Paging Gazhekwe

[gazhekwe]

These days of early darkness and bone deep cold, when the grass and leaves crunch under your feet and the stars shine with the bright fires of the spirit world, this is the time to tell the stories that carry our teachings and our history forward to the next generations.

On these icy nights, there is nothing like a friendly dog to sit by your feet and warm them. I am looking at my wonderful Ginger and my son's dog Callie keeping each other company, and I think the story of how the dogs came to our people would be a good one for tonight. I will take this from a veteran storyteller who has published it on the web for us to see.

How Dogs Came To The Indians
An Ojibwa story*

Two Ojibwa Indians in a canoe had been blown far from shore by a great wind. They had gone far and were hungry and lost. They had little strength left to paddle, so they drifted before the wind.

At last their canoe was blown onto a beach and they were glad, but not for long. Looking for the tracks of animals, they saw some huge footprints that they knew must be those of a giant. They were afraid and hid in the bushes. As they crouched low, a big arrow thudded into the ground close beside them. Then a huge giant came toward them. A caribou hung from his belt, but the man was so big that it looked like a rabbit. He told them that he did not hurt people and he liked to be a friend to little people, who seemed to the giant to be so helpless. He asked the two lost Indians to come home with him, and since they had no food and their weapons had been lost in the storm at sea, they were glad to go with him.

An evil Windigo spirit came to the lodge of the giant and told the two men that the giant had other men hidden away in the forest because he liked to eat them. The Windigo pretended to be a friend, but he was the one who wanted the men because he was an eater of people. The Windigo became very angry when the giant would not give him the two men, and finally the giant became angry too. He took a big stick and turned over a big bowl with it.

A strange animal which the Indians had never seen before lay on the floor, looking up at them. It looked like a wolf to them, but the giant called the animal 'Dog.' The giant told him to kill the evil Windigo spirit. The beast sprang to its feet, shook himself, and started to grow, and grow, and grow. The more he shook himself, the more he grew and the fiercer he became. He sprang at the Windigo and killed him; then the dog grew smaller and smaller and crept under the bowl.

The giant saw that the Indians were much surprised and pleased with Dog and said that he would give it to them, though it was his pet. He told the men that he would command Dog to take them home. They had no idea how this could be done, though they had seen that the giant was a maker of magic, but they thanked the friendly giant for his great gift.

The giant took the men and the dog to the seashore and gave the dog a command. At once it began to grow bigger and bigger, until it was nearly as big as a horse. The giant put the two men onto the back of the dog and told them to hold on very tightly. As Dog ran into the sea, he grew still bigger and when the water was deep enough he started to swim strongly away from the shore.

After a very long time, the two Ojibwa began to see a part of the coast that they knew, and soon the dog headed for shore. As he neared the beach, he became smaller and smaller so that the Indians had to swim for the last part of their journey. The dog left them close to their lodges and disappeared into the forest. When the men told their tribe of their adventure, the people though that the men were speaking falsely. "Show us even the little mystery animal, Dog, and we shall believe you," a chief said.

A few moons came and went and then, one morning while the tribe slept, the dog returned to the two men. It allowed them to pet it and took food from their hands. The tribe was very much surprised to see this new creature. It stayed with the tribe.

That, as the Indians tell, was how the first dog came to the earth.

http://www.samoyed.org/dogind.html

One lesson for sure: Always watch out for Windigo.

[gazhekwe]

That is one story about how dog came to us, but there is another I have heard that I like and explains how dog separated from the wolf. If I can find it online I will put it up next, otherwise it might be awhile until I can get it keyed in.

[gazhekwe]

This isn't the one I was looking for, but it is a good story. One thing that used to bug me as a youngster is how the stories don't match up. Now I see that each one tells a different part of the story and has different lessons. This one is lots of fun.

A Dog's Tail
by Gilbert Oskaboose

Once upon a time, long ago and far away - as these matters usually are - all the dogs came together for a band meeting. In those days dogs could speak, just like human beings, so this meeting was not as strange as it
sounds, at least not for that reason.

Aside from the meeting, it was also Treaty Day so all the dogs were there for their little bone. There were big ones, small ones, fat ones, skinny ones, young ones, old ones, handsome ones, ugly ones and so on and so on. They were all there. In those times it was the custom to hang one's tail just inside the door, much to same way we hang up our hats today when we enter a lodge, out of respect.

With the dogs it was easy because the anus attached to the tail made a dandy ring to slip over the nail. Some of the dogs became quite skilful at tossing the ring over the nail from five or ten feet away. They say that's how the modern game of ring tossing was invented, but that's another story for another time.

Once the meeting got going, everybody started yapping at once, except of course, for the ones who come to meetings and say nothing. Some save their words for later, when they're drunk and not afraid of anybody. Others save them to lie later on about how many important things they said at the meeting and how many other dogs they had "told off."

Meanwhile, at the meeting, everybody else was mixing it up good. Big dogs growled, little dogs yapped shrilly, old dogs criticized everything, silly dogs clowned and vicious dogs attacked anything that moved. Whenever a dog fell down or was knocked down, the rest pounced on it and gave it a damn good beating. To add to the chaos all the crazy dogs howled for no apparent reason.

Nanabush happened to be going by at the time and heard the commotion. The racket hurt his ears and he became annoyed at the dogs' behaviour.
"I've got a good notion to play a trick on those buggers," he said, digging around for his fire -maker. In no time at all Nanabush had the back wall of the council lodge burning fiercely. He ran away laughing.

Inside the dogs smelled the smoke, saw the flames, and panicked. Everybody headed for the door at the same time. In their tradition it was every dog for himself. In the confusion and panic no one took the time to find his or her tail. They just grabbed one, stuck it on, and ran for their lives.

And that's why, to this very day, whenever two strange dogs meet, the very first thing they do is check out each other's backside and tail. They're still looking for their own.

Ojibway elders say it is so.

[gazhekwe]

Of course there were the scary stories, destined to send everyone to their beds wide-eyed and wakeful. We spoke a little about Windigo. In keeping with the Canine train of thought, what about that Bearwalk, Loup-Garou, Michigan Dog Man?

It all started back in time, when a person might twist medicine for their own ends, rather than using it to serve others. The person gains powers to walk the earth in the form of an animal, usually a bear. At such times the person/bear may stalk another person whom it perceives as an enemy, and most of the stories come in the form of the other person having to deal with the bearwalk.

In one such story from my own circle, there was an old woman who had taken a grudge against a family living near her. She would mutter and curse at the children at their play and sit rocking on her porch glowering toward their house.

