by Rick Revelle
Crazy Crow was shoved to the front of the line, only one eye open and the other seeping blood and pus through the dressing. He was a pitiful sight. When they cut his ties, immediately he made a rapid crow fight call: “CawCawCawCaw!” Instantly the roosting crows swooped down and started to attack the two lines of people. While they were occupied with the attacking crows, Crazy Crow grabbed the club from the first warrior’s hands, and before he even knew what was happening Crazy Crow was by him. He was fifteen or twenty steps into the gauntlet before the Haudenosaunee even knew what was unfolding. A warrior with a spear tried to stop him, but Crazy Crow made him reel with a blow to the head. With a stunned look, the man dropped to his knees, grasping his head with blood running through his fingers. By then Crazy Crow was on the dead run, swinging the club and slashing with the spear. The Haudenosaunee, meanwhile, were being attacked by the crows and barely realized what was happening with their prisoner. They did not stop the one-man onslaught leaving a trail of bruised and bewildered enemies behind him. When Crazy Crow reached the end, he rushed the two warriors holding his friend. Swinging the club, he knocked the first man senseless and then drove the spear into the other man’s chest. He grabbed his companion and they ran into the forest, led by a single crow.
For the rest of the day, led by the crow, they ran, never faltering, even though they had suffered serious injuries. The crow led them to a beehive where they hastily covered themselves with mud from a swampy area. With the mud keeping the stinging bees at bay they were able to grab enough of the honey to treat their wounds with some left over to hastily gulp down to ward off their hunger. Crazy Crow’s friend had an ugly gouge on his forehead. Crazy Crow took the honey and slathered the wound, and then he took the resin from a stogon (balsam) tree and smeared it on the cut. The resin would close the wound, allowing the honey to heal it.
Resuming their run, the two men followed the crow over rocks, into small creeks, and through the forest, always trying not to leave any sign that they had been there.
That night when they stopped, Crazy Crow produced a knife. Finding some straight saplings, he snapped three off near the bottom. Taking the knife, he sharpened the ends to a fine point. Not wanting to start a fire, he would have to forego hardening the points.
Covering themselves again with mud to keep away the ravenous night bugs, they went to sleep. Before daylight, the crow woke them. Crazy Crow silently motioned to his companion to follow the crow and that he would come later. The crow had told him there were three warriors running in the early morning light on their trail. He handed his fellow warrior one of the makeshift spears, and his friend left with the crow as his guide. Crazy Crow prepared his trap for the pursuing warriors.
The first one came out of the forest into the small clearing, straight for the fire Crazy Crow had made. Crazy Crow waited until the man had almost reached the fire then rushed out of the shadows, impaling the surprised pursuer with the sapling spear. The man dropped to the ground, squirming around the shaft like an eel. Crazy Crow swiftly dropped to his knees and repeatedly stabbed the victim. Grabbing the dead man’s club, he readied himself for the remaining trackers. They were not long in coming. The early morning sunlight caught their glistening, sweat-covered bodies as they left the protection of the forest. Crazy Crow could see the fear in their eyes as they glimpsed their fallen companion. With his knife in one hand and the club in the other, he waited for their onslaught. Just as they reached him, one of the assailant’s mouths spouted blood as a sharpened sapling exited his throat. Crazy Crow then caught the remaining Haudenosaunee full in the chest with the club, hearing the man’s breastbone crack with the force of the swing. Gasping for air, the man stood as Crazy Crow slit his throat in one motion with the knife. In a matter of minutes, death had come suddenly to these three warriors.
Crazy Crow turned to the forest as his friend walked into the clearing.
“I thought I asked you to wait for me up the trail?”
His friend replied, “The crow led me in a circle!”
Crazy Crow smiled and said, “We have to leave here quickly. Gather what you need from the dead, scalps included, and then we must hurry. I have a feeling there are more following. These men probably were their fastest runners. Not very good fighters, though.”
