Algonquin Spring

by Rick Revelle

  The hunting parties that had been going out lately were only able to snare small animals. The larger animals were now able to manoeuvre in the woods because of the disappearing snow. These animals were now further afield from the camp. The distance now involved seeking game, and the constant shortage of food among the people affected their hunting abilities. The L’nu’k called this time of the year the moon of Penamuikús (birds lay eggs moon, April).

  That evening, Gaqtugwan Musigisg called Nukumi, the elders, and the warriors to council. “I have decided that we have to send a hunting party farther afield for fresh meat. They will have to go to the valley. Now that the weather is getting warmer, the mui’n will be coming out of hibernation. They will be weak, hungry, and seeking out food. There will be no summer fat on them, but it is still meat and we need it to make our way to the coast. I have chosen Glooscap, Apistanéwj, E’s, Matues, Ta’s’ji’jg, and Jilte’g to be the ones for the hunt. Take the two big dogs with you, along with three of our camp dogs. The dogs of our visitors look like they can handle a mui’n. There will be no women going with you this time. We need all of them to stay here and prepare for the journey to the coast. The dogs will be able to pack most of the meat. What they cannot carry the six of you can.”

  Jilte’g then spoke. “This will leave you with only eight warriors to protect the community, Gaqtugwan Musigisg.”

  “It is too early in the siggw (spring) for the Haudenosaunee to be raiding this far east of their river, and the Stadaconas are too lazy to come over their river,” he replied.

  E’s spoke up and said, “What about the Broken Talkers (Maliseet)? They cannot be trusted. One year they are our allies and the next they are attacking us and taking captives to trade with the Stadaconas and Haudenosaunee to save their own necks!”

  The chief answered, “It is also too early in the spring for them to leave the warmth of their huts. We will be all right. I expect Migjigi (Turtle) and his group to be here in the next while to join up with us for the trek to the sea.”

  “We will leave at sunrise,” said Jilte’g. “I hope you are right about Migjigi. I have a bad feeling about this!”

  He looked at Nukumi, and all she said was, “Persevere; look to Glooscap in time of peril.”

  Who do these people think I am? I said to myself.

  The next morning we walked into the morning mist after the six of us had eaten a meagre meal of cedar tea, a handful of boiled atu’tuej (squirrel), and the hoof of an unknown animal. The smell of the food, though, did not deter me from eating. The last few days I could feel my stomach shrink from the lack of food. The weakness had not yet spread to my legs. I can remember once when I was a young man, and it had been a winter of heavy snow. Food was scarce. I became very weak from the lack of food, I could not move my legs well, and I had trouble thinking and talking. The only thing that saved my family and village that year was that one of the elders thought it was his time to die, and he went into the woods to pass on to the afterlife. There he found the rotting carcass of a caribou that the wolves had killed and fed on. He came back to our shelters and gathered the men that still had strength to follow him to the spot. When they arrived, the wolves had returned. The story that was passed on since that day was of a battle between man and beast for these decaying remains. My people were more determined than the pack that day. They brought home the meat of the caribou and two wolves that they had killed. The elder? He died in his sleep years later. His name was Man Who Liked the Summer: my grandfather.

  Matues made a framed carrier of two poles woven with leather with a deerskin thrown on it for the dogs Tepgig and Na’gweg to take turns pulling. If Apistanéwj tired, he could ride on this carrier. Matues and E’s put their newfound weapons and shields on it so that they would not have to carry them. I also put my shield on the carrier.

  We left at a brisk pace with the little one holding on to Tepgig and keeping up with us. We topped the rise overlooking the village; Jilte’g stopped and looked back, bowed his head, and then led us on.

  Walking beside E’s, I asked him how Jilte’g received the scar on his arm.

  “One fall day, when he was a young, unproven warrior, Jilte’g left to go on a hunt by himself. He took neither a dog nor another hunter with him. The animals had started to go into their winter dens, and the ones that did not sleep were going deeper into the forest. I remember the day because it was unusually warm for the fall, with a brilliant blue sky. The sun highlighted the colour of the turning leaves to a brilliancy that rivalled a sunlit rainbow!

