Chapter One

Acorns for Mother

 

     I had been hoping for a peaceful morning, but the blunt end of Kanti’s spear rudely probed the spaces between my ribs, discouraging further sleep.  To say I enjoyed my sleep understated the fact.  Given a choice, I preferred sleeping until the sun rose high in the sky.  With the increasing pressure against my ribs, that appeared unlikely.  If I ignored Kanti’s prodding, I would soon experience the spear’s business end.  I forced open an eye and looked up at Kanti.  She was standing in front of my sleeping bench with her bone-tipped spear hovering over my ribs in case I needed further encouragement.
      “Chogan, it’s time to get up,” she said.  “Mother wants us to gather acorns.”
      “I’m awake,” I replied, but the eyelid above my open eye drifted downward.
      “I don’t want you just awake.  I want you up—sitting up.”
      I opened both eyes and glared at my sister.  I had seen ten winters, and she had only seen eight.  You would think that alone would provide some seniority in the family pecking order.  The pointed end of Kanti’s spear still hovered over my bruised ribs.  You can’t argue with a sharpened spear tip.  I sat up.  I was the only family member occupying a sleeping bench in the wigwam I shared with Mother, Grandfather, and Kanti.  I assumed they had been up for some time.  They had neatly folded their moose-skin robes on their sleeping benches.  My sleeping bench was never that tidy.
      “What is it Mother wants us to do?”  I vaguely remembered Kanti saying Mother wanted us to do something.  The details were lost somewhere in the fringes of sleep.
      “She wants us to gather acorns—a basket full.  We’ll never gather that much if you sleep all day.”  Kanti lowered her spear tip. 
      Kanti is the only girl in the village who carries a spear.  I don’t know why she can’t enjoy weaving mats like normal girls.  At one time the spear had been mine.  Grandfather helped me make it several winters ago, but Kanti laid claim to the spear after Grandfather gave me his bow.  It was now her most prized possession. 
      I rubbed my eyes awake and forced myself to my feet.  If Mother was talking about the large basket, which I had no doubt she was, filling it with acorns would take most of the day.  I pushed open the door flap to the wigwam and stepped into the sunlight.  From the height of the sun, it had to be mid-morning.  Mother was stooped over the fire circle nursing additional heat out of the remaining coals.  Grandfather was nowhere to be seen.
      “Good morning, Mother.  You want us to gather acorns?”
      “Good morning, Chogan.  I trust the chirping birds did not hinder your sleep.”  She softened her sarcasm with a slight smile.  “Eat some breakfast.  Then you and Kanti can gather acorns.” 
      Mother gave me a wooden bowl filled with steamed wild rice and small pieces of meat.  I scooped up some of the rice and meat with my index and middle finger and raised it to my mouth. The meat tasted like beaver.  Beaver was one of my favorite meats.
      “Can we use the canoe?” I asked.  “There’s a grove of oaks along the west shore of Lake Waabooz that’ll provide lots of acorns.” 
      Our village sat on the south shore of Gitche Gumee beside a river that flowed down from Lake Waabooz.  Dragging a basket of acorns around the woods did not excite me—not when I could paddle up the river to Lake Waabooz and haul the acorns back by canoe.
      “Grandfather is planning a hunt with the village elders,” Mother said.  “He won’t need the canoe today.  Just make sure you and Kanti are back by supper time.”
      “I’ll pack food for lunch and bring the deerskin kneeling pads.  Chogan, you get the paddles.”  Kanti gave me a large basket for the acorns and then ran off to fill our leather pouches with more food than I could possibly eat.
      I didn’t know why Kanti always had to be in charge.  I grabbed the two paddles leaning against the wigwam and headed toward the riverbank where we leave our canoe when not in use.  Eight birch bark canoes sat patiently on the sandy beach beside the river.  By evening, there would be many more canoes lining the riverbank once everyone had returned from their various errands.  Our canoe was shorter than most.  Grandfather says that helps when maneuvering on rivers. I laid the paddles and basket in the canoe and then stretched out on the sand to await Kanti’s arrival.  My body still demanded sleep, and I never wasted an opportunity for a bit of shuteye.  
