“Little brother,” crooned Omakayas, stroking and holding the tiny one, “wildcat boy, lynx baby.”
He tipped his head toward her and snuggled just under her chin. The two fell asleep that way, and in the night, when Omakayas woke, with the wind blowing and Pinch still not home, she was very glad for his presence. She was glad that her mother let them cuddle close. Omakayas’s eyes grew heavy, but before she dropped back into sleep she saw that Yellow Kettle had stayed up, next to the fire, watching over her little family and praying for her child’s safe return.
All the next day, the wind blew steadily and mightily until it turned the lake into a froth of whitecaps. The dull, hollow unending roar sawed at Omakayas’s nerves. Finally, without asking anyone’s permission, she threw her blanket around her shoulders and slipped out, walked the path into town, and then waited onshore for the return of her brother. But the wind did not let up. Andeg could not battle it and he huddled in her arms, pecked at and worried the edges of her blanket. All Omakayas got was a deep chill. When the sky went dark, she had to admit that even Old Tallow would not cross the water. Sorrowing, she made her way home.
That night, sitting close to Nokomis, she could only stare miserably into the flames and wish for sleep to blot away her thoughts. The hat she was used to seeing on Old Tallow’s head hung beside the door, the feather jutting out stiffly. Omakayas took comfort in that and, whenever her thoughts became too agitated, she looked at the feather. The wind moved in the trees, gnashing and growling in the pines like an animal. It seemed, in fact, even stronger than the night before. When at last she did fall asleep, she dreamed. Her dream was of her brother.
There was Pinch. To her surprise, he was working very hard, moving rocks. He was trying to get into a rabbit’s hole. For some reason, he was very tiny, but also very strong! “Watch me!” he yelled in the dream. Omakayas saw that lazy Pinch could carry the great pale red boulders that were blocking his way. He hoisted them one after the other on his shoulders, and walked to the edge of the water. He tossed the stones in, and then turned around and stood. He looked at Omakayas. He was waiting for his sister to admire him. But in the dream, Omakayas just teased.
“You are just a little nuisance anyway, no matter how many huge rocks you carry!” As she said this, Omakayas woke, and when she remembered the whole dream she buried her face in her blankets, ashamed of herself. How could she be so mean! Her poor brother was missing! All he wanted was a kind word from her, and in the dream she’d laughed at him. It took a long time for her to fall back asleep, but when she did, she slept very deeply. The sun was risen and the day begun before she rubbed her eyes and crawled from her blankets. The first voice she heard, outside the lodge, was that of Old Tallow.
“Meegwech!” Next she saw the big, tough hands of the old woman reach into the skins across the door. The face poked in for a moment, and then the hat was gone. Omakayas bolted from her blankets and ran out of the lodge, too late to see Old Tallow lope away. There was Pinch sitting next to Deydey, a makuk of stew in his hands. Before she even thought about it she had put her arms around him. Her heart bounced up, she was so happy to see him.
“Quit that!” Pinch twisted away and spoke gruffly, but it was clear that he was hiding a smile. He was glad to see her too.
“What happened?” She sat with him, so glad to see him that she ignored the annoying slurping noises he made, on purpose as always, eating his stew.
“I guess Old Tallow got lost!” he said. “It’s a good thing I found her! She was out in the woods. I was hauling rocks, when she suddenly wandered near to me.”
Omakayas put her hand over her mouth and let him finish his stew in peace. Looking up, she saw that Mama and Nokomis were silently laughing with her. Of course, Old Tallow had found Pinch in the woods and then brought him home. Probably, as was usual with the fierce lady, she had hardly spoken two words to the little boy. Pinch had no idea that he’d even been left behind. He thought that he had saved Old Tallow! Angeline heard too, and she motioned Omakayas off. The two sisters went down the path to laugh about how Pinch interpreted his rescue. Only later in the morning, when she had a chance to think about her dream, did Omakayas realize that Pinch had said he was doing exactly that—hauling rocks. She’d dreamed accurately, but she said nothing about it.
