I Am Algonquin Read online

  When Nijamik finished talking to me, I could feel a hand on mine. I looked around and saw a beautiful smiling face — my wife, Wàbananang. Tonight I would celebrate in many ways.

  I followed Wàbananang to our shelter; she had been staying with my mother and her sisters-in-law while I was absent. The lodge was cold from the lack of heat but in a short time we had a fire going. The light from the fire enhanced her striking looks. As we sat and ate she told me what the last days were like with very little food and the people starting to lose heart that our hunt would be successful.

  “Mahingan, five nights ago my father came to me in a dream and told me that you and your men had not failed and would be bringing the meat to the village soon. Upon waking, I told everyone my dream, and it raised their hopes. Then you arrived as my father had told me you would. You are a good husband and leader.”

  “Thank you, my love. Your belief in me strengthens my heart.”

  With that I led her to where we slept and felt the warmth of her body and the aura that always came over me when we made love. That always was an experience that quenched my soul and gave me the strength to carry on. Making love is a gift from Kitchi Manitou that is one of the great mysteries of being one of his people.

  8

  Spring Awakening

  WE HAD BEEN BACK from our hunt for weeks now and on this day I awoke to the sound of the wind and rain falling on our wàginogàn. Wàbananang was lying at my side, and I could feel the warmth of her body and feel her breath on my neck. I arose without waking her. That day we would start taking the sweet water from the trees in the forest. Everyone helps in the gathering of the onzibàn (sap).

  Our women had been busy making the birch bark containers that were used to catch the water. When I left the lodge, I woke Wàbananang and told her I was going out to start notching the trees. She and the other women’s job for the coming days would be to tend the fires that heated the sweet water, boiling it in the clay pots that made the sweet thick syrup we enjoyed. The clay pots that our women used for boiling the syrup had been obtained from the Ouendat in trade.

  Everyone also liked to drink the tree’s water and cook our food in it. This was one of the things that our people looked forward to in the spring, harvesting the sweet water. After a long winter, this was Nokomis’s reward to us for surviving the cold and starvation. This was her sweet water, which was given from her breast for our nourishment.

  I awakened Wàgosh and together we went into the forest with our axes. I did the notching and Wàgosh inserted the reeds into the openings and hung the birch pail underneath to catch the water. The birch vessels would stay on the trees and be dumped into clay pots to be taken back to the village. Hopefully we would get ten or more days of the sap running from the trees. When the women boiled the sweet water past the thick syrup, they then got the sweet brown granules that were added to our food over the summer.

  Nokomis was also busy telling all the animals to bear their young in the spring. She then asked the earth to grow flowers to announce to all that the young animals would be coming.

  As we were working on the trees and leaving the vessels to catch the water, Wàgosh wondered aloud if the Haudenosaunee would raid us this summer.

  “Wàgosh,” I said, “they have been busy raiding the Nippissing the last little while and bypassing us on the great river Kitcisìpi. Ever since we defeated them two summers ago with our friends the Innu (Montagnais) they have given us a wide berth. The Nippissing though are strong and the Haudenosaunee have to travel across many miles to raid and to steal the furs and the brown metal that the Nippissing get in trade with the Ojibwa. When the Haudenosaunee tire of the Nippissing they may turn their attention to us. However, until then we’ll have to come up with a plan to handle them and maybe strike first. When we have our next visit with our friends the Innu and the Maliseet (Malìcite), we will then have to decide something.”

  During the next hour Wàgosh and I notched all the trees that we had vessels for. After that we decided to try and find some fresh wìyàs (meat) or kìgònz (fish) for our families. We continued along our way toward the river. If we followed the river far enough up we would come upon a small stream that ran into the Kitcisìpi. Because the sap was late in coming this spring, the namebin (suckers) might start to run about the same time as the sweet water was ending.

  “Mahingan,” my brother said, “I think it is time that I thought of nìbawiwin (marriage).”

  “My brother, you have to have someone to marry before you can do this. You cannot marry yourself.”

  With that Wàgosh jumped on my back and dragged me to the ground. I was laughing too much to resist. Wàgosh was also laughing and trying to rub my face into the ground.

  “Brother, you know that I am in love with Kwìngwìshì (Gray Jay). I think it is time to ask her and her family if I can marry her.”

  “Wàgosh, I am happy for you and sad for myself, as Kwìngwìshì is outside our family, and I will lose you to their matriarch group. I will wish you all the best though, brother.”

  As we walked on toward the smaller river the woods were thick and the sun shone through in ribbons trying to melt the remnants of the winter’s snow. Every step we took, we could hear the crunching of the last bit of snow that was hanging on underneath our feet. That, along with the sound of the wind and the birds, was the only sound of the forest. We walked silently and vigilantly until we heard the screaming of the pikwàkogwewesì (blue jay). With his warning we knew there was danger ahead.

  9

  Battle of the Woods

  WE WALKED SLOWLY TOWARD the sound of the jay. The warmth of the noon sun and our nervousness about the unseen ahead contributed to us sweating uncontrollably. If the jay was disturbed by another person we could be walking headlong into an enemy war party.

