Buffalo Medicine (9 page)
Authors: Don Coldsmith
The general area
that Owl had observed as his immediate goal proved not two days' travel, but more than twice that. He was accustomed to estimating across grassland. The uneven, almost vertical nature of some of the terrain made travel much slower than he had anticipated. In addition, the illusion of nearness in the rarefied air was deceiving.
that Owl had observed as his immediate goal proved not two days' travel, but more than twice that. He was accustomed to estimating across grassland. The uneven, almost vertical nature of some of the terrain made travel much slower than he had anticipated. In addition, the illusion of nearness in the rarefied air was deceiving.
After the first day of travel Owl realized the error of his estimate and changed his plans somewhat. He would stop on high ground to observe his back trail, and spend a day or two in hunting and improving his weapons.
He was also becoming concerned about protection from the elements. So far the weather had been uncommonly fine, but he was apprehensive. Almost any day Cold Maker might whimsically unleash a puff of cold rain, sleet, or even snow. Owl had no desire to be caught with merely a breechclout to shelter his body. Not even
that, for the moment, since he was using it as a carrying bundle.
that, for the moment, since he was using it as a carrying bundle.
He noticed some bleached and scattered bones to his right a few paces, and turned aside to investigate. The bones were apparently from a deer, and judging from their well-gnawed and scattered condition, had been there for many moons. Owl continued to search, however, and finally found the skull, partially hidden under a juniper bush. He was elated by the find. The animal had been a yearling buck, and the slender antlers, only as long as his finger, were exactly what he needed. With a small boulder, he succeeded in breaking the spikes from the skull. They would become tools for chipping flint.
Owl spent a time with his new find, experimentally chipping small flakes from one of the pieces of stone in his bundle. He had used the sharp edge of this flint as a makeshift knife to skin the squirrels, but now refined the shape. It was tempting to continue working with the flints, but hunger pangs told him he must seek food.
He was not so fortunate as on the previous day. Searching as he traveled, Owl saw hardly a living thing, except a soaring hawk. He ate a quantity of pine seeds, and a handful of the berries he had tried yesterday. Remembering the bears' habit of overturning dead logs looking for food, he tried that. He examined the fat white grubs underneath, and decided he was not that hungry yet. Still, he remembered the tales of the old medicine man. Long before Owl was born, before they had elk-dogs to help with the hunt, the People had frequently used these and similar items as survival food. He would keep that in mind, but for just now, he hoped for better fare.
As Sun Boy's torch sank lower, Owl sought a place to spend the night, a sheltered spot against the south face of a sun-warmed rock. Preferably a dark-colored stone, since it would attract and hold more of the warmth from the heavenly torch. He selected his location, and built a
small fire before dark. He had no need for a fire, nothing to cook, but it warmed his body and cheered him considerably. It was odd, he thought, how the dancing flames from even a tiny fire could raise one's spirits. He lifted his voice in the short song of the medicine man to the departing Sun Boy, the Thanks-for-Fire song.
small fire before dark. He had no need for a fire, nothing to cook, but it warmed his body and cheered him considerably. It was odd, he thought, how the dancing flames from even a tiny fire could raise one's spirits. He lifted his voice in the short song of the medicine man to the departing Sun Boy, the Thanks-for-Fire song.
Owl was careful to extinguish the blaze before darkness came, so the firelight could not be seen. He did not believe he was pursued, but took no chances. As he warmed himself over the dying embers, he thought again how satisfying it had been to enjoy the Fire song. He had not realized until now how very much he had missed the small daily rituals of the medicine man. Survival had been the most important thing in his life for many moons.
Now, cold and hungry though he might be, he could again enjoy some of the niceties of a cultured existence. These were his thoughts as he drifted to sleep.
He awoke with a start. The moon had risen, and a thin light illuminated the hollow below him. Owl kept very still for a moment, unsure of what had awakened him. It had been a noise, below him in the sparse trees. His hand closed on this throwing stick as he listened intently. The rock at his back was still warm. He pressed against it, shivering slightly from anticipation as well as the chill of the night air.
The sound came again. A rustling, chewing sound, which now seemed to come from near the top of a pine tree little taller than his head. Owl relaxed somewhat. An animal small enough to climb a tree no bigger than that would not likely be dangerous. He move silently away from the rock, and circled the tree. Soon he could see the irregular shape against the sky. A porcupine, methodically girdling the bark from the young tree, turned to look at him.
Owl was elated. The animal would certainly be acceptable food, and should be easy to kill. The porcupine moved slowly, secure in the protection of its sharp quills.
It climbed down the tree and waddled across an open area, heading for cover and concealment.
It climbed down the tree and waddled across an open area, heading for cover and concealment.
Owl circled warily, cautious of the barbed quills, but wanting the confrontation in a place where he could swing his club. The animal paused, threatening, turning its spiked tail toward the enemy. The tail lashed back and forth. Owl came close and dodged in, evading the lashing quills as he struck. One good blow across the porcupine's head, then another to make sure.
