BEGINNING A GARDEN
_Turtle_
My great-grandmother, as white men count their kin, was named Atạ´kic, or
Soft-white Corn. She adopted a daughter, Mata´tic, or Turtle. Some years
after, a daughter was born to Atạ´kic, whom she named Otter.
Turtle and Otter both married. Turtle had a daughter named Ica´wikec, or
Corn Sucker;[6] and Otter had three daughters, Want-to-be-a-woman, Red
Blossom, and Strikes-many-women, all younger than Corn Sucker.
The smallpox year at Five Villages left Otter’s family with no male
members to support them. Turtle and her daughter were then living in
Otter’s lodge; and Otter’s daughters, as Indian custom bade, called Corn
Sucker their elder sister.
It was a custom of the Hidatsas, that if the eldest sister of a household
married, her younger sisters were also given to her husband, as they
came of marriageable age. Left without male kin by the smallpox, my
grandmother’s family was hard put to it to get meat; and Turtle gladly
gave her daughter to my father, Small Ankle, whom she knew to be a good
hunter. Otter’s daughters, reckoned as Corn Sucker’s sisters, were given
to Small Ankle as they grew up; the eldest, Want-to-be-a-woman, was my
mother.
When I was four years old, my tribe and the Mandans came to
Like-a-fishhook bend. They came in the spring and camped in tepees, or
skin tents. By Butterfly’s winter count, I know they began building earth
lodges the next winter. I was too young to remember much of this.
Two years after we came to Like-a-fishhook bend, smallpox again visited
my tribe; and my mother, Want-to-be-a-woman, and Corn Sucker, died of
it. Red Blossom and Strikes-many-women survived, whom I now called my
mothers. Otter and old Turtle lived with us; I was taught to call them my
grandmothers.
_Clearing Fields_
Soon after they came to Like-a-fishhook bend, the families of my tribe
began to clear fields, for gardens, like those they had at Five Villages.
Rich black soil was to be found in the timbered bottom lands of the
Missouri. Most of the work of clearing was done by the women.
In old times we Hidatsas never made our gardens on the untimbered,
prairie land, because the soil there is too hard and dry. In the bottom
lands by the Missouri, the soil is soft and easy to work.
[Illustration: Figure 1
Map of newly broken field drawn under Buffalobird-woman’s direction. The
heavy dots represent corn hills; the dashes, the clearing and breaking of
ground between, done after hills were planted.
In the lower left hand corner is the ground that was in dispute.]
My mothers and my two grandmothers worked at clearing our family’s
garden. It lay east of the village at a place where many other families
were clearing fields.
I was too small to note very much at first. But I remember that my father
set boundary marks—whether wooden stakes or little mounds of earth or
stones, I do not now remember—at the corners of the field we claimed.
My mothers and my two grandmothers began at one end of this field and
worked forward. All had heavy iron hoes, except Turtle, who used an old
fashioned wooden digging stick.
With their hoes, my mothers cut the long grass that covered much of the
field, and bore it off the line, to be burned. With the same implements,
they next dug and softened the soil in places for the corn hills, which
were laid off in rows. These hills they planted. Then all summer they
worked with their hoes, clearing and breaking the ground between the
hills.
Trees and bushes I know must have been cut off with iron axes; but I
remember little of this, because I was only four years old when the
clearing was begun.
I have heard that in very old times, when clearing a new field, my people
first dug the corn hills with digging sticks; and afterwards, like my
mothers, worked between the hills, with bone hoes. My father told me this.
Whether stone axes were used in old times to cut the trees and
undergrowths, I do not know. I think fields were never then laid out on
ground that had large trees on it.
_Dispute and Its Settlement_
About two years after the first ground was broken in our field, a dispute
I remember, arose between my mothers and two of their neighbors, Lone
Woman and Goes-to-next-timber.
These two women were clearing fields adjoining that of my mothers; as
will be seen by the accompanying map (figure 1), the three fields met at
a corner. I have said that my father, to set up claim to his field, had
placed marks, one of them in the corner at which met the fields of Lone
Woman and Goes-to-next-timber; but while my mothers were busy clearing
and digging up the other end of their field, their two neighbors invaded
this marked-off corner; Lone Woman had even dug up a small part before
she was discovered.