As winter approached and the weather grew colder, she sat inside, but a white dog began pacing the woods near the family's house. The children would run inside in terror when they saw it. One day, the father came out on his porch and shouted across the way, "Old Woman! I know that you are coming to us in the woods. Next time I see a white dog near my house, I am going to shoot it!"

The dog did not show up for several days, and then, one day there it was again. The father got his gun and shot at the dog, which disappeared. Next day, the old woman was found sitting dead in her kitchen, shot through the heart. The white dog was never seen again.

Next time, the Loup-Garou, which comes from the French-Canadian tradition, describing horrors found in the deep dark Michigan woods.

[gazhekwe]

Or Rougarou, as some call it. This comes from the Bearwalk tradition, as explained by the French who were the first to interact with the Indians. Some also equate the loup garou with Windigo, which we will talk more about later. Loup Garou is known from Quebec clear down into Cajun country, brought there by the exiled Acadians from Nova Scotia.

Some say turning into a Loup Garou is punishment for neglecting the Church. Catholicism was very strong in the French community. Why, some voyageurs even petitioned the Bishop of Detroit to allow them to eat beaver tail on Friday, since the beaver lives in the water like fish do. The Bishop agreed.

Some say the creature is a man who can take the wolf form at will. Some say it is not voluntary. In wolf form, he has the head of a wolf and the body of a man. Some say the Loup Garou is especially dangerous because he has human intelligence and the human capacity for cruelty for its own sake. Some magical powers are also associated with the Loup Garou.

Here is one Loup Garou story that combines with the Flying Canoe story. It come from Quebec. This is from the punishment line of stories. You can see the strong Catholic tradition in this story.

The Devil and the Loups Garoux
retold by S. E. Schlosser

Now there once was a man named Jean Dubroise who never did a lick of work, but his house and his barn and his crops were still the best in the whole land. This puzzled people, since Jean had no family and no hired men to help him. No one could figure out how he managed to have the best trapping lines in winter, and have fences and barns in perfect repair at all times with no one working his farm. Odder still were the reports of a roaring sound that came from Jean Dubroise's property late at night when good, God-fearing people should be sleeping. His neighbors started avoiding the place, and folks in town would hurry to the other side of the road rather than meet Jean when they saw him coming.

One night, Dubroise's next door neighbor, Alphonse, had a bit too much to drink. Alphonse decided that he would dare the strange noises and take a short-cut across Dubroise's land to get home. As he was weaving his way through the fields, he heard a loud roaring noise from overhead. Alphonse threw himself flat on the ground and saw a huge canoe flying over him. The canoe landed on the ground in the clearing next to Dubroise' house and the Devil jumped out with a whip in his hand. At the sight of the Devil, Alphonse gasped and rolled under some shrubs at the edge of the field. From his hiding place, he heard the Devil shout: "Come out of the canoe!" and snapped the whip at the occupants. Twenty creatures with the shaggy coats of wolves but the upright walk of men leapt from the canoe.

Alphonse recognized them immediately. They were werewolves [[called loup garou); men who had neglected their religious duties for so long that they had fallen under the spell of the Devil. As the loup garou began plowing and mending fences and doing all the daily chores on the farm, Dubroise came out of his front door to talk and drink with the Devil. Alphonse knew then that Dubroise had sold his lazy soul to the Devil in exchange for the werewolves' work on his farm.

Alphonse lay trembling under the bushes, praying the Devil and his minions wouldn't find him. At last, the Devil and the loup garou jumped back into the flying canoe and flew away. As soon as it was safe, Alphonse hurried to the local priest to report what he had seen. When he heard about Dubroise's evil visitors, the priest came up with a plan to rid the neighborhood of the Devil. While Dubroise was in town the next day, the priest sent Alphonse and several of the parish men to Dubroise's farm with buckets full of holy water. The men sprinkled the holy water over Dubroise's house, his outbuildings, and all of his land. Then the men hid themselves in the bushes to keep watch.

It was midnight when the Devil and the loup garou came flying to Dubroise's farm in the huge canoe. They landed in the clearing next to the house and the the Devil leapt out of the canoe. As soon as his foot touched the holy water sprinkled onto the ground, the Devil started leaping about and shrieking in pain and rage. The werewolves were frightened and fled from the canoe. The Devil was furious. He believed that Dubroise was trying to save his soul by driving the Devil away with holy water obtained from the priest. The Devil ran to the house and pulled Dubroise right out of his bed. He dragged Jean Dubroise outside, threw him into the canoe, and flew away in a blast of fire that scorched the ground for many meters.

The men of the parish collected the werewolves and brought them to the priest. The priest pricked each one with a knife, which is the only way to turn a loup garou back into a man. The restored men fell to their knees and begged the priest to forgive them for neglecting their religious duties. From that day on, the men were faithful to their parish and never more did any fall under the Devil's spell. But Jean Dubroise was never seen again.

[gazhekwe]

This is from the Grosse Pointe News.

2008-10-23 Op Ed Legends of Grosse Pte.: La Loup Garou

October 23, 2008
FROM THE ARCHIVES

Edited By Suzy Berschback

Many years ago, a French-Canadian trapper named Simonet settled on the lake shore of Grosse Pointe. His young wife died in the early years of their marriage.

But as if in exchange, she had left the little babe, Archange, to coax him from his grief and comfort his loneliness.

The strong, hardy Simonet, with his sunburnt face and powerful arm, was devoted to his child.

He learned to soften his rough manners and soothe her like the gentle ways of a woman.

He later taught her to skin the beaver, muskrat and deer he brought home and to stretch their skins on a drying frame. He bragged no one could outdo Archange's cooking.

In the long winter evenings, Archange's skilled fingers would weave straw into hats. The hats sold quickly and added to the money she made by selling her knitted socks and dried corn.

Pierre La Fontaine, a young farmer, fell in love with her and she returned his affection. Simonet gave his approval and blessed the couple, celebrating the happiness of his child.

On bright moonlit nights, Pierre would take his fiancee out for a row in his canoe. The couple would talk about their wedding and the new cabin Pierre was building for his "bonnie bride."

One evening as Pierre said goodnight to Archange on the beach near her home, she followed him with her eyes as he rowed out of sight. She was soon startled by a rustling sound nearby.

Looking up, a wild shriek escaped her, for a monster with a wolf's head and an enormous tail, walking erect as a human being, crossed her path.

