by Rick Revelle
4
Death in the Snow
GASPING FOR AIR WHEN I reached my hunting party, I instructed Wàgosh to start a fire. Agwingos and Esiban were asked to tie the three dogs to the trees about twenty feet behind the fire. I further advised them to take the fur hides off of the dogs’ feet to make them battle-ready and to have their knives prepared to cut the dogs free if they were threatened.
Kàg asked what the danger was.
“Kàg, what does the Raven usually bring with him when there is meat or carrion about?”
“Your namesake: Wolf! How many are there?”
“I counted ten, plus the pack leader,” I said.
I then started shouting out orders and outlined our defence. I told my small group, “We have maybe fifteen minutes before they arrive. They are hungry and want the moose meat. We must be prepared with a defence, because they will circle us looking for a weak spot. We cannot let the dogs loose unless it is absolutely necessary; the size of this pack would tear them to shreds. Mònz, because you cannot shoot a bow, you will have to be behind us guarding the meat and the twins. I will face the trail where the leader and his mate will come. Kàg, you must defend the left and Wàgosh the right. We have to hope and pray our arrows fly true to the mark, because these animals are hungry and determined.”
It would be dark in a short time and the wolves would strike in the dim light. The sun was falling near the treetops, lighting the snow and the approaching beasts in a fiery red hue. They started to howl, sending a chill through my body. With this as a signal they broke into a run. Our dogs then started barking. Hearing this, the attackers immediately stopped and began snarling. The male and female pair jumped to the front and snapped in our direction. They were still a good distance away, but I loosed an arrow that flew toward the female. She moved at the last second and the arrow struck a young wolf in the chest with a resounding thump. The pack, sensing danger, pulled back as the younger wolf howled in pain.
The pack now sat as if waiting for instructions. Then they all started running in different directions. Wàgosh let out a warning and Kàg turned just in time to see two large wolves running toward him. He had no time to string his bow, so he grabbed his lance from the snow. At that instance another lance flew through the air and embedded itself in the lead wolf’s neck. Without a sound the animal dropped. The ever-wary Mònz had struck again. Kàg dropped to one knee as the other wolf sprung toward him. His lance caught the attacker full in the chest. Kàg was covered with the animal’s blood as both tumbled into the snow.
Then, upon hearing our dogs snarling and Esiban screaming, I looked around and saw Agwingos on the back of a large wolf that had his brother pinned face down in the snow. Agwingos was stabbing the wolf while Mònz was running to the aid of the boys. On the way past the dogs he cut off their leather ties with a slash of his spear blade. The dogs beat Mònz to the struggling twins and the wolf. First in battle was the small dog, and he lunged at the face of the wolf. The twins were screaming. The wolf was snarling and our dogs were barking. It sounded like a world gone mad. In a matter of seconds the small battle was over. By the time Mònz reached the melee our dogs and Agwingos’s knife had finished the intruder.
I turned my eyes back to the remainder of the pack. The female and male leaders of the group had stopped short of our circle. With four of the pack dead and dying, they realized that we were too formidable a prey to defeat. Any more losses to their family and they would have difficulty surviving and defending their territory against other wolf packs. With one last wail at us, they departed the way they had come.
With the retreat of the wolves, we gathered ourselves. Esiban suffered no wounds. This could be attributed to the quick reaction of his brother, the amount of clothes he was wearing, and the efforts of our dogs. We now had four wolf pelts. Because of the bravery of Agwingos and Esiban, they would each receive a pelt to do with as they desired.
We made camp for the evening and built the fire. That night marked the tenth day we had been gone, and we still had at least five or six more days of travel left. The extra load of pulling the meat on the toboggans was delaying our return. The next day we would push harder and try to reach one of our cedar enclosures that we had built on our trip north. We still had to pick up the deer that we had been hanging in a tree along our back trail. Again we would leave a place with the snow covered in blood. We hoped that the rest of our return trip would be uneventful and that Kitchi Manitou would watch over us and lead us in safety.
