IT is commonly supposed that there is no systematic education of their
children among the aborigines of this country. Nothing could be farther
from the truth. All the customs of this primitive people were held to
be divinely instituted, and those in connection with the training
of children were scrupulously adhered to and transmitted from one
generation to another.
The expectant parents conjointly bent all their efforts to the task
of giving the new-comer the best they could gather from a long line
of ancestors. A pregnant Indian woman would often choose one of the
greatest characters of her family and tribe as a model for her child.
This hero was daily called to mind. She would gather from tradition all
of his noted deeds and daring exploits, rehearsing them to herself when
alone. In order that the impression might be more distinct, she avoided
company. She isolated herself as much as possible, and wandered in
solitude, not thoughtlessly, but with an eye to the impress given by
grand and beautiful scenery.
The Indians believed, also, that certain kinds of animals would confer
peculiar gifts upon the unborn, while others would leave so strong an
adverse impression that the child might become a monstrosity. A case
of hare-lip was commonly attributed to the rabbit. It was said that a
rabbit had charmed the mother and given to the babe its own features.
Even the meat of certain animals was denied the pregnant woman, because
it was supposed to influence the disposition or features of the child.
Scarcely was the embyro warrior ushered into the world, when he was met
by lullabies that speak of wonderful exploits in hunting and war. Those
ideas which so fully occupied his mother’s mind before his birth are now
put into words by all about the child, who is as yet quite unresponsive
to their appeals to his honor and ambition. He is called the future
defender of his people, whose lives may depend upon his courage and
skill. If the child is a girl, she is at once addressed as the future
mother of a noble race.
In hunting songs, the leading animals are introduced; they come to the
boy to offer their bodies for the sustenance of his tribe. The animals
are regarded as his friends, and spoken of almost as tribes of people,
or as his cousins, grandfathers and grandmothers. The songs of wooing,
adapted as lullabies, were equally imaginative, and the suitors were
often animals personified, while pretty maidens were represented by the
mink and the doe.
Very early, the Indian boy assumed the task of preserving and
transmitting the legends of his ancestors and his race. Almost every
evening a myth, or a true story of some deed done in the past, was
narrated by one of the parents or grandparents, while the boy listened
with parted lips and glistening eyes. On the following evening, he
was usually required to repeat it. If he was not an apt scholar, he
struggled long with his task; but, as a rule, the Indian boy is a good
listener and has a good memory, so that the stories were tolerably well
mastered. The household became his audience, by which he was alternately
criticized and applauded.
This sort of teaching at once enlightens the boy’s mind and stimulates
his ambition. His conception of his own future career becomes a vivid
and irresistible force. Whatever there is for him to learn must be
learned; whatever qualifications are necessary to a truly great man he
must seek at any expense of danger and hardship. Such was the feeling
of the imaginative and brave young Indian. It became apparent to him in
early life that he must accustom himself to rove alone and not to fear
or dislike the impression of solitude.
It seems to be a popular idea that all the characteristic skill of
the Indian is instinctive and hereditary. This is a mistake. All the
stoicism and patience of the Indian are acquired traits, and continual
practice alone makes him master of the art of wood-craft. Physical
training and dieting were not neglected. I remember that I was not
allowed to have beef soup or any warm drink. The soup was for the old
men. General rules for the young were never to take their food very hot,
nor to drink much water.
My uncle, who educated me up to the age of fifteen years, was a strict
disciplinarian and a good teacher. When I left the teepee in the
morning, he would say: “Hakadah, look closely to everything you see”;
and at evening, on my return, he used often to catechize me for an hour
or so.
“On which side of the trees is the lighter-colored bark? On which side
do they have most regular branches?”
It was his custom to let me name all the new birds that I had seen
during the day. I would name them according to the color or the shape
of the bill or their song or the appearance and locality of the nest--in
fact, anything about the bird that impressed me as characteristic. I
made many ridiculous errors, I must admit. He then usually informed me
of the correct name. Occasionally I made a hit and this he would warmly
commend.
He went much deeper into this science when I was a little older, that
is, about the age of eight or nine years. He would say, for instance:
“How do you know that there are fish in yonder lake?”
“Because they jump out of the water for flies at mid-day.”
He would smile at my prompt but superficial reply.
“What do you think of the little pebbles grouped together under the
shallow water? and what made the pretty curved marks in the sandy bottom
and the little sand-banks? Where do you find the fish-eating birds? Have
the inlet and the outlet of a lake anything to do with the question?”
He did not expect a correct reply at once to all the voluminous
questions that he put to me on these occasions, but he meant to make me
observant and a good student of nature.
“Hakadah,” he would say to me, “you ought to follow the example of the
shunktokecha (wolf). Even when he is surprised and runs for his life,
he will pause to take one more look at you before he enters his final
retreat. So you must take a second look at everything you see.
“It is better to view animals unobserved. I have been a witness to their
courtships and their quarrels and have learned many of their secrets in
this way. I was once the unseen spectator of a thrilling battle between
a pair of grizzly bears and three buffaloes--a rash act for the bears,
for it was in the moon of strawberries, when the buffaloes sharpen and
polish their horns for bloody contests among themselves.
