Till morning break--till morning break.
Sleep, sleep, my child, while still ‘tis night;
Then bravely wake--then bravely wake!
The Dakota women were wont to cut and bring their fuel from the woods
and, in fact, to perform most of the drudgery of the camp. This of
necessity fell to their lot, because the men must follow the game
during the day. Very often my grandmother carried me with her on these
excursions; and while she worked it was her habit to suspend me from a
wild grape vine or a springy bough, so that the least breeze would swing
the cradle to and fro.
She has told me that when I had grown old enough to take notice, I
was apparently capable of holding extended conversations in an unknown
dialect with birds and red squirrels. Once I fell asleep in my cradle,
suspended five or six feet from the ground, while Uncheedah was some
distance away, gathering birch bark for a canoe. A squirrel had found it
convenient to come upon the bow of my cradle and nibble his hickory nut,
until he awoke me by dropping the crumbs of his meal. My disapproval
of his intrusion was so decided that he had to take a sudden and quick
flight to another bough, and from there he began to pour out his wrath
upon me, while I continued my objections to his presence so audibly that
Uncheedah soon came to my rescue, and compelled the bold intruder to
go away. It was a common thing for birds to alight on my cradle in the
woods.
My food was, at first, a troublesome question for my kind foster-mother.
She cooked some wild rice and strained it, and mixed it with broth made
from choice venison. She also pounded dried venison almost to a flour,
and kept it in water till the nourishing juices were extracted, then
mixed with it some pounded maize, which was browned before pounding.
This soup of wild rice, pounded venison and maize was my main-stay. But
soon my teeth came--much earlier than the white children usually cut
theirs; and then my good nurse gave me a little more varied food, and I
did all my own grinding.
After I left my cradle, I almost walked away from it, she told me. She
then began calling my attention to natural objects. Whenever I heard
the song of a bird, she would tell me what bird it came from, something
after this fashion:
“Hakadah, listen to Shechoka (the robin) calling his mate. He says he
has just found something good to eat.” Or “Listen to Oopehanska (the
thrush); he is singing for his little wife. He will sing his best.” When
in the evening the whippoorwill started his song with vim, no further
than a stone’s throw from our tent in the woods, she would say to me:
“Hush! It may be an Ojibway scout!”
Again, when I waked at midnight, she would say:
“Do not cry! Hinakaga (the owl) is watching you from the tree-top.”
I usually covered up my head, for I had perfect faith in my
grandmother’s admonitions, and she had given me a dreadful idea of this
bird. It was one of her legends that a little boy was once standing just
outside of the teepee (tent), crying vigorously for his mother, when
Hinakaga swooped down in the darkness and carried the poor little
fellow up into the trees. It was well known that the hoot of the owl was
commonly imitated by Indian scouts when on the war-path. There had been
dreadful massacres immediately following this call. Therefore it was
deemed wise to impress the sound early upon the mind of the child.
Indian children were trained so that they hardly ever cried much in the
night. This was very expedient and necessary in their exposed life. In
my infancy it was my grandmother’s custom to put me to sleep, as she
said, with the birds, and to waken me with them, until it became a
habit. She did this with an object in view. An Indian must always
rise early. In the first place, as a hunter, he finds his game best at
daybreak. Secondly, other tribes, when on the war-path, usually make
their attack very early in the morning. Even when our people are moving
about leisurely, we like to rise before daybreak, in order to travel
when the air is cool, and unobserved, perchance, by our enemies.
As a little child, it was instilled into me to be silent and reticent.
This was one of the most important traits to form in the character
of the Indian. As a hunter and warrior it was considered absolutely
necessary to him, and was thought to lay the foundations of patience and
self-control. There are times when boisterous mirth is indulged in by
our people, but the rule is gravity and decorum.
After all, my babyhood was full of interest and the beginnings of life’s
realities. The spirit of daring was already whispered into my ears. The
value of the eagle feather as worn by the warrior had caught my eye.
One day, when I was left alone, at scarcely two years of age, I took my
uncle’s war bonnet and plucked out all its eagle feathers to decorate my
dog and myself. So soon the life that was about me had made its impress,
and already I desired intensely to comply with all of its demands.