However, when they were shown the mark my father had placed, the two
women yielded and accepted payment for any rights they might have.
It was our Indian rule to keep our fields very sacred. We did not like
to quarrel about our garden lands. One’s title to a field once set
up, no one ever thought of disputing it; for if one were selfish and
quarrelsome, and tried to seize land belonging to another, we thought
some evil would come upon him, as that some one of his family would die.
There is a story of a black bear who got into a pit that was not his own,
and had his mind taken away from him for doing so!
_Turtle Breaking Soil_
Lone Woman and Goes-to-next-timber having withdrawn, my grandmother,
Turtle, volunteered to break the soil of the corner that had been in
dispute. She was an industrious woman. Often, when my mothers were busy
in the earth lodge, she would go out to work in the garden, taking me
with her for company. I was six years old then, I think, quite too little
to help her any, but I liked to watch my grandmother work.
With her digging stick, she dug up a little round place in the center
of the corner (figure 1); and circling around this from day to day, she
gradually enlarged the dug-up space. The point of her digging stick she
forced into the soft earth to a depth equal to the length of my hand, and
pried up the soil. The clods she struck smartly with her digging stick,
sometimes with one end, sometimes with the other. Roots of coarse grass,
weeds, small brush and the like, she took in her hand and shook, or
struck them against the ground, to knock off the loose earth clinging to
them; she then cast them into a little pile to dry.
In this way she accumulated little piles, scattered rather irregularly
over the dug-up ground, averaging, perhaps, four feet, one from the
other. In a few days these little piles had dried; and Turtle gathered
them up into a heap, about four feet high, and burned them, sometimes
within the cleared ground, sometimes a little way outside.
In the corner that had been in dispute, and in other parts of the field,
my grandmother worked all summer. I do not remember how big our garden
was at the end of her summer’s work, nor how many piles of roots she
burned; but I remember distinctly how she put the roots of weeds and
grass and brush into little piles to dry, which she then gathered into
heaps and burned. She did not attempt to burn over the whole ground, only
the heaps.
Afterwards, we increased our garden from year to year until it was as
large as we needed. I remember seeing my grandmother digging along the
edges of the garden with her digging stick, to enlarge the field and make
the edges even and straight.
I remember also, that as Turtle dug up a little space, she would wait
until the next season to plant it. Thus, additional ground dug up in the
summer or fall would be planted by her the next spring.
There were two or three elm trees in the garden; these my grandmother
left standing.
[Illustration: Fig. 2
Figure 2. Drawn from specimen in author’s collection. Length of specimen,
37½ inches.]
[Illustration: Figure 3.
Figure 3. Drawn from model made by Buffalobird-woman, duplicating that
used by her grandmother. Specimen is of full size. Length of wooden
handle, 35 inches; length of bone blade, 8½ inches. The blade is made of
the shoulder bone of an ox.]
It must not be supposed that upon Turtle fell all the work of clearing
land to enlarge our garden; but she liked to have me with her when she
worked, and I remember best what I saw her do. As I was a little girl
then, I have forgotten much that she did; but this that I have told, I
remember distinctly.
_Turtle’s Primitive Tools_
In breaking ground for our garden, Turtle always used an ash digging
stick (figure 2); and when hoeing time came, she hoed the corn with
a bone hoe (figure 3). Digging sticks are still used in my tribe for
digging wild turnips; but even in my grandmother’s lifetime, digging
sticks and bone hoes, as garden tools, had all but given place to iron
hoes and axes.
My grandmother was one of the last women of my tribe to cling to these
old fashioned implements. Two other women, I remember, owned bone hoes
when I was a little girl; but Turtle, I think, was the very last one in
the tribe who actually worked in her garden with one.
This hoe my grandmother kept in the lodge, under her bed; and when any
of the children of the household tried to get it out to look at it, she
would cry, “Let that hoe alone; you will break it!”
_Beginning a Field in Later Times_
As I grew up, I learned to work in the garden, as every Hidatsa woman was
expected to learn; but iron axes and hoes, bought of the traders, were
now used by everybody, and the work of clearing and breaking a new field
was less difficult than it had been in our grandfathers’ times. A family
had also greater freedom in choosing where they should have their garden,
since with iron axes they could more easily cut down any small trees and
bushes that might be on the land. However, to avoid having to cut down
big trees, a rather open place was usually chosen.