Quickly the cabin door was thrown open by Simonet, awakened by his daughter's scream. Archange flew into her father's arms and pointed to the spot where she had seen the monster. Simonet's face grew pale as Archange described the monster, since he had recognized it as the dreaded Loup Garou. Simonet calmed her and soon she pushed the experience out of her mind and dreamed of Pierre and her wedding.

Long after Archange went to sleep, Simonet sat thinking.

He lit his pipe seeking comfort in his thoughts. He did not doubt it was the Loup Garou, or werewolf, Archange had seen.

He recalled the stories of his youth and how the dreaded monster had stolen young children.

Sometimes a young man would be lured into the forest and never heard of again. It was for young women Loup Garou showed the greatest fondness and it was a bad sign to her whose path he crossed. Several attempts had been made to kill the beast, yet all failed.

Simonet recalled the story of one adventurous hunter who, determined to try his skill, made a bullet from a silver coin and waited for his victim "to cross his path."

The cursed bullet sped toward the Loup Garou and only severed his tail, which was found, then dried and stuffed. The remains were the wonder of the region and adored for years by the Indians as a good luck piece.

Simonet hoped all would be well. Still a strange feeling came over him like a premonition, which in vain he tried to shake off.

Archange and Pierre's wedding day at last dawned. Archange, dressed in her simple white gown, was a charming picture of innocence and beauty.

Going into the woods to gather her bouquet of wildflowers, the Loup Garou again crossed her path.

This time she put aside her fears and almost laughed at the beast, who had robbed some habitant of his coat and hat and had carefully tucked the remains of his tail away.

When she did not run off in terror, Loup Garou was encouraged to give her a lovesick look showing his wolfish teeth. Scattering her flowers, Archange fled and arrived breathlessly home just in time to slam the door on the wolf, which had chased her.

Later that day she joined Pierre. Hand in hand, they entered the little church and knelt in front of an altar decorated with flowers, arranged by loving hands.

Father Freshet, who had baptized them both and prepared them for their first communion, now came to unite them in the holy bonds of marriage. After the ceremony they hurried off to Pierre's new house, where the celebration was to take place.

While the merrymaking was at its height, the dreaded Loup Garou rushed like the wind into their midst, seized Archange and escaped with her into the forest.

All were paralyzed by the sudden, daring deed. But Pierre ran after them guided by the despairing cry of Archange, followed by all the men, while the women and children said their prayers and cried out for her.

Long after the shadows had fallen on the day, they returned to report to the anxious, trembling crowd, but their sad, discouraged faces spoke of the fruitlessness of their search. The monster had baffled them.

Pierre was found by his friends wandering around a swamp, clutching a piece of her white gown.

When his friends asked how he had obtained this clue, he returned a horrifying stare and with a blood-curdling scream, tried to jump into the swamp. He was stopped by his friends.

He would often return there and for hours gaze expressionless in the mysterious reflections of its slimy, stagnant waters, until a friend led him home.

About a year later, at his sister's wedding, Pierre, numb to the outside world, seemed to be excited by the preparations. Immediately after the ceremony, he rushed into the woods and was not seen until nearly sunset when he was spotted chasing Loup Garou to the very edge of the lake. Loup Garou, seeing no escape, stood on one of the boulders strewn along the shore and stretched out his arms as if summoning to some mysterious being. A large fish was seen to rise on the surface of the water and opening its mouth, the Loup Garou vanished!

But the footprint of the wolf can still be found in Grosse Pointe forevermore on one of the boulders on the lake shore.

Historical note: This rock, formerly located on the beach at the foot of Provencal Road, is now at the corner of Chalfonte at Kerby Road. On it can be found the footprint of this legend.

[gazhekwe]

Starting with Bearwalk or Windigo, moving along to Loup-Garou, and now we come to the Dog Man. Funny thing, in 1987, a Michigan radio station DJ thought he made up the Dog Man as an April Fool's prank. He didn't realize that Dog Man stories go back more than 100 years.

The Dog Man is said to look like a huge dog or wolf, and to run on all fours except when threatened, when it will stand upright, the size of a large man with the head of a dog or wolf. Some say they have seen actual wolves walk upright on their back feet if they feel threatened. If true, that could point to a basis of this persistent legend. It would have been long ago, because wolves were mostly killed off in Michigan, and are just now making a comeback.

Here is a site about the song written as an April Fool Prank in 1987:

http://www.michigan-dogman.com/00_history_chap1.html

I think you can see the similarities between the Dog Man and the Loup-Garou.

Another tradition that hies back to the spirit nature is shapeshifting. If the Dog Man can walk as a man or a wolf, he would be a shapeshifter. That also ties to Bearwalk, which is another example of a shapeshifter.

Tomorrow, we end our horror week with the Windigo.

Are you enjoying the stories? Got any to share? Storytelling goes round the fire.

[CountrySquire]

"Are you enjoying the stories? Got any to share? Storytelling goes round the fire. "

Yes, very much. Having seen 'New Moon' recently I can see why the writer of that story selected the indian tribe as the keepers of the werewolf curse.

[gazhekwe]

I bet we could make quite a list of American Indian based horrors. There was the Bearwalk in that book Crooked Tree by Robert Wilson. And weren't the spirits in Poltergeist displaced spirits from an Indian Burial ground? Though they acted distinctly un-Indian. There have to be more.

[gazhekwe]

I saved the most horrible of the horrors for last, Windigo.

We talked a little about Windigo, but the whole story will chill your bones. Windigo comes from famine, from the dark and the icy cold of winter. Windigo is an insatiable eater of human flesh. A person can turn windigo and crave human flesh, but Windigo is a spirit, a shapeshifter who can take human form. Windigo’s heart is made of solid ice. He has the stench of rotting flesh, and his skin is scarred by frostbite.

In the deepest darkest winter, when food is scarce, that is when Windigo walks. Families huddle in fear as they become hungrier and hungrier. They might turn on a loved one and kill because they fear that one has turned windigo. Even an infant is not safe from this horror. There is nothing more fearsome, because it could be the beast that hides within ourselves.

A Windigo Tale
Ojibwa First Nation
retold by S. E. Schlosser

The storm lasted so long that they thought they would starve. Finally, when the wind and swirling snow had died away to just a memory, the father, who was a brave warrior, ventured outside. The next storm was already on the horizon, but if food was not found soon, the family would starve.

Keeping his knife and spear close, he ventured out upon the most-frequently used game trail, watching intently for some sign, in the newly-fallen snow, of animal footprints or movement of any kind. The forest lay deep and oddly silent under its gleaming coating of ice and snow. Every creature of sense lay deep within its burrow and slept. Still, the warrior hunted, knowing how desperate his family had become.

