Chogan and the Gray Wolf
By
Larry Buege
Chapter One
The Big
Fish
It
was huge! My hands began to tremble, making
my spear difficult to hold. Trout can’t
grow that big—but there it was. I
watched from my hiding spot behind a bush as a dark shadow swam out from behind
a submerged boulder and into the current.
After a few moments it returned to the protection of the boulder. The fish was bigger than Grandfather’s
thigh.
Periodically,
the trout swam into the current to feed, but it always returned to the same
spot behind the boulder. It never swam
close enough for me to spear from the riverbank. If I wanted that fish on my stringer, I would
have to wade into the cold water and get it.
It would be worth the discomfort if I could contribute that monstrous
fish to the spring feast. That would
bring great honor. I would have many
chances to warm my feet, but I might never see such a large fish again.
I
waited until the fish swam into the current to feed. Then I entered the water downstream from the
boulder. Icy water from the melting snow
flowed over the tops of my moccasins and down onto my feet. I knew the water would be cold, although I
hadn’t expected it to be that cold. My
feet began to ache, and I shivered uncontrollably.
To
prevent my shadow from spooking the fish, I approached the boulder with the
morning sun in my eyes, but when I reached the boulder, the fish was gone. Hopefully, it was feeding
in the current and would return to the boulder when it got tired. I placed my spear above the spot where I
expected the trout to be when it returned.
Then I lowered the spear until the tip was just below the surface of the
water. That would eliminate any splash
when I pushed down on the spear. I stood
motionless above the water…waiting.
Grandfather says fish only see motion.
I had to be invisible.
I
waited, but the fish didn’t return. My teeth
chattered. My legs cramped. It took all my strength to prevent shivering
from shaking my spear. Grandfather says
it requires patience to spear great fish.
I waited. My feet became numb
from the icy cold water. I couldn’t wait
much longer. Fish could tolerate cold
water better than I could. I was about
to give up when the dark shadow returned to its spot behind the boulder. I stared at the fish in amazement. It was the biggest fish I had ever seen.
The trout
stopped just to the right of my spear tip.
If I moved the spear, it would notice the motion and swim away. I waited.
The fish drifted to the right and then to the left, but never swam under
my spear. I waited. It would soon swim into the current in search
of food, and my feet were too cold to wait for its return. It was now or never. I slowly moved the spear to the right. If I moved it slowly, perhaps the trout
wouldn’t notice. The fish drifted to the
left as I moved the spear tip to the right.
When it was under the spear, I pushed down with all my might, pinning
the fish to the riverbed. Water splashed
all around me, drenching my clothes, but I didn’t care. I reached down and grabbed my prize by the
gills. It took all my strength to lift
it out of the water and drag it up the riverbank. Even when I lifted its head above my knee,
its tail still dragged on the ground. No
one in our tribe had ever speared such a fish.
I would be a hero when I dragged this fish into our village. Tonight they will be singing Chogan’s praises
around the campfire. Chogan means
blackbird in the Ojibway language. But
tonight I would be soaring with the eagles.
Not bad for a boy of ten winters.
I
was bending down to attach the fish to my stringer containing the two smaller
fish I had speared earlier when I heard a thrashing noise behind me. Only one animal makes that much noise walking
through the woods. I turned expecting to
find a bull moose. Instead, a great bear
stood no more than five paces from me. It
was larger than any bear I had ever seen.
One front paw could cover a lily pad, and its claws were longer than
Grandfather’s fingers. A large mass of
muscle rose up between its shoulders.
This had to be a powerful animal, and it was glaring at me like a fat
coon sizing up a stranded bullfrog. The
bear was no doubt hungry. I could tell
that from the slimy drool dripping down from its open jaws. I wanted to run as fast as I could, but
Grandfather says I should never run from a bear. Bears will chase anyone who runs. The beast reared up on its hind legs and gave
out such a growl that the woods shuddered with fear. When standing on its hind legs, it was taller
than two grown men. The bear was so
close I could feel its breath against my face.
It was warm and moist and had a foul odor that reminded me of rotten
meat. If I hadn’t been so scared, I
would have puked on the spot.
I
had no doubt the bear planned to eat me for lunch. Even then, I would be no more than a snack
for such a large animal. Maybe if I offered
it something else to eat, it would forget about me. Having no fish to contribute to tonight’s
spring feast would bring shame to my family, but that was the lesser of the two
evils. I lowered my fish to the ground
and backed away. The bear walked up to
the fish and gave them a sniff with its black nose. I backed further away. The bear placed a paw over the head of my
prize fish and then ripped open the fish’s belly with its teeth. I continued walking backwards, until thirty
paces separated us. Then I quietly
slipped into the woods. I ran as fast as
I could toward our village. It was probably my
imagination, but I could feel the bear’s hot breath against the back of my neck
as I ran. It still had the smell of decaying
flesh.
