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.
As we continued, I thought about my wìdigemàgan (wife), Wàbananang (Morning Star). We had been together now for two summers, but there had been no children yet, as the moon had never been right for the seed. She was beautiful and we cared very much for each other. I hoped that she was eating well but inside I knew that food was scarce and the men left behind would have to be cunning and skilled to hunt down any game. I hoped that while we were gone a large snowstorm might have passed through and helped the men in their hunting.
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