As he moved through the eerie stillness, broken only by the soft caress of the wind, he heard a strange hissing noise. It came from everywhere and nowhere at once. The warrior stopped, his heart pounding. That was when he saw the blood-soaked footprints appearing on the path in front of him. He gripped his knife tightly, knowing that somewhere, watching him, was a Windigo.

He had learned about the Windigo at his father's knee. It was a large creature, as tall as a tree, with a lipless mouth and jagged teeth. Its breath was a strange hiss, its footprints full of blood, and it ate any man, woman or child who ventured into its territory. And those were the lucky ones. Sometimes, the Windigo chose to possess a person instead, and then the luckless individual became a Windigo himself, hunting down those he had once loved and feasting upon their flesh.

The warrior knew he would have just one chance to prevail over the Windigo. After that, he would die. Or… the thought was too terrible to complete.

Slowly, he backed away from the bloody footprints, listening to the hissing sound. Was it stronger in one direction? He gripped spear in one hand, knife in the other. Then the snowbank to his left erupted as a creature as tall as a tree leapt out at him. He dove to one side, rolling into the snow so that his clothing was covered and he became hard to see in the gray twilight of the approaching storm.

The Windigo whirled its massive frame and the warrior threw the spear. It struck the creature's chest, but the Windigo just shook it off as if it were a toy. The warrior crouched behind a small tree as the creature searched the torn-up snow for a trace of him. Perhaps one more chance.

The Windigo loomed over his hiding place, its sharp eyes seeing the outline of him against the tree. It bent down, long arms reaching. The warrior leapt forward as if to embrace the creature and thrust his knife into its fathomless black eye. The Windigo howled in pain as the blade of the knife sliced into its brain cavity. It tried to pull him off of its chest, but the warrior clung to the creature, stabbing it again and again in the eyes, the head.

The Windigo collapsed to the ground, bleeding profusely, almost crushing the warrior beneath its bulk. He pulled himself loose and stared at the creature, which blended in with its white surroundings so well that he would not have seen it save for the blood pouring from its eyes and ears and scalp. Then the outline of the creature grew misty and it vanished, leaving only a pool of blood to indicate where it had fallen.

Shaken, the warrior, heart pounding with fear and fatigue, turned for home. He was weakened by lack of food, but knew that the storm would break soon and he would die if he did not seek shelter.

At the edge of the wood, he found himself face to face with a red fox. It was a fat old creature, its muzzle lined with gray. The creature stood still, as if it had been brought to him as a reward for killing the Windigo. With a prayer of thanksgiving, the warrior killed the fox and took it home to his starving family. The meat lasted for many days, until the final storm had blown itself out and the warrior could safely hunt once more.

[gazhekwe]

Attachment 4362

Windigo Analyzed:

Basil H. Johnston is an Ojibwa scholar, lecturer and author of 11 books about First Nations legends and mythology. In his book, The Manitous, he devotes an entire chapter to the Windigo as both a myth and a philosophy.

Almost all Windigos are self-created, Johnston states. A Windigo was a human whose selfishness has overpowered their self-control to the point that satisfaction is no longer possible. That is why Windigos are always hungry no matter how much they eat. In former times Ojibwa people would strive to keep their selfishness under control.

If there was no food, the entire community went hungry. If food was plentiful, they still would take only what they needed to avoid building up a taste for self-indulgence. To an Ojibwa’s point of view, any overindulgent habit is self-destructive and any self-destructive habit is Windigo.

Johnston says that over the last 200 years, a new breed of Windigo has appeared in North America. Multi-national corporations have taken over the landscape like the giant cannibals of Indian legend. Driven by profit, the multi-nationals devour resources and even each other not for need but greed. Yet instead of looking at these Windigos in horror, we admire people who single-mindedly amass more wealth than they can ever possibly use. “Look at even today’s hockey players,� Mr. Johnston said in a phone interview. “Even the most mediocre expect millions.�

http://www.legionmagazine.com/en/ind...e-the-windigo/

[gazhekwe]

This will sweep the horrors out of here so we can have a joyous season.

A Sacred Story

It was spring when the young Anishinaabe Warrior came to Community. There was something different about him that many did not understand. With his well spoken ways and the confidence in which he held was something foreign to these people that were of the "Traditional Circle". After several months of being in the community many were afraid to speak with him or considered there to be something wrong with him yet no one could find fault with the way he did things not even the work that he did. This Young man knew very little of the ways of the Circle and so he thought that he would go and learn there ways. Much talk and teachings came from this and he learned very well what was expected of him as a Warrior in the Traditional circle.


After many months of teachings he came back to the Elders to question them concerning the state of community and why it was that so many things were denied the others in the circle. He saw old people, disabled people, mothers that were relying on the Government to care for there families as their men were sleeping in someone else's bed, and many more things that bothered him. He was told that he was meddling in the affairs of the community and that this was not an acceptable to the community. It did not seem right to him that only the people that could pick the sacred medicines were allowed to have them and it did not seem right to him that the Elders did not have Eagle Feathers for being elders, yet those that could dance and were young and strong did. He again was told that it was how it had become to be in this community and unless he could think of a better way then that was the way of things.

This Young Warrior did not like it at all and became very irritable over this as it seemed that the ways of the dominant culture were creeping in and that no one understood that the teachings of community are for all and not just the few who can fend for themselves. So he went to his place to ask the Grandmothers and the grandfathers for help in this matter. He knew this was a life or death situation for the community so he placed his gifts down first and then entered lodge, this was a fasting lodge a lodge of need, not like the teaching lodge or the prayer lodge, but one of a different type constructed differently than the others. So he prayed and fasted for many days and so it was that the Grandmother from the Northeast came to him and spoke not a word to him but drew a circle in the center of the lodge and put 4 points on it and told him to go and travel the four directions and you will have your answer that you seek.

The young warrior thanked her for the sacred teaching and left the lodge and offered many more gifts to the Grandmothers and Grandfathers. He left the lodge and traveled east first. In the East along a small brook in a clearing sat the Crane and he watched the Crane for a time. When the Crane left he offered again his gifts to the Grandmothers and Grandfathers. When he approached the spot where the Crane was he could smell a very familiar pungent aroma and found that there was a 10 acre field of sweetgrass there nested in the heart of his trap line. He began to pick and harvest the sweetgrass and harvested with care not to pull the roots but to allow it to regrow again next year. He filled up his sled 4 foot high with sweetgrass braids.

