Chogan and the White Feather

By

Larry Buege

Chapter One

I had been hoping for a peaceful morning, but the blunt end of Kanti’s spear was rudely probing my ribs to discourage further sleep. To say I enjoyed my sleep was understating the fact. Given a choice, I preferred to sleep until the sun had risen high in the sky. There appeared little chance of that this morning; the pressure against my ribs was becoming intense. If I ignored Kanti’s spear much longer, I would soon experience the spear’s business end. I forced open an eye and looked up at Kanti. She was standing in front of my sleeping bench with her bone-tipped spear hovering over my ribs in case I needed further encouragement.

“Chogan, it’s time to get up,” she said. “Mother wants us to gather acorns.”

“I’m awake,” I replied, but the eyelid over my open eye was rapidly drifting shut.

“I don’t want you just awake. I want you up—sitting up.”

I opened both eyes and glared at my sister. I had seen ten winters, and she had only seen eight. You would think that alone would provide some seniority in the family pecking order. The pointed end of Kanti’s spear was still hovering over my bruised ribs. You can’t argue with a sharpened spear tip. I sat up. I was the only family member still occupying a sleeping bench in the wigwam I shared with Mother, Grandfather, and Kanti. I assumed they had been up for some time. Their moose-skin robes were neatly folded on their sleeping benches. My sleeping bench was never that tidy.

“What is it Mother wants us to do?” I vaguely remembered Kanti saying Mother wanted us to do something. The details were lost somewhere in the fringes of sleep.

“She wants us to gather acorns—a basket full. We’ll never gather that much if you insist on sleeping all day.” Kanti lowered her spear tip.

I think Kanti is the only girl in the village who carries a spear. It’s her most prized position. I don’t know why she can’t take pleasure in weaving mats like normal girls. At one time the spear had been mine. Grandfather helped me make it several winters ago, but Kanti laid claim to the spear after Grandfather gave me his bow.

I rubbed my eyes awake and forced myself to my feet. If Mother was talking about the large basket, which I had no doubt she was, filling it with acorns would take most of the day. I pushed open the door flap to the wigwam and stepped into the sunlight. From the height of the sun, it had to be mid-morning. Mother was stooped over the fire circle nursing additional heat out of the remaining coals. Grandfather was nowhere in sight.

“Good morning, Mother. You want us to gather acorns?”

“Good morning, Chogan. I trust the chirping of the birds did not hinder your sleep.” Her sarcasm was softened by a slight smile. “Eat some breakfast. Then you and Kanti can gather acorns.”

Mother gave me a wooden bowl filled with steamed wild rice and small pieces of meat. I scooped up some of the rice and meat with my index and middle finger and raised it to my mouth. The meat tasted like beaver. Beaver was one of my favorite meats.

“Can we use the canoe?” I asked. “There’s a grove of oaks along the west shore of Lake Waabooz that’ll provide lots of acorns.”

Our village sat on the south shore of Gitche Gumee beside a river that flowed out of Lake Waabooz. Dragging a basket of acorns around the woods did not excite me—not when I could easily paddle up the river to Lake Waabooz and haul the acorns back by canoe.

“Grandfather is planning a hunt with the village elders,” Mother said. “He won’t need the canoe today. Just make sure you and Kanti are back by supper time.”

“I’ll pack food for lunch and bring the deerskin knee pads. Chogan, you get the paddles.” Kanti gave me a large basket for the acorns and then took off to fill our leather pouches with more food than I could possibly eat.

I didn’t know why Kanti always had to be in charge. I grabbed the two paddles that were leaning against the wigwam and headed toward the riverbank where we left our canoe when not in use. Eight birch bark canoes sat patiently on the sandy beach beside the river. Later, there would be many more canoes lining the riverbank once everyone had returned from their various errands. Our canoe was shorter than most. Grandfather says that helps when maneuvering on rivers. I laid the paddles and basket in the canoe and then stretched out on the sand to wait for Kanti. My body still wanted to sleep.

Mother had painted a large red “V” on the bow of the canoe. A solid circle at the bottom of the “V” gave a vague impression of an eagle in flight. The eagle is our family totem and provides for our well-being. Having its symbol on the canoe brings good luck and ensures a safe trip for all passengers. At least that’s what I have been told. I wasn’t sure how true it was. I didn’t have to wait long for Kanti. She arrived filled with an abnormal level of enthusiasm. Gathering acorns did not inspire me.

