The Bella Coola were a tribe that lived along the Northwest coast. Like
most of the Indians in this part of the land, they were fishermen and
woodcarvers. Some of the most beautiful carvings in the world have come
from these tribes. Their chief source of food was fish. Each year at the
time the salmon were running, the Indians would go out to the great
rivers with spears and fish nets to make large catches. Each salmon was
then split and dried and stored.
As soon as the Bella Coola boys were old and strong enough, they were
taken out to the rivers and taught how to throw the fish spear with its
long line attached. They were also taught the use of the large fish
nets. Both the spear and the net were hard to handle and sometimes
dangerous.
One day Little Twig (who had that name because of his size and the
thinness of his body when he was born) begged his father to take him on
the salmon hunt. All the men of the tribe were getting ready to head for
the river steps where the salmon would be leaping. But Little Twig’s
father stooped beside his son and spoke slowly to him.
“My son, I would like to take you along, but this is man’s work and you
are still a young boy with much to learn. Stay here in the village and
play with the other children. Your day of hunting and spearing the great
salmon will come before you know it. But this time the answer must be
No.”
Little Twig watched his father leave the village. When all the other
fishermen had left, Little Twig went in search of his friend, Running
Turtle. He found him carving a new handle for his knife.
“Running Turtle, let us go and watch our fathers fish for the great
salmon,” he said. “We can go far above them on the river and watch from
the ledge. We will stay only for a short while and will be back in the
village before we are missed. I have never seen them fish for the great
salmon because my father says that it is too dangerous for Indian boys.
Will you go?”
“My father will not let me go to fish with the men of the village
either. But he never said that I could not watch the men as they fish.
Come, Little Twig, let us hurry. The men are probably already there.”
The two boys set out swiftly after the fishing party. Soon they could
hear the river roaring just ahead of them. They stopped at the trees
that grew close to the river shore. Peering through the branches, they
could see the men of the tribe spread out on both sides of the river,
some with nets and some with spears. At the feet of each fisherman were
large baskets into which he threw the fish he caught.
The boys worked their way around and above the fishermen until they were
about three hundred paces upstream from the fishermen. Edging close to
the side of the river near the top of the waterfalls, the boys crept out
on a sloping ledge of rock that was only an arm’s length from the
rushing water. They were so close that the spray wet their faces as they
gazed downstream at the fishermen.
Soon Little Twig became so excited by what he was watching that he stood
up and began to pretend that he was fishing for salmon, too. But he was
not used to the slippery rocks as the men were, and he suddenly found
that he was losing his balance. He called to Running Turtle to help him,
but before Running Turtle could grab him Little Twig was tumbling into
the rushing river. His body was caught in the great swirling waters that
swept him downstream. He choked as his eyes and nose and ears filled
with water. Just as he began to think he would die, he felt his body
being lifted from the water, and heard a voice shouting.
“Look at this fine fish that I have caught,” someone yelled, laughing.
Then Little Twig realized that one of the fishermen had reached out with
his net and snatched him from the river. Little Twig sputtered and
coughed and rubbed his eyes as strong hands set him on his feet. There
he was, in the middle of a circle of grinning warriors from the village.
He began rubbing all the sore spots where river rocks had struck his
body. Suddenly he recognized his father’s face. Instead of wearing the
stern look which Little Twig had expected, his father was smiling.
“Were you so eager to take a swim that you dove into the river?” he
asked the boy. “Or did you hope to catch brother salmon with your bare
hands?”
“I disobeyed you, my father, and I am truly sorry. I was a foolish young
boy to come to the river when you told me to stay at home. Now I know
why I have not been brought on the fishing trips. This is truly a job
for men.”
Little Twig looked toward the ground. His father reached down and lifted
the lad into the air.
“Yes, my son, this is a job for men. Someday soon you will join us in
hunting the swift salmon with spear and net. But for now, be happy to
remain in the village with your friends. You were lucky that my brother
had his net where he did, or we might have missed you and your body
would have been carried away. Come, we will go back to the village to
tell your mother of your swim this fine day.”
Then he laughed again. Little Twig laughed this time, too, and all the
braves joined in the laughter. No one would speak harshly to him about
his foolish act even though it had brought him near death. Indians
believed that angry words make people sick. So Indian parents, like
Little Twig’s father, always tried to speak happily.
Just then Running Turtle came out of hiding, and he started to laugh
with the others.