Readying for War
ANOKÌ
The Tionontati Nation lived along the shores of what the Ouendat called Lake Attigouatan (Georgian Bay) and the Attawandaron resided on the shores of Erielhonan (Lake Erie). Both nations were planters of the soil, growing the Three Sisters — mandàman (corn), askoot-asquash (squash), and azàhan (beans) — and nasemà (na-sem-mah: tobacco). The Attawandaron also lived near the flint grounds where all the tribes in the area came to collect the material to make weapons. Because of this important resource, the tribe had a certain neutrality and freedom from being attacked. However, the Haudenosaunee warriors of the Onöndowága Nation rarely took this neutrality into account. They were also a people of soil tillers with immense orchards of apples, fields of corn, squash, beans, and tobacco. They often traded for what they needed, but they were, first of all, a warrior society, and would rather go to war and take what they wanted. The Onöndowága were powerful and liked to constantly weaken their neighbours by raiding them. They considered the Attawandaron and Tionontati to be weak and easily overpowered.
Both the Attawandaron and Tionontati Nations’ warriors were heavily tattooed and gave off a fierce look. The truth, though, was that these two nations’ warriors were more interested in farming, hunting, and fishing than warfare. Because they grew large fields of tobacco, considered one of our sacred medicines, they were always generous with their allies, who protected them, and were charitable with this plant in trade with us. The Ouendat grew small patches of nasemà beside their longhouses, but nothing to rival the two tribes to the west of them.
We sped back to the Ouendat village and found it bustling with activity. The men were preparing weapons and readying a war feast, while the women were gathering corn and dried meat from their storage areas to supply the warriors with food for their coming trek. They had also dug a hole and erected a wooden post. Here was where the warriors who wanted to go to war would strike their war clubs, affirming their desire to fight. The Ouendat were like all the other tribes: no one was ever forced to go off to battle; it was the individual’s own decision. Most warriors would only follow leaders who they knew could give them brave and decisive leadership, a chance for glory, and the prospect of returning alive. A leader who didn’t have a good record of doing these things rarely got a second chance at leadership in battle.
The Ouendat who had stepped forward to lead was known as Waughshe Anue (Bad Bear) in the Ouendat language. He wasn’t a very tall man, though no one should have been deceived by his appearance. Waughshe Anue was a shrewd and brave warrior who had led many successful forays into Haudenosaunee territory. His face was tattooed with black streaks on each cheek, and he was an expert with the bow and war club. Waughshe Anue’s head was shaved, leaving just a long braid at the back. The Ouendat people believed and trusted in his leadership.
Waughshe Anue relayed to us what the messenger had told him. The Onöndowága had over fifty canoes and three hundred warriors. They had last been sighted in their canoes on Erielhonan, and from there they were three or four days from reaching the villages of our allies. The enemy would keep away from the strong currents of the Big Falls and then come to shore once they were past that danger. There would only be at the most a hundred warriors in most of these villages they were targeting, not enough to defend against the warlike Onöndowága and their allies. The Attawandaron urgently needed our warriors to help protect them!
That night, during the feasting, Kìnà Odenan and Agwanìwon, the Warrior Women, gathered our small group together and asked if we wanted to aid the Ouendat in this fight. We all agreed and struck our weapons on the war post. Our group consisted of the two Warrior Women who led us; Kànìkwe; myself; the twins, Makwa and Wàbek; my Uncle Mònz; my father’s sister, Wàbìsì (wah-bee-see: Swan); and Nigig (neh-gig: Otter) and his two daughters, Àwadòsiwag (ah- wa-dow-she-wag: Minnow) and Ininàtig (e-na-na-dig: Maple), who were married to the twins. Also there were my mother, Wàbananang; my sister, Pangì Mahingan; and Ki’kwa’ju, plus the two Mi’kmaq, E’s and Jilte’g (jil-teg: Scar). The two Ouendat warriors, Achie and Önenha’, had been with us so long that they would also follow the Warrior Women in battle with no concerns. Nigig’s mother and wife were no longer with us; both had passed away five winters ago. There were now eighteen of us. Sometimes the group was more, sometimes less, always depending on what our pursuit was that year and who was available to follow the two Warrior Women. We were very lucky that the main core almost always stayed together.