A family, then, having chosen a place for a field, cleared off the ground
as much as they could, cutting down small trees and bushes in such
way that the trees fell all in one direction. Some of the timber that
was fit might be taken home for firewood; the rest was let lie to dry
until spring, when it was fired. The object of felling the trees in one
direction was to make them cover the ground as much as possible, since
firing them softened the soil and left it loose and mellow for planting.
We sought always to burn over all the ground, if we could.
Before firing, the family carefully raked off the dry grass and leaves
from the edge of the field, and cut down any brush wood. This was done
that the fire might not spread to the surrounding timber, nor out on the
prairie. Prairie fires and forest fires are even yet not unknown on our
reservation.
Planting season having come, the women of the household planted the
field in corn. The hills were in rows, and about four feet or a little
less apart. They were rather irregularly placed the first year. It was
easy to make a hill in the ashes where a brush heap had been fired, or
in soil that was free of roots and stumps; but there were many stumps
in the field, left over from the previous summer’s clearing. If the
planter found a stump stood where a hill should be, she placed the hill
on this side the stump or beyond it, no matter how close this brought the
hill to the next in the row. Thus, the corn hills did not stand at even
distances in the row the first year; but the rows were always kept even
and straight.
While the corn was coming up, the women worked at clearing out the roots
and smaller stumps between the hills; but a stump of any considerable
size was left to rot, especially if it stood midway between two corn
hills, where it did not interfere with their cultivation.
My mothers and I used to labor in a similar way to enlarge our fields.
With our iron hoes we made hills along the edge of the field and planted
corn; then, as we had opportunity, we worked with our hoes between the
corn hills to loosen up the soil.
[Illustration: Figure 4
Drawn from specimen made by Yellow Hair. Length of specimen, following
curvature of tines, 36½ inches.]
[Illustration: Figure 5
Drawn from specimen made by Buffalobird-woman. Length of wooden handle,
42 inches; spread of tines of antler, 15½ inches.]
Although our tribe now had iron axes and hoes from the traders, they
still used their native made rakes. These were of wood (figure 4), or of
the antler of a black-tailed deer (figure 5). It was with such rakes that
the edges of a newly opened field were cleaned of leaves for the firing
of the brush, in the spring.
[Illustration: In the field with a horn rake]
[Illustration: Hoeing squashes with a bone hoe]
_Trees in the Garden_
Trees were not left standing in the garden, except perhaps one to shade
the watchers’ stage. If a tree stood in the field, it shaded the corn;
and that on the north side of the tree never grew up strong, and the
stalks would be yellow.
Cottonwood trees were apt to grow up in the field, unless the young
shoots were plucked up as they appeared.
_Our West Field_
The field which Turtle helped to clear, lay, I have said, east of the
village. I was about nineteen years old, I think, when my mothers
determined to clear ground for a second field, west of the village.
There were five of us who undertook the work, my father, my two mothers,
Red Blossom and Strikes-many-women, my sister, Cold Medicine, and myself.
We began in the fall, after harvesting the corn from our east garden, so
that we had leisure for the work; we had been too busy to begin earlier
in the season.
We chose a place down in the bottoms, overgrown with willows; and with
our axes we cut the willows close to the ground, letting them lie as they
fell.
I do not know how many days we worked; but we stopped when we had cleared
a field of about seventy-five by one hundred yards, perhaps. In our east,
or yellow corn field, we counted nine rows of corn to one na´xu; and I
remember that when we came to plant our new field, it had nine na´xu.
_Burning Over the Field_
The next spring my father, his two wives, my sister and I went out and
burned the felled willows and brush which the spring sun had dried. We
did not burn them every day; only when the weather was fine. We would go
out after breakfast, burn until tired of the work, and come home.
We sought to burn over the whole field, for we knew that this left a
good, loose soil. We did not pile the willows in heaps, but loosened
them from the ground or scattered them loosely but evenly over the soil.
In some places the ground was quite bare of willows; but we collected
dry grass and weeds and dead willows, and strewed them over these bare
places, so that the fire would run over the whole area of the field.
It took us about four days to burn over the field.
It was well known in my tribe that burning over new ground left the soil
soft and easy to work, and for this reason we thought it a wise thing to
do.