MORE MOOSE DISGRACE
As if it weren’t bad enough that Two Strike bragged about her moose kill and paraded around and considered herself a great hunter, Omakayas was given the job of tanning the hide of that very moose! Two Strike’s family had divided up the meat long ago—it was eaten at the rice camps and what was left was dried in strips and carried back in that moose hide. Then the hide was softened in water. Nokomis dragged it out of the water and the rotten smell of it made Omakayas pinch her nose shut. It stank like crazy.
“Sorry, you’ll have to use those hands,” Nokomis laughed. “Weeji’ishin! Help me out! This thing is heavy.”
With a dark look at the moose, which she resented for letting her cousin kill it, Omakayas grabbed a slimy, gamy corner and tugged it over to the log where they would work. Her father had given her a very good hide scraper made out of one of his own old gun barrels. It was one of those gifts Omakayas had tried hard to appreciate.
“I hate this mangy old moose hide,” Omakayas blurted out. “Why doesn’t Two Strike tan it herself?”
“The family gave us the hide of that first kill,” said Nokomis, “because they know I’ll make them something special.”
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Omakayas helped her grandmother drape the hide over the log that Deydey had set up. First they took turns using a scraper to remove all the hair. Then came the long hours of working the skin back and forth on the log to soften it. Nokomis was tireless. As she worked, she sang. Only her songs kept Omakayas from running away from this task. As soon as she knew that Omakayas was doing the work, Two Strike would find a chance to tease her and sneer, as she always did: “Good little woman. Do your woman’s work. Me, I’ll go and hunt.”
“Keep singing, Nokomis, please?”
Maybe her grandmother’s songs would keep the irritations of Two Strike from her thoughts. The song said: Do not worry, my daughter, I am hurrying to make your makazinan before the snow falls!
DAGWAGING
FALL
SEVEN
THE RABBIT BLANKET
The sun lost its strength, leaves fell from the trees. There was still no word from Fishtail or the others who had left, and although life went on in its usual routine, there was an increasing tension under everything that people did. As she folded up the blankets, as she rolled up the birchbark strips and scoured the summer’s pots and makakoon clean with sand, Omakayas couldn’t help but wonder whether this would be the last time they would move from their summer camp to their winter cabin on her beloved island. And what about the woods, her special hiding places, the play camp beneath the willow, and the tree that Andeg made his special territory? Was she doing these special chores for the last time? By next summer would everything change?
Omakayas took reassurance where she could. Some things stayed the same. Town meant school for Angeline, work for Deydey, reliable company for Mama and Nokomis, and the security of log walls. Omakayas loved the cedar cabin that her family moved to every fall, right near the town of LaPointe. A pine tree gently murmured right outside the door. A set of stands for the jeemaanan were set up beside the kind tree. There were neighbors, the trading post, excitement, gatherings and dance. Anytime they wanted, they could trade in LaPointe and visit the interesting buildings of the chimookomanag. It took a lot of work to get the cabin ready, but the work was pleasant. As Omakayas and Angeline pressed mud into the cracks between the logs, Omakayas tried to still her thoughts. She wouldn’t think past this winter, as winter was always hard enough. They would be glad they’d done a good job stuffing the cracks when the winter’s icy winds blasted off the huge lake around them. They put down new floor mats and the tanned skins from all o
f their summer work. They made the inside of the cabin neat and snug.
Out in back, Deydey dug a huge hole and Nokomis lined it with birchbark. This would be the food cache. Dried corn, wild rice, beans, squash, and makakoon of maple sugar were carefully wrapped in bark. Mama and Nokomis tied those bundles tight. Then Deydey put that food deep inside the hole, and stuffed each package tightly around with beach grass. Omakayas dug potatoes and put them in last of all. Nokomis blessed the cache and Mama and Deydey sealed it up. In the depth of winter, they would draw from that store.