“Here’s your lunch.” Kanti handed me a leather pouch with a strap for hanging around the neck. Mother made each of us a pouch several winters ago. I opened mine and looked inside. It was filled with dried meat—much more than I could eat. I assumed Kanti would eat all of hers. Her stomach was a bottomless pit. I didn’t know how she stayed so skinny.

I pushed the canoe into the river and pointed the bow upstream. Then Kanti climbed aboard and kneeled on the rolled deerskin she used for padding. I climbed into the back of the canoe and did likewise. We were lucky the water level was low. In the spring, when the river is filled with melting snow, paddling against the current would have been impossible. Even with the reduced current, the sun would be high in the sky by the time we reached the lake.

“Chogan, do you think we’ll have time to spear some fish or maybe some frogs?”

“Only if we quickly fill the basket with acorns. Mother won’t consider three or four frogs a suitable replacement for a basketful of acorns.”

Kanti had once speared a large bass. It had been mostly luck, but she dreamed of repeating the performance. She would fair better spearing frogs. I dipped my paddle into the water and pushed the canoe forward.

Even though paddling upstream was hard work, I found canoeing the river relaxing. It was a welcome escape from the noise and activity of the village. The deep green leaves on the cedar trees that lined the river banks suggested adventure and called out to me, urging me to further explore the river. How could I resist? We silently made our way up the river. The scenery was too beautiful to ruin with words.

The river was home to birds and animals of all sizes: from the small black-capped chickadee to the great blue heron. Even beaver, which are normally nocturnal, occasionally made an appearance, although we had yet to see any.

“Chogan, see that deer up ahead?” Kanti said. “I’m going to spear it.”

I looked where Kanti was pointing and found a small buck drinking at the water’s edge. Kanti was obviously indulging in more fantasy. The buck would disappear long before we approached near enough for Kanti to throw her spear. Even then, she couldn’t throw the spear with sufficient force to do more than irritate the buck. Since it is much easier to humor Kanti than to explain reality, I guided the canoe toward the buck. It glanced up at us and then quickly disappeared into the woods, as I knew it would.

“Look, Tarragon, Chogan thinks he can paddle a canoe.”

“His mother must have him baby sitting again.”

“Hey, Chogan, does baby sister really think she can spear a deer?”

I didn’t need to look back to see who was following us. Ahanu’s and Tarragon’s voices were all too familiar. Every village had its bully. Our village had the misfortune of having two of them. They had seen one more winter than I and were bigger and stronger. I guided the canoe toward the river’s edge to let them pass. It was much safer to ignore them and prevent a confrontation. With their stronger arms, they would quickly pass us by.

“Out of our way, Chogan.”

We were as close to the shore as we could get our canoe, but Ahanu was steering directly at as. I feared we would collide. At the last moment, Ahanu dragged his paddle in the water, turning his canoe parallel to ours. My fist would not fit in the gap between the two canoes. I pulled my paddle out of the water to await their passing. It was nothing more than harassment, which I am sure they considered good sport. I could live with that.

Ahanu was sitting in the back of their canoe. He was wearing his bear-claw necklace that his father had given him. Each claw was separated by a large snail shell. It was a beautiful necklace, and I was envious, although I would never tell him that. As Ahanu glided past the front of our canoe, he grabbed the bow and lifted it clear of the water. With only Kanti’s weight in the front of the canoe, it was not a difficult maneuver. He then gave it a twist sending Kanti and me into the water. That I hadn’t expected, and the cold water took me by surprise. Fortunately the water was shallow in this section of the river, and we didn’t have to swim to shore. By the time I climbed to my feet, Ahanu and Tarragon were several canoe lengths away. Their laughter suggested satisfaction with their prank.

“Are you okay, Kanti?” Kanti is not as even tempered as I am. She was fuming. It was good that Mother was not around to hear the names she was calling Ahanu and Tarragon. If Kanti had found her spear in time, I am sure she would have hurled it at them.

“If they come back, I’m going to poke one of them in the leg with my spear.”

I had no doubt she would if given the chance. “That would make Grandfather happy,” I said, but my sarcasm was lost on Kanti.

“Then I could at least punch a hole in their canoe.”

“You can do that later. Right now I need your help with the canoe.”

I pulled the overturned canoe toward shore to empty the water. Our kneeling pads were soaked, but the canoe appeared undamaged. We dumped out the water and climbed into the canoe. Kanti placed her spear at her side in case we overtook Ahanu and Tarragon, but there was little chance of that. They were training for the Lake Waabooz canoe race and would be far ahead of us. The race was held every summer at the Gathering-of-the-Tribes and was open to all boys who had yet to see their twelfth winter. Ahanu and Tarragon had won the race two years in a row and expected to win a third.

