by Rick Revelle
With the bear now cornered up the tree, the six of us started shooting arrows up at him. The animal had made it halfway up the tree and was now resting and panting on a large limb. The chase had terrified the beast and now it was defecating from the fright and showering us with urine and bear muck. Because there were so many branches between our prey and ourselves, our arrows were not always hitting their target. In spite of this, though, some were reaching the mark. The bear was starting to bristle with feathered shafts. He stood up to climb further, and I was able to see his whole body. Grabbing a spear from the ground, I heaved it with all my strength. The spear struck him with a thud. The mui’n turned and pawed at the projectile. The sun broke through the trees at that moment and I could see blood and vomit coming from his mouth. The bear staggered and then plummeted toward the ground, snapping branches, protruding arrow shafts, and then, after bouncing off the tree trunk close to the bottom, he hit the ground with a huge discharge of air and blood from his mouth. The dogs immediately set upon him, with Jilte’g wading into the confusion driving his spear into the animal’s heart to make sure he was dead. He then stood over the bear and thanked Gisu’lgw (the Creator) for our success on the hunt with an offering of tobacco. Bending over the body with his knife, he removed the heart and handed it to me.
“Your strength and accuracy proved to be the final blow to finish off our kill, Glooscap,” he said.
I took the warm, blood-drenched organ in my hand and ate it slowly. I wanted to inherit the might of this dweller of the forest.
Jilte’g then turned to E’s and pointed to the tree. “Gather as many arrows as you can reach without falling and toss them down to us. It will save us having to make more than we have to.”
Quickly E’s scrambled up the pine and it was not long before arrows started to drop point first into the ground around the base. Apistanéwj was busy collecting and separating them for their owners; he knew the possessor of each by the feathered end.
Matues and Ta’s’ji’jg had already started to skin the bear. The dogs sat quietly on their haunches, waiting for the entrails.
Jilte’g inspected the wounds of the dog that had taken the blow from the bear’s paw. “This is my best duck dog; I do not want to lose him,” he muttered to no one in particular.
Matues stood up from the carcass and came toward me with his hand out. He passed me my spear point, one unbroken arrow, and a few arrowheads.
We were standing in a part of the woods where the sun was fighting its way to the forest floor.
E’s came down from the tree and pointed into the deep woods, where the sun was dripping off the leaves like new-fallen rain, highlighting all the colours of the forest. The forest floor burst into a flash of light from what seemed like a bolt of lightning, but it turned out to be only a bright beam of sunlight that had found an opening in the canopy. There in the blast of light stood the lentug with three newly born lentug’ji’j butting each other for their mother’s milk. We all looked at each other and smiled. The death of the bear would bring needed food to the village, and our choice at the beginning of the hunt enabled three more lives to begin in the forest.
E’s then came around to each of us, handing our arrows back. The dogs were content from their feast and Jilte’g’s duck dog looked like it would pull through.
Jilte’g then spoke. “We will stay here for the night. There is fresh water escaping from the rock formation behind us. It pools before disappearing into the ground. Capture what you need for your water sacs and vessels before you wash the blood off your hands from the kill. We need wooden frames built for the dogs to carry the bearskin and meat back to the village. What they cannot lug we will have to transport on our backs.”
E’s, Matues, Ta’s’ji’jg, and I then set upon the body to carve up the meat. We would save the turkey for the trail, but tonight we would have bear meat.
Apistanéwj and Jilte’g busied themselves with making shelter.
Jilte’g came over to us when they had finished and said to E’s, “The small cover is for you. We do not know how this meal tonight will affect you. You need to sleep alone.”
We all looked up and started to laugh. E’s then cut a piece of meat from the neck and tucked it into his pouch.
Matues said, “What are you going to do with that?”
“I’ll need this to entice one of the dogs to sleep with me for warmth,” he replied.
Apistanéwj warned, “It won’t be Na’gweg; that dog has a great memory and he will not spend another night with you!”
That brought more laughter, and the big white dog looked up upon hearing his name and snorted.
By the time the butchering was finished it was nightfall. E’s spitted and hung a chunk of meat over the fire. We always lined the fire pit with rocks to generate heat, and the wood that we collected for the fire was laid butt end in. Each of us would shove the wood in front of us farther into the blaze as it burnt down. The bonfire was surrounded by pieces of wood laid like this. Extra pieces were stacked away from the sparks. When one piece was finished, another took its place in line. We built the fire between the lean-tos and throughout the night someone would awaken and push more fuel into the fire.
It was not long before the meat started to drip fat onto the flames, causing flare-ups and flying sparks.
Having had only a couple of strips of turkey meat during the day, we all gorged ourselves on the mui’n. I ate until I thought my stomach was going to burst. As we ate, everyone related their impressions of that day’s hunt and the birth of the fawns. Slowly, everyone made their way to where they were going to sleep.
Apistanéwj and I watched as E’s enticed one of the Mi’kmaq dogs to follow him with the meat he had kept. The two of us walked around the fire, shoving the wood into the flames, then retired with the two Eli’tuat dogs. Jilte’g was already in our shelter, lying next to his duck dog. Both were sound asleep.
