I Am Algonquin Read online

  An Algonquin Quest Novel

  In memory of my grandfather,

  Mordy Cota, and Alex Aitchison

  Author’s Note

  Some time ago a person asked me how long I’ve been an Indian. My answer was since the day I was born.

  Out of ignorance and lack of information a lot of people have no idea about who we are as Natives.

  We cannot be lumped into one linguistic or cultural group. We have been and still are a collection of Nations in a Nation called Turtle Island.

  We weren’t discovered; we were here long before anyone thought of looking.

  European people said that they were created in Europe, but when we say that we were created on Turtle Island, they point out “oh no, you crossed the Bering Strait.” (Quoted from Dan the Lakota Elder in Neither Wolf Nor Dog by Kent Nerburn.) What right do they have telling us this?

  Ever since I was a young boy I had a story in my head waiting to get out. I knew very little about my ancestors. What I did know was that my Great, Great, Great Grandfather Oliver Cota in the 1840s brought his family from the Petite Nations, an Algonquin reserve in Quebec, and built a log cabin in Bedford Township north of Kingston, Ontario. The cabin still stands to this day.

  However, what of before — before the Europeans stumbled across Turtle Island? Who were we, how did we survive and live in this land?

  The story you are about to read is a book of fiction, but it is as historically accurate as possible. It is the story of the Omàmiwinini (Algonquin People) in the early 1300s and how they lived.

  There is very little written about the Algonquins and artifacts are few and far between. I travelled from Thunder Bay to Newfoundland and points in between to do my research. The Internet proved to be an immense help, but again there is very little information written about my ancestral Nation. What exists is informative and historically important. As difficult as it was to gather information, I gleaned bits and pieces from many sources and interwove it into my story. Museums in Thunder Bay, Midland, Ottawa, Quebec City, and St. John’s, Newfoundland, helped to give me the insight I needed. These museums were able to aid me with small tidbits of information about my people that I was able to use. Again the recurring theme repeated itself, very little information about the Algonquins. In the two years of writing my story, I read twelve books that were able to shed some light on my people, how they lived, warred, and interacted with themselves, their allies, and enemies. None of these books, though, were a definitive story of my people.

  My most important acquisition was an Algonquin dictionary for which I am deeply indebted to David Bate of the Ardoch Algonquin First Nation and Allies for finding and relaying this important document. This document is called Algonquin Lexicon by Ernest McGregor for the Kitigan Zibi Education Council.

  In the end, my research was a long, drawn-out affair that came together like a jigsaw puzzle.

  As you read this novel the two hopes that I have are that you learn something that you didn’t know about the Algonquins and their Allies, and that it will help in a small way to bring attention to the Algonquin language.

  I want to give special thanks to Max Finklestein for his knowledge of canoeing the Ottawa River watershed. All of my friends at the Colonnade Golf and Country Club, Marie from Queens University, Jim Corrigan, Frank Gommer, and the twins Lauren and Adrie for my character foundations. My new friends at the Glen Lawrence Golf Club for giving me even more future personalities to work with. Larry and Yvonne Porter for believing. My Mohawk golfing buddy and true friend, Ed Maracle. My sisters Vicki Babcock and Cindy Vorstenbosch for their constructive criticisms. My wife Muriel for all her help. My final thanks to my wonderful friend who meticulously edited my book, Janette St Brock.

  This book was made possible through a grant from the Canada Arts Council Aboriginal Emerging Writers Program.

  My name is Mahingan, which means wolf in my language, and I am Omàmiwinini (Algonquin) from the Kitcisìpiriniwak tribe (People of the Great River), one of the eight Algonquin tribes of the Ottawa Valley.

  I was born right after the warming period that my ancestors had lived through, mild winters, and warm summers. When I was birthed, it was the start of the great cooling period of colder winters and cooler summers.

  I was born in the year 1305, and this is my story … the story of an Algonquin warrior and a forefather of the Great Chief Tessouat.

  1

  The Hunt

  I WOKE UP WITH the stark realization that I was in unrecognizable surroundings. It took me a few seconds to remember where I was and why I was there. My small hunting party and I were six days into a trip north to find game.

