Chogan and the Gray Wolf

By

Larry Buege

Chapter One

The Big Fish

A chickadee dressed in black cap and bib flew from branch to branch announcing my presence to all who would listen. I wished it no harm, but the chickadee remained skeptical. My moccasins created little noise as I walked along the riverbank where the leaves on the forest floor were still damp from the early morning dew.

Trout swim up stream every spring to spawn, and I was hoping to spear several of them for the spring feast. Tonight we would rejoice and celebrate with games and dancing and much to eat. But what I enjoyed most about the spring feast were the tales men told around the campfire, even the stories I had heard many times before.

As I walked along the riverbank, I held my spear ready for any trout that might pass my way. Two fish had already discovered the sharp point of my spear. The trout on the stringer were an impressive achievement for a boy of ten winters. Later in the afternoon, they would provide great honor when I donated them to the spring feast.

Melting snow had swollen the river, and in many places the river now overflowed its banks. The water still remained clear, and I could see the stony bottom where minnows darted from rock to rock. I walked farther upstream, staying in the shadows as much as possible. Just past a bend in the river, I came to an abandoned beaver dam where the water spilled over the neglected dam in a small cascade. Here the water was deeper, and the rocks on the river bottom appeared as fuzzy outlines. It was a good place for trout to hide. I stayed in the shadows while I studied the riverbed. I looked for motion. In water that deep, motion was the only way to tell a fish from a rock. I studied each dark object for a moment or two before proceeding to the next object.

I was about to move farther up the river when I saw it. 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. I began to tremble. The fish was as big as Grandfather’s thigh. I watched it from the shadow of a bush. Grandfather says I must understand the ways of the fish. I must think like a fish.

The trout swam into the current to feed, but always returned to the rock to rest. The boulder, which rose almost to the waterline, forced the water to flow around it and provided shelter from the current.

There was no way I could spear the fish from shore. I needed to wade into the cold water. It would be worth the discomfort if I could add that trout to my stringer. 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 flowed over the tops of my moccasins and down onto my feet. I knew the water would be cold, but I hadn’t expected it to be that cold. My feet began to ache, and I shivered uncontrollably.

I approached the boulder from the left, so my shadow wouldn’t spook the fish, but when I reached the boulder, the fish was gone. Hopefully, it was feeding in the current and would return 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, making it difficult to hold my spear steady. Grandfather says it requires patience to spear great fish. I waited. My feet were becoming numb. 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. It took my breath away. It was bigger than I had thought. I didn’t know fish could grow that large.

The trout stopped just to the right of my spear tip. If I moved the spear, it would see the spear and swim away. I waited. The fish drifted to the right and then to the left, but never came 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 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, and I became drenched, 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 brought this back to 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.

I added it to the stringer holding the smaller fish. They were unworthy of sharing the same stringer, but food was food. I would take them all back to the village. I was bending down to pick up the stringer 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 ten 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. 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.

I had no doubt it 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 something else to eat, it would forget about me. I lowered my fish to the ground and backed away. The bear walked up to the fish and gave them a sniff with his black nose. I backed further away. The giant bear placed a paw over the head of my prize fish and ripped open its belly with its teeth. I continued walking backwards, until thirty paces separated us. Then I quietly slipped into the woods.

I ran until I could run no more, and then I looked behind me. There was no sign of the bear. The forest was silent. Since a bear that size was incapable of walking quietly through the woods, I assumed it was happy with the trout dinner I had provided. I jogged the rest of the way to our village.

Chapter Two

The Spring Feast

Our village sits on the shore of Gitche Gumee near the mouth of a river. Gitche Gumee is a lake so big it has no far shore. Grandfather says when he was younger he paddled his canoe to the far side, but it took him two days.

Normally, the village is quiet, but not today. Everyone was so busy preparing for the big feast that no one noticed when I entered the village. The men had returned from the hunt with several deer, and women were cutting the meat into strips for drying. There would be no shortage of meat 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 and was now 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 bring 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 been playing tricks on 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 fish and 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.

“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 that 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 young 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 we 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 he 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 after me.

“It was a large bear.” I left it at that, hoping Kanti wouldn’t pursue the topic.

“Some of the 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 talking about 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, which created a cloud of white smoke. That would keep the flies away from the meat. Then Mother placed the deer’s back leg on a stick and hung it over the fire to absorb some of 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. You need to care for her.”

That was not what I wanted to hear. Dragging a younger 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 where they were playing baggataway.

“Chogan, wait for me.”

“Hurry, then. The game has 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 the players, but I assumed they were on the other side of the crowd. I pushed through the crowd, working my way toward the front with Kanti tightly hanging on to my 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, although no one would admit it. 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 a steady rhythm. 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 people dancing 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 traps 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 told about the hills. He said they were purple and so tall they rose up to kiss the sky. He said at the top of the hills it was winter all year long, and they were covered with snow. 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 this time 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.

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