  We came upon the small river in a short while and still the jay was yelling his warning. At that moment Wàgosh said, “I hear sounds, brother. They are the sounds of animals fighting.”

  No sooner had Wàgosh uttered that statement, but an immense stench permeated our nostrils.

  “Mahingan, something has a shigàg (skunk) cornered, and he is not happy. There are a lot of smells in the air!”

  “Wàgosh, I am afraid it is not a shigàg that is causing this horrific odour. Come. We will discover what all the noise is about.”

  We walked around a small bend in the river and came upon a rocky outcropping that led to the small river. Here we found what was making all the screaming and growling. Four kwìngwayàge (wolverines) had cornered an old bull moose as he was coming out of the small river. There was a mated pair with their two young kits from the previous spring. The old bull looked gaunt from a long hard winter that had weakened him considerably. The wolverines were a formidable foe at any time and the moose in his youth would have put up a ferocious battle and chased off this vicious pack, but not this day. They had attacked him when he was climbing the smooth rock from the river and the two adults were on his head, one on the nostrils and the other on the throat. The yearling kits were ravaging the bull’s hind legs and had succeeded in tearing his back tendons away from his legs. The moose was bellowing, bleeding, and gasping for air. I could see the fear in his eyes, knowing that death was coming, and it would be slow, because the wolverines had not yet pierced his jugular vein.

  Wàgosh and I watched the death dance for ten or fifteen minutes until finally the old moose bled out and died. The wolverines then dragged the old bull up the rock ledge to the edge of the forest.

  Wolverines feared neither man nor beast in this wilderness, and they were as strong as they were vicious. It was very rare that we were witnessing a battle like this. Our elders told stories of the wolverine and their bravery and tenacity. There were few predators that would go head to head with them. However, hunger would make animals take risks.

  “Wàgosh,” I said, “I think it is time to go.”

  “No, brother. There is moose meat there for our taking!”

  �
��Wàgosh, I would rather take on ten Haudenosaunee than try to take this moose from those killers.”

  As we were about to leave our hiding place downwind from the kill, more players entered this battleground. The smell and noise of the kill had brought out the wolverines’ biggest competitors, two wolves. They were young, probably only three or four, and probably had just become sexually active. There were only two of them, and because they were so young, it indicated they were starting their own pack. In all likelihood they had a couple of pups somewhere close.

  The wolves wasted no time. They were hungry and the female had probably whelped seven or eight weeks previously so she was eating for more than one. They charged down the small hill at the wolverines.

  Two full-grown wolves against two adult and two yearling kit wolverines was not very good odds, but hunger ruled. The wolverines, although caught off-guard, met their adversaries head on. The female wolverine immediately went for the throat of the female wolf. The wolverine, being so low to the ground, hung onto the wolf, and they tumbled and rolled down the rock embankment into the water. The wolverine then made quick work of the larger beast by holding onto her throat, weighing her down and drowning her.

  The male wolf was close to death also. The female’s mate had him by the nose and the two smaller wolverines were on the wolf’s hind legs as they had been with the old bull. They were tearing him to pieces from the hindquarters and their father was tearing the wolf’s face to bits. Soon he was dead. The wolverines had killed these two intruders in a matter of minutes with ferocity unparalleled in the wilderness.

  “Wàgosh, do you still want to try to take some moose meat from them?” I asked.

  “No, brother. I’m convinced. We’ll see if the suckers are running. Fish will be enough for me today. Moose, some other time.”

  “Wàgosh, follow me. There is something I want to check out. These wolves had to have pups, and I would like one to raise.”

  We then skirted around the wolverines and their kills.

  “These four will come back here for days to eat the moose and the wolves that they killed here today. Woe to another animal that comes here to feed if the wolverines are in the vicinity.”

  Wàgosh and I followed the trail that the wolves had left through the sparse snow until we came to a small den. I made the sound of a wolf calling its young, and instantly I received a small yowl in return. I had some meat in my pouch, and I set it outside the den. No sooner had I done this than a round ball of fur waddled out and grabbed the meat. I then grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and pulled the pup up in the air. He fought and squirmed, trying to turn his head to bite me, but to no avail. I noticed the pup was a male and had lots of fight in him.

  “Wàgosh, I have a fierce companion now.”

  I then noticed he had a small bit of white on his nose shaped like a blaze cut on a tree like when we cut the sweet water trees.

  “Your name will be Ishkodewan (Blaze), and if you grow up to be as energetic and brave as you are now, we will have many good adventures together.”

  10

  The Amik

  “WÀGOSH, AS WE WALKED from the ininàtig nòpimìng (maple forest) I noticed a pìtòshkob (pond). Let’s check to see if there is an amik-wìsh (beaver lodge) there. This is a good time of the year for amik pìwey (beaver fur).”

  “Mahingan, I have rope for the arrows so that when we shoot them, they won’t swim away. It will be a nice treat to have some amikwànò (beaver tail) and beaver meat.”

  We walked back along our trail beside a small river. The day was getting warmer, and I could feel the warmth of the sun on my face and also the heat radiating through my furs that I wore. Ishkodewan was doing a good job of keeping up with us. I had tied a rope around his neck to pull him along when necessary and then when he tired I would carry him for a distance. He still tried to nip at me, but whenever he did I gave him a slap on the nose. He soon got the meaning of this and quit.