He returned back to the people that he saw were in need and passed out all of the sweetgrass to the community. He held nothing back not one blade but gave it all away. He then went to the South and found wild tobacco growing and did the same with the tobacco ties giving it all away saving not one piece for himself to keep He then went to the West and found Sage and did the same and passed it all out to the community saving not one piece for himself. Then he went North and came upon the great Cedar Grandfather and did the same and passed them out once again to community for those that were in need and saved not one piece for himself.

When the Elders questioned why he had done it he said "because everyone is equal and everyone deserves to have what everyone else has. I have nothing but know where to get it because I walked the path of the Grandmothers and Grandfathers and you may believe that if there is need again in this community that I will come again and do the same, you that make yourself great at the woes of others are not great and your Sacred Lodge is an abomination to the Grandmothers and Grandfathers, put your own house in order and then help others to do the same when all houses in community are in order then there will be peace in the lodge and many good prayers will be sent out. I will give one more gift to show this as it was told of me to give."

So he again left and went many days to the west to seek the great gifts of the Grandmothers and the Grandfathers. He found a valley with Eagle Feathers in it and again he offered his gifts to the Grandfathers and Grandmothers and came to community and gave the Golden Eagle Feather to community for healing. He gave all of them away saving not one for himself, he gave one to every person the was in need and could not get them for themselves. This last act of defiance against the Elders outraged them to the point of openly speaking out against his gifts.

Then the community powwow came and by chance a young dancer the son of an Elder lost his Eagle Feather in the Circle of dancers, and the cry went out for Veterans to come to return the Spirit of the Eagle to the People with honor. In full Regalia as he was told to wear he stepped forword and took his place in the East with the other Vets. When it came time to be questioned as to who would pick up the feather and give it away again it was found that he was the only Veteran that was also wounded in battle so the honor was his and his alone. When he did pick up the feather, he asked a question of the Elders who was it that he was required to give the Eagle feather to ?

He went to a young girl that was in a wheelchair and gave her the Eagle Feather to keep. I came for community, the one that dances has many she had none, care for what you have or the Grandfathers and Grandmothers will lessen your burden.

This is a true story of the people.

[gazhekwe]

The Sacred Story is quite a profound overview of the American Indian life philosophy. It brings in all the teachings, how none of us can be whole until we make sure everyone is provided for. We never know when we might be the ones who need a hand. The four directions and the four sacred herbs are brought in to illustrate the lessons, and the eagle feathers show how our own aggrandizement and recognition must come from the care for others.

I followed it up with an illustration of one form of the Medicine Wheel. I use this in my teachings. The quadrants are colored in Great Lakes style. Farther west, the Red and Yellow are switched. The black may be dark blue or dark green.

Each of the quadrants represents many different things besides the four directions.

In the East, Waabinong, we have the birth and infancy phase of life, the beginning for all things. We start here with a new life, a new job, a new marriage, a diagnosis of a life changing illness, anything new. This is the Dawn, the Springtime. Things are being born and nurtured into a healthy life. It is the time for development of the mind. The sacred herb is Sema, Tobacco. The animal spirit is Migizi, the Eagle.

In the South, Zhaawanong, we have the adolescent phase of life, the time when we begin to apply the teachings we have had so far, and learn for ourselves how they work. We work on developing our bodies. It is the Afternoon, the Summer. The sacred herb is Kiishig, or Giishig, Cedar. The animal spirit is Wawaashkesh, Deer.

In the West, Epingishimok, we have the adult phase of life. We work on our emotions, and our community and family. It is the Evening, the time of Falling Leaves. The Sacred Herb is Mshkwaadewashk, Sage. The animal spirit is Bgwagi Bizhiki, Buffalo.

In the North, Kiiwedanong, we have the Elder phase of life. We work on our Spirit, preparing to walk on to the next Phase. It might be Death, or it might be the ending of one phase of our life, a divorce, death of a significant other person, ending of one job. We have the knowledge and experience to teach and help others through their times. It is the time after midnight, the Winter. The sacred herb is Wiingash, Sweetgrass. The animal spirit is Makwa, Bear.

[gazhekwe]

The Two Wolves Within

An old Grandfather said to his grandson, who came to him with anger at a friend who had done him an injustice...

"Let me tell you a story. I too, at times, have felt great hate for those who have taken so much, with no sorrow for what they do. But hate wears you down, and does not hurt your enemy. It's like taking poison and wishing your enemy would die."

"I have struggled with these feelings many times. It is as if there are two wolves inside me; one is good and does no harm. He lives in harmony with all around him and does not take offense when no offense was intended. He will only fight when it is right to do so, and in the right way.

But...the other wolf... ah! The littlest thing will send him into a fit of temper. He fights everyone, all of the time, for no reason. He cannot think because his anger and hate are so great. It is helpless anger, for his anger will change nothing."

"Sometimes it is hard to live with these two wolves inside me, for both of them try to dominate my spirit."

The boy looked intently into his Grandfather's eyes and asked, "Which one wins, Grandfather?"

The Grandfather smiled and quietly said, "The one I feed."

-- -- A Native American tale told many times around the Sacred Fire

[gazhekwe]

This is a tale from the Anishinaabeg.

Many years ago, there lived in the Ojibwe encampment at the mouth of the Kaministiqua River, a beautiful young Indian maiden, beloved by all, and talented in the art of handicrafts. Many beautiful gifts were fashioned by the clever fingers of White Dove. White Dove made some lovely gifts of silver, found that summer on a trip to Silver Island.

Two days before the great feast, Ghost Supper, White Dove and her lover, Nanokaasi, set out to take the ornaments of silver to White Dove's grandmother, who lived a day's journey away in the foothills of the Huron mountain range. Taking only a light lunch for their midday meal, the young couple bid their families goodbye, promising to return in time for the great feast. Shortly after they had finished their noon lunch, they were unpleasantly surprised by a chilling gust of wind.

Immediately Nanokaasi climbed to the top of a giant pine tree and looking north saw billows of black, ominous clouds. Fearful of the storm, he urged White Dove to run as fast as her legs could carry her but they had gone only a short distance, when the storm burst upon them in all its fury! The wind howled about them, whipping the heavy snow into enormous drifts and blinding their vision. They wandered hopelessly until nightfall. Then cold, exhausted and hungry, they laid down in the shelter of a large rock, embracing each other to share their body warmth.