  We had built a small cedar enclosure for the evening and this is where I awoke. The shelter was made entirely of cedar boughs and small saplings used to hold the boughs in place. With five warriors, two young boys, and three animosh (dogs), the body heat and small fire kept us very warm. We had built five of these along the way and some would serve us on the return trip for shelter.

  The winter was starting out to be one of hunger for the Omàmiwinini. Very little snow made the hunting of the mònz (moose) and wàwàshkeshi (deer) difficult for us. Without deep snow to slow the animals down and tire them out, we were having a gruelling time trying to hunt them with our lances and arrows.

  The decision had been made among five family units that we would each provide a hunter to go in the direction of Kaibonokka (God of the North Wind) and the Land of the Nippissing to find game. There the snow would be deeper and the game would not escape us as readily.

  In the summer, all the Algonquin family units come together and hunt, fish, collect berries, nuts, and fruit, and live as a large village. This is to provide protection against our enemies, who find it easier in the summer to raid, and it gives us a chance to trade and plan for the future.

  In the winter we must split into the smaller family units because many of the animals have gone to sleep in their dens and the ice covers the lakes and streams, making the fish hard to get to. With the smaller family units we ensure that we won’t over-hunt an area, whereas a larger village would decimate the game in no time. This winter, though, the snows were late and my people were starting to feel hunger pangs. A scarce diet of adjidamò (squirrel) and wàbòz (rabbit) did not keep the hunger at bay for long. If we had to eat our berries and other reserves without the meat we needed, starvation would not be far behind. After waking we started on our way. It was very cold and the sundogs were warning us of colder weather. We could hear the loud cracking of the trees in the forest as the frost started to do its work.

  With my fur hat, heavy mitts, fur robes, and moccasins, I was starting to work up a sweat with our quick pace. However, my face could feel the sharpness of Kaibonokka’s breath and I would soon have to put a scarf of adjidamò across my face.

  My companions were all bundled up like myself, and we carried our lances in our hands, using them for support in the rough terrain. Our bows were slung over our backs with our arrow quivers, as well as our àgimag (snowshoes) that we used for the deep snow. Our knives and clubs were tucked into our leather belts.

  My two brothers, Kàg (Porcupine) and Wàgosh (Fox), were with me. Kàg was a fierce warrior and had a dent in his head from a Haudenosaunee (Iroquois) war club many years ago. The wound had long since healed, but he still suffered at times from unexplained head pain. My other brother was younger than Kàg and me. Wàgosh was a good tracker and hunter, but he had yet to be tested in battle.

  The other two hunters were married to our sisters. Mònz (Moose) was a large man who carried three lances and no arrows. Mònz lost his two fingers on his right hand next to his thumb in battle with the Nippissing. Without these fingers Mònz could not draw a bowstring, but he was very expert
with the lance in war and hunting.

  The last hunter, Makwa (Bear), always walked as the rear guard of our column and was forever vigilant. Makwa was not from our tribe, the River People; he was Sàgaiganininiwak (People of the Lake). Makwa was the eldest and a veteran warrior and hunter.

  Also with us were Kàg’s twin sons who were close to leaving their childhood and had not yet been given a warrior’s name. They were Agwingos (Chipmunk) and Esiban (Raccoon). Agwingos and Esiban were responsible for collecting firewood, tending the fire, looking after the dogs, and learning all they could. The dogs were brought along to help run down any game we found, to guard the camp, and also to help carry what we killed back on a travois when we had enough for our needs. As a last resort the dogs were also used for food if our hunt turned out to be unsuccessful.

  On our sixth day of walking, we came upon a deer that had fallen through the ice along the shore of a small lake, enabling us to slay it without much effort. Our hope was Nokomis (Earth Mother) would supply us with more than this small doe. After thanking Nokomis for the deer, we dressed it and hung it in a large tree out of sight. We were starting to get nervous as we travelled farther north, because at the best of times the Nippissing people were not tolerant of anyone hunting in their lands.

