WHEN our people lived in Minnesota, a good part of their natural
subsistence was furnished by the wild rice, which grew abundantly in all
of that region. Around the shores and all over some of the innumerable
lakes of the “Land of Sky-blue Water” was this wild cereal found.
Indeed, some of the watery fields in those days might be compared
in extent and fruitfulness with the fields of wheat on Minnesota’s
magnificent farms to-day.
The wild rice harvesters came in groups of fifteen to twenty families
to a lake, depending upon the size of the harvest. Some of the Indians
hunted buffalo upon the prairie at this season, but there were more who
preferred to go to the lakes to gather wild rice, fish, gather berries
and hunt the deer. There was an abundance of water-fowls among the
grain; and really no season of the year was happier than this.
The camping-ground was usually an attractive spot, with shade and cool
breezes off the water. The people, while they pitched their teepees upon
the heights, if possible, for the sake of a good outlook, actually lived
in their canoes upon the placid waters. The happiest of all, perhaps,
were the young maidens, who were all day long in their canoes, in twos
or threes, and when tired of gathering the wild cereal, would sit in the
boats doing their needle-work.
These maidens learned to imitate the calls of the different water-fowls
as a sort of signal to the members of a group. Even the old women and
the boys adopted signals, so that while the population of the village
was lost to sight in a thick field of wild rice, a meeting could be
arranged without calling any one by his or her own name. It was a great
convenience for those young men who sought opportunity to meet certain
maidens, for there were many canoe paths through the rice.
August is the harvest month. There were many preliminary feasts of fish,
ducks and venison, and offerings in honor of the “Water Chief,” so
that there might not be any drowning accident during the harvest. The
preparation consisted of a series of feasts and offerings for many days,
while women and men were making birch canoes, for nearly every member
of the family must be provided with one for this occasion. The blueberry
and huckleberry-picking also preceded the rice-gathering.
There were social events which enlivened the camp of the harvesters;
such as maidens’ feasts, dances and a canoe regatta or two, in which not
only the men were participants, but women and young girls as well.
On the appointed day all the canoes were carried to the shore and placed
upon the water with prayer and propitiatory offerings. Each family took
possession of the allotted field, and tied all the grain in bundles of
convenient size, allowing it to stand for a few days. Then they again
entered the lake, assigning two persons to each canoe. One manipulated
the paddle, while the foremost one gently drew the heads of each bundle
toward him and gave it a few strokes with a light rod. This caused the
rice to fall into the bottom of the craft. The field was traversed in
this manner back and forth until finished.
This was the pleasantest and easiest part of the harvest toil. The real
work was when they prepared the rice for use. First of all, it must be
made perfectly dry. They would spread it upon buffalo robes and mats,
and sometimes upon layers of coarse swamp grass, and dry it in the sun.
If the time was short, they would make a scaffold and spread upon it a
certain thickness of the green grass and afterward the rice. Under this
a fire was made, taking care that the grass did not catch fire.
When all the rice is gathered and dried, the hulling begins. A round
hole is dug about two feet deep and the same in diameter. Then the rice
is heated over a fire-place, and emptied into the hole while it is hot.
A young man, having washed his feet and put on a new pair of moccasins,
treads upon it until all is hulled. The women then pour it upon a robe
and begin to shake it so that the chaff will be separated by the wind.
Some of the rice is browned before being hulled.
During the hulling time there were prizes offered to the young men who
can hull quickest and best. There were sometimes from twenty to fifty
youths dancing with their feet in these holes.
Pretty moccasins were brought by shy maidens to the youths of their
choice, asking them to hull rice. There were daily entertainments which
deserved some such name as “hulling bee”--at any rate, we all enjoyed
them hugely. The girls brought with them plenty of good things to eat.
