After a few days’ journey, signs of buffalo are discovered, and one morning, when the dawn approaches, the chiefs assemble to hold a council. Then, as the sun peeps over the eastern hills, the tribal herald appears in front of the sacred tent, wherein the chiefs sit, and calls in a loud voice: “E-ba-hom-be mon-zhon in-dhe-ga-thon ga ta ya thin ho!” He is calling by name the sons of the chiefs and prominent men to go and seek for a herd, for this is one of the few occasions when a man is called by his name. Far at the other side of the camp a young man rushes out of a tent and with swift strides he runs to the herald and enters the sacred tent. The old man calls again and from another quarter comes a man, his feet scarce touching the ground, and he also enters the tent. The herald continues to call until ten or more runners have come. The hurrying of the young men to the sacred tent was an expression of their willingness to serve their people. Upon the entrance of the last man a lighted pipe is offered the first runner and as he places the stem to his lips a priest slowly recites the solemn oath administered to runners to refrain from mischievously deceiving the chiefs and the people, and to report truthfully all the things they see on their journey. Each man draws four whiffs and then passes the pipe quickly to the other and the recital of the oath ends with the last puff. Then the young men hastily leave the tent by twos and go out of camp in every direction.
The herald again appears and calls: “Ca-hae-thum-ba wa-tha non shae ta ya thin ho!” This time those who are summoned are warriors, men who have distinguished themselves in battle and have won public honors by valorous deeds. They approach the sacred tent with stately tread, and enter. The lighted pipe is offered them and as it passes from hand to hand the priest recites the oath administered to officers appointed to enforce order among the people during the actual hunt. By the act of smoking the sacred pipe each man pledges his honor to favor neither kith nor kin in the performance of his duty, and to punish alike all who willfully and maliciously stampede a herd consecrated to the use of the people; and further, to punish his own or any other chief who presumes upon his authority and chases a herd on his own account and for his own benefit.
The council is over and the chiefs and officers walk toward their tents. This is the signal to break camp; down comes every tent and soon the caravan is again on the march, this time in a compact body. No one is allowed to leave without permission. The officers are in charge and woe betide the man who steals away and hunts buffalo all by himself. Many are the hard blows he will receive if caught, and when he has recovered his senses he will find his tent and all its contents reduced to ashes. If he resists the officers, his very life will be in danger.
As the sun approaches the zenith there is a sudden halt and everybody gazes forward along the horizon. Far off in the distance two small figures like exclamation points move swiftly from side to side and then disappear. They are two of the runners returning and signaling their success in finding a herd. There is a hum of joy, the caravan moves on and again comes to a stop.
With labored strides the two runners approach and stand before the herald and assembled chiefs. The first, with heaving chest, and husky voice says to the herald in guarded words: “I believe I saw a herd”; and the other, “I saw no better than my companion, but at the head of yonder stream I thought I saw a herd of buffalo, numbering something like two hundred.” The herald repeats the report to the chiefs, then a voice arises and everybody listens. It is the herald announcing the order of the chiefs: “You are to move on to the nearest creek, leave the women to pitch camp, and go on to the chase.”
The people hurry on to the nearest creek, the men throw down their burdens hastily, string their bows, and away they go at a rapid trot. Four times the chiefs order a halt so that the priests may make smoke offerings to the four winds, where the gods are supposed to dwell, and ask for success in the dangerous enterprise. After the fourth offering the hunters approach the buffalo from the leeward as near as possible without frightening them, and then under the management of the officers string out to make a wide circle around them. The ring is hurriedly closed at the windward, a signal is given, and every man rushes forward with wild shouts. It is a large herd numbering nearer to five thousand than two hundred. Startled and bewildered by the shouts, the leader of the herd dashes forward at a brisk gallop, followed by the rest. Their course is deflected by the line of shouting men, there is no way out, and the whole herd runs in a circle ever faster and faster and the men, drawing closer, begin to shoot with their flint-pointed arrows. The clash of horns, the clatter of hoofs, and the heavy tramping of many feet upon the ground make a sound like the rumbling of thunder and the dust raised pierces the sky. The hunters continue to shoot; they are so close to the fleeing beasts that they almost touch them with the points of their arrows. Many of them use heavy lances with great effect. Suddenly the leader of the buffaloes makes a plunge at the line of men; it gives way and what is left of the maddened herd disappears over the hills, leaving a trail of dust. As the clouds of dust clear away hundreds of dead buffaloes are seen upon the ground.
The “surround” has been a success. The excitement of the chase is over and every man proceeds to identify, by his arrow marks, the animals he has shot. An angry altercation arises over a fat cow and two men are about to come to blows. A warrior official who happens to be near goes up to them and settles the dispute by claiming the animal as fee for the service of the officers. Meanwhile the unpleasant and difficult task of butchering has begun, every man attending to his own animal. Those who were so unfortunate as not to shoot any assist in the work and get a portion of the meat. It is not easy to cut meat and unjoint bones, even with the sharpest of flint knives.