Unlike Kanti, I had my fill with Ahanu and Tarragon and relished no desire for second encounter. They would paddle to the far end of Lake Waabooz before returning to the river. I expected to be gathering acorns along the shore before that happened. Just the same, I increased the power of my strokes.

I knew we were getting close to the lake when I heard Windigo’s roar. The river becomes violent and filled with rage as it leaves Lake Waabooz. For five hundred paces, the water cascades over sunken logs and smashes its way around large boulders. In several places the water plunges more than Kanti’s height in a matter of seconds. I have only seen the rapids’ destructive power from the shore, but that was sufficient to earn my respect. Villagers call the rapids the Windigo after a mythical flesh-eating beast that has a passion for human meat. Like the Windigo, the rapids consumes all who dare test its fury.

Paddling against that current was impossible even for the strongest men, and coming down the Windigo in a canoe was suicidal. Fortunately, a shallow tributary bypassed the rapids. It made for a much longer trip, but a safe route to the lake was assured.

I guided the canoe along the shoreline were the current was minimal and then turned into the narrow tributary. The water was shallow and almost stagnant. I tried to stay in the deepest channel when possible, but I could still hear the bottom of the canoe scraping the rocks on the river bottom. That wasn’t good for the canoe.

“I think we’ll have to pull the canoe through this section,” I said. I climbed out of the canoe, and Kanti did likewise. The water was only ankle deep, but without our weight in the canoe, it easily floated over the rocks.

“Do you really think we’ll have time to spear frogs after we fill the basket with acorns?”

“Only if we hurry. Mother wants us back in time for supper,” I replied.

Kanti would not be happy until she speared something. Spearing frogs was better than spearing Ahanu or Tarragon, although the image of that brought a smile to my face.

After thirty paces we were able climb back into the canoe. That was better than walking. With the water level being low, I expected we would be doing more walking than I cared for. My paddle scrapped the bottom with every stroke.

“Chogan, there’s a big fish ahead of us!”

Kanti must have struck the fish with her paddle; water splashed all over the front of the canoe. I could see “V” shaped ripples moving through the water as the fish tried to escape. Kanti was right: It was a big fish.

“I’m going to spear it.” Kanti was already out of the canoe with spear in hand. “You hold the canoe.”

I climbed out of the canoe to give chase. With almost no current, the canoe wasn’t going anywhere. Kanti threw her spear at the fish but failed to lead her moving target. The fish continued on its way. I rushed ahead of him to prevent his escape.

“Don’t let him get into deep water,” I said.

The fish was a large sucker on its way up the river to Lake Waabooz. If we kept him in the shallow water, there was a good chance of catching him. Kanti retrieved her spear and gave it another threw. The results were no better than her first throw. It did convince the fish to make a “U” turn. The fish was heading directly at me. Its dorsal fin was now protruding above the shallow water.

“I’ll get him,” I said. I lunged at the fish aiming for its tail. I was already wet from overturning in the canoe. Any further water was of no consequence. I managed to get a grip on the fish’s tail and hung on tightly. Water splashed into my face, but I didn’t care. I had my fish.

“I got him,” I said. No sooner had I spoken when a spear pierced the fish a finger’s breadth from my fist. I glared up at Kanti. “I said I had him.”

“You needed help.”

She must have hit a vital spot. The fish immediately ceased wiggling. Kanti lifted up her spear with its attached fish to inspect her catch. She appeared satisfied with her trophy even though I had actually caught it first. Perhaps now we could concentrate on gathering acorns.

“We need to get going,” I said. I didn’t want to waste more time. Ahanu and Tarragon would soon be coming back down the river, and I wanted to be on shore gathering acorns before that happened. I climbed into the canoe while Kanti continued admiring her fish. She made no effort to climb aboard until I began paddling the canoe upstream.

“Hey, wait for me.” Kanti threw the fish into the canoe and scrambled to her spot in the front of the canoe. “What’s the rush?”

“If you want to spear frogs, we need to get this basket filled with acorns.” That seemed to appease Kanti. She began putting some muscle into her strokes.

The shallow tributary soon opened into Lake Waabooz. The islands in the center of the lake made the lake appear smaller than it actually was. The lake was really quite large. Cattails and shoots of wild rice formed a green border along the shoreline. In the fall, when the wild rice ripens, the lake would be covered with canoes filled with villagers gathering rice. Without the wild rice and acorns, we would never survive the winter. At the moment I could see only one other canoe. That would have to be Ahanu and Tarragon returning from the other side of the lake. I pointed our canoe toward the grove of oaks on the western shore.