Others who had travelled with us in the past had either left to return to their villages or had suffered death in one of our battles. The three Susquehannock brothers, Abgarijo, Oneega, and Sischijro, whom my father and I had saved from starvation those many years ago, had left us after the battle that had taken my father’s life. Sischijro had also been slain during that battle, and his brother, Oneega, had been wounded. Abgarijo stayed by his wounded brother until he healed, and once Oneega was fit, they journeyed with us to the land of the Ouendat and from there were able to proceed safely to the lands of their people with the guidance of a group of Lenape (Delaware) who were allies of the Susquehannock and lived near their villages.
The Lenape had been on a trading journey among the Ouendat Tionontati and Attawandaron tribes for furs, corn, and tobacco. The Lenape lived alongside the big sea and brought sought-after seashells to trade with these tribes. Our hearts were saddened when the two brothers left, but they missed their homeland and had suffered much since their capture at the hands of Ò:nenhste Erhar and his men. Starvation and death had stalked them, but they had proven themselves to be tough and trustworthy warriors who had fought bravely at my people’s sides. They had been gone almost ten summers now, and in subsequent trading with the Lenape we had been told the brothers had made it back safely to their home village and had grown to be strong warriors who valiantly battled their enemies, the Haudenosaunee.
The two Warrior Women were great leaders and fighters. They led with an immense degree of skill and strength and were always open to different ideas from the rest of us. The other women in our group weren’t as skilled as the two leaders in hand-to-hand fighting, yet they were able to hold their own in battle with expert marksmanship with their bows, and Mitigomij had also taught them to use his main weapon of choice, the wewebasinàbàn (way-way-buh-sih-nah-bahn: slingshot).
At this time there was also a group of Anishinaabe in the Ouendat village who had come to trade. They were led by two brothers, Zhashagi (sha-sha-gee: Blue Heron) and Omashkooz (oh-mush-goes: Elk), who had about fifteen warriors with them.
That night the celebration went on until the stars were high in the skies. When I woke the next morning and exited the longhouse I was in, I looked toward the war post. There, on top of it, was a crow preening itself. That brought a smile to my face because I knew that Crazy Crow, the famous Mi’kmaq warrior, had to be nearby.
I kept my thoughts to myself, just in case I was mistaken about the crow, though I very much had the feeling the man the Haudenosaunee called Tsyòkawe Ronkwe (dio-ga-wee ron-kwe: Crow Man) would make an appearance.
Later that morning the village became a noisy din of barking dogs anticipating their departure with the warriors, the nervous chatter of the men who were leaving, and the prattling of the members of the community going about their usual activities. Then the clamour suddenly subsided as the sentinels on the stockade walls got everyone’s immediate attention when they roared that a small group of people was advancing toward us. The camp guards below opened the gates and warily approached the newcomers to see who they were. As they got close enough to the visitors to recognize them, they shouted a greeting. Both groups then merged, slapping one another’s backs and talking and laughing loudly as they entered the village. Once in the village, the other warriors gave a huge welcoming cheer to the visitors. It was Crazy Crow, Glooscap, Apistanéwj (a-bis-tan-ouch: Marten) — called the Little One — and their dogs. With them were Nukumi and Uncle Mitigomij. My uncle also had my part-wolf dog, Nìj Enàndeg (neesh en-nahn-deg: Two Colour), the son of Ishkodewan, with him. There was no sign of the great black panther, Makadewà Wàban (Black Dawn), but everyone knew this ageless beast lurked somewhere in the nearby forest.