By the time the butchering is done the boys arrive with the dogs and travois. These are loaded to their fullest capacity and every man and boy carries his portion, for nothing but the bones, hoofs, and horns are thrown away. The leg bones are cracked and the marrow is taken for use as food, and the brains are preserved for tanning purposes. Soon the hunters, with the boys and dogs, are on the march homeward, a distance of some six or seven miles, each bending under a heavy load. The greater part of the burden is on the men for each one carries from three hundred to four hundred pounds.
Almost dead with exhaustion from the day’s excitement and labor, the men and boys enter the camp long after dark and soon seek their beds to rest. When they arise in the morning they find the meat cut into thin slices and hanging upon scaffoldings of poles, and the hides tightly stretched and pegged to the ground, skin side up, ready for the sun and the wind to dry. Some willing hands have worked hard all night long by the dim firelight, the older women perhaps.
By the middle of the day the prairie winds and the heat of the midsummer sun have done their work and both meat and hides have become dry and hard as wood. Then the strong young women appear; they unpeg the hides, turn them hair side up and begin the task of shaving the skins down to a certain thickness. This process removes the hair, reduces the weight of the rawhides, and renders them pliable for packing purposes. For this work a small adze-like, bone-handled, flint-bladed implement is used and requires skill for its manipulation.
Usually, when the conditions are favorable, this work is finished by sunset and the day following is spent in packing for the removal of the camp to another herd. Three more chases conclude the formal buffalo hunt and the caravan turns homeward, more heavily laden than when starting out. After the fourth “surround” any man who has not been able to secure enough meat and skins for his own needs is at liberty to follow the game on his own account. The purpose of the summer buffalo hunt is to secure a season’s supply of three necessary articles; namely, skins for tenting and moccasins, sinew to sew with, and meat for food.
When within one or two days’ journey from the village many of the young men get together and start for home, and they return to meet the people with the report that the fields are rich with young corn, beans, and squashes. They bring with them many roasting ears and there is great rejoicing
over the prospects of a plentiful harvest.
When the people reach home they put the lodges in order and then enjoy a few days’ rest. Then the women again visit the fields and the work of preparing the green corn for winter use is begun. Long shallow ditches are made in the ground and filled with dry wood which is set on fire. In the meantime the young maidens are busy picking the tenderest corn, and, if faithful to duty, soon return with bags filled with the long ears. Some linger to listen to the old, old story of love that began with the growth of the human race. A mother, impatient at the tardiness of her daughter, calls: “Ta-dae-win, why are you so slow?” “I’m coming!” answers a girlish voice from the farther end of the field, but she does not come. Again the mother calls: “The fire is ready, why don’t you hurry?” “I’m coming!” shouts the maiden. There is a rustling of the leaves of the stalks, and she does really come; she starts to tell a tale of excuse, but the mother quickly empties the bag, giving no heed to the story, and begins to remove the outer layers of husk from the ears. Then she places them in a row on the live coals in the ditch and turns them over with a stick. When the thin layers of husk are scorched, the woman with her stick deftly tosses the ears out of the ditch. In the meantime the daughter continues her task with more or less delay, until a sufficient quantity of corn is gathered for the day’s work. After the roasting of all the ears the scorched husks are removed and the grains of corn are separated from the cob by the use of the sharp-edged shell of the fresh-water mussel. The grain is then spread on skins and put out in the sun to dry. The corn prepared in this manner is called sweet corn by the Indians. Enough is cured in this way to last the family a whole season.
In the fall of the year the fields are visited for the fourth and last time. Again the maidens are busy, this time gathering the ripened corn. Occasionally the plaintive notes of a flute come from the woods, indicating the presence of a lover, but the work goes on. The mothers sit by the piles of corn and remove the outer husks, turn the inner layers back over the butt ends of the ears, and braid them. In this way twenty or thirty ears are fastened together and hung upon pole scaffolds to dry in the sun. After the corn is gathered the squashes are brought in and the skins pared carefully; then the fruit is cut into long thin strips which are also hung upon poles in the sun. When these strips are partially dried they are woven together like a mat a yard square and hung up again to dry. In color and texture the dry squash is not unlike the dried apple. Lastly the beans are gathered, threshed, and winnowed, and the harvesting of the crops is completed.
When the harvesting is finished the hunters go to the woods to hunt deer, for at about that time this game seeks the forests for shelter from the severity of the winter. Out of the skin of the deer, leggings and jackets are made by the women for the men and boys, and dresses for the women and girls. The deer skin is always preferred for clothing because it is more pliable than that of the other larger animals and much time is spent by the hunters in securing it. The sinew is also much desired by the women for fine sewing and embroidery such as porcupine quill work. The hunting of the deer lasts till about the middle of the winter. The elk has also been useful to the Indians but it did not take so important a part in their life as the deer and buffalo. The early winter months was the time to hunt the buffalo for robes, for then the hair is always in good condition.
The hunting of the buffalo has always been attended with elaborate religious ceremonies, both on the way out to the hunting grounds and on returning, for it was believed that the buffalo was a special gift from the Great Spirit. The corn was the sacred seed and was always planted and gathered with solemn rites.