The fire was high and we ate moose and talked about what was ahead. Kàg took the first watch while the rest of us slept. The dogs didn’t need to be tied, as the wolf pack had left this area behind and would not bother us again.
5
The Long Walk
NO ONE HAD WAKENED me to take a watch, and I awoke in the faint light of the dawn. I was concerned that something had happened. I noticed Wàgosh sitting with his back to the fire and on watch.
“Brother, why didn’t you wake me for my watch?”
Wàgosh answered, “All was fine, and we had decided to split the sentry duties just three ways tonight. We thought that you needed the rest and maybe from this day forward we could let one of us sleep throughout the whole night.”
I had made the decision we would have a good first meal of the day, and I added an extra treat. I fashioned a bowl out of birch bark from a fallen tree that I had found. With a sharp small bone, I made a hole in the bark and pulled through the leather strips that I had in my medicine bag. I was then able to sew the bark together, and using pine sap that I had thawed I sealed the bowl. Then I melted snow in it. Next I cut some cedar leaves and put them in the melted water. Tying the vessel above the fire I let it come to a boil. During this time I made some birch bark ladles that we all could dip in the container and with which we could drink our cedar drink. The cedar tea would invigorate us and keep our bodies healthy. Upon seeing what I was doing, everyone’s spirits rose. The twins fed the dogs and then hooked the two bigger dogs up to their travois. Then they tied their wolf pelts onto it. Wàgosh, Kàg, and Mònz readied the other sleds and fastened the remaining two pelts onto the toboggans. We then drank our tea and ate. We broke camp and headed toward our homes and families.
As always, the small dog led with the boys following. Kàg, Wàgosh, Mònz, and I fell in behind, with the red and white dogs trailing. The snow was easier to walk on now because in the last few days the temperature had risen, melting the tops of the snow a small bit. Then the temperature fell again making a hard crust strong enough to walk on. We stayed along the trail that had brought us north. The sky was bright blue and cloudless. Everyone was in good spirits and they talked and sang about our accomplishments.
We came upon a stream that connected two small lakes. The area was about one hundred feet wide and completely frozen. The wind had kept the ice clear of snow and the stream ran from our right to left on a gradual grade to the lake below. In the next few minutes we were treated to some comic relief. As the small dog started to run across the frozen stream he slipped and fell. As he tried to get up his legs splayed in four directions and he started to slide down toward the other lake. The twins were roaring with laughter and my fellow warriors also found this turn of events very amusing. The dog now was about halfway toward the lower lake and headed for some open water where a small waterfall produced a strong enough current to keep the water open. I signaled Wàgosh to go to the other side and then both of us tried to get alongside of the dog and catch him before he hit the water. By this time everyone was laughing uproariously. Wàgosh and I reached the dog and stopped him from sliding any further. He was not in the least bit concerned about his ordeal and probably happy to be the centre of attention. Wàgosh took the dog to his side of the stream and Kàg and I held onto the red and white dogs as they crossed. We didn’t want two dogs attached to a travois sliding down this icy run. As we continued on our way, the twins were still laughing and talking about the small dog’s misadventure.
Walking until the sun reached its day’s height, we stopped long enough to build a small fire to melt snow for water. After eating the extra food that we had cooked in the morning, we continued on our way. I knew that we were within distance of a cedar shelter that we had erected on our trip up. Hopefully we could make it before too much darkness had set in, but knowing it would be a full moon tonight our band would be able to see the way.
Esiban and the small dog were ahead of us but within sight the rest of the day. The sun had set a long time ago, and we were walking in moonlight. In the light we saw Esiban and the dog running back. He said the shelter was a short distance ahead. Rest would be welcomed tonight.
In short order we reached the cedar enclosure and the twins had a fire going. Mònz had a meal cooking and I was melting snow for water. The dogs were given some frozen meat and all went well.