I had been forced to leave my wolf dog with Mitigomij when I departed last fall to come to the Ouendat Nation. He had been hurt in a battle with a bear, and Mitigomij had volunteered to keep him and bring him back to health. My dog’s father, Ishkodewan, and Pìsà Animosh (pee-shah an-ney-mush: Small Dog) had both died of old age six winters ago. Nìj Enàndeg had been born about a moon after Ishkodewan had died, the only one in the litter, and I had raised him from a pup. He grew bigger than his father and was grey with a black head.
As was the custom of our people when visiting the village of an ally, Crazy Crow presented Waughshe Anue with an elk skin as a gift, ensuring that the recipient wouldn’t refuse the visitors food or accommodation.
With the addition of these three warriors, I could see the spirits of the Ouendat fighters rise. The Anishinaabe visitors, the brothers Zhashagi and Omashkooz, though, didn’t have the same awe-inspired expressions on their faces for the newcomers. The brothers were from the western edge of the big lake to the west, and the exploits of these three men might not have reached their ears. But Zhashagi walked up to Mitigomij and said, “Our friends, the Nipissing, have talked about a great warrior who walks with a limp, is an expert marksman, and is feared by all his enemies. It is a privilege now to meet the man behind those stories. Please honour myself, Zhashagi, and my Anishinaabe warriors as new friends and allies.”
“Zhashagi, your reputation as a warrior has preceded you,” Mitigomij replied. “I’ve also heard from our allies, the Nipissing, of your bravery, and I welcome the friendship of the Anishinaabe people, who I am told are a powerful nation of warriors.”
I approached Mitigomij through the crowd that had gathered around him and his companions and shouted, “Uncle, I’m happy to see you and that you’ve healed my wolf dog!”
Nìj Enàndeg, upon hearing my voice, ran to me and stood on his hind legs. He put his forepaws on my shoulders, licked my face with his rough tongue, and gave me an earsplitting howl of welcome that almost knocked me over. I gave the big animal a hug and ruffled the fur on his head. He then dropped to the ground and stuck close by, not letting me out of his sight. There was a very strong bond between us. His father, Ishkodewan, had saved my life when I was a young boy, and I considered Nìj Enàndeg a gift from my father and Nìj Enàndeg’s father, because when the wolf dog was born there were no other litter mates to confuse me in my selection.
The Ouendat warriors, upon seeing the dwarf Apistanéwj, rushed up and asked him to touch them. He took great pride in brushing each warrior on the sleeve of the arm that was held out to him. Dwarfs were considered War Gods to the Ouendat people, and if a War God caressed them as the Little One was doing now, it was a good omen that they would return victorious. If, though, he touched them on the forehead, they couldn’t go to war without losing their lives. Apistanéwj wasn’t tall enough to touch them on the forehead, so every warrior left happy and confident of the coming battle. The Little One enjoyed all the attention, even though he had no idea why the Ouendat warriors were so interested in him.
Apistanéwj and Glooscap made strange companions due to their height difference. Glooscap was over seven feet tall, and the Little One was only about four feet. Both of these men had become great friends and legends of the Mi’kmaq Nation and each was from a different island to the north and east of the Mi’kmaq. The two had constant companions in the dogs that had once been the property of what I had been told was a race of men with beards, unusual weapons, and huge boats. One dog was black and the other white; they seemed ageless and perhaps had hidden powers none of us could know. The dogs had been given the Mi’kmaq names Na’gweg (nah-quik: Day) and Tepgig (dip-geek: Night).
The final warrior in the group was loud, boisterous, and respected by all the nations and his allies for his bravery — and by his enemies for his skill in battle. Elue’wiet Ga’qaquj, or Crazy Crow, also had a mysterious past, since no one knew where he had come from. The Mi’kmaq had found him floating down a river in a canoe with only a crow for company. He had ended up being raised by a close friend of Glooscap: Nukumi, who travelled with this group all the time. Her common name was just plain Grandmother. Crazy Crow possessed the unique ability to talk to crows and constantly had one around him day and night. He was also at times a loner who would appear out of nowhere when needed. He revelled in warfare, especially against the Haudenosaunee, who had been trying to slay him for years without success.