  The day was getting colder and the snow was getting deeper. This cheered us up. With deep snow our chances of finding and killing any large game increased greatly. We were now wearing our àgimag and making good time. We had been keeping to the woods along a small river, partly for concealment and also to stay out of the biting wind. When the sun was high we stopped to eat. Agwingos and Esiban had a fire going and we roasted on sticks some of the deer that we had earlier killed. Melting snow on a piece of bark held above the fire gave us water to drink, and we were soon on our way again.

  Soon after our departure the dogs got a scent of something and Wàgosh found fresh signs of a big ayàbe mònz (bull moose). This large animal would sustain our families for a long time.

  We picked up our pace and the dogs were running and howling with the excitement of the hunt. Agwingos and Esiban were straining to keep up with us, and we soon came out into a clearing where fires years ago had destroyed the trees. There we saw that the moose was struggling to get through the entanglement of downed trees and deep snow. The large miskoz-i animosh (red dog) had him by the rear leg and the moose kicked him off a couple of times before the other two dogs reached the prey. Both went for the moose’s head. The smallest of the three was clamped onto the nostrils and the bull was violently shaking his head and bellowing, trying to disengage him. The more the moose shook, the deeper the pìsà animosh (small dog) clamped onto the nostrils. The small dog was covered with blood and froth from the bull. The wàbàndagawe animosh (white dog) had been caught by the large antlers and was thrown about twenty-five feet by the massive neck strength of the animal. As she hit the ground, a large gush of air could be heard leaving her body, accompanied by a shrill yelp. The dog was up immediately, rushed the bull, and clamped onto the large neck with a renewed viciousness. The snow around the big bull and dogs was red with blood from the four animals. The sound of the dogs barking and the moose’s bellowing brought bumps to my skin. There was nothing like the thrill of a hunt to make me feel like my blood had been given a sudden rush through my body.

  Mònz was running ahead of the rest of us toward the death struggle of the dogs and moose. In quick succession he hurled two of his lances into the back of the bull. We loosed our arrows and the big moose started to falter. With the dogs upon him, two lances and ten arrows into him, he was on his knees. He was still bellowing and fighting off the dogs, but his lifeblood was slowly leaving him. By now we had drawn our clubs; avoiding his huge swinging antlers, we started hitting him on the head, crushing his skull.

  Within minutes the huge animal let out a sudden rush of air from his lungs, causing blood to run from both his nostrils and mouth. This was his final act. We all thanked Nokomis for this gift to her children and started cutting. The warmth of the bull’s insides after we had started to butcher him helped keep our hands warm. The dogs were rewarded with the intestines and Mònz was given the heart, as he was the first to strike. Kàg and I worked on cutting around the head and legs to peel off the hide. Agwingos and Esiban were given the job of removing the lances and arrows from the carcass. They also had the job of cutting the horns off, which would be used to make fish hooks, arrow and lance heads, and other weapons. The women would also make utensils out of the huge rack. Our people would use every piece of meat, bone, and hide that we could carry back from this giant of the forest.

  Wàgosh and Makwa had gone back into the woods to cut small trees down so we could make pimidàbàjigan (travois) for the dogs and odàbànàks (toboggans) to transport the moose back to our village. We used pieces of his hide to hold the meat on the travois. With the extra weight of the bull and the doe, our return trip home would take three days longer.

  Sound carries a long distance in the wintertime, and I was wary that the echoes of this kill would bring unwanted attention from any Nippissing in the area. As these thoughts went through my mind, the small dog stuck his head into the air and I could see his nostrils flare. Then he started to growl. Looking in the direction that he was pointed, I realized my worst fear.

  2

  The Encounter

  IN THE DISTANCE, ALONG the tree line, I picked up some sudden movements. We were hunting in the Nippissing territory and any intrusion would not bode kindly with them. The Haudenosaunee had been raiding their villages lately, and they would defend their hunting grounds with blood against all intruders.

  With the growing length of the winter, food would also be at a premium with the Nippissing. They would want this moose for their families just as much as we wanted it for ours. The huge animal affected more than just the Nippissing and Omàmiwinini hunters’ lives. Without the life-sustaining meat, starvation would not be far behind for either tribe’s families. This dead beast could both prevent, but also cause, more death in the future.