After we ate, Kàg took out his pipe, tamped in some tobacco, and lit it. We passed it around and thanked Kitchi Manitou for guiding us through the day. We talked about our homes and families and how this meat would sustain their spirits and bodies. Our small group had been gone now ten sunrises, and we were still at least five days from home. Even though our trip north had only taken six days, we had to stay over one day because the snowstorm and the extra loads slowed us down.
“Uncle Mònz,” said Agwingos, “can you tell us a story?”
“Yes, please do,” said Esiban. “Tell us a tale about one of Nokomis’ children.”
“Okay,” said Mònz. “I will tell you how the weynusse (turkey buzzard) got his black feathers.
“When Cluskap (the creator force) made all the animals and pineshìnjish (birds), the Weynusse had bright white feathers and a head like the Kiniw (eagle). Weynusse liked to show off though, and he was always trying to fly higher than all the other birds even higher than the Kiniw. Weynusse said to Cluskap, ‘I am the strongest and smartest bird on Turtle Island, much superior to the mighty Kiniw.’ Cluskap said to Weynusse, ‘Oh vain one, if you brag and show off too much, you will surely become the fool, and it will be your downfall.’ Weynusse then said, ‘I will show you, Cluskap, that I will be your chosen one to be the Chief of all the skies. I will fly to the sun where no bird has ever gone, and then you will believe me when I say I am the greatest.’ With those words Weynusse flew straight to the sun, and as he approached the heat of the big ball, his feathers caught fire and his head became scorched and he turned back to Turtle Island with the scars he carries to this day. His once magnificent head was red and wrinkled and all his feathers were black except for some white ones under his wing that the sun could not reach to burn, and to this day that is all that is left of the Weynusse’s magnificent white plumage.
“Never be like the foolish showoff, Weynusse.”
With that, Mònz said that he would take the first watch for the night and tend the fire.
The next morning, as I had last watch, I awoke everyone with the rising of the sun and then ate a quick meal and headed toward home. We all knew before we returned to our families that we would have some work to do to prepare for our homecoming.
6
Arriving Home
WE WERE WITHIN A day of our families after being away for a total of fifteen sunrises and everyone was anxious to see their loved ones again. Two days ago we had stopped and picked up the deer that we had left in a tree. It had been a long and arduous trip marked with the deaths of many creatures: moose, deer, wolves, and men. Ours was a hard life, and we always had to be on the ready to kill or be killed. This was what it meant to survive in the harsh surroundings of Turtle Island.
Our muscles were aching from the walk and the loads on the toboggans. The twins were even starting to slow down and talk less. However, with the knowledge that we would soon be home, our spirits lifted. We would eat and prepare ourselves to meet our families after the long trek. There would be stories to tell of battles and death.
Because our group would have to spend one more night on the trail, we needed to build one last cedar shelter. The fire tonight would have to be bright, as we would be shaving the parts of our scalp locks that had grown out on the days we were on the hunt.
We found a good place to camp for our last night. Before long the twins had a big fire going and Wàgosh had a piece of meat on a spit cooking. Kàg was melting snow for water and Mònz was sharpening the clamshells and knives for the job ahead. It was important that our scalps were shaven when we entered the village. Being warriors, our shaved heads were part of this inheritance and also identified us with our band.
We shaved our heads on both sides with a scalp lock in the middle. To make our hair stand up, we layered animal grease on it. All of us had hair that was long at the back and reached down below our shoulders. Into the hair we placed our feathers and animal hair. The twins, not yet being warriors, each had a full head of hair.
It was decided that we would be shaved in order of age, oldest to youngest, so Kàg would go first. With all that they had been through, we decided that the twins could also help in the ritual.