      Mother had painted a large red “V” on the bow of the canoe.  A solid circle at the bottom of the “V” gave a vague impression of flying eagle.  The eagle is our family totem and provides for our well-being.  Having its symbol on the canoe brings good luck and ensures a safe trip for all passengers.  At least that’s what I’ve been told.  I wasn’t sure how true it was.  I didn’t have to wait long for Kanti.  She arrived filled with an abnormal level of enthusiasm.  Gathering acorns did not inspire me.
      “Here’s your lunch.” Kanti handed me a leather pouch with a strap for hanging around my neck.  Mother made the pouches several winters ago.  I opened mine and looked inside.  It was filled with dried meat—much more than I could eat.  I assumed Kanti would eat all of hers.  Her stomach was a bottomless pit.  I didn’t know how she stayed so skinny.
      I pushed the canoe into the river and pointed the bow upstream.  Then Kanti climbed in the front of the canoe and kneeled on the rolled deerskin she used for padding. I climbed into the back of the canoe and did likewise.  We were lucky the water level was low.  In the spring, when the river is filled with melting snow, paddling against the current would have been impossible.  Even with the reduced current, the sun would be high in the sky when we reached the lake.
      “Chogan, do you think we can spear a fish or maybe some frogs?”
      “Only if we quickly fill the basket with acorns.  Mother won’t consider three or four frogs a suitable replacement for a basket of acorns.”
      Kanti had once speared a bass.  It was mostly luck, but she dreamed of repeating that performance.  She would do better spearing frogs.  I dipped my paddle into the water and pushed the canoe forward.
      Even though paddling upstream was hard work, I found canoeing the river relaxing.  It was a welcome escape from the noise and activity of the village.  The deep green leaves on the cedar trees that lined the river banks always suggested adventure, urging me to further explore the river.  How could I resist?  We silently paddled our way up the river.  The scenery was too beautiful to ruin with words.
      Birds and animals of all sizes called the river home: from the small black-capped chickadee to the great blue heron.  Even beaver, which are normally nocturnal, occasionally made an appearance, although we had yet to see any.
      “Chogan, see that deer up ahead?” Kanti said.  “I’m going to spear it.”
      I looked where Kanti was pointing and discovered a small buck drinking at the water’s edge.  Kanti was obviously indulging in fantasy.  The buck would disappear long before we approached near enough for Kanti to throw her spear.  Even then, she couldn’t throw the spear with sufficient force to do more than irritate the buck.  Since it is easier to humor Kanti than to explain reality, I guided the canoe toward the buck.  It glanced up at us and then quickly disappeared into the woods, as I knew it would.
      “Look, Tarragon, Chogan thinks he can paddle a canoe.”
      “His mother must have him baby-sitting again.”
      “Hey, Chogan, does baby sister really think she can spear a deer?”
      I didn’t need to look back to see who was following us.  Ahanu’s and Tarragon’s voices were all too familiar.  Every village had its bully.  Our village had the misfortune of having two of them.  They had seen one more winter than I and were bigger and stronger.  I guided the canoe toward the river’s edge to let them pass.  It was safer ignoring them. I didn’t wish to confront them unless I had to.  With their stronger arms, they would quickly pass us.
      “Out of our way, Chogan.”
      We were as close to the shore as we could get our canoe, but Ahanu steered his canoe directly at as.  I feared we would collide.  At the last moment, Ahanu dragged his paddle in the water, turning his canoe parallel to ours.  My fist would not fit in the gap between our canoes.  I pulled my paddle out of the water to await their passing.  It was nothing more than harassment, which I am sure they considered good sport.  I could live with that. 
      Ahanu was wearing his bear-claw necklace that his father had given him.  A large snail shell separated each claw, and there were many claws.  It was a beautiful necklace, and I was envious, although I would never tell him that.  Ahanu was sitting in the back of their canoe, and as he glided past the front of our canoe, he grabbed the bow and lifted it clear of the water.  With only Kanti’s weight in the front of the canoe, it was not a difficult maneuver.  He then gave it a twist sending Kanti and me plunging into the water.  That I hadn’t expected, and the cold water took me by surprise.  Fortunately the water was shallow, and we didn’t have to swim to shore.  By the time I climbed to my feet, Ahanu and Tarragon were several canoe lengths away.  Their laughter suggested satisfaction with their prank.
      “Are you okay, Kanti?”  Kanti is not as even tempered as I am.  She was fuming.  It was good that Mother was not around to hear the names she was calling Ahanu and Tarragon.  If       Kanti had found her spear in time, I am sure she would have hurled it at them.