The Ghost Supper was at its height when old Chief Running Deer sadly announced the two had not returned and that he feared they were lost in the storm. All the men volunteered to go in search of them. After four days the searchers came upon the couple, still embraced, but sleeping the Great Sleep, from which there is no awakening. The men knelt beside them and called upon Giche Manido to breathe new life into their bodies.

The Great Spirit told them he could not bring them back as they were now in the home of Giche Manido, neither could he forbid the Snow Spirit to come again. He promised he would give them a sign that would forever warn them of the Snow Spirit approaching and, if heeded, would bring them no harm. As the men watched, they were amazed to see the bodies of White Dove and Nanokaasi slowly disappear into the snow and, there where they had lain appeared two pretty little soft gray birds with striped heads.

As they flew into the air, they darted from left to right, making the snowy plumage of their breasts and under their wings and tail quite visible to the on-looker. Where these birds come from, or where they go, no one knows, but when you see them swirling and darting around in large flocks, take heed, for as surely as night follows day, snow is not very far away.

[gazhekwe]

Wow, 3000 views! You are like a bunch of fireflies, your brightness making your presence known, but you are so quiet! I feel so privileged to have you here. I hope you are enjoying the stories as much as I am. Revisiting these is so much fun for me! When I was a youngster, they used to bug me sometimes, because there were discrepancies within and between the different stories. Take the one about the Dogs and their tails, where it talks about way back when the dogs could talk, then says that it was Treaty Time. Those two concepts do not match. That would have bugged me before. I realize now that each storyteller makes the story his or her own, and adds elements as they wish to illustrate their lesson. The fighting over treaty [[or government) goods is a well known concept today.

[gazhekwe]

There once was a man, who was raising his young son. The mother had passed away in childbirth and he was teaching his son all that he knew. This son grew up and in time wanted to go to a nearby village and find him a companion. Many months passed and the young man returned to his home, and with him he had a woman, his wife. They lived in the home of his father.

Shortly after, they had a son, and the father, now a grandfather began teaching this young boy all that he knew. How to respect the forest, the animals and life. The mother, tiring of sharing her home with the old man told her husband that she wanted the old man out.

The father spoke. "I cannot, this is his home and he built it for us."

She replied, "If you do not make him leave then I will take our son and I will leave."

The father agreed and spoke to his son. "My son, tomorrow I want you to take Grandpa out and leave him. Give him this blanket."

The young boy cried. "Why do you do this? Grandpa has been teaching me all that I know. Why do I have to do this to him?"

The father said resolutely, "Son, follow the wishes of your father."

So the next morning, the father went hunting to the North. The son took Grandpa as far as he could walk to the South.

That evening the young boy was sitting on the bed crying when his father came In. He saw the blanket on the bed.

"Son, I thought I told you to give Grandpa the blanket?"

"I gave Grandpa half of the blanket. The other half, I will give to you some day."

The mother and father understood the message. They went and brought Grandpa back.

[gazhekwe]

This is from Wikipedia with some additions by me. The time is coming for a story about the Birth of Nanabozho.

In Anishinaabe mythology, particularly among the Ojibwa, Nanabozho is a spirit, and figures prominently in their storytelling, including the story of the world's creation. Nanabozho is the Ojibwe trickster figure and culture hero [[these two archetypes are often combined into a single figure in First Nations mythologies).

He plays a similar role as the Saulteaux Wiisagejaak [[Cree Wisakedjak)—eastern James Bay Crees call this figure 'Chikapash', who is said to be a shape shifter. [[He can change from various animal forms to various human forms [[adult to child) and various mythical animals such as [[the great big porcupine, or big skunk.) Note, there is a bird in the northern territories of Canada known as a whiskeyjack. You can see where his name comes from. Chikapash conquered or diminished these mythical animals to smaller size after killing or changing them with his trickery or shape shifting.

The Algonquin had a similar figure called Ganoozhigaabe [[Abenaki Gluskabe). Also spelled Glooscap. He was the son of Wiininwaa [["Nourishment"),[1] a human mother, and E-bangishimog [["In the West"), a spirit father.

Hiawatha in Longfellow's poem is based upon Nanabozho, but the name Hiawatha comes from the Onondaga. Hiawatha is said to be the founder of the Iroquois confederacy at least 500 years ago. Six Nations with similar languages came together the Onondaga, the Seneca, the Cayuga, Mohawk, and Oneida, and later the Tuscarora. You can see how the name fit better within the trachaic tetrameter chosen by Longfellow for his poem. Because of Longfellow's choice, many places around the UP and northern Michigan are known by Hiawatha's name.

Nanabozho most often appears in the shape of a rabbit and is characterized as a trickster. In his rabbit form, he is called Mishaabooz [["Great rabbit" or "Hare") or Chi-waabooz [["Big rabbit"). He was sent to Earth by Gitchi Manitou to teach the Ojibwe. One of his first tasks was to name all the plants and animals.

Nanabozho is considered to be the founder of Midewiwin. Like the Egyptian god Thoth, he is thought to be the inventor of fishing and hieroglyphs, and the creator of the earth.

Nanabojo is a trickster hero in Native American legend. He was the eldest of three brothers. The middle brother created the road to the spirit world after he died; the youngest brother was made of stone. Nanabojo killed his two younger brothers because he wanted to travel the earth freely. Ojibway myth has it that Nanabojo saved the forests from Paul Bunyan. They fought for forty days and nights, and Nanabojo killed Bunyan with a Red Lake walleye [[blackjack). [ This is a contemporary addition, after the invention of Paul Bunyan, rather than a traditional tale.]

[gazhekwe]

A little old Indian woman went into Republic National Bank with a sack full of money. She plopped it onto the desk of the Bank president as she had wrangled her way into his office. He was an Indian man.

"Where did you get money like this?" he asked her.

"Well, you see." She answered him. "I make bets."

"Bets?" He wanted to know.

"Yes." She replied. "For instance, I'll bet you $25,000. you are not brown all over. I bet that under your shorts you are white."

"The Indian president of the Bank told her, "Well, I will take that bet. I am brown all over."

"Okay," the wily old lady agreed. "However, tomorrow when we close the bet, I want my attorney with me. He is Indian too.

"Okay! Okay." The president of the bank was agreeable.

When he went home though he double checked to see if he was brown all over. After all $25,000. was at stake.

The next day when the little old Indian lady came in with her attorney, the president was ready for her.

The little old Indian woman told him. "I am not going to take your word for it. I want to see if you are brown all over."