Tomorrow would bring new adventures; tonight, though, I looked forward to sleep.
During the night I awoke to the sound of the dogs growling. I flung off my robe, walked out of the lean-to, and approached the fire. The dogs were lying in the shelter with their eyes open, not moving but with their teeth bared and snarling. I relieved myself and pushed the ends of the logs into the fire. Sparks flew and the aroma of the wood reached my nostrils. As I stepped away from the fire to adjust my eyes to the darkness, my nostrils picked up a strong, musty smell. Apigjilu (skunk)? Not seeing anything, I went back to my robe and fell asleep.
The next morning we were awakened by Jilte’g cursing. “Where are my spears? Who has taken them?”
“Ta’s’ji’jg,” he called out, “where have you hidden my spears? I know it was you! You are always playing jokes on me.”
“Jilte’g,” he replied, “it was not me. I never left the cover of my robe all night.”
The young warrior approached Jilte’g and asked where he had left them.
“Right here leaning up against this tree, but now they are gone!”
“You are getting careless in your old age. Look here.”
Jilte’g bent down and looked where Ta’s’ji’jg was pointing.
“There, these are the paw prints of the trickster, ki’kwa’ju (wolverine). It was a male and he had a gajuewj’j (kitten) with him, teaching the young one the ways of the woods. The old male will show the little one how to take something and hide it, just as they do when they find a kill or when they bring down their own prey,” exclaimed Ta’s’ji’jg.
“So that was what the dogs were growling at last night,” I added, “and I thought it was an apigjilu!”
E’s warned, “It is very rare when a dog will knowingly challenge a ki’kwa’ju; they are very efficient killers.”
Jilte’g said, “It will not be hard to find my spears. They will have dragged and buried them someplace, then sprayed their musk urine on the hiding place to mark their spot.”
He and his dog left to find the weapons. Looking over his shoulder
he ordered, “Prepare to leave when I get back and save me whatever you cook from the meal and some tea. I will not be long.”
A short time later Jilte’g and the dog returned. We could smell the spears before our leader reappeared.
Ta’s’ji’jg looked at Jilte’g and exclaimed, “You said I smelled! Well, look who wins the stink contest now!”
While everyone chuckled, Jilte’g grabbed some dirt and vigorously rubbed it on the shafts of his weapons, then looked up and laughed.
That day’s trek was uneventful. Jilte’g had taken E’s place at the back of the line. The smell of the wolverine’s musk was still with him, even with all his efforts to remove it.
The next day we came upon a small pond. E’s stopped and motioned for Jilte’g to come forward. E’s pointed out to the middle of the pond to a flock of ducks.
Jilte’g snapped his fingers and his dog came forward.
Matues turned to me and whispered, “We have to hide along the shore and let the dog work.”
Puzzled by his comment, I followed him, along with Apistanéwj. E’s and Ta’s’ji’jg hid a short distance away from us.
“Keep the dogs quiet,” Matues ordered.
Jilte’g motioned to his dog, which started to run back and forth along the shoreline. This caught the ducks’ attention and they started to swim toward the water’s edge. As they neared the dog, Jilte’g snapped his fingers again and the dog entered the bush.
Matues motioned for me to pick up a large stick. He grabbed his club. The ducks waddled ashore, following the dog. Leaving our hiding places, we were able to club enough of the birds to make a good meal and add to our dwindling supply of turkey meat.
That evening, as we were eating, I commented that was the strangest thing I had ever seen, a dog luring ducks to their death.
Jilte’g replied, “Our people have trained these dogs for this ability to entice. We acquired the skill to teach our animals by watching the wookwiss (fox) tempting water fowl to shore. The wookwiss are masters at this form of luring.”
The Mi’kmaq Village
The sound of a shrill scream piercing the early morning mist roused the people of the hunting party’s village. Gaqtugwan Musigisg, their chief, and two warriors rushed to the wikuom, where the shriek had originated. When they reached the lodge, it was total mayhem. Barking dogs, two screeching women, and a cursing man, along with the cries of children. When Thunder Sky and the two men entered the shelter, they realized they had stumbled into chaos! Inside was a mui’n raised up on its hind legs, fending off baskets, rocks, and dirt thrown at it, while the lone man Negm Guntew (Bloody Rock) was trying to reach his weapons behind the roaring bear.
Thunder Sky and his companions ended the confrontation with three well-placed spears. The beast dropped immediately to the ground, falling upon one of the screaming women, causing her to become even more agitated. Quickly, all involved rolled the bear off the woman, who was now covered in blood and saliva. Once the confusion subsided, the rescuers caught sight of where the animal had come in. The light was streaming in where the bear had shredded the wikuom’s birch bark walls to gain entry. The inhabitants had been heating some sismo’gm (maple sugar) that they saved from the previous spring. The sweet smell had lured the starving mui’n to their wikuom. Luckily, no one was seriously hurt, except for one small boy whom the bear stepped on when he came in. The boy had sustained a gash on his leg that the women were now mending. The scar would be a badge of honour for the young child and a point of jealousy among his friends.