Chapter Two
The Spring Feast
Our
village sits on the
Afternoons
in our village are normally laid back and quiet, but today
everyone was busy preparing for the feast.
The men had returned from a hunt with deer slung over their shoulders,
and the women were preparing to cut the meat into strips for drying. There would be no shortage of venison at the
feast. I found Grandfather at the center
of the village where many logs were stacked for the fire. He was talking to Hassun, the son of my
mother’s sister. Hassun had seen
twenty-one winters; enough to be considered one of the men.
Grandfather
turned toward me after he finished his business with Hassun. “Did you spear any fish?” he asked.
“I
speared three fish,” I replied. “One
fish was as big as your thigh and longer than my leg.”
“Where
is this great fish you speared?” Hassun asked. “I see no fish.”
I
could tell by his voice he didn’t believe me.
I wouldn’t have believed a fish could grow that big either if I hadn’t
seen it.
“It
was eaten by a bear larger than a cow moose.”
I spread my arms to show the width of the bear. “It had claws longer than Grandfather’s
fingers, and when the bear stood on his hind legs, it was as tall as two men.”
“Chogan
has the imagination of a small child,” Hassun said. “I assume this bear also got away?” Hassun gave out a big laugh. “Since you have neither fish nor bear to contribute
to the feast, I will drop off a small doe I killed this morning. My arrows flew straight, and I killed two
deer. I can spare one to protect the
honor of my cousin’s wigwam.” Hassun
walked away chuckling, leaving me alone with Grandfather.
“Grandfather,
I really did spear a great fish. There
really was a large bear.”
“Chogan,
your lies bring dishonor to our family.
No bear is as tall as two men.
Your childish imagination has overcome common sense.”
“Yes,
Grandfather. Maybe it was only as tall
as two short men.” I looked down at the
ground. I could no longer look
Grandfather in the eye. He was
right. No bear grows that large. But I knew what I saw. Could my eyes have deceived me?
“Go
and help your mother skin the doe Hassun has graciously given us. One that tells such lies must work alongside
women.”
I
was in no hurry to return to our wigwam.
I wandered around the village inspecting the food women were preparing
for the feast. In addition to meat from
deer, beaver, and otter, there would be squash and roasted acorns by the
basketful and roots from a variety of plants.
It would be great feast. All that
would be lacking would be fish—my fish.
“Hey,
there’s Chogan, the mighty bear hunter,” Ahanu said—it hadn’t taken long for my
morning misadventure to spread throughout the village.
“We
have nothing to fear,” Taregan added.
“We have the mighty Chogan to protect us from bears the size of
moose.”
They
both laughed. Every village has its
bully. I had the misfortune of living in
a village, which had two of them. Ahanu
and Taregan had seen one more winter than I had and considered that
justification for making my life miserable. With
nothing better to do, they had decided to have some sport at my expense.
Since
there was little I could say in my defense, I ignored them and headed toward
our wigwam. When I arrived, the doe
Hassun had promised to give us was hanging from a tree branch, and Mother was
removing the skin with a sharpened stone.
Tomorrow she would stretch the hide to dry. My younger sister was tending the fire she
would need to dry the meat.
“Hassun
said you saw a bear this morning,” Mother said. “You must be careful in the woods. There are many dangers for a young boy.”
“Yes,
Mother.” I really didn’t want to talk
about it, but it was apparently providing quality entertainment throughout the
village. Everyone had a comment to
express. It would have been better if I
hadn’t told Hassun and Grandfather.
“Was
the bear really as tall as two men?” my sister asked. Kanti had only seen eight winters. She was okay for a little sister except when she
wanted to tag along. That could be a
pain.
“It
was a large bear.” I left it at that,
hoping Kanti wouldn’t pursue the topic.
“Some
kids are saying you lied about the bear because you couldn’t spear any
fish.” Kanti was not about to let it
rest.
“I
speared three fish,” I replied.
“Chogan,
can you cut the meat into strips?” Mother asked.
“Yes,
Mother.”
I
was happy for the diversion even if it was messy. Normally,
I hated cutting meat. The bloody meat
was sticky, and it drew swarms of flies that circled around like miniature
vultures. Still, it was better than discussing
the bear. I placed a slab of meat on a
flat rock and began cutting it into strips with a sharpened bone. Kanti hung the strips on a rack next to the
fire. After several days, the heat would
dry the meat into strips that would look like old leather. It wouldn’t be as tasty as fresh meat, but it
would fill the stomach when fresh meat wasn’t available.
Kanti
added wet leaves to the fire, creating a cloud of white smoke.
That would keep flies away from the meat. Then Mother placed the deer’s back leg on a
stick and hung it over the fire to absorb the smoky flavor. The roast venison would be our donation to
the upcoming feast. It was emitting a
mouth-watering aroma by the time I finished cutting the last strip of meat.
