Читать книгу Algonquin Quest 2-Book Bundle - Rick Revelle - Страница 13

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.