The Mohawk village of bark houses nestled along the river, and all was
peace and contentment in the village. Spotted Tail and his family lived
in peace and contentment in the village, for they were a happy people.
The hunting and fishing were good and there was little sickness among
the people of his tribe and all was made so that the people would be
happy.
When young Spotted Tail had reached his fifteenth summer, something
happened to his tribe. Suddenly the game of the forest became scarce.
The deer began to disappear and even the smallest of game was becoming
hard to find. This concerned the council, for never before had this
happened to their hunting grounds. And then one day while the warriors
were busy preparing to go out on the hunt, a young Mohawk warrior
staggered into the camp. Blood dripped from his body and as he reached
the center of the village he collapsed.
Eager hands lifted him and carried him to his house and when his wounds
had been bathed the great chief of the Mohawks came to talk with him.
“What has happened to you, my brother? Surely this is the work of some
great savage beast that you have encountered in the green forest.”
“O Great Chief, my companion and I had been following the tracks of a
deer and feeling we were quite lucky to have come upon such a find.
Suddenly as we trotted along the trail following the deer there was a
horrible snarling from off to the side of the trail. We stopped and
looked toward the side of the trail, and there before our very eyes was
a pack of ferocious-looking wolves. Before we could even draw our
bowstrings they were upon us. My companion and I fought them, but soon
they had dragged my companion to the ground. They began to fight among
themselves over one of their wounded comrades, and it was then that I
crawled off into the brush and when I saw my chance I ran as fast as I
could toward our village. I could hear the snarls of the pack behind me
but I ran as fast as my legs could carry me and soon I heard them no
more. But one thing I will always remember is the leader of the pack, a
white wolf of tremendous size. He had a beautiful white coat and was
much larger than the rest of the pack. I am tired, I must rest now.”
And with that the warrior closed his eyes and slept.
The chief immediately called a council of his warriors and among them
was Spotted Tail’s father. Now the reason for the lack of game was
known. The winter further north had been very severe and so the wolf
pack had come further south seeking food. But now that they had been
roaming so free for so long they decided to stay.
The chief rose before the council and said:
“We must set out on the hunt immediately, but we must hunt this pack of
wolves and destroy them before they cause all the deer to disappear. If
we fail, our smoke racks will become empty and our people will starve.”
So party after party of warriors were sent out in search of the wolf
pack, but they always returned disappointed; for they had often come
upon the pack but never had been able to get close enough to do any real
damage.
Finally Sleeping Water, one of the young warriors, Suggested that
instead of going in large parties they ought to go out in pairs or three
at a time and when sighting the pack send word to a larger hunting party
and they in turn could surround and destroy the pack.
The council approved of this method and so the warriors began to go out
in pairs. It was now that Spotted Tail began his adventure which was to
be spoken of in the lodges for many moons to come.
Spotted Tail was chosen by Sleeping Water to go as his companion, and
the two braves started on the hunt. They ranged far and wide and finally
picked up the trail of the pack. Sleeping Water knelt by the tracks of
the wolves and could tell that they were fairly fresh tracks.
Quickly the two braves trotted along the trail in pursuit of the pack
and soon through the trees ahead Sleeping Water spotted the pack moving
stealthily through the trees as if stalking an animal. Turning to
Spotted Tail he said, “Spotted Tail, you will keep the pack in sight and
follow them as they move, marking your trail. I will return and fetch a
large hunting party and we shall destroy this pack of wolves. You are
not afraid to keep watch?”
Spotted Tail felt it a great honor to be asked to do such an important
job and he told Sleeping Water that he would keep close watch on the
pack and if he moved he would mark his trail well.
When Sleeping Water departed, Spotted Tail kept close watch on the pack
as it milled around. Evidently the hunt they were on was ended, for many
of the wolves were circling in the snow and finding resting places.
It was fast growing dark and Spotted Tail hoped that they would not
decide to move in the dark or he would surely lose them before the dawn.
Then he saw him—the giant white leader of the pack—standing off to one
side of the pack as if on guard. He was truly a majestic animal, fully
half a foot taller at the shoulder than the other wolves and his coat
was a shimmering white as pure as the snow.