      “If they come back, I’m going to poke one of them in the leg with my spear.”
      I had no doubt she would if given the chance.  “That would make Grandfather happy,” I said, but my sarcasm was lost on Kanti.
      “Then I could at least punch a hole in their canoe.”
      “You can do that later.  Right now I need your help with the canoe.”
      I pulled the overturned canoe toward shore to empty the water.  Our kneeling pads were soaked, but our canoe wasn’t damaged.  We dumped the water out of our canoe and resumed our journey.  Kanti placed her spear at her side in case we overtook Ahanu and Tarragon.  That was unlikely.  They were training for the Lake Waabooz canoe race and would be far ahead of us.  The local villages held the race every summer at the Gathering-of-the-Tribes. It was open to all boys who had yet to see their twelfth winter.  Ahanu and Tarragon won the race two years in a row and expected to win it again this year.  I had no doubt they would; they were fast.
      Unlike Kanti, I had my fill with Ahanu and Tarragon and had no desire for a second encounter.  They would paddle to the far end of Lake Waabooz before returning to the river.  I expected to be gathering acorns along the shore before that happened.  Just the same, I increased the power of my strokes. 
      I knew we were approaching the lake when I heard Windigo’s roar.  The river becomes violent and filled with rage as it leaves Lake Waabooz.  For five hundred paces, the water cascades over sunken logs and smashes its way around large boulders.  In several places the water plunges more than Kanti’s height in a matter of seconds.  I have only seen the rapids’ destructive power from the shore, but that was sufficient to earn my respect.  Villagers call the rapids the Windigo after a mythical flesh-eating beast that has a passion for human meat. Like the Windigo, the rapids consumes all who dare test its fury. 
      Paddling against such a current was impossible even for the strongest men, and coming down the Windigo in a canoe was certain death.  No one had ever canoed down the Windigo and survived.  Fortunately, a shallow tributary bypassed the rapids.  It made for a longer trip, but the detour assured a safe passage to the lake.
      I guided the canoe along the shoreline where the current was minimal and then turned into the narrow tributary.  The water was shallow and almost stagnant.  I tried to stay in the deepest channel when possible, but I could still hear the canoe scraping rocks on the river bottom.  That wasn’t good for the canoe.
      “We’ll have to pull the canoe through this section,” I said.  I climbed out of the canoe, and Kanti did likewise.  The water was only ankle deep, but without our weight in the canoe, it easily floated over the rocks.
      “Do you really think we’ll have time to spear frogs after we fill the basket with acorns?”
      “Only if we hurry.  Mother wants us back in time for supper,” I replied.
      Kanti would not be happy until she speared something.  Spearing frogs was better than spearing Ahanu or Tarragon, although that image brought a smile to my face.
      After thirty paces we climbed into the canoe; paddling a canoe beat walking any day.  With the low water level, I expected more walking than I cared for.  My paddle scrapped the bottom with every stroke.
      “Chogan, there’s a big fish ahead of us!”
      Kanti must have struck the fish with her paddle, because water splashed all over the front of the canoe.  I could see “V” shaped ripples moving through the water as the fish tried to escape.  Kanti was right: It was a big fish.
      “I’m going to spear it.”  Kanti leaped from the canoe with spear in hand.  “You hold the canoe.”
      I climbed out of the canoe to give chase.  With almost no current, the canoe wasn’t going anywhere.  Kanti threw her spear at the fish but failed to lead her moving target.  The fish continued plowing through the water.  I rushed ahead of the fish and cut off its escape.
      “Don’t let him swim into deep water,” I said.
The fish was a large sucker on its way up the river to Lake Waabooz.  If we kept the fish in shallow water, we had a good chance of catching it.  Kanti retrieved her spear and gave it another throw.  The results were no better than her first throw.  It did convince the fish to make a “U” turn.  The fish headed directly at me.  Its dorsal fin protruded above the shallow water, marking its spot. 
      “I’ll get him,” I said.  I lunged at the fish aiming for its tail.  I was already soaked from overturning in the canoe.  Any further water was of no consequence.  I managed to catch the fish by the tail and hung on tightly.  Water splashed in my face, but I didn’t care.  I had my fish.
“I got him,” I said. No sooner had I spoken when a spear pierced the fish a finger’s breadth from my fist.  I glared up at Kanti.  “I said I had him.”
      “You needed help.”