When all the rice was prepared for the table, the matter of storing it
must be determined. Caches were dug by each family in a concealed
spot, and carefully lined with dry grass and bark. Here they left their
surplus stores for a time of need. Our people were very ingenious in
covering up all traces of the hidden food. A common trick was to build
a fire on top of the mound. As much of the rice as could be carried
conveniently was packed in par-fleches, or cases made of rawhide, and
brought back with us to our village.
After all, the wild Indians could not be justly termed improvident, when
their manner of life is taken into consideration. They let nothing go
to waste, and labored incessantly during the summer and fall to lay
up provision for the inclement season. Berries of all kinds were
industriously gathered, and dried in the sun. Even the wild cherries
were pounded up, stones and all, made into small cakes and dried for use
in soups and for mixing with the pounded jerked meat and fat to form a
much-prized Indian delicacy.
Out on the prairie in July and August the women were wont to dig
teepsinna with sharpened sticks, and many a bag full was dried and put
away. This teepsinna is the root of a certain plant growing mostly upon
high sandy soil. It is starchy but solid, with a sweetish taste, and is
very fattening. The fully grown teepsinna is two or three inches long,
and has a dark-brown bark not unlike the bark of a young tree. It can be
eaten raw or stewed, and is always kept in a dried state, except when it
is first dug.
There was another root that our people gathered in small quantities. It
is a wild sweet potato, found in bottom lands or river beds.
The primitive housekeeper exerted herself much to secure a variety of
appetizing dishes; she even robbed the field mouse and the muskrat to
accomplish her end. The tiny mouse gathers for her winter use several
excellent kinds of food. Among these is a wild bean which equals in
flavor any domestic bean that I have ever tasted. Her storehouse is
usually under a peculiar mound, which the untrained eye would be unable
to distinguish from an ant-hill. There are many pockets underneath, into
which she industriously gathers the harvest of the summer.
She is fortunate if the quick eye of a native woman does not detect her
hiding-place. About the month of September, while traveling over the
prairie, a woman is occasionally observed to halt suddenly and waltz
around a suspected mound. Finally the pressure of her heel causes a
place to give way, and she settles contentedly down to rob the poor
mouse of the fruits of her labor.
The different kinds of beans are put away in different pockets, but
it is the oomenechah she wants. The field mouse loves this savory
vegetable, for she always gathers it more than any other. There is also
some of the white star-like manakcahkcah, the root of the wild lily.
This is a good medicine and good to eat.
When our people were gathering the wild rice, they always watched for
another plant that grows in the muddy bottom of lakes and ponds. It is
a white bulb about the size of an ordinary onion. This is stored away
by the muskrats in their houses by the waterside, and there is often a
bushel or more of the psinchinchah to be found within. It seemed as if
everybody was good to the wild Indian; at least we thought so then.
I have referred to the opportunities for courting upon the wild rice
fields. Indian courtship is very peculiar in many respects; but when you
study their daily life you will see the philosophy of their etiquette
of love-making. There was no parlor courtship; the life was largely
out-of-doors, which was very favorable to the young men
In a nomadic life where the female members of the family have entire
control of domestic affairs, the work is divided among them all. Very
often the bringing of the wood and water devolves upon the young maids,
and the spring or the woods become the battle-ground of love’s warfare.
The nearest water may be some distance from the camp, which is all the
better. Sometimes, too, there is no wood to be had; and in that case,
one would see the young women scattered all over the prairie, gathering
buffalo chips for fuel.
This is the way the red men go about to induce the aboriginal maids
to listen to their suit. As soon as the youth has returned from the
war-path or the chase, he puts on his porcupine-quill embroidered
moccasins and leggings, and folds his best robe about him. He brushes
his long, glossy hair with a brush made from the tail of the porcupine,
perfumes it with scented grass or leaves, then arranges it in two plaits
with an otter skin or some other ornament. If he is a warrior, he adds
an eagle feather or two.
If he chooses to ride, he takes his best pony. He jumps upon its bare
back, simply throwing a part of his robe under him to serve as a saddle,
and holding the end of a lariat tied about the animal’s neck. He guides
him altogether by the motions of his body. These wily ponies seem to
enter into the spirit of the occasion, and very often capture the eyes
of the maid by their graceful movements, in perfect obedience to their
master.