The president thought for a moment and decided since it was, after all, $25,000 he would, indeed, drop his pants to show the little old Indian woman he was brown all over, which he did. He looked over at the Indian attorney who was banging his head against the wall.

"Why is he doing that?" The president asked.

The little old Indian woman answered, "Because I bet him $165,000 that the President of the Republic National Bank would drop his pants for me."

[gazhekwe]

Before there was a man, two women, an old one, Nokomis and her daughter Winona, were the only humans on earth. The old woman had not needed a man in order to conceive. Dibikigiizis, the Moon, saw her and fell in love with her. One night, he found her sleeping on the beach, and his rays of light touched her and bathed her all night long. So she conceived her daughter.

Ahki, the earth, also was like a woman -– female -- but not as she is now, because trees and many animals had not yet been made.

Winona took her basket out one day to go berrying. She had gathered enough and was returning home when a sudden gust of wind lifted her buckskin dress up high, baring her body. Giizis, the Sun, shone on that spot for a short moment and entered the body of the young woman, though she hardly noticed it. She was aware of the gust of wind but paid no attention.

Time passed. Winona said to her mother: "I don't know what's wrong with me, but something is." More time passed. Her belly grew bigger, and she said: "Something is moving inside me. What can it be?"

"When you were going berrying, did you meet anyone?" Nokomis asked.

"I met nobody. The only thing that happened was a big gust of wind which lifted my buckskin dress. The sun was shining."

The old woman said: "I think you're going to have a child. Giizis, the sun, is the only one who could have done it, so you will be the mother of a sun child."

The young woman gave birth to two boys, both manitos -– supernaturals. They were the first human males on this earth –- Giizis's sons, sons of the sun.

The young mother made cradleboards and put the twins in these, hanging them up or carrying them on her back, but never letting the babies touch the earth. Why didn't she? Did the Old Woman tell her not to? Nobody knows. If she had put the cradleboards on the ground, the babies would have walked upright from the moment of their birth, like deer babies. but because their mother would not let them touch earth for some months, it now takes human babies a year or so to walk. It was Winona's fault.

One of the twins was Stone Boy, a rock. He said: "Put me in the fire and heat me up until I glow red hot." They did, and he said: "Now pour cold water over me." They did this also. That was the first sweat bath. The other boy, named Nanabozbo, looked like all human boys. He became mighty and could do anything; he even talked to the animals and gave them their names.

[Some versions say the father was the West Wind. They say there were three children and Winona died when Stone Boy was born. That set Nanabozho against Stone Boy and he killed him. Some say Stone Boy was flint, and when he was burned, he split into many pieces that were sharp and proved very useful. In these versions, Nanabozho is raised by Nokomis which means Grandmother. He also has a grudge against his father, who he blames for abandoning his mother and him.]

Have a wonderful and safe Christmas Eve and Christmas!

[gazhekwe]

I want to share some of my favorite American Indian Christmas music with you.

This is a great collection by Carlos Nakai and William Eaton, Winter Dreams. It's Amazon but there is a button to sample all songs.

http://tinyurl.com/yhgc2l5

Same here, this one samples One Holy Night, by Brule':

http://tinyurl.com/ybz7wt8

This one samples American Indian Christmas, Jana Mashonee.

http://tinyurl.com/y8r5fhy

Jana was interviewed this morning on Tell Me More, and talked about the challenges of presenting ten songs in ten different Indian languages. She got permission from tribal councils, and had translation assistance from tribal elders. Some tribes turned her down because they felt their languages were sacred but not Christian. The music is beautiful.

This is O Come All Ye Faithful in Kalispell:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gHhcHlUO7mo

You can get the rest off the links on that page.

[Pam]

Gaz- did you see this article?

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20091227/...g_back_america

Native American tribes tired of waiting for the U.S. government to honor centuries-old treaties are buying back land where their ancestors lived and putting it in federal trust.

[gazhekwe]

No, I hadn't seen that yet. It's good info. Michigan tribes have been doing that as well, working to add to the trust lands. My community had several claims that involved waterfront and other valued land "owned" by other people. some of it was in Auburn Hills. Rather than part with that, the US offered a trade of some federal lands in the Hiawatha National Forest near the community. Some of it was on 100 year leases that will not be renewed and as they expire, the land will come back to our community. Our chairman has a pretty good strategy for land acquisition to make up for the thousands of acres retained in the treaties that were subsequently taken.

Thanks for posting that!

[gazhekwe]

Long ago there was only summer. The days were always warm and sunny. Winter and snow were unknown. For the young it was a time of happiness. They played all the time. Animals played with animals. Fish played with fish. Insects played with insects. Birds played with birds. They had many games -- hide-and-seek, blind-man's buff, and tag. They ran races, they wrestled, and they played lacrosse. The lakes, the meadows, and the skies rang with their laughter. From dawn to dusk the young played. No sooner had they finished one game than they began another. They ate little and rested even less. For the parents it was a time of worry. All they could do was try to keep their offspring from harming themselves. Only nighttime brought rest.

Maang, the loon, was no different from any of the other young birds. He played all their games. But most of all he liked to play lacrosse. If he had his way, he would never have played anything else. The trouble was that his friends did not always want to play lacrosse. Sometimes Maang had to beg them to share his game. When they agreed, and that was not often enough, he was happy. When they refused, he was sad. Maang simply had to find a way to make his friends play lacrosse with him whenever he wanted.

Finally Maang decided that the only thing to do was to challenge the other birds to a match. Off he went to look for someone to challenge. He did not have to go far. Almost at once he met the raven. Boldly Maang dared him; "My team can beat the feathers off your team any time." The raven cackled and croaked and then flew off without bothering to answer Maang.

Maang watched the raven disappear. e was very upset that the raven had paid no attention to his dare. Oh well, he thought to himself, there are better players than the raven. Besides, the raven cheats. Deep in thought, Maang almost bumped into Benae, the grouse.

Once again Maang tried a bold challenge. Looking Benae in the eye, he snarled, "Get out of my way, runt, or I'll rub your beak in the ground--just as I would on the lacrosse field.�

Benae puffed up his feathers in anger. Then just as quickly he relaxed and a smile spread slowly over his face. "I know what you’re up to,� Benae said, "but you can't trick me. I don't feel like playing lacrosse. Get someone else." And Benae turned and strutted off into the bush.

Maang was stunned. Twice he had been refused- Very rudely. Well, he would just have to try again.

"Do you want to play lacrosse, Kaikaik?" Maang asked.

"I don't think so,"Kaikaik replied, "it's too hot."