  “After two days in the woods, all he had to show for his efforts was the skin, feathers, and meat of two apli’kmuj that he was eating to survive. He was determined not to leave the woodland empty-handed, but he would have to turn back for home soon. He was roaming too far afield. The morning of the third day, he woke to a blanket of snow covering the lean-to he had erected. The storm was intensifying and he knew he had to find a better shelter or he would freeze to death. Quickly he gathered up his weapons and fur blanket to find a better refuge. Nearly blinded from the driving snow, he crawled into an enclosure made by a large tree blown over by a big wind. The derooting of the tree had made a huge enclosure underneath the base. Crawling into the dark hole out of the storm saved his life.

  “As he laid out his fur robe to ride out the storm, he had a sense he was not alone. As his eyes were adjusting to the darkness of the hole, his nostrils picked up a smell that made him freeze and break out into a clammy sweat. Mui’n! He slowly felt for his bone knife. The space was small — not a place where he wanted to die! He remained perfectly still. Outside was a white death and inside a black one. He knew that the bear would have only been in the den for a few days. The animal probably was not all the way into its sleep. Then his eyes became accustomed to the dimness of the dank hole. He could see the bear’s nose moving. The animal would not be able to stand up or move quickly, but neither could he.

  “Then there was a roar in the small enclosure that almost deafened him. He could see the huge paw reaching for him, and it raked his right shoulder all the way down to his elbow. The pain was numbing. He switched the knife to his left hand. The bear, after striking out at him, dropped its head. Jilte’g then took this opportunity to bury the knife into the animal’s neck just below the skull. Another roar, and he stabbed again. The bear groaned and it was then he took the head of his war club in both hands and smashed the beast’s skull. There was scarcely any room for him to elevate the weapon and strike down on the animal; nevertheless, he was able to bring down the club enough times to finish off the beast. Then silence.

  “His head throbbed from the roar of the creature in the close confines of the hole. He was covered in blood, his and the bear’s, and drenched in sweat. He was going into shock and had to get the bleeding stopped. Cutting a piece of leather from his clothing, he tied it above his bicep, then, taking a stick, he tightened the strip until the bleeding stopped. With his arm pounding and his heart racing, he crawled out of the hole. His blood reddened the new snow as he searched for what he needed to save his life. Finding a basswood tree, he sliced off chunks of bark to dress the wound. Then he cut some cedar branches. Taking his club, he pounded the cedar until he had a paste. He returned to the hole and cut the sinew away from the creature’s two front legs. Finding some dry wood around the fallen tree, he started a fire and took his water vessel, threw some snow in, and added cedar and pine needles for a tea. Then, taking a bone needle he had, he used the sinew to sew his wound shut. The pain was excruciating. After that, he smeared the cedar paste on the gash and wrapped the basswood bark around his arm, tying it with leather strips cut from his shirt.

  “He was gone for almost twenty suns. Everyone thought that he had died in the forest. Then one day toward evening the camp dogs started to bark. There he was, dragging a makeshift sled and pulling the bear carcass. He told us that he had almost passed to the other side. Running a fever, he would pass out and then come to long enough to boil tea and ea
t a chunk of raw bear meat. Sometimes he would stay alert long enough to keep the fire going and roast some meat. The fever finally broke and he was able to prepare for the journey home. The stench of the decomposing bear in the enclosed darkness had become nauseating. After making it back to the village, he dropped from exhaustion. Nukumi kept watch over him and brought him back to health. He is a warrior that everyone admires. The scar, a reminder of his bravery, and the tattoo of the snakehead, warn his enemies that he is quick and deadly in battle. Jilte’g always says the only thing that saved him in that hole was that the bear could not stand up to use its back legs for the strength it needed to overpower him.”

  E’s then looked at me and said, “This is Jilte’g’s warrior story and this is why myself and other warriors follow him. He has proven himself as a leader of men. We as warriors only follow a leader who will lead us wisely and get us home safely.”

  Looking ahead to Jilte’g as he led our group, I thought that this man I would follow into battle. The chief Gaqtugwan Musigisg had such confidence in him that he trusted him with his only son, Ta’s’ji’jg, on this hunt.