“Look, Chogan, there’s Migizi.” Kanti pointed up at the sky. “That’s why I was able to spear the fish. Migizi was watching over us.”

I looked in the direction Kanti was pointing. A bald eagle was circling overhead in search of fish, small ducks, or anything else that would make a suitable meal. The eagle was our family totem and is supposed to look after us and produce good fortune. If it were really looking after us, why didn’t Ahanu and Tarragon’s canoe tip over instead of ours?

The eagle spiraled downward to obtain a better look at us. I am sure it had its eye on the sucker lying in our canoe. That was wishful thinking on the eagle’s part. There was no way I was going to part with my fish after I skinned my knuckles catching it. The eagle could catch its own fish.

“It’s missing a tail feather.”

I shielded my eyes from the sun with my hand and looked up at the eagle. Kanti was right. The eagle had a gap in its tail feathers—not that I really cared.

“Where do you think Migizi lost his feather? Do you think we could find it? I want an eagle feather to tie onto my spear. Fish won’t have a chance against my spear with Migizi’s feather attached to it.”

“When an eagle’s feather becomes loose, they pull it out,” I said. “It’s like losing a tooth. The feather is most likely in its nest or some other high place where you will never find it. We’re after acorns, not feathers—remember?”

I could tell Kanti’ was still obsessed with eagle feathers; there was no power in her strokes. Fortunately, we were almost to the stand of oaks. I guided the boat through a gap in the cattails and pulled up to the shore. Then I grabbed the basket and climbed out of the canoe.

“Are you going to help or are you going to sit there gawking at the eagle?” Kanti reluctantly climbed out of the canoe with spear in hand. “And leave the spear in the canoe. You won’t be needing it. The acorns are friendly in these parts.” I needed Kanti gathering acorns with both hands if we were to fill the basket. If she had her spear with her, she would be too easily distracted by toads in need of spearing.

We climbed up the hill toward the oaks. The trees were much bigger than they appeared from the lake. These trees were huge, and the ground was covered with acorns. Our timing was perfect. If we had come much earlier, the acorns would still be clinging to the trees, and if we had come much later, the blue jays would have eaten most of them and stashed the rest in secret hideaways. They also liked acorns. It wouldn’t take us long to fill the basket if the rest of the woods was like this.

“After we fill the basket with acorns, can we look for Migizi’s nest?”

“If we fill the basket and still have time, I suppose we can search for Migizi’s nest instead of spearing frogs.” I didn’t explain to Kanti that any eagle’s nest we found would be at the top of some white pine or other inaccessible lofty spot. There was no way she was getting an eagle feather.

That must have been the correct answer. I have never seen Kanti so motivated. She gathered one hundred acorns in the time it took me to gather fifty. The basket was quickly filling. We worked our way north parallel to the lake until the forest gave way to an open field. Burnt stumps and charred logs were testimony to the fire that had cleared the area.

“Look, Chogan, blueberries. We can have blueberries with our lunch.”

Kanti was right. Blueberry bushes had filled in the areas cleared by the fire. The blueberries were large and thick and the color of the mid-day sky. I plucked several of the larger berries from one of the bushes and tossed them into my mouth. They tasted sweet and juicy—just the way I liked them.

“There’s a log we can sit on while we eat lunch.”

Kanti headed for the log without waiting for my reply. She had a good idea, but I would have preferred some input in the decisions Kanti was making. From the log we could see the lake as well as our canoe at the bottom of the hill. It was definitely a pleasant spot to eat lunch. I sat down on the log and pulled a stick of jerky from my leather pouch. Until now, I hadn’t realized how hungry I was. I took a bite of jerky and let it soak in my mouth while I savored its flavor. It tasted sweet with a slightly smoky taste. I ate blueberries between bites of jerky. The blueberry bushes were so abundant I could pluck berries without moving from my seat on the log.

“I wonder if anyone knows about this blueberry patch,” I said. “We could pick a lot of berries if we were the only ones who knew about it.”

“Look! There’s Migizi.” Kanti pointed toward the sky above us. “He helped us find the blueberry patch. I have to get one of his feathers.”

I looked above us. A bald eagle was soaring in tight circles over our heads. He was not far above us, making his missing tail feather all the more obvious. I tossed a few more berries into my mouth while I watched the eagle float effortlessly through the cloudless sky. It was a beautiful bird. Then it drifted east toward the lake where it again began circling. It took a moment or two before it hit me—it was circling over our canoe.