When the hunting season is over, which is about the middle of the winter, the men spend the time making new bows, arrows, and lances, and repairing the old ones. The boys are then taught, not only how to make the bow and arrow, but are also instructed about the moons (months) in which the wood should be cut, for when cut in the wrong season it will split in drying. They are also taught the kinds of wood to use for the bow and the arrow. In making the arrow three small undulating grooves are cut on the shaft, running down to the head from the lower end of the feathers. This has attracted the attention of some of the ethnologists, who gave the matter considerable study and wisely concluded that the little lines were made for the blood to run through, or that they represented lightning. An old Omaha who had the reputation of being very skillful in cutting the grooves in arrow shafts was called by the chief to do that work for him on some arrows he was making. The chief himself was a fine arrow-maker but he recognized the skill of the old man in this particular line. While the work was in progress, the chief’s son, who had reached the inquisitive age, and was looking on with wide-eyed interest, suddenly asked, “Venerable man, why are you making those crooked lines?” The chief gave a hearty laugh and said, “Father, tell him, for he will be making arrows himself some day, and he should know.” “Every sapling,” answered the old man, “out of which the arrow is made has some defect, however faultless it might appear to be. The good arrow-maker takes a great deal of pains to smooth out and straighten the imperfections by oiling and heating. But the wood, in time, will spring back because of its inherent defects, unless these grooves are cut in the shaft soon after seasoning and straightening.”
Besides this work, the men made shields, war-clubs, glue, blades and handles of the skin-scrapers, wooden and horn spoons, wooden bowls and mortars and pestles, all of which required a great deal of time and labor because of the crudeness of the tools used for making them. The women were also quite skillful in making spoons, bowls, mortars, and pestles. The boys spent most of the winter days in hunting small game, such as rabbits and raccoons, and in this way helped to supply the family with fresh meat. The women occupied themselves during the long winter months in dressing skins, and making tents and articles of clothing for the family. At the same time they taught their daughters how to dress skins and make tents and clothing, as well as how to cook.
In common with the rest of the human race, the plains Indians had their religion, their social customs, their joys, and their sorrows, but this brief sketch of one phase of their life will give an idea as to how they secured their living before they came in contact with the white race.3
One Touch of Nature, 1913
The hunting of black bear was a sport much loved by the Osage Indians in the days before the coming of the white settlers into the country west of the Mississippi. It afforded them not only the thrill and excitement of the chase, of which every hunter is fond, but it also added largely to the animal food supply upon which the Indians depended for their living.
Many strange and interesting tales are told to this day of black bear hunting but of those that I have heard not one is so human as the following, which was an actual occurrence.
One day a man noted for his skill in hunting went out in search of black bear that he might add to the food supply of his home. Being familiar with the haunts and the habits of the animal the hunter soon found signs, and as he cautiously looked about he saw a female bear in a large tree busily gnawing at a hole in the trunk. The man quickly raised his gun and took aim but he was suddenly seized with an irresistible desire to see what the creature was doing.
After scratching and biting at the edge of the hole for some little time the bear thrust in her paw and in a moment quickly withdrew it. She put something into her mouth and smacked her lips with apparent delight and satisfaction. Then she suddenly scrambled down to the ground and with an ambling gait disappeared in a low bush.
The hunter brought the butt of his gun to the ground and waited to see if the bear would return. He had not long to wait, for she soon reappeared with two cubs on her back. On arriving at the foot of the tree the bear shook the cubs down, then seizing the larger one with both her paws she put him up against the trunk of the tree as high as she could reach. The youngster seemed to understand what was expected of him, for he went up the tree with the agility of a cat and took a seat on a limb close to
the hole. Then the mother picked up the younger one and held him against the tree. He clutched the bark tightly but, whether out of mischief, deliberate disobedience, or lack of common bear sense, he would not move. After waiting a few moments the mother lifted a paw and gave the little imp a whacking spank, which, perhaps, was not the first he had ever had, then up he went in as lively a manner as had his brother and took a seat close beside him. The mother followed and with eager haste thrust her paw into the bee-hole, for such it was, and drew out a piece of honey. She carefully removed the bits of bark and slivers sticking to it and then gave it to the oldest cub. He quickly seized it with both paws and began eating it, twisting his little head to one side and then to the other, and smacking his lips with genuine delight. The mother brought out another piece of the honey and offered it to the younger cub. The foolish little fellow looked at it first with one eye and then the other, then slowly he stretched out both paws to take the honey with the tips of his claws and dropped it. With a start he looked down and watched intently the spot where the honey struck as though wondering why it should fall. A change of expression came over the face of the mother, which the older cub could not have failed to understand as indicating disgust and displeasure, and which might be followed by some act of discipline. Then again the bear thrust her paw into the hole and brought out a choice bit. With a look of motherly forbearance she held it out to the little one. As before he looked at it a long time with one eye and then with the other, smelled of it and then cautiously lifted his paws, distending his claws as he did so, to take it gently, but the honey dropped to the ground. The look of affectionate patience in the mother’s face turned into one of anger, she lifted her paw and gave the foolish little one a whack over the ear. He lost his balance and down he went sprawling to the ground.
Recovering Native American Writings in the Boarding School Press Page 16