The general custom is for the young men to pull their robes over their
heads, leaving only a slit to look through. Sometimes the same is done
by the maiden--especially in public courtship.
He approaches the girl while she is coming from the spring. He takes up
his position directly in her path. If she is in a hurry or does not care
to stop, she goes around him; but if she is willing to stop and listen
she puts down on the ground the vessel of water she is carrying.
Very often at the first meeting the maiden does not know who her lover
is. He does not introduce himself immediately, but waits until a second
meeting. Sometimes she does not see his face at all; and then she will
try to find out who he is and what he looks like before they meet again.
If he is not a desirable suitor, she will go with her chaperon and end
the affair there.
There are times when maidens go in twos, and then there must be two
young men to meet them.
There is some courtship in the night time; either in the early part of
the evening, on the outskirts of dances and other public affairs, or
after everybody is supposed to be asleep. This is the secret courtship.
The youth may pull up the tentpins just back of his sweetheart and
speak with her during the night. He must be a smart young man to do that
undetected, for the grandmother, her chaperon, is usually “all ears.”
Elopements are common. There are many reasons for a girl or a youth to
defer their wedding. It may be from personal pride of one or both. The
well-born are married publicly, and many things are given away in their
honor. The maiden may desire to attend a certain number of maidens’
feasts before marrying. The youth may be poor, or he may wish to achieve
another honor before surrendering to a woman.
Sometimes a youth is so infatuated with a maiden that he will follow
her to any part of the country, even after their respective bands have
separated for the season. I knew of one such case. Patah Tankah had
courted a distant relative of my uncle for a long time. There seemed to
be some objection to him on the part of the girl’s parents, although the
girl herself was willing.
The large camp had been broken up for the fall hunt, and my uncle’s band
went one way, while the young man’s family went in the other direction.
After three days’ travelling, we came to a good hunting-ground, and made
camp. One evening somebody saw the young man. He had been following his
sweetheart and sleeping out-of-doors all that time, although the nights
were already frosty and cold. He met her every day in secret and she
brought him food, but he would not come near the teepee. Finally her
people yielded, and she went back with him to his band.
When we lived our natural life, there was much singing of war songs,
medicine, hunting and love songs. Sometimes there were few words or
none, but everything was understood by the inflection. From this I have
often thought that there must be a language of dumb beasts.
The crude musical instrument of the Sioux, the flute, was made to appeal
to the susceptible ears of the maidens late into the night. There comes
to me now the picture of two young men with their robes over their
heads, and only a portion of the hand-made and carved chotanka, the
flute, protruding from its folds. I can see all the maidens slyly turn
their heads to listen. Now I hear one of the youths begin to sing a
plaintive serenade as in days gone by:
“Hay-ay-ay! Hay-ay-ay! a-ahay-ay!” (This
“Listen! you will hear of him--
Maiden, you will hear of him--
Listen! he will shortly go
Wasula feels that she must come out, but she has no good excuse, so she
stirs up the embers of the fire and causes an unnecessary smoke in the
teepee. Then she has an excuse to come out and fix up the tent flaps.
She takes a long time to adjust these pointed ears of the teepee, with
their long poles, for the wind seems to be unsettled.
Finally Chotanka ceases to be heard. In a moment a young man appears
ghost-like at the maiden’s side.
“So it is you, is it?” she asks.
“Is your grandmother in?” he inquires.
“What a brave man you are, to fear an old woman! We are free; the
country is wide. We can go away, and come back when the storm is over.”
“Ho,” he replies. “It is not that I fear her, or the consequences of an
elopement. I fear nothing except that we may be separated!”
The girl goes into the lodge for a moment, then slips out once more.
“Now,” she exclaims, “to the wood or the prairie! I am yours!” They
disappear in the darkness.