“Kanti! The canoe!” I began running downhill toward the lake where our canoe was beached. Kanti was right behind me, although I didn’t know if she appreciated the reason for the haste. My worst fears were confirmed as we approached the shoreline. The eagle was perched on the edge of our canoe. I picked up a rock and prepared to heave it at the bird, but it was too late. The eagle lifted off from the canoe with my sucker clutched in its talons. I threw the rock at him anyway.

“Isn’t he beautiful?” Kanti was filled with awe as she watched the eagle fly off with my sucker. “We are so lucky to have a totem like Migizi looking out for us.”

“I skinned my knuckles catching that fish,” I said. Kanti offered no sympathy. The eagle was a beautiful animal, although I think Migizi was looking out for Migizi more that he was looking out for us.

“Let’s see where he goes. Maybe we can find his nest.”

Kanti ran down to the water’s edge for a better view. The eagle was flying south along the shoreline. It was amazing the eagle could fly at all with the weight of such a large fish in its claws.

“It’s heading toward the cliff,” Kanti said.

Farther south of us, the shoreline rose up forming a vertical wall of granite. If I had to guess, I would say thirty men standing on shoulders would fail to reach its top. Kanti and I watched the eagle shrink into a dark spot against a blue sky. It was definitely heading toward the cliff. I had never seen the cliff up close, but there had to be a ledge somewhere on the wall large enough for an eagle’s nest. I knew what Kanti was thinking.

“Remember, you said we could look for the Migizi’s nest after we filled our basket with acorns.”

“But we found the nest,” I said. “Now we can get our basket of acorns and head for home.”

Kanti placed her hands on her hips and glared at me. If looks could kill, buzzards would be circling over my remains. I considered myself lucky Kanti had left her spear in the canoe. I hated bloodshed, especially when the blood was mine. I did sort of promise to help Kanti look for the eagle’s nest, but I never thought we would actually find it.

“Okay, help me load the acorns into the canoe, and then maybe we can check out the cliff. Even if we find a nest, there’s no way you’ll be able to reach it. Eagles always build nests in inaccessible spots.”

We returned to the log were we left our lunch pouches. I would have liked to have gathered more blueberries, but Kanti did not have such patience. She began dragging the basket of acorns toward the canoe. I feared she might tear the bottom of the basket. Perhaps we could return tomorrow and pick the berries. Mother always liked blueberries.

“Wait, Kanti. You’ll rip the bottom out.” I grabbed a side of the basket. Between the two of us, we were able to lift it off the ground. We placed the basket in the center of the canoe and pushed off. I had to admit, I was also anxious to see what the eagle’s nest looked like.

The granite wall was even taller than I had imagined. The closer we got, the bigger it grew. There was no slope to the cliff; it rose straight up. We pulled the canoe onto the rocky shore. About ten paces of pebbled beach separated the water from the cliff.

“I think this is the area where we lost sight of the eagle,” I said. Just looking up at the cliff made me dizzy. I hate heights. “See that ledge about three-fourths of the way up.” Kanti nodded. “Maybe that’s where the nest is.” I could see a few twigs extending beyond the ledge. As if to prove me right, a bald eagle hidden from view behind the ledge spread its wings and took to flight. I guess we must have spooked him.

“It’s Migizi! That has to be his nest. I’m climbing up to get one of his feathers.”

Before I could stop her, Kanti grabbed a protruding piece of the granite wall and pulled herself up. A multitude of crevices and irregularities in the cliff wall provided handholds and support for her feet, but they were widely spaced in some spots. She had only climbed half her height when she ran out of hand holds; her arms weren’t long enough.

“Come on down. There’s no way you can climb to the nest without killing yourself. No eagle feather is worth that much.”

Kanti jumped down. “I could do it if my arms were a longer. I bet you could climb up there.” Kanti looked at me to see if I would accept the challenge.

I looked up at the eagle’s nest, and my head began to spin again. There was no way I would ever climb up there even if I could. “It’s getting late,” I said. “We need to go. Maybe we can return tomorrow and pick berries. It’ll give us an excuse to get out of the village.” I feared Mother would have us shelling all those acorns, if we had nothing better to do.

Kanti reluctantly headed for the canoe. The shadow of the eagle circling above us flashed across the stony beach. I am sure he was anxious for us to leave so he could resume his fish dinner. It should have been my fish dinner. Kanti shaded her eyes with her hand and looked up at the eagle.

“Migizi, I will get one of your feathers,” she promised.

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