The Ouendat women brought out containers of corn soup thickened with wood ash, pieces of cornbread, and chunks of greasy venison for the warriors to eat before they left. The war dogs were given fish and meat scraps to fight over. After eating, the men collected their medicine bags containing healing herbs, a few items for painting their bodies prior to battle, and other things that were sacred to them. Most of the articles used to make colours would be gathered on the trail for when it was time to paint ourselves. We used roots, berries, red clay, eggshells, charcoal, moss, and available plants relative to the season to colour ourselves. Each man was also given a pouch of corn and dried meat for the trail; eating a couple of handfuls of dry corn staved off hunger when washed down with two or three vessels of water. The water swelled the corn in our stomachs, taking away the sensation of hunger. When journeying to and from battle, speed was of utmost importance, and unless the warriors stumbled onto game or made an effort to hunt, they had to make do with what they carried.
The Wenrohronon warrior had brought the news to the Attawandaron people two suns ago and then the appeal had been sent to us for help. Our allies needed our group to get there in the fastest time that we could. To aid them was essential. The Ouendat leader, Waughshe Anue, stood at the gate, raised his club, and cried in his language “A-yagh-kee!” (“I go to war!”) He then left the village at a brisk trot with his three war dogs running beside him and the rest of us following. There were fifty-two Ouendat, the seventeen Anishinaabe, and our group of twenty-three warriors, plus more than fifty war dogs.
Mitigomij disappeared into the forest to rejoin Makadewà Wàban, his panther. There he changed himself into Michabo (The Great Hare). This transformation enabled him to keep up with the column while staying in the shadows of the woodlands. We wouldn’t see him again until the evening when the column stopped to camp. As for the panther, he was only seen when he wanted to be. Until then he remained in the gloom of the forest, but always close enough to aid his companion, Mitigomij.
Scouts were sent ahead and warriors, as well, ranged out on the sides to prevent any surprises from befalling us. Our Omàmiwinini group brought up the rear. The party followed a well-worn warrior trail that would take us to the Attawandaron main village. At the pace we were travelling it would likely only take us one sun and a bit to reach our friends.
As we raced through the forest, we were surrounded by the aroma of the pine and cedar trees towering above. We interrupted the silence of the woods with the swish of our feet on the pine-needled ground, the quick breaths of some, the occasional snapping of an animosh (an-eh-moosh: dog) when another dog came too close, and of course the shrill cry of a pikwàkogwewesì (pick-wa-go-gwese-e: jay) as it warned of our intrusion.
The Little One, Apistanéwj, took turns riding on the backs of the two big dogs, Na’gweg and Tepgig, neither of which ever broke pace when the small rider became their passenger.
Grandmother Nukumi stayed close to the Little One and Glooscap. The warriors who knew her always looked forward to stopping for the night when she was present. Her campfire was at all times an excellent place to visit for ample food and hot tea.
All of us had put whatever protection we could find on our bodies to combat the bugs. Grease, mud, and goldenseal were the popular choices. The mud, though, had to be constantly reapplied because it hardened and broke away from the skin when it dried. In the late spring and early summer, the bugs flew in swarms that entered the mouth, ears, and eyes. Sunlight and wind always seemed to be the best deterrent of all.
We stopped once at midday near a stream to rest and drink water. Some of the warriors had found a patch of berries and shoved them into their mouths for a quick meal. When they exited the berry patch, the other warriors who hadn’t accompanied them started to laugh and point at them. Once I saw their faces, I also broke out in laughter. The men’s faces were covered in the red juice of the previously enjoyed berry patch. The red-faced berry men soon realized what all the mirth was about as they wiped their faces and saw that their hands were the colour of the berries. A quick trip to the stream returned their features back to normal.