Crazy Crow and his friend, led by the crow, outran their pursuers. They ran through a fire-cleared area before they reached their lands and stood on a rocky ledge. From there they could see five chasers enter the scorched clearing. Crazy Crow and his companion stood there and gave the sound of a crow’s “look here” call: “Caw-aw, caw-aw, caw-aw.”
The Haudenosaunee looked up, raised their weapons in a salute, and turned back. Before they returned to their village the next day, they had been able to track and slay a deer. They did not want to come back empty-handed from the hunting trip.
“That, my friend Glooscap, is how the great Elue’wiet Ga’qaquis lost his eye, and is also how I, Jilte’g, came by the scar on my forehead!”
“Jilte’g, that is an amazing story,” I exclaimed.
“I owe that man my life,” he answered.
“Jilte’g!” It was E’s and the dog Tepgig running toward us from where they had been scouting ahead. “There is a valley below where I could see the treetops from my vantage point. The jays and crows are causing a disturbance. I think we may have caught up to the raiders,” he exclaimed.
“Elue’wiet Ga’qaquis,” Jilte’g shouted out.
“Yes, my friend,” he replied.
“Send your crow friend down to the valley to see what is causing the birds down there to be scattering.”
“E’s, take me to where you have seen this disturbance,” said Elue’wiet Ga’qaquis.
Just as they started to leave, a sudden bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, followed by a deafening boom of thunder, causing our eardrums to ring. Then the skies opened up with a torrent of rain, sending everyone running for cover.
18
THE TIME HAS COME
Mahingan
We spent the week spearing and netting fish. It was a good harvest. Everyone worked at something. The children transported the catches to the women, the older girls helped the women clean and dry the fish, the older boys helped with the nets. The dogs were getting their fill from the fish guts, although most of these innards were going into the pot at night. When we became bored with fish for a meal, the pigeon meat would reappear. Twice during the past week, Mitigomij’s young warriors brought in a deer and a few rabbits. With all these people, there were many mouths to feed. The community was not long beside the fires at night before finding their beds. The days were long and busy.
Near the end of the first week, some of the elders had hunted a flock of geese up the river away from the falls, and that night we eagerly looked forward to a meal of nika.
After about ten days, when we were nearing the end of the harvest, a small group of four Ouendat braves landed above the falls.
We went out and met them with welcome hands. The Ouendat (Hurons) were our most loyal allies.
The tallest of the group spoke. “I am known in our language as Tsou’tagi (Beaver). These are my friends, Achie (White Ash), Öndawa (Black Ash), and Önenha’ (Corn). My father is the one you gave the Algonquin name Ozàwà Onik (Yellow Arm). He fought with you at the Battle of the Falls against the Haudenosaunee over six summers ago.”
“Tsou’tagi, I remember well your father’s bravery,” I replied.
Looking at his friends, I saw they were all tall and sinewy. The two brothers, Achie and Öndawa, had the familiar Ouendat scalp lock, were bronzed from the sun and dappled with black body tattoos. Their fourth friend, Önenha’, had not yet shaved his head in their style; instead, he had long hair with turkey feathers braided in, a few arm tattoos, and a scar on his chin that was as red as a ripened anìbimin (cranberry). Tsou’tagi shaved his head like the brothers. There were no tattoos on his body, but there were several lines etched into his forehead and cheeks.<
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“Mahingan, my father said that if we wanted adventure this summer, we may find it with you. That’s why we are here. At this time, hunting or warring, we are here to be at your side.”
With a smile, I replied, “Welcome my friends. I may have what you are looking for!”
After a few more days of harvesting fish, the people decided that they had all they needed, leaving the rest to spawn. We all enjoyed eating fish broth loaded with the eggs that women saved from the gutting process.
Some of the women would make strings of fish heads and throw them into the water tied to the end of a stake or tree branch on shore. They did this early in the harvest because the heads needed to lie in the water for six to seven days. When taken out the women cut off the noses for the pot and the rest of the head given to the dogs. The Haudenosaunee would have used these heads to fertilize their corn, planting a fish head with a corn seed. We just ate them.