As night settled, a bright moon came out and the night was shattered by
the baying of the wolves at the moon.
On a rock pinnacle overlooking the wolves’ bedding ground, the great
white leader stood guard, his eyes never still, moving from side to side
as he watched for any approaching danger. Spotted Tail remained awake as
long as he could, but soon his eyes felt very tired. He was about to
drop off to sleep when he noticed the pack stirring. He gazed out into
the shadows of the night and the leader seemed to be staring right
through the brush and trees into Spotted Tail’s hiding place.
Then Spotted Tail saw the reason for the movement: a deer had wandered
to within a short distance of the wolves, and now the pack was preparing
to kill this unsuspecting victim.
The leader seemed to bark instructions and suddenly the pack was up and
circling the deer. There was a mad rush and suddenly the excitement was
over, the booty was shared, and the pack settled down once again.
Spotted Tail breathed a sigh of relief, for the pack in chasing the deer
had come too close for comfort to his hiding place in the thick brush.
Dawn was fast approaching, and now the pack was on the move once again.
Spotted Tail followed as close as he dared, making sure that he kept
downwind from these lean hungry wolves that had caused death and
starvation to come to his People. Then he got an idea.
If he could get a good shot in and wound or even kill the leader, it
might have the same effect as if a chief died, the pack would be without
a leader and might be so disorganized that the hunters from his tribe,
who he was sure were fast approaching, would be able to make easy work
of the rest of the pack.
Then the opportunity came his way. There standing off to the side of the
pack was the large white leader. Spotted Tail settled himself upon one
knee in the snow and drawing careful aim with his bow, he let fly. The
arrow seemed to go right through the great beast and he leaped high in
the air. Spotted Tail was about to shout of his great shot to the
heavens when he saw that the wolf had come to rest on all fours and was
turned now in his direction, his teeth bared and a terrible snarl coming
from deep within his throat.
Gathered behind the great white wolf like an army, was the rest of the
pack, snarling and waiting for the orders from their leader, but the
leader seemed to warn them away—this was his kill—and slowly began
moving toward Spotted Tail.
Spotted Tail stood firm and placed another arrow to his bowstring. He
fired again, and the arrow again seemed to go straight to its mark but
still the beast kept moving forward. Now the wolf began to run in a
steady loping trot toward the Indian and suddenly he was leaping.
Spotted Tail drew his knife, but in mid-air the wolf seemed to stop and
try to turn and return from whence he had come, and then the body was
crashing to the ground, an arrow quivering in his side. Then there were
howls and yells and cries from many points of the forest and arrows came
flying into the wolf pack. Beast after beast fell under the onslaught of
deadly shafts being fired by revenge-seeking Mohawk warriors until
suddenly the whole pack lay dead in the quiet of the winter forest.
It all happened so quickly that before Spotted Tail realized what had
happened, Sleeping Water was lifting him from the snow smiling.
“You have done well, my young brother, you have been brave this day. You
left very clear signs for our party to follow and because of that we
were able to wipe out this pack of beasts which have killed so much
game.”
“But the leader of the pack—I fired an arrow into him and it went right
through him. Twice I saw this happen. He must have been a ghost and yet
I saw his body hit the ground with the arrows of my brothers. How do you
explain this, Sleeping Water?”
“Come, Spotted Tail, I will show you.” Together they walked to where the
great beast lay.
“You see, his coat was such a pure white that it blended with the snow
and when you fired it seemed as though you hit him but actually you
missed. It is no shame, for it was a long and a difficult shot and when
you fired a second time as he was moving toward you, the sun on the snow
caused reflection to make you misjudge your shot.
“We observed all this from our hiding places, for we came upon you just
as you were preparing to make your first shot. But, please, Spotted
Tail, do not take a chance like that again. It is very foolish to try
something so dangerous when you are alone and especially when you knew
that help was on the way. But this adventure has ended well, and you
will have much to tell in the medicine lodge tonight, of the great ghost
wolf that hunted these lands.”
And so the pack was destroyed and soon the game returned once again to
the hunting ground of the Mohawk and once again all was peaceful and
happy along the Osage River.
This story was told to the author by Jim Nutley of the Canadian Forest
Ranger Service.