“Mother,
can I play now?” I could see no further
work that needed my attention—not that I looked very hard. Men were competing against a neighboring
village in a game of baggataway, and I didn’t want to miss the excitement.
“Okay,
but take your sister with you.”
“Do
I have to?”
“She’s
your sister.”
That
was not what I wanted to hear. Dragging my
sister around was not my idea of fun. I
was too young for the big game, but I had hoped to organize a game with some of
the older boys. That would be impossible
with my sister in tow. I walked toward
the sandy beach.
“Chogan,
wait for me.”
“Hurry,
then. The game’s already started.” I was tall for my age, and Kanti had to run
just to keep up with my long legs.
People
from both villages were yelling encouragement to their team. I couldn’t see any players, but I assumed
they were somewhere on the other side of the crowd. I pushed through the mob of spectators, working
my way toward the front with Kanti clinging to my left arm. Finally, we wiggled our way to the front
where we could observe the game. Young
men wearing nothing more than breach cloths chased each other across the
sand. Each man carried a short stick
with a wooden loop at the end. Strands
of cedar roots woven around the loop formed a basket, which the men used to
scoop up the ball made of deer hide.
They threw the ball from player to player as they worked their way down
field in hopes of scoring a point. There
was lots of pushing and shoving. Occasionally, a fight
would break out. More than one player
left the field with a bloody nose.
“Look,
Chogan, Hassun scored a point.”
“There
will be no living with him now,” I said.
I liked Hassun, but he was good at every sport. He was a great hunter and could place an
arrow through the heart of a deer at fifty paces. Young girls adored him. I found all that a little too much. I would never admit it, but I wanted to be
like Hassun when I grew up.
They
played well into the afternoon until one of the players scooped up the ball and
threw it over the head of his teammate, sending it into the water. Gitche Gumee is icy cold even in the summer,
and no one ventured into the water to retrieve the ball. It was just as well. The
players were exhausted. The loss of the
ball was a welcome excuse to end the game.
“Chogan,
I’m hungry.” Kanti tugged at my sleeve. I had been hoping she would wander off on her own. That did not appear to be the case. But I was also hungry.
“I’m
sure there’s more food than even you can eat.”
For a girl of eight winters, Kanti could pack away the food. It was beyond me how she remained skinny.
As I
had expected, food was available in great abundance. Women
from each wigwam offered a variety of food for the feast. Kanti and I wandered from one offering to the
next like grazing deer.
After
everyone had eaten their fill and the sun had sunk into the west, the drums
began to beat. The pulsating noise increased as more
drummers joined in. It was a simple
beat, but the sound of so many drummers filled me with energy.
My feet tapped along with the rhythmic beat. Kanti and I felt compelled to join the dancers
circling around the drummers.
It
was well after dark when Mother found us.
“It’s late,” she said. “Bedtime.”
I
couldn’t argue the point. My feet ached
from hours of dancing, and Kanti was fighting to keep her eyes open. It was a fight she was not capable of winning. But the best part of the festival was yet to
come. Men were gathering around the fire
to tell their stories.
“Mother,
can I stay a little longer? I’ll be with
Grandfather.” Grandfather had moved into
our wigwam after my father died of the fever. I was
much younger then, and all I remember of Father is that he was tall and
powerful. Grandfather says he was a great hunter.
“You
can stay a little longer, but remember you have to check your snares in the
morning.”
Kanti
offered no similar appeal. She was ready
for bed.
Without
Kanti tugging on my elbow, I was free to go as I pleased. Where I was going now was not a place for
girls—or women. Actually, it wasn’t a
place for boys either, but if I were quiet, no one would notice. I crept toward the fire but stopped while
still in the shadows. I have good ears,
and the men were boisterous. They were
easy to hear.
The
tribal elders were first to speak, and Grandfather stood to give his
account. I knew what he would say; I had
heard his tale many times. Still, I
found it enjoyable. He told of his youth
when he traveled west for many moons. He
arrived at a land with no trees, only grass.
He told of big, shaggy deer that covered the land as far as one could
see. Their shoulders and chests were
thick like a moose, but they had short necks. I found
all that hard to believe, although the men in the circle nodded in
agreement. Grandfather was well respected in the village. No one dared call him a liar.
What
I liked best was when Grandfather described the hills. He said they were purple and so tall they
rose up to kiss the sky. He said at the tops of the hills it was
winter all year long, and snow covered their peaks. Some day I will travel west to see those
hills.
Several
other village elders rose to speak. They
told of terrible winters past and how they hunted on snowshoes to save the
village from famine. Finally, Hassun
rose to speak. I wondered what he would
say. He was young and not yet in
possession of many great adventures. I heard him
mention my name. He was telling of my
encounter with the bear, but now the bear was the height of three men, and the
claws were longer than a man’s forearm.
People around the fire were laughing.
They were laughing at me. Maybe the bear wasn’t as tall as two
men, but it was big. I crept back to the
wigwam with tears in my eyes.