  The snow was starting to vanish from the landscape. There still were small patches on the northern sides of exposed hills and rocks, but other than that, the spring sun was working its magic. The biting insects had yet to appear, much to our joy.

  Our group kept up a good brisk walk until the first stop, which was at a small stream to drink and fill our water bags and vessels. Jilte’g called E’s to him and then the young warrior left swiftly up the trail.

  Matues turned to me and said, “Jilte’g is sending him ahead for a reason. He wants him to scout out an area where there might be an ap’tapegijit (turkey) roost. We need food by tonight or else we will have to make a camp and hunt until we find something for ourselves. That would waste valuable time needed to hunt the mui’n and return to the village with its meat. Every day is precious to keep our people from starving.”

  The water from the stream was cold and refreshing but did not take the place of the food needed to sustain our strength.

  Before we took to the trail, Jilte’g instructed us to leash the dogs. Normally they let them run free to flush out game. Tethering them kept the dogs from foraging ahead of us and scattering any ap’tapegijit. The sun was starting to disappear below the trees, dispersing shafts of brilliant sunlight through the forest, when E’s rejoined our group.

  “There is a flock of turkeys ahead and they are starting to fly up into the trees to roost,” he said. “If we wait to just before dusk they will all be perched and we will be able to get a chance of shooting them down before they scatter.”

  We sat and waited, no one saying a word. Everyone except E’s had a leashed dog. I had Na’gweg and passed the time stroking the big animal’s neck.

  Jilte’g rose, approached Apistanéwj, and handed him his leashed dog. He motioned for the rest of us to do the same.

  E’s silently led the group toward the roost. We arrived just at the hint of dusk. E’s pointed up into the trees, where I could see the outlines of the birds. Everyone strung an arrow and stuck one or two more into the ground. The hope was that we should be able to get off a couple of shots before the birds took flight. Matues said they could not fly far like most birds, but they were quick in the air and would go far enough to get out of danger.

  Jilte’g gave the signal and all five of us shot our arrows. I was able to get three arrows off before my targets vanished in a series of clucks and flapping sounds. We were able to collect eleven birds. Not bad, only about four misses. There would be bragging and teasing once everyone identified their arrows in the dead creatures.

  I gave out a whistle that brought Apistanéwj and the dogs to us. He unleashed them and the three camp dogs rushed ahead. His two companions stayed with him.

  He strode into our camp with a big smile on his face. In his hand he had an ap’tapegijit.

  “I could hear all the clucking and flapping and then this bird dropped right in front of me,” he exclaimed. “I do not know who was more taken aback by the sudden turn of events, me or the bird! Using my club, I cut the creature’s astonishment short with a strike to the head, dropping it dead at my feet! Everything happened so quickly that the dogs never even barked, just gave a couple of small growls that never really amounted to anything.”

  Everyone stood and looked at him, and then we all broke out laughing. Each person grabbed a bird and started removing the feathers. I was able to decorate my shield and axe with feathers and Apistanéwj completely covered the frame that the two dogs pulled for him. All had enough feathers to do what they wanted. Even the dogs had plumes braided into their manes.

  While we cleaned the birds, we asked Apistanéwj to start the fires and make some spits to roast our meal. We threw the guts and heads to the dogs; later they would get the bones after we had eaten the meat from them.

  We cooked three of the turkeys for our meal; the others we smoked to keep from spoiling on the trail. After smoking them over the fire that night, we would cut them up in the morning and distribute the meat amongst everyone.

  The sun had already set as I sat crouched by the fire, enjoying the aroma of the food as it cooked. The fat from the birds dripped into the fire, making a sizzle and shooting flames up. Cutting a huge piece of the meat off, I set it on a piece of bark to eat. Sitting down, I leaned up against Na’gweg for a backrest. He let out a grunt but never moved. With his belly full, all the dog had on his mind was sleep. Placing my water pouch on the ground within reach, I took a bite. The juice from the meat ran down my chin, and wiping it off with my hand I licked the moisture and felt a sudden sensation of homesickness. Looking up at the starry night, I wondered how my people were coping so far away. Did they even wonder if I were alive? No, by now they would have given up hope.