After the cache was buried, Nokomis sat down in the shade of the pine to finish weaving a rabbit-skin blanket for Omakayas. This blanket would be ready by the time the weather got really cold. For a year, the two had been snaring waaboozoog and preparing the rabbit skins. Now they had a huge pile. Omakayas had twisted each skin into a long furry rope. When she had enough rabbit-skin ropes, Nokomis wove them in and out and make the blanket. Now that it was nearly done, Omakayas watched her grandma tie off the edges. She could not wait to wrap herself within the fluffy blanket. No other child she knew had a rabbit-skin blanket. She knew that her grandmother was making this gift because there was a special love between them.
The love between Nokomis and Omakayas had to do with the things that Nokomis was teaching her every day about her plants and roots and medicines.
“Ombay,” said Nokomis to her now. Omakayas stood up and Nokomis held out the blanket. Omakayas walked into it and put her face against the silky fur. “There will be plenty of time to enjoy this gift,” said Nokomis. “For now, roll it up and put it in your sleeping corner. I need your help in the woods. Let’s go.”
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Omakayas looked up into her grandmother’s face. Her skin was creased like the finest doeskin, and her smile created a fan of pleasant wrinkles. Nokomis’s deep eyes searched out and saw everything. Such clear sight did not frighten Omakayas, for what her grandmother saw she always forgave. Nokomis had never said a mean word to her in all of her life, had never even raised her voice. If she ever got exasperated or angry, the most that Omakayas saw her do was to utter a short hiyn! and turn away. Nokomis lived by the teachings of the Midewiwin. The most important human quality was kindness. After Omakayas put her special blanket away, the two walked into the woods.
Nokomis was looking for puffballs. The small round mushrooms dried out over the summer and contained a special powder that was ready in the fall. The brown silky powder was blessed by the ginebigoog, the snakes, and it was good medicine. It had many uses, including the healing of cuts and scrapes. This was the powder that Nokomis had pressed on Pinch’s leg when he’d chopped himself with Deydey’s hatchet. The powder was sprinkled on the umbilical cords of new babies, and it cleared up any rashes and sores Bizheens suffered. The puffballs were also great fun, though Omakayas did not mention that. She and her cousins loved to find these old dried puffballs in the spring and have fights with them. When squeezed, the puffballs popped open and squirted out the powder with a little blast. They had little puffball wars. It was a waste of good medicine, but because she was one of these puff-ball-squeezing children Omakayas knew just where lots of the little round mushrooms grew.
She took her grandmother there, and when she pointed out the area Nokomis clapped her hands together in delight, for she was enormously pleased to see so many all at once.
“Meegwech, meegwech,” she said excitedly, then put a pinch of tobacco on the earth, prayed, and thanked the spirits for providing these medicines. Omakayas began to pluck the tiny wrinkled round skins from the ground. She worked carefully, sealing up the hole on top with her finger to keep in the powder, while she gently pulled it from the ground. The work was pleasant. Above her, the pine needles sighed together and gossiped softly in the wind. All around, the insects trilled their good-byes to the summer sun. The birds occasionally uttered their travel calls or warning songs to one another. Makataywazi, with her as always, sat in the shade of a bush. Above them, Andeg occasionally appeared to watch them, but he was wilder these days, different. He was preparing to travel away from the island, south, and spend time with more of his own kind.
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As Omakayas worked with her grandmother, a pleasant silence grew around them. At last, it was time to quit. They sat on a comfortable old, round log. “Weesinidah,” said Nokomis. She took some dried meat and berries from the bag at her waist. As she shared it with Omakayas, she told her about something that had happened to her as a child.
THE LITTLE PERSON
Watch closely, my granddaughter, for this is the time of year when they appear, the memegwesiwag, the little people. They are preparing for winter, just like we do. They gather medicines and store up their food. I was a little younger than you when I saw one of them, and I have never forgotten him, for he saved my life then, and ever since, he has helped me in many ways!
Omakayas settled closer. In the sweetness of the sun there was already a winter chill. Although she knew the story, she loved to hear about her grandmother’s helper.
I was raised by my grandparents, said Nokomis, we stayed far off in the woods, away from other people. Alone out there, you see things. I learned so much out there. Nimishomis, my grandpapa, he treated me like his son and took me everywhere with him. He taught me what he’d normally teach a boy—how to fix arrows and hunt down moose, how to capture an enemy with a rawhide snare, how to sneak up on a deer, even how to play a love flute! He taught me how to read tracks in the snow, and signs on trails. I could always tell which animals had passed, and exactly what they were thinking and doing.