When the water was hot enough, we laid the knives and clamshells into the bark container to warm them. The twins then used some soft hide to wash the part of our heads that were to be shaved. This would soften the bristled hair and make it easier to cut. I then took a knife and started to cut the hair as far down toward the scalp as I could. We used the knives to do the main cutting and the clamshells to finish the close cut. We could sharpen clamshells to a finer edge, thus enabling us to shave close to the scalp. I did most of the cutting and shaving. Usually the women did this, as they had a very steady hand and rarely drew blood. Tonight I was able to shave Kàg, Mònz, and Wàgosh without incident. Kàg returned the favour for me.
After we finished shaving our heads we sang songs to our ancestors and in honour of Makwa. That night we gave the twins another honour. They would take the first watch and tend the fire.
In the morning we had a quick meal and headed on our way. Our absence from the village had been sixteen days. The last few days we had noticed the snow was disappearing and a lot of bare spots were appearing in the open meadows. That was not a good sign for our people that we had left behind. They needed the deep snow to hunt. Unless the hunters that had stayed with our small winter band had any luck at all in securing food, there would be problems. Our small winter band of Kitcisìpiriniwak numbered fifteen men, twenty-one women, and twenty-eight children. With the death of Makwa, we were down to fourteen men. Of the men who were left in the village, four of them had just taken the Wysoccan Journey this past summer and were inexperienced in all aspects of warriorhood. Three of the remaining six were elders, leaving only three men with the stamina and experience to hunt and guard the encampment. Our village consisted of fourteen shelters beside a small stream, sheltered by a large forest of pines and cedars.
After walking for most of the day, we soon came upon the clearing that we knew led to our families and lodges. As we walked into the forest that sheltered our family unit, we were taken aback.
7
Happiness
and Sorrow
OUR SHELTERS WERE OVAL wàginogàns (lodges) made out of birch bark and held together by saplings intertwined on the inside. On the outside we used slabs of cedar to hold the birch bark down, tying them to the frame. The birch bark was overlapped so as not to leak. The saplings on the inside were not tied end to end but were joined side to side to avoid poking holes in the birch bark. The young trees were bent in a curve and fas
tened together with spruce roots.
What caught us by surprise was that no one was on guard and that we could only see smoke coming out of seven of the wàginogàns.
“Wàgosh, announce our homecoming.”
“E-ya-ya-ya-ya,” Wàgosh sang. “The hunters have arrived with food and tales of adventure.”
Then Wàgosh sang a death song announcing the death of Makwa. With that his wife and our sister See-Bee-Pee-Nay-Sheese (River Bird) came out of her home, wailing and crying. I took my sister in my arms and told her that Makwa died a warrior’s death, and he would enter the afterlife with great honour.
See-Bee-Pee-Nay-Sheese would enter her home and douse her fire. She would mourn face-down on her mat for six days covered by her robes and receive only cold food for nourishment. The families would give her gifts to comfort her. She would not be allowed to marry again until our mother gave her permission.
When an Algonquin warrior marries, he always lived with the wife’s family and helped hunt and protect the family unit.
Nìjamik (Two Beaver), one of our elders, followed my sister out to the centre of the village leading the rest of the people.
“Mahingan,” he said, “we are happy to see you. This food will keep us from starving. We have lost one of the older women and a small child since you have left. Wajashk (Muskrat) took two of the young warriors three days ago to see if they could spear any fish through the open ice of the big river. Hunger has stalked us like an enemy on the warpath. We have huddled together in seven shelters to save wood. The people were getting too weak to forage for wood to burn. Thus the decision was made to come together. Now, though, we see that the Chief and his warriors have returned successfully with meat. Tonight we will feast and hear your stories and how Makwa died. The older women will take turns sitting with See-Bee-Pee-Nay-Sheesh and help her with her mourning. The rest of us will visit her in the days to come and help ease her grief with gifts. The moose and deer will get us through the winter until the bear wakes from his sleep and the elk come to the south from the deep woods. You have saved us, Mahingan. This will be a story for the ages.”