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