  With Wàgosh and Mònz cutting poles in the woods along our back trail, they would have no way of knowing that we were about to be set upon. They were probably at least ten or more minutes away. We would need them and quickly. I motioned to Agwingos and Esiban to come toward me, without causing any suspicion to the hunters who were silently coming upon us. I asked the twins to take the red dog and to find Wàgosh and Mònz’s trail and bring them back as quickly as possible. They were to tell them that we were in danger. I instructed the boys that when they left they were not to run until they reached the cover of the tree line. This was so they would not draw attention to the fact that they were any more than a couple of young boys shirking their duties and going off on a walk.

  As soon as the boys left, I told Kàg and Makwa what I had observed and what my suspicions were. We decided that we would continue with the butchering, not letting our adversaries know that we had spotted them. It would take the boys at least ten or fifteen minutes to get to where our companions were. They would not be able to get back to assist us for at least twenty minutes to half an hour, so Kàg, Mònz, and I had to be prepared. While working, we took turns watching the progress of the enemy. They had stayed inside the tree line to the west of us. As we continued with our task, each of us slowly took our arrows out of our quivers and stuck them in the snow beside us, enabling easier access to the weapons. The Nippissing were working their way to an area that would leave them with only about fifty feet of open ground between us. They most likely assumed that we hadn’t seen them. This would give them a distinct advantage in surprising us as they could cover the ground before we could be ready ourselves. We still did not know how many there were, but we estimated at least four or five by the shadowy sightings.

  We had planned it so the moose carcass would be between us and our attackers for cover. I glanced up and witnessed the first man run out of the woods. Quickly grabbing my bow, I loosed an arrow. The impact of the miss
ile hitting the man in the hip could be heard in the cold silence. With a shrill yell he dropped down, reddening the snow around him. Immediately, two arrows hit the moose near where I was crouching with distinctive thuds. Makwa and Kàg had also gotten off arrows; Kàg’s entered the throat of a young hunter. The man could not scream but just knelt in the snow trying to pull the arrow out of his neck. This made the wound larger and allowed the blood to spurt with every beat of his heart.

  In an instant they were on us like a pack of wolves, screaming and yelling. There were five more besides the two we had hit with our arrows. Makwa had been the closest to them as they reached us and three of them were trying to take the huge man down. Makwa was a big man and I only came to his shoulders in height. His bravery in battle was legendary, but if neither Kàg nor I could get to him the Nippissing would overpower him by sheer numbers.

  The two remaining dogs, sensing that Makwa was in immediate danger, rushed the warrior nearest to them and dragged him down by burying their canine fangs into the man’s thighs. The dogs were snapping and growling like wolves and their prey was screaming and lashing out at them with a huge war club and knife.

  Kàg and one of the Nippissing were swinging wildly at each other with their clubs, hitting glancing blows off each other. As I made my way toward Makwa, I encountered the last warrior that was between me and the main body of snarling dogs and screaming men. I could see the fear in my foe’s eyes as he ran toward me. He, like the rest of his party, were all young and probably had been battle tested against the Haudenosaunee in the last couple of years.

  My first instinct was to try and kneecap him with my club. If I swung at his head, he would only block it, and I would be wide open for a return strike. I dropped to one knee in the soft snow and swung with all my might at his knees. He was quicker than I had expected and jumped over my swinging club. While he was in the air he twisted and swung his axe and caught me with a glancing blow on the right side of my head, knocking my hat off and lacerating my ear. When the Nippissing landed, he stumbled just enough that I could come down with my war club on the top of his right shoulder. I could feel the bone breaking underneath my weapon. He screamed like a mishi-pijiw (panther) and switched his axe to the other hand and swung again at me as I was closing in. I blocked his weapon with my left forearm and could feel a tingling in my wrist as I took the brunt of the force of the axe’s shaft. With a mighty scream, I swung my club and caught the young warrior full in the face. The man dropped and lay motionless at my feet.