On the night of the final day of harvesting, we held a great feast. The fires burned high and the drums played long, the people stripped down and enjoyed the freedom of wearing no clothing for the first time since the fall snows. There was a lot to eat and our stomachs were bloated from all the food.
The family units would stay for three more days. The first day they would rest and the second day they would go into the forest with blunt arrows and long poles to poke and shoot the bottom of the omìmì nests to knock out the nestlings. These young omìmì were a delicacy for my people.
The next morning I called together all the men and asked for volunteers to go with me on my quest for my wife and daughter. Algonquins never had to go on the warpath if asked; it was their own free decision to go. If they thought they were following a brave and capable leader, many would follow him. If the warrior asking for men was not a revered warrior, few would risk their lives for him.
It being early in the spring, I knew that few of the married men wanted to leave their families since many of the women were close to birthing. This I expected.
The four Ouendat warriors stepped forth immediately, followed by the three Susquehannock boys. My brother Kàg, the twins, and my brother-in-law Mònz quickly came to the front. My sister Wàbìsì was with child; Kinebigokesì made the choice to stay and help her deliver her first child. The two of them would travel with the others to the summer camp. Never ones to avoid a good fight, the two warrior women Agwanìwon and Kìnà Odenan, along with their friend Kànikwe, also stepped forward.
Lastly, the Wàbanaki family that spent the winter with us stepped ahead, and the father, Nigig, said, “It is time we went home, Mahingan, to our tribe for the summer.”
Before he could volunteer, I asked Odìngwey, the young Ouendat who had suffered a wound at the fight for the elk, to watch over my sister and sister-in-law. I knew that his wound was still bothering him, and by me personally asking him for this favour, he would not lose face among the other warriors.
“I will be honoured to do this for you, Mahingan!” he replied.
I was relieved that Nigig and his family had made the decision to come. The four women from his family would be a valuable addition to this small band on the trail. I also thought the twins and Nigig’s two daughters shared a mutual interest! And Anokì would have some younger company.
Mitigomij was standing to the side. Everyone knew because of his limitations, long-distance raids were a good reason for him not to come.
Walking up to him, I whispered in his ear, “I know your powers and your secrets.”
I saw a faint smile appear.
He whispered back, “Then I will accompany you. When on land I will find my own way.”
Seventeen warriors, four women, and Anokì — a small group, but very capable. If the Susquehanna brothers were correct and Corn Dog was raiding our eastern allies before us, we would have an advantage in knowing his whereabouts. Getting to the Wàbanaki and Mi’kmaq first would strengthen all concerned and give us time to lay a trap for him and rescue my wife and daughter. Although small in numbers, our group would be able to travel fast.
That night we loaded six canoes for our journey. Each canoe would carry one dog: my two, the wolf, and his constant companion the Pìsà Animosh, who were both Anokì’s guardians.
My brother’s black panther, as always, would patrol the shore.
That night the village held a feast in our honour. Pangì Shìshìb and Minowez-I came to me during the evening, and Pangì Shìshìb said, “Once the rest of the family units arrive at the summer camp and all are settled in, myself and Minowez-I will ensure the village is well protected with scouts on a constant patrol. Then he and I will gather a group of young warriors to come look for you. At the most, we should not be any more then twenty suns behind you. Hopefully it will not be too late for the help you may need!”
“I will look for you. Knowing that you are coming will ease my heart, my friends!” I replied.
The three of us embraced, sat down by the fire, and filled our bellies.
19
IT STARTS
The raid by the Stadaconas and the ten Haudenosaunee warriors that Corn Dog had left with his allies turned out to be quite successful. The small Mi’kmaq village proved to be an easy conquest. The raiding party was composed of an equal number of Stadaconas and Haudenosaunee, plus three Maliseet warriors that the Stadaconas had forced to lead the raiders to the village. The aggressors had struck early in the morning, catching the village groggy from sleep. The defenders had put up a spirited defence, men and women, but the leader of the assailants, Onekwenhsa Okàra (Blood Eye), and his followers were brutal in their ferocity. They hacked and slashed their way through a small group of men that rushed to the defence of the village. One older woman had gathered a group of children around her like a turkey hen protecting her brood. Defiantly, she stood her ground with a rock in one hand and a stick in the other, daring his men to try to do harm to her charges. Her bravery saved herself and the children from harm, but not from capture.