The dogs lay in the stream to escape the bugs, cool off, and lap up the water. Waughshe Anue, though, soon had us on the trail again, and we travelled until near dusk, when two of the six scouts came back and said they had found a place to rest for the night. One of the scouts was able to slay a deer, and the others had prepared fires to keep the bugs away and cook the venison. This inspired a cheer from everyone as the thought of fresh meat was a welcome respite from eating dried corn and smoked meat.
That night we ate, laughed, and smoked. We thanked our scout for his successful hunt and watched as he rolled up the pelt and secured it in a tree to pick up on the way back. Nothing went to waste in our world. Our people also believed that by wearing the fur of a slain animal we gained the power of that beast.
Many of the warriors then gathered at Nukumi’s fire to drink her soothing tea before lying down for the evening.
At daylight everyone rose and ate a hurried meal. The eight scouts who left before camp broke were now accompanied by Crazy Crow.
With Waughshe Anue’s leadership, the party made good time that morning toward our destination. As we left the enclosure of the forest and entered a beaver meadow, three of the scouts exited the forest from the opposite side of the field.
“We smell smoke in the distance,” one of the scouts said. “The others have continued on while we returned to warn you that there might be problems ahead.”
Waughshe Anue turned to the warriors. “It is time!”
Some of the warriors quickly went into their bags for what they needed to apply war paint. Others foraged around the site for roots and berries they could use. Most warriors painted previous war wounds, and many applied hand marks to their faces and chests that signified they excelled at hand-to-hand combat. Some painted their faces white with red or black masks like the features of raccoons across their eyes. Warriors adorned in red, black, yellow, and white jumped into my sight. Glooscap covered himself with red ochre; others, like him, painted their whole bodies, while the rest just daubed arms and faces with lines, swirls, and lightning bolts that indicated power and speed. Every symbol or colour meant something to each warrior. All were prepared to die a warrior’s death in battle.
I painted red lightning bolts down both of my arms and streaks of black on my face. On my chest I put a black handprint. Taking some of the black dye, I put it on the deer horn that protruded from my battle axe. Then, after tying my hair in a topknot, I was prepared to go to war with my friends and family. Beside me, my friend, Ki’kwa’ju, painted his face half red and half black and then ran a white line from the left side of his forehead down to the right side of his chin, dabbing white dots along the line.
The two Warrior Women had painted their bodies yellow, which meant they were heroic, led a good life, and were willing to fight to the death. They gathered their warriors together.
Once everyone had applied their paint, sunflower oil was passed around to slick our hair. Kànìkwe took the oil and rubbed it on his bald head, which he had left unpainted. He looked at me and said, “Makes me slippery if anyone tries to grab my head.” Then, laughing, he joined his close friends, Kìnà Odenan and Agwanìwon, whom he would die protecting if necessary.
I stood with my mother, sister, and Ki’kwa’ju, the man we called Wolverine in our language. He had the shield, axe, and big blade the Mi’kmaq people had given him when he came to us. The blade he kept in a leather sheath attached to a belt. The axe and shield he clutched in his hands. Over his back he had a quiver of arrows and a bow. The rest of us had bows, arrows, spears, clubs, and flint and bone knives.
I glanced around to see if I could spot Mitigomij, but to no avail. He wasn’t with us. I knew, though, that once the fighting began, he would appear with the big cat and at that place death and the smell of death would surround both of them.
Then Agwanìwon spoke. “When the battle starts, we’ll stay together as we always have, watching out for the person beside us and also those nearest to us. We have always achieved success fighting for one another. Follow me and Kìnà Odenan to victory. Aye, aye, aye!”
Her voice resounded through the open area, and the Ouendat and Anishinaabe warriors looked around at our group and then also took up the chant, sending the birds in the treetops to the heavens.
At that moment Crazy Crow came from the opposite side of the meadow. “It is time!” he roared. “Our enemies have already attacked and are now burning, killing, and taking captives.” Then, turning toWaughshe Anue, he said, “Lead us, great warrior, to victory!”