Maang answered very quickly, for he realized that Kaikaik, Hawk, had said no. "We can play tomorrow,"he said, "but lets choose our teams now. You can have first choice."

Kaikaik stretched his wings out and shook his tail. “Lacrosse is no fun when it is so easy to win," he said. To show his strength Kaikaik squeezed the dead tree with his talons- so hard that he broke off some chips.

"Let's make a bet then," Maang answered. "If you win, I'll do whatever you want. If I win, you'll have to play lacrosse with me whenever I want."

"Yes, yes!" Kaikaik replied eagerly. He knew that he would win. "Let's choose teams now."

First Kaikaik picked the raven, and Maang picked the Canada goose. Then Kaikaik chose the owl and Maang the robin. By the end of the afternoon the teams were made up. On his side Kaikaik had the raven, the owl, the chickadee, the snowbird, the cardinal, the woodpecker, the grouse, the junco, the pheasant, the partridge, the magpie, and the ptarmigan.

Maang had the Canada goose, the kingbird, the robin, the sparrow, the bluebird, the oriole, the scarlet tanager, the plover, the thrasher, the swallow, the catbird, and the kingfisher. Kaikaik's team was strong and included a few cheaters like the raven, but Maang was not worried. He had the kingbird on his side. The kingbird could handle anyone on Kaikaik's team.

"We'll meet tomorrow morning as soon as the sun comes up," Maang said. "And the team that scores the first goal wins the game."

"Agreed," answered Kaikaik.

The next morning at sunrise all the birds gathered to watch the two teams play. Kaikaik's fans were on one side of the field and Maang's were on the other. The game started. The woodpecker was keeping goal for Kaikaik's team and the oriole for Maang's. From the beginning Maang's team went on the attack. Their fans cheered loudly.

Maang's players were very quick, but they could not seem to score. Still, Kaikaik's fans were quiet. Their team was slow. It seemed to be just a matter of time before Maang's team slipped a goal past the woodpecker. Soon the grouse was injured and had to leave the field. Maang's supporters cheered. Then the raven was knocked down. He lay on the field rolling in pain and croaking for help. No one paid any attention to him. The rule was the play would not stop until the first goal was scored.

Then the swallow got the ball. He threw it with all his might towards Kaikaik's goal. As the ball went flying past the raven, he jumped to his feet and caught it. Off he raced towards Maang's goal. With a quick flip, he scored on oriole. From Maang's fans came a mighty groan. From Kaikaik's fans came an even mightier cheer. Kaikaik led his team to the middle of the field to meet Maang and his players. The fans crowded in to hear what Kaikaik would demand of Maang.

"Maang," Kaikaik said, "this is your penalty for losing. From now on, whenever the east wind blows, it will bring clouds and rain and thunderstorms, and you won't be able to play lacrosse."

The birds gasped. They had never heard of such a thing. But Maang did not pay much attention. "You only won because the raven cheated," he shouted. "We were winning until the raven pretended that he was hurt."

Kaikaik bristled and his eyes blazed. Maang went right on, "Let's have another game tomorrow. I know you can't win without cheating."

"What's the bet?" asked Kaikaik.

"The same bet," said Maang. "If I win, you must play lacrosse whenever I ask you. If I lose, I must do what ever you want. This time, though, I'd like the raven on my team."

"Agreed," said Kaikaik. "We can do without him."

At daybreak the next day a huge crowd gathered at the field. Even the animals came to watch. Who would win the second game? What penalty would Kaikaik demand if he won the second time?

Once again Maang's team carried the play to the end of Kaikaik's field so quickly Kaikaik's team couldn't touch it. Still, they could not get is past the woodpecker. He darted this way and that, blocking the ball with his feet, his wing, and his tail. The game went on and on.

Late in the afternoon Maang's team began to tire. One of Kaikaik's got the ball and threw it down the field towards Maang's goal. The raven, who was playing just as hard for Maang's team as he did on Kaikaik's team, caught the ball. He raced towards Kaikaik's goal. As he ran, the grouse came up behind him and tripped him. The grouse grabbed the ball and slipped it in Maang's goal and brought the long game to an end.

"Foul, Foul!" screamed Maang and his teammates, amid the thundering cheers of Kaikaik's fans. "Foul!" Maang screamed again to Bonsae the vulture, who was the referee. But Bonsae had not seen the grouse trip the raven. He declared that the score would stay.

Everyone rushed to the center of the field. What penalty would Maang and his friends have to pay this time?

Kaikaik looked sternly at Maang. "From now on," he said, "whenever the north winds blows, it will bring snow and bitter cold. You and your friends will have to leave this land."

That very night the north wind did begin to blow. Maang and his friends shivered in the snow. They could not stand the cold. Just as Kaikaik had said, they had to leave the land they loved.

Every year after that the north wind brought the cold winter and Maang and his friends had to fly to the south. If Maang had not been so eager to play lacrosse, if he hadn't made that foolish bet, winter would never have come.

[gazhekwe]

The thirteen moons of the Anishinaabe calendar celebrate the changes of the seasons. The new year actually starts with Ishkwaamizigewi-Giizis or Ziisibaakadakegiizis, the time of year when the sap is running for maple sugar harvest. It can be as early as late February or as late as April depending on the warm days and freezing nights.

Now of course we are on the same calendar as the rest of the nation.

In earlier times, our calendar was represented on the turtle's back. If you study the turtle's shell, you will find thirteen segments, one for each moon of the year. Around the edge there are 28 little segments, one for each day of each moon.

Attachment 4596

It is a very interesting story about how the turtle got its shell.

It seems one day Nanabozho was ambling lazily along a riverbank enoying the sunshine and the birds singing all around him. He didn't notice the Turtle, Mikinaak, sunning herself on his path ahead. At that time, she was all soft with no shell. In his daydream, he stepped right on her and she shrieked with pain.

"Oh,' he cried, picking up the little turtle. "I am so sorry! Gaainjidaa! I didn't mean to hurt you!" He comforted and soothed her and made sure she was all right.

"Now I will make sure you are never hurt this way again," he told the turtle.

Nanabozho dove into the river and searched its bottom until he found two big clamshells. Surfacing, he climbed back on the river bank where turtle was resting. He took her into his hands and placed one shell on her back, and then clamped the other underneath, so she was completely encased in the two shells.

"Now you will always be safe from clumsy footed creatures and from predators. If you are threatened, you can just pull your legs and head into your shell and be protected." With that he put her back down to go on her way.

Little did he know how useful the turtle and her shell would be in the future.