Onekwenhsa Okàra personally slew the chief. He then skinned him and tied him to a tree, arranging the trap of arrow and spearheads set into the ground to damage the feet of any unsuspecting Mi’kmaq that became intent on untying the seemingly alive victim.
The battle was quick and decisive. One Stadacona died during the initial onslaught, taking an arrow in the throat; two suffered superficial wounds and would live. The three Maliseet warriors they left on the battlefield. The attackers carried the fallen warrior from the burning village with the intent of burying him before nightfall.
The invaders, besides reaping the benefits of the meagre stores of food and furs of their conquered foes, had also captured the old woman and the six children she was harbouring, two other women, and two men who would supply entertainment once they returned home. The younger women and children should prove useful to their home village, while the old woman, if she survived the passage back, might prove useful as a slave.
They stopped to bury the fallen warrior as the sun started to descend. Blood Eye took this moment and approached the old woman.
“What is your name?” he asked.
“Nukumi,” she replied.
“You were a brave woman today protecting the children. I could have easily clubbed you to death, but I admire your daring! The future may not hold the same kindness that was shown to you today.”
“Your destiny was decided the moment you and your ravenous dogs of war wiped out my village,” she snarled. “You think you are safe? Smell the air around you. It smells like death. Death is stalking you right now! My son Crazy Crow by now has met Glooscap. With the Tall One’s help, Crazy Crow will have your scalp before you reach your hidden canoes and escape on the river!”
Nukumi watched as the colour left her adversary’s face. More than any living Mi’kmaq, his people feared this one the Mi’kmaq called Elue’wiet Ga’qaquis. His people and the Haudenosaunee called him Tsyòkawe Ronkwe (Crow Man), as brave and brutal an enemy as they had ever encountered. As much as he wante
d to meet this feared warrior on the battlefield, now was not the time. The advantage now rested with his pursuers; the Stadaconas did not have the advantage of familiarity of their surroundings.
Nukumi watched as Blood Eye turned to his men, who were occupying themselves with jabbing their spears into the chest of Gesga’t Ji’nm (Lost Man), one of the two captured Mi’kmaq warriors. Gesga’t Ji’nm sang his death song, which irritated his torturers. They could not get him to cry out in pain; he just kept singing his song. Gesga’t Ji’nm’s body was covered with puncture wounds from the spear points and his hands dripped blood from where they had pulled out his nails. The singing of his death song stirred the crows and jays into leaving their forest perches, cawing and screeching their displeasure at this encroachment on their homes.
Nukumi sat and smiled. The birds were sending out a message.
Blood Eye snapped at his warriors, “Hurry! We have to distance ourselves from this land. Any captives who cannot keep up, put them under your clubs and leave them for the wolves!”
As his men gathered up the male captives, Blood Eye reached for his war club; he was pondering ending the old woman’s life when a huge bolt of lightning lit up the day sky, followed by earth-shattering thunder. Then the rain and wind came, drenching them in seconds. They rushed for cover. He watched Nukumi as she gathered the children and two young women, shoving them all under a huge overhanging pine tree. Just as she disappeared under the tree, she looked back at him, laughing and smiling in an eerie manner.
Mahingan
The next day my group of Omàmiwinini warriors and allies left at sunrise. The waters were calm and the smell of new life was in the air with the budding of the trees. Our friends that had not come for the harvesting of the fish would now be taking the sap from the trees to share with others. Food was always a community effort to be shared. Elders and orphans were never shunted aside, either families took them in or Two-Spirited people cared for them. My people have always been this way: share and we become strong. Hoarding among us does not promote unity of the community, and it is a sign of weakness and greed. There was no such thing as theft among us; if someone was in need all they had to do was ask and they received what they needed. Food, tools, weapons, shelter, and all other needs we gave in a cooperative spirit, always for the betterment of the community.