  After a short time we arrived at the pond. Our plan was to take no more than two beavers. That way we knew there would be more in the coming years. The Omàmiwinini never take more than is needed. That way we never incur the wrath of Kitchi Manitou.

  We sat by the pond and ate some dry moose meat we had brought with us. We tied the rope to our arrows and to our waist. When a beaver is hit with an arrow it swims down into the water and heads for its watery home. With the rope tied around our waist, we stopped their progress and then pulled them to shore where we could finish them off with our clubs.

  After sitting for a long time, two young beavers broke out of the water. We had made sure that we were downwind, and I had tied Ishkodewan in the forest. We let the beavers get close to our arrow range. Our bows twanged simultaneously. Wàgosh’s arrow hit his beaver on the animal’s side and mine was below the head. Our ropes tightened as the beavers dove back down into the water. It was then a race to see who pulled their kill to land first. The loser would have to carry the carcasses home. Wàgosh beat me handily. Mine was a fighter and when I got him to shore, he charged me. However, I was able to club him before he bit me.

  Then, laying the beavers on their back on a large rock, we cut the legs off at the first joints and then slit the pelt starting at the lower lip. Inserting our knives into this slit we cut the pelt down the belly to the vent. Working from this centerline and cutting with short strokes, we separated the skin from the flesh. Carefully, we pulled the legs through the skin, leaving four round holes in the pelt. We then cut off the tail. With great care we cut around the eyes and the ears close to the skull. Then removing the pelt and being careful to take as little fat and flesh as possible we laid the pelt on the rock and wiped off the blood marks with water.

  We then proceeded to take out the scent glands from near the tail and the insides of the legs, being careful not to rupture the sacs. We would use these scents to bait our snare traps for other beavers and for the odjìg (fisher), a predator of the beaver.

  The beaver tails and meat would make a fine feast for us. Wàbananang would be able to stretch and clean the pelts and make a warm coat or hat.

  After finishing with the beaver I wrapped the meat up into the skins and tied everything together and slung it over my shoulders to carry back. Wàgosh and I then went back and retrieved Ishkodewan from the woods and fed him a piece of the meat.

  “Wàgosh, on the way back we’ll check the sap containers and dump what we have into our clay pots. Hopefully, we’ll have enough for the women to boil today.”

  Upon reaching the maple forest we started to collect the sweet water. Then I heard an arrow whistle by my head and thud into the tree beside me.

  11

  Mitigomij

  WÀGOSH SNAPPED HIS HEAD around and yelled, “Brother, stop that!”

  With that, the two of us turned around and out of the forest came Mitigomij (Red Oak).

  “Brothers, if I was a Haudenosaunee you both would be dead right now!”

  “Mitigomij, with you around we have no fear of Haudenosaunee. We know that you would have already killed them,” said Wàgosh.

  “Is that mishi-pijiw you call Makadewà Wàban (Black Dawn) with you?” I asked.

  “Brother, there is only one way to find out, and that is to pretend to attack me.”

  Wàgosh then said, “We are not that foolish, Mitigomij!”

  Mitigomij was my third brother. He was the best archer in our tribe and his power with a wewebasinàbàn (slingshot) was second to none. Mitigomij was also accomplished with the anit (spear), mìgàdinàn pagamàgin (war club), and mòkomàn (knife). He is a great minisìnò (warrior) and kigàdjigwesì (hunter), but our brother had one major problem that kept him from going on the warpath and hunting trips with us. Mitigomij would slow the party down. Twenty-two winters ago he was born with a pagamàgin ozid (clubfoot). Our brother had trouble walking for any length of distance and could not run at all. Because of this, he honed his weaponry skills to be the finest of all the Omàmiwinini. Our family unit and Alg
onquins all in all treated him as a special gift and all the great warriors and hunters taught him their skills. With these teachings Mitigomij became the best of the best.

  When he was young, if the other children picked on him or teased him, he was quick to settle it in a decisive way. He always stood up for anyone being bullied and gained the respect and fear of his peers.

  Travel on land was Mitigomij’s biggest hindrance, but when it came to canoeing or swimming, no one in our band was his equal. As long as I could remember no one had ever beaten him in swimming, archery, or a canoeing contest. Many had tried. When the Innu and Malecite came for gatherings, they always brought their top warriors to try and defeat him in these contests. They were never successful. His upper body was the envy of all the young men. His one good leg was strong and healthy, but the leg with the clubfoot was withered. Because Mitigomij was so well treated by the warriors when he was young, he had taken it upon himself to be the self appointed teacher of all the young children for their weaponry and hunting skills.

  When Mitigomij was twelve winters he came upon a panther that had a young male cub. The cub was black. A black panther is a melanistic variant and very rare. As rare as a white panther. He watched the mother and cub from a distance and the female came to accept him. Mitigomij observed as the mother killed game and brought it back to the young one. When the cub got older the mishi-pijiw took the cub on hunting trips and let him watch as she made her kill.