Still, although he taught me so much, there came a time when I got lost in the woods.
At first, I would not admit that I had gone too far in checking my snares. But I had followed some delicious-looking berry bushes. I got turned around, couldn’t backtrack, couldn’t find my way. So I kept on, trudging through the brush, making my way deeper and deeper into unfamiliar territory, until at last I had to admit that I was lost. When I realized this, I sat down where I was and I must confess that I began to cry. Sadness overcame me. I believed that I would die, all alone, and I felt very sorry for myself and for my grandparents. What would they do?
Fortunately, it was summer. I knew a little bit about how to survive. I made myself a shelter out of basalm branches. I owned a small fire-steel and I struck a fire from it. Maybe I could snare a duck or two, or trap fish, I thought. Perhaps, before winter came, my grandparents would track me down. There was hope, and I decided to take hold of that hope.
After I decided not to fall into despair, I began to look around. I explored my surroundings, and that was when I happened upon something very interesting. I always examined the mud near the stream to see what animals had come to drink. Often, I saw the trails of otters. I loved to spy on them and watch them tickle their young and flip over and slide down the riverbanks. I loved to see the comical, curious, laughing expressions on their faces. That morning, I saw no tracks of otters, but I did see something unusual.
There in the mud a tiny human footprint, the small track of a child, was pressed. I measured it—not even as big as my palm! I became very curious, for the foot was as small as a baby’s, a fat baby’s. It was a broad little footprint. But if it was a baby, surely it couldn’t walk yet, and this being was very nimble. I followed the steps and found that not only did the child walk, but skipped, hopped lightly, and ran with great delicacy across uneven ground. Rain had just stopped, so here and there I could find a series of tracks. I was intrigued by their baby size and amazed by the strength and grace they showed. I was, in fact, so absorbed in tracking this being that I was amazed when right before my nose, as I knelt, I saw a tiny makazin and heard a piping and amused laugh.
“Mighty tracker!”
To my amazement, I looked up into the face of a little person just as perfect as any man, only hairy like a chimookoman. His clothing was of fine tanned deerskin, quilled in the old way, not beaded.
“Migh
ty tracker!” He addressed me again, very amused at my intent examination of his footprints. “You have found me. Now, what are you going to do!”
He had a sweet little crinkled face, round as a berry and very dark, with bow lips and shining eyes. He was tinier than my little brother, who was only three years old at the time. Yet there was something huge about him. He awed me, and my heart began to pound so hard I could not speak.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said, his voice kind, “I am always around. You just haven’t tracked me before.”
I was still very much afraid, but I had a tiny pinch of tobacco in the pouch at my waist, and this I laid at his feet, wishing I had something else to give him. However, he was mightily pleased with this.
“Meegwech, meegwech, you are a very good girl, I thank you! In return for this tobacco, I’m always going to help you. Don’t worry about a thing, my girl, I’ll look after you when times are difficult.”
I blinked and he was gone, but the sighting of this little person filled me with a good feeling, and it wasn’t long after that my grandparents found me. After that, I had more confidence. My grandparents noticed the difference, and when I told them about the little person I had spoken with they were very happy about it. “Those little people love the Anishinabeg, and we love them. So this visit you had was a very goodthing!”
We were to find out just how good it was in the coming winter, when times got tough indeed.
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How sad it was that winter. The snow fell very deep, there was no game to be found, and a family that we knew was drifted over with snow and starved to death in their wigwam. They were found stone cold around the ashes of their fire when the snow melted, all of them curled up as if going to sleep. My grandparents were desperate to survive, for they knew my brother and I were incapable of taking care of ourselves just yet. Every day, in spite of the fact that he was old and weak, Nimishomis got out his bow, which he was hardly strong enough to shoot, and he went hunting. Nokomis and I gathered wood and checked our snares for rabbits. More often than not, however, the loops hung empty.