  While we had been waiting for the birds to cook, Ta’s’ji’jg, Matues, and I erected a couple of lean-tos for shelter. After eating, we eagerly retired to these makeshift covers, and using the dogs and our fur covers for warmth, sleep came swiftly.

  I awoke to the early morning sounds of E’s expelling a bountiful amount of stored-up gas. I do not know what bothered me more, the smell or the constant noise. E’s made such a stench and racket that Na’gweg, who had been resting beside me, jumped up, snorted, growled, and vigorously shook his body to get rid of the stink before he hastily left the close confines of the shelter. Once the dog left, Apistanéwj, who had been nestled into the big dog’s backside, got a sample of the full aroma of last night’s turkey dinner. He gagged and stammered something about a decomposing whale. The shelter cleared with E’s going into the woods to rid the source of this smell from his body and the rest of us to go in the opposite direction to empty our bladders.

  We had a fire going and tea brewing by the time E’s came out of the woods. As he approached the blaze, Na’gweg took one look at him, growled, and moved to the edge of the forest. Having a mouth full of warm tea when this exchange took place, I had to spit it out in a fit of laughter.

  “E’s, that is a sure sign of disgust when even a dog cannot stand your smell!” I remarked.

  Immediately, everyone else broke out in fits of laughter and E’s face turned red as he filled up his vessel with the cedar tea.

  Jilte’g added, “I am sure that wherever you relieved yourself, it will guarantee that no wild animals will grace that spot for the rest of the summer. The smell of death will scare them off!”

  More laughter ensued. E’s ignored us. He stood up from his crouch, turned and walked away, but not before letting out a loud fart that brought tears to all our eyes.

  “E’s,” Jilte’g shouted, “you will serve as rear guard today. I want to experience the smells of the forest without any contribution from you.”

  The day began with everyone in high spirits at the expense of E’s.

  We gave the dogs their heads for the morning. If there were bears around, we needed advance warning from the animals for our safety.<
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  Everyone ate on the trail as we walked. The turkey meat did not need to be cooked once it had been smoked. The Mi’kmaq warriors did not tire easily, and I could walk all day without rest. The little one jumped onto the carrier that the big dogs pulled for him when he tired.

  Ta’s’ji’jg had earned the position of advance scout since the demotion of E’s to the rear. It was mid-afternoon when he came back toward us.

  “Apistanéwj,” he said, “leash the dogs for now. There is a mui’n ahead at the edge of a small clearing. He is watching a lentug give birth. As soon as the lentug’ji’j (fawn) is born, the bear will make his kill.”

  The Mi’kmaq try to avoid killing a doe that has a fawn. Only in times of starvation will they even consider doing that. Their people were close to malnourishment now, but the bear was giving them an alternate choice. A bear would supply just as much meat, but also at this time of year the fur would be heavier and make an excellent robe. A deer usually has twins or triplets, but once the bear saw the first-born, he would charge to make the kill. Once this happened we would release the dogs and start yelling. That would bring the bear about to meet the danger approaching him from behind. During the confusion, the doe and fawn would make their escape. A fawn can walk immediately after birth; it would not be as agile as its mother but would be able to follow her to the safety of the woods. There she would continue giving birth to the others.

  The mui’n’s circumstances had now changed from gtantegewinu (hunter) to hunted. Na’gweg and Tepgig were quickly closing the gap between the bear and themselves, with the three Mi’kmaq dogs closely behind. The black beast stood on his rear legs to meet the advancing danger. Tepgig made a charge and barely avoided a huge, swinging paw from the roaring boar. At that moment the other four dogs hit the mui’n’s unprotected side at full force. The sudden weight of four charging dogs caused a forced roll of snarling canines and a very agitated mui’n. The bear came up swinging and caught a Mi’kmaq imu’j square in the face with a massive front foot, flipping the dog end over end. Before the other dogs could regain their footing, the bear sped off for the nearest tall pine tree. With a gigantic leap, he propelled himself seven or eight feet up the wooden sanctuary. Snapping branches and roaring loudly, he rapidly ascended. By now we had reached the base of the tree, along with five very worked-up dogs, one of whom was bleeding from its mouth, and every time it barked, bloody spit spewed on everyone around.