a hundred people. There were a few young women tending cooking vessels and carrying wood for the fires.

  The rest of the village was gathering around Jilte’g. An elder they called Magisgonat (Big Nose) stepped forward and said, “You know the rules. You are to never bring any of the Island People from their lands!”

  From behind Magisgonat strode a heavily muscled warrior who carried the authority of a chief. “Where are our young boys that left on this journey under your protection?”

  Then, looking directly at me he said, “I am Gaqtugwan Musigisg (Thunder Sky), chief of the Gespe’gewa’gi (Last Land). Who is this giant?”

  “Gaqtugwan Musigisg,” replied E’s, “there was trouble with the Eli’tuat, with losses on both sides. The Little One suffered a head wound and this giant saved his life during the altercation. Captured by the Eli’tuat in his homeland, they brought him to the I
sland as a prisoner. “

  E’s continued telling the story of the island battle. After he related how the young warriors fell, a group of women started weeping uncontrollably. They were the mothers, sisters, and grandmothers of the dead boys. The sound of their sorrow was heartwrenching. The Mi’kmaq women would cry until they could not produce any more tears. The grieving helped them cope with the loss of their sons.

  Over the wailing of the grief-stricken females, E’s continued his story. Many of the people surrounded Apistanéwj, touching him and staring at him. They all had heard stories about these people but none had actually seen them in person. The young children ran up to him, giggled, and then ran away. They were more in awe of him than the adults.

  After a while they turned their attention to me. The parents stood back and looked while the young ones ran around me, touching me and squealing in delight. The antics of the children had a calming affect on the rest of the people, and soon they were all smiling and offering food and water to Apistanéwj and me.

  The Elder Magisgonat asked my name, and Jilte’g replied, “Tall Man.”

  Magisgonat shook his head and said, “No! That is not his name. It is Glooscap!”

  As soon as he uttered that word, the entire village stopped what it was doing. Even the mourning women went silent. They all stood and stared. Then a deafening rallying cry arose that echoed throughout the village. They began to chant the name “Glooscap” repeatedly. Men, women, and children ran up and touched me. I looked around and caught Nukumi’s eye. She was smiling and clapping. Apistanéwj was leaning up against the dogs with a big grin. Who was I that these people were so in awe of me? Grandmother and Apistanéwj seemed to know. It looked as if I had a lot to learn about who the Mi’kmaq thought I was. Things were definitely going to get interesting!