The village now had some much-needed food, which caused chuckles. They had a successful hunt without leaving the confines of their shelters! Would they be more successful than their hunting party?
That night the people enjoyed a substantial meal for the first time in many days and everyone fell asleep with swollen bellies.
The next morning the village yet again awoke to screams. However, this time there was no animal intruding.
The people of the village exited their wikuoms to the sight of painted warriors rushing from the forest amid war cries, brandishing spears and clubs. The camp dogs, barking, howling, and gnashing their teeth, bravely charged the intruders, only to be bludgeoned and slashed into submission by the assailants. The outnumbered survivors of the initial onslaught then became victims of the enemies’ war dogs, which brutally finished the job. Once the attackers breached the defences of the dogs, they brutally set upon the Mi’kmaq inhabitants.
Glooscap
Jilte’g roused everyone at first light. He already had the fire roaring, heating the cedar tea along with two ducks on a spit.
“We will be able to reach the village well before nightfall. Our trek back will be faster because we do not need the hunter’s stealth that we required the past few days,” he said.
Each day, Apistanéwj was proving capable of keeping up with the pace that the group set. If he tired, he quickly jumped upon the carrier that we made for the big dogs. The extra weight never seemed to bother the dogs pulling the frame.
We stopped near midday and hastily gulped down some of our turkey and duck meat, washing it down with water from a stream. While we filled up our water vessels, E’s waded into the stream and began catching gomgwejg (suckerfishes) with his bare hands. He threw them on shore and yelled, “These are for the dogs!”
In a short while each of the animals had a fish to stave off its hunger.
E’s left the stream, pulled a couple of handfuls of grass from the ground to dry himself, and warned shakily, “That water is cold.”
Jilte’g quickly got our attention and we started out at a brisk pace to get the life-saving bear meat back to the Mi’kmaq camp.
Around midafternoon, Matues, who had been scouting ahead, was rapidly backtracking to our small group.
“Jilte’g, I smell smoke ahead, and it is quite overpowering. It is coming from the direction of the village in the north. It is not yet dry enough in the forest for a fire. The only other thing could be a grass fire from one of the beaver meadows, but there has not been any lightning lately.”
“Glooscap, come with us,” Jilte’g shouted. “The rest of you try to keep up.”
The three of us then started out at a hard run. We ran toward a bald rock rise. Upon arriving there we looked in the direction of the village.
Matues turned to us and said, “That is no forest or grass fire, it is the village!”
We stood there in shock.
The rest of the hunting party caught up with our advance trio. They also stood in mute silence, staring at the columns of smoke.
Jilte’g warned, “We have to be cautious from here on in. Matues, take Ta’s’ji’jg and carefully scout ahead. We have to be alert that we do not surprise a retreating war party.”
Once the two young warriors left to inspect the trail ahead, Jilte’g, Apistanéwj, E’s, our five dogs, and I followed vigilantly behind.
Every step we took was in complete silence from the surrounding forest. The only sound was the whoosh of the wind through the pines. Even the birds became quiet, seemingly drawn into the life-and-death situation playing out beneath their forest homes.
Matues and Ta’s’ji’jg waited until our trailing group caught up to them. We all crouched down and stared out into the devastation where once existed a bustling encampment. Apistanéwj untied the dogs from their carriers.
Jilte’g motioned for us all to follow. Looking around, I noticed each man had strung an arrow into his bow. Myself, I drew the Eli’tuat axe; my confidence in this weapon was growing each day. As we neared the outskirts of the village, my nostrils filled with the smell of smoke and the stench of roasted flesh.
After entering the burning remains of the site, I eyed two charred bodies tied to a post in a fire pit, burned beyond recognition. It was everything I could do to hold back a gagging reflex. My people very rarely went to war, and when we did, it was with the Inuit. Neither side in those conflicts ever chose to inflict this kind of cruelty.
&n
bsp; My companions now started to sing a heartrending death song. My eyes scanned our location. I made out all the bodies of the camp dogs on the village boundary. Scattered around were the contorted and mutilated bodies of the Mi’kmaq warriors and women who died defending their lives and families.
Then someone yelled the word, “Father!” It brought me back from my thoughts. Looking up, I could see Ta’s’ji’jg running toward a clearing on the edge of the forest.
“No!” screamed Jilte’g.
I watched in horror as Ta’s’ji’jg rushed toward his father, Gagtugwan Musigisig, tied to a tree. Twenty feet short of his father, he screamed in pain. I watched as he fell, shrieking and yelling in agony. Blood spurted from his feet, hands, chest, and neck.
Jilte’g warned the rest of us, “Do not rush to his aid. We must be careful of this Haudenosaunee ruse. They will skin a body and toss the rest of the headless remains into the flames, then stuff the skin with grass. Next, they take the stuffed skin and tie it to a tree with the victim’s head impaled on a spear shaft. Then the raiders place spearheads, knives, and sharpened sticks in a semi-circle around the tree. This will trick returning enemies to think the person is still alive. Upon approach, their feet are impaled on the hidden weapons. By not tying the whole body to the tree, the wild animals will not be attracted to the death smell of a rotting carcass.”