Remembrance of Thanksgiving Grandmother Sun has made her way above the hills to the east. The day promises to be a warm one for early November. The frost is quickly evaporating from the newly fallen leaves and the chill from the cold northern wind seems less biting, less menacing than just moments ago. The sky is clear, just as it always is when the early cold comes, sweeping away the fluffy white clouds of summer and making way for the mackerel skies of winter. My breath leaves me in little white vapors as I trudge out to feed the animals, themselves blowing puffs of white smoke in the early morning cold as they meet me with ears perked up and their hair bristled against the wind. They greet me, throwing their heads back and then catching my eye in agreement of what will now be a daily chore, breaking the ice covering their water, so that they may drink. This they acknowledge and accord me their trust to do this. The crisp air seems to carry the smells and scents of my surroundings much more profoundly than in summer. The sounds of the forests in those nearby mountains are amplified by the now compressed molecules of air, the wind itself no longer a gentle caress but more of a nudge, a shove to move along and work quickly. Those same scents and sounds stir the memories and place me in days I have met many years ago. Mornings like this, when the sky was clear, and the wind spoke of urgency and the horses and I knew each other's thoughts. Mornings like the one I found myself reflecting upon. We had spent the early morning gathering hickory nuts and placing them in burlap bags to be stored in the smokehouse. This was our chore for the morning while Etsi gathered up the pies and breads that she would be taking to Elisi's house for Thanksgiving. Why she insisted on this chore was beyond us, but it was an autumn ritual always punctuated with her words reminding us that many had gone hungry in the years before we were born and that the hickory nuts saw many of them through a harsh winter. She called us in from our chores where Edoda met us with an expectant gaze. Yes, we had broken the ice for the animals, the animals had been fed and yes, we had completed our chores. This satisfied him and we gathered up Etsi's pies and breads, all covered with tea towels to save their warmth. We arrived at Elisi's and were greeted by the cousins, aunts, uncles, and other "family" members who Elisi always invited to her home for the Thanksgiving meal. Elisi called these people family though I did not see how we were related. Her "uncle" Gahoga was there as he always was at thanksgiving, and his gaze upon Etsi's cache of pies gave away his appetite. Grandfather caught my eye as I walked up to the steps. His grey eyes sparkling as they did when he wanted to go on an adventure. I gave the pie to "uncle' Gahoga to take in to the house, which he did with great enthusiasm, sniffing the aroma and tasting the air around it, making a mental note to himself that he would ask for a portion at the appropriate time. I excused myself saying Grandfather wanted me and ran to his old pickup truck where he was waiting for me. He had the heater on for me, and ran his fingers through my newly shorn hair, another tradition that Etsi always completed the night before we were to go to Thanksgiving at Elisi's. "Ready?" he asked. I nodded my agreement. He took me up the old barely recognizable path on Fletcher Mountain as far as he could with the truck. We then got out and hiked in to where his treasure lay. My breath came out in white vapors as I trudged up the mountain, puffing little clouds of white smoke, his long strides moving him quickly and effortlessly even at his advanced age. I had to run to keep up, my ears burning from the exposure to the cold northern wind whistling among the oaks and pines. His grace and agility through the rocks and snags and saplings were something I could never match, although I tried so very hard not to make unnecessary noise or to give away our presence. Koga, the crow, always gave us away. His cries soon echoed from the canopy of the treetops echoing down the hollows that we were on the mountain. Always the sentinel, Koga's cries were soon joined by others; all of them alerting the forest that men were amongst them. Below us in the rocks of a wet weather spring, lay his treasure. A young buck he had taken just this morning. He needed a little help in getting the deer down the mountain to his pickup. He had already hog dressed the deer and the leaves around were now crimson from this effort. The buck was still warm and as we knelt there beside him, Grandfather looked at me with expectant eyes. The meat would be a welcome addition to Elisi's table once he got it into the smokehouse, but for now the task was to deliver it down the mountain. Something in the leaves moved and Grandfather laughed at my nervous flinch. "It's just Saloli, Son, he's hungry too". Grandfather expected me to marvel at his good luck or to quiz him on his prowess as a hunter. Instead, I began to cry. This was truly a great addition to Elisi's table, the meat would be most welcome and was needed, and these things I knew in my heart. All men hunted, it was a rite of passage that every boy looked forward to. The deer laid there with big black eyes staring up at me still in that knowing look that he had met his end. When Grandfather showed me where he had made the incision to allow the deer to release his life's blood, I could not feign interest. Grandfather explained that he had thanked Unelanvhi for the deer, that this was the way, the good hunter was always thankful for the provision of the meat, and that one should always leave a portion of the deer there as a penance, to allow the forest to benefit from the deer's sacrifice as well. But his words fell on saddened ears. We brought the deer down to the truck and made our way down the mountain. I felt ashamed at my silence and angry at myself for my failure to grasp the spirit of Kanati, the Hunter. Grandfather did not speak either, but he would occasionally look over at me with confusion in his eyes. This only made me angrier with myself. He dropped me off at the lane to Elisi's house and drove on out to where the smokehouse was. The boy cousins all running out to greet their returning hero, the great Hunter who would tell them his story of how he had been a good hunter and of the deer's sacrifice. Gahoga was smacking his lips while he ate his piece of pie. This irritated Elisi to no end, but she would not say anything to the Elder in respect, but gave all of her children a warning look not to acquire this habit from "uncle" Gahoga. My own appetite was lessened. I did not enjoy the meal as I should, Elisi asked if I was ill and gave a short lecture to Grandfather on taking "little boys out in the cold", which only made my embarrassment worse. I was sitting on the steps when Grandfather came out and sat down beside me. He ran his fingers across the back of my bristled head and smiled. He spoke no words, he didn't need to. We understood each other perfectly. I never went hunting with Grandfather again. When I graduated college, the first person I looked to as I gathered that diploma and moved the tassel from one side of that clapboard hat to the other, was my Grandfather. His grey eyes told me of his pride in me, that he was never ashamed of me for not being the good hunter. That he understood. A man sometimes has to let go of his dreams for another and let that person fulfill his own dreams. This lesson we both learned on that cold November morning on Fletcher Mountain. Elisi and Grandfather are gone now. But the memories of their days of Thanksgiving live on in my memories. Koga, the crow, he sails over my head as I pick up my thoughts and calls out to me in his staccato voice. He dips his wing towards me and then he is away, back to the nearby mountains, the cold November wind tells me it is time to move along. There is much to be done. Grandmother Sun is nearly at her daughter's house up above my head. Etsi's pies are waiting for me. |
Remembrance of Thanksgiving
© Wauhilau - November 2002
gathered from the net
"Animal Song" midi courtesy of élan michaels bead bar courtesy of Greasy Grass