      She must have hit a vital spot, because the fish ceased wiggling.  Kanti lifted up her spear with its attached fish to inspect her catch.  She appeared satisfied with her trophy even though I had caught it first.  Perhaps now we could concentrate on gathering acorns.
      “We need to get going,” I said.  “We can’t waste any more time or we’ll meet Ahanu and Tarragon coming back down the river.”  I wanted to be on shore gathering acorns before that happened.  I climbed into the canoe while Kanti admired her fish.  She made no effort to climb aboard until I began paddling the canoe upstream.
      “Hey, wait for me.”  Kanti threw the fish into the canoe and scrambled to her spot in the front of the canoe.  “What’s the rush?”
      “If you want to spear frogs, we need to fill this basket with acorns.”  That seemed to appease Kanti. She began putting some muscle into her strokes.
      The shallow tributary soon opened into Lake Waabooz. It was a large lake, but the islands in its center hid much of the lake, making the lake appear smaller.  Cattails and shoots of wild rice formed a green border along the shoreline.  I scanned the lake looking for Ahanu and Tarragon, but our canoe was the only canoe on the lake.  In the fall, when the wild rice ripens, canoes filled with villagers gathering rice would cover the lake.  Everyone needed wild rice and acorns to survive the winter.  I pointed our canoe toward the grove of oaks on the western shore.
      “Look, Chogan, there’s Migizi.”  Kanti pointed at the sky.  “That’s why I was able to spear the fish.  Migizi was watching over us.  I think he’s our manitou.”
      I looked in the direction Kanti was pointing.  A bald eagle circled overhead searching for fish, small ducks, or anything else that would provide a suitable meal.  The eagle was our family totem, and Kanti was convinced he was also our manitou.  A manitou was a guardian spirit that was supposed to look after us and produce good fortune.  If Migizi were really looking after us, Ahanu and Tarragon’s canoe would have tipped over instead of ours.
      The eagle spiraled downward to look us over.  It had its eye on the sucker lying in our canoe.  That was wishful thinking on the eagle’s part.  There was no way I would part with my fish after I skinned my knuckles catching it.  The eagle could catch its own fish. 
      “It’s missing a tail feather.”
      I shielded my eyes from the sun with my hand and looked up at the eagle.  Kanti was right.  The eagle had a gap in its tail feathers—not that I really cared.
      “Where do you think Migizi lost his feather?  Do you think we could find it?  I want an eagle feather for my spear.  Fish won’t have a chance against a spear with Migizi’s feather attached to it.”
      “When feathers become loose, eagles pull them out,” I said.  “It’s like losing a tooth.  The feather is probably in a nest or roost or some other high place where you’ll never find it.  We’re after acorns, not feathers—remember?”
      “What’s a roost?”
      “That’s where birds sleep at night,” I said.
      “Don’t they sleep in a nest?”
      “Perhaps, but this late in the summer, any chicks they had will have flown from the nest.  Adult eagles would only use the nest as a roost.  Either way, climbing that high would be impossible.”
      We continued paddling while Kanti considered her options.  She was not one to quickly give up on a project just because it was impossible.
      “Look, there’s Ahanu and Tarragon’s canoe,” Kanti said.  “Think we can steal their clothes?” 
      I looked where Kanti was pointing.  Ahanu and Tarragon had beached their canoe on a sandy section of the lake and were swimming in the water to cool off.  Kanti’s suggestion had merit. Ahanu and Tarragon had draped their clothes over a large boulder not far from the bushes.  Unfortunately, they had already seen our canoe and were watching us.  There was no way we could pull that off without getting caught.  Still, I liked the idea.  I would get even with Ahanu and Tarragon for overturning our canoe, but now was not the time.
      “Maybe some other time,” I said.
      I dipped my paddle into the water and pushed the canoe forward.  I could tell Kanti was still obsessed with eagle feathers; she had no power in her strokes.  Fortunately, we were almost to the stand of oaks.  I guided the boat through a gap in the cattails and pulled up to the shore.  Then I grabbed the basket and climbed out of the canoe.
      “Are you going to gather acorns or are you going to sit there gawking at the eagle?”  Kanti reluctantly climbed out of the canoe with spear in hand.  “And leave the spear in the canoe.  You won’t need it.  The acorns are friendly in these parts.”  I needed Kanti gathering acorns with both hands if we were to fill the basket.  If she had her spear, she would be too easily distracted by toads in need of spearing.