“I advise you, my boy, never to approach a grizzly’s den from the front,
but to steal up behind and throw your blanket or a stone in front of the
hole. He does not usually rush for it, but first puts his head out and
listens and then comes out very indifferently and sits on his haunches
on the mound in front of the hole before he makes any attack. While he
is exposing himself in this fashion, aim at his heart. Always be as cool
as the animal himself.” Thus he armed me against the cunning of savage
beasts by teaching me how to outwit them.
“In hunting,” he would resume, “you will be guided by the habits of the
animal you seek. Remember that a moose stays in swampy or low land or
between high mountains near a spring or lake, for thirty to sixty days
at a time. Most large game moves about continually, except the doe in
the spring; it is then a very easy matter to find her with the fawn.
Conceal yourself in a convenient place as soon as you observe any signs
of the presence of either, and then call with your birchen doe-caller.
“Whichever one hears you first will soon appear in your neighborhood.
But you must be very watchful, or you may be made a fawn of by a large
wild-cat. They understand the characteristic call of the doe perfectly
well.
“When you have any difficulty with a bear or a wild-cat--that is, if
the creature shows signs of attacking you--you must make him fully
understand that you have seen him and are aware of his intentions. If
you are not well equipped for a pitched battle, the only way to make him
retreat is to take a long sharp-pointed pole for a spear and rush toward
him. No wild beast will face this unless he is cornered and already
wounded, These fierce beasts are generally afraid of the common weapon
of the larger animals--the horns, and if these are very long and sharp,
they dare not risk an open fight.
“There is one exception to this rule--the grey wolf will attack fiercely
when very hungry. But their courage depends upon their numbers; in this
they are like white men. One wolf or two will never attack a man. They
will stampede a herd of buffaloes in order to get at the calves; they
will rush upon a herd of antelopes, for these are helpless; but they are
always careful about attacking man.”
Of this nature were the instructions of my uncle, who was widely known
at that time as among the greatest hunters of his tribe.
All boys were expected to endure hardship without complaint. In
savage warfare, a young man must, of course, be an athlete and used to
undergoing all sorts of privations. He must be able to go without food
and water for two or three days without displaying any weakness, or to
run for a day and a night without any rest. He must be able to traverse
a pathless and wild country without losing his way either in the day or
night time. He cannot refuse to do any of these things if he aspires to
be a warrior.
Sometimes my uncle would waken me very early in the morning and
challenge me to fast with him all day. I had to accept the challenge.
We blackened our faces with charcoal, so that every boy in the village
would know that I was fasting for the day. Then the little tempters
would make my life a misery until the merciful sun hid behind the
western hills.
I can scarcely recall the time when my stern teacher began to give
sudden war-whoops over my head in the morning while I was sound asleep.
He expected me to leap up with perfect presence of mind, always ready
to grasp a weapon of some sort and to give a shrill whoop in reply. If
I was sleepy or startled and hardly knew what I was about, he would
ridicule me and say that I need never expect to sell my scalp dear.
Often he would vary these tactics by shooting off his gun just
outside of the lodge while I was yet asleep, at the same time giving
blood-curdling yells. After a time I became used to this.
When Indians went upon the war-path, it was their custom to try the new
warriors thoroughly before coming to an engagement. For instance, when
they were near a hostile camp, they would select the novices to go after
the water and make them do all sorts of things to prove their courage.
In accordance with this idea, my uncle used to send me off after water
when we camped after dark in a strange place. Perhaps the country was
full of wild beasts, and, for aught I knew, there might be scouts from
hostile bands of Indians lurking in that very neighborhood.
Yet I never objected, for that would show cowardice. I picked my way
through the woods, dipped my pail in the water and hurried back, always
careful to make as little noise as a cat. Being only a boy, my heart
would leap at every crackling of a dry twig or distant hooting of an
owl, until, at last, I reached our teepee. Then my uncle would perhaps
say: “Ah, Hakadah, you are a thorough warrior,” empty out the precious
contents of the pail, and order me to go a second time.
Imagine how I felt! But I wished to be a brave man as much as a white
boy desires to be a great lawyer or even President of the United States.
Silently I would take the pail and endeavor to retrace my footsteps in
the dark.
With all this, our manners and morals were not neglected. I was made to
respect the adults and especially the aged. I was not allowed to join in
their discussions, nor even to speak in their presence, unless requested
to do so. Indian etiquette was very strict, and among the requirements
was that of avoiding the direct address. A term of relationship or some
title of courtesy was commonly used instead of the personal name by
those who wished to show respect. We were taught generosity to the poor
and reverence for the “Great Mystery.” Religion was the basis of all
Indian training.
I recall to the present day some of the kind warnings and reproofs
that my good grandmother was wont to give me. “Be strong of heart--be
patient!” she used to say. She told me of a young chief who was noted
for his uncontrollable temper. While in one of his rages he attempted to
kill a woman, for which he was slain by his own band and left unburied
as a mark of disgrace--his body was simply covered with green grass. If
I ever lost my temper, she would say:
“Hakadah, control yourself, or you will be like that young man I told
you of, and lie under a green blanket!”
In the old days, no young man was allowed to use tobacco in any form
until he had become an acknowledged warrior and had achieved a
record. If a youth should seek a wife before he had reached the age of
twenty-two or twenty-three, and been recognized as a brave man, he was
sneered at and considered an ill-bred Indian. He must also be a skillful
hunter. An Indian cannot be a good husband unless he brings home plenty
of game.
These precepts were in the line of our training for the wild life.