He knew better than to risk his fingers trying to skin the spiny creature in the dark. It could wait until morning.
Now that the excitement was over, Owl realized that the weather had grown considerably colder. He shivered as he retreated to the shelter of his rock.
After spending some time in trying to warm himself against the now cooling stone surface, Owl made a momentous decision. He would be forced to relight his fire. This was a sheltered spot, not visible for any distance, and the moonlight would lessen the chance of anyone seeing the reflection. Besides, he attempted uneasily to reassure himself, surely no Hairfaces would be wandering the mountains to search in the middle of the time of darkness. Nor would any other people who might prove dangerous, he reasoned, although not entirely convinced. One thing was certain. If he died from exposure such decisions would be meaningless. He took out his rubbing sticks and started to rotate the spindle in its socket.
He blew the ember into flame and added tinder and small sticks. When the fire was crackling cheerfully, he made a circuit around the entire area. He was pleased that he could see very little reflection of the fire from only a short distance away. And, perhaps more importantly, he had seen no one else's fire. The Hairfaces, he had noticed, built big fires. This had, in fact, been a joke among the prisoners. Their captors built large fires, and thus must stand well back, remaining cold. One could be much more
comfortable over a small, well-tended blaze.
comfortable over a small, well-tended blaze.
Owl, seeing no sign of other human presence, returned to add a few more small sticks to his own fire. He decided to utilize the situation, and dragged the porcupine carcass to where the firelight would illuminate the skinning process. His newly shaped flint knife performed well on the tough hide, and soon the skinned and gutted carcass was roasting on a stick. By daylight Owl had eaten well and saved some meat for the day ahead.
He was tempted to save the sharp spines of the animal's tail. The women of the People used the dyed quills for ornamentation of garments and various other items. Owl knew little of such things, but knew that his mother had always carefully hoarded any such quills she was able to acquire. Finally, amused at his own attitude, he threw the spines away, After all, what can one decorate if he has nothing?
The skin of the animal he saved, as he prepared again to travel.
Owl had decided
to travel on. There seemed to be little game in this immediate area anyway. He was badly in need of the skin of some large animal for shelter. A deer or elk, perhaps. He had seen deer at a little distance, but did not have the weapons for an attempt at a kill.
to travel on. There seemed to be little game in this immediate area anyway. He was badly in need of the skin of some large animal for shelter. A deer or elk, perhaps. He had seen deer at a little distance, but did not have the weapons for an attempt at a kill.
With this in mind, he kept a lookout for more beaver cuttings and before Sun Boy was overhead had selected a spear shaft. The sapling had been dropped by the beavers where it had been cut, probably to cut up later or drag away to the dam. Owl trimmed off leaves and small twigs, and then laboriously sawed the pole to length with his newly shaped knife.
He stopped early for the day, and built a fire to warm the earth where he would sleep. His major purpose for an early camp, however, was to complete his spear. He had been working on a spear point whenever he stopped, and it was now nearing completion.
Ideally, he realized, he should soak one of his skins in water and ashes to remove the hair, but this would take several days. His need for rawhide to bind the spear was more urgent. He compromised by cutting narrow strips from the skin of the porcupine and singeing the course hair over the fire.
Stone Breaker, the expert weapons maker of the Elk-dog band of the People, would have been amused at the makeshift spear. He would have agreed, however, that it was serviceable. The improvised binding was bulky and crude, but was secure, and would shrink even more tightly as it dried. Now Owl felt ready to try for a deer kill when opportunity offered.
He chewed the remaining meat of the porcupine as twilight fell. It was still tough and tasted of pine, but filled the belly.
This night was warmer than the last, but Owl was glad to see the torch of Sun Boy once more. He must find something today for shelter. Even with the fire cautiously burning all night, he had become chilled to the bone.
The kill, when it came, was in a very unexpected fashion. Owl noticed magpies noisily fluttering and screaming around a clump of willows, and cautiously crept down to investigate. He could see nothing until, spear at the ready, he parted the leaves and peered into the thicket.
The carcass of an elk lay in the brush, partially covered with sticks and leaves. Hair bristled on the back of Owl's neck as he glanced anxiously around. He saw nothing, and ventured to look closer at the kill. To pull down an animal as big as an elk, the hunter must be the great bear with white-tipped fur, the real-bear. A cougar, too, might make this sort of kill, he thought.
On closer inspection, all the while warily on guard, he saw that the elk was an old cow, probably weakened by age or infirmity. The soft underparts had been eaten away. Owl circled until he found evidence of tracks, and at last
identified the hunter. The footprints were those of the great cat.
identified the hunter. The footprints were those of the great cat.
He was in no immediate danger unless the cougar returned to find him at its kill. The kill was fresh, and Owl knew that the habit of the real-cat was to gorge immediately and then retire to sleep off the stupor. The sleeping place might be far away, and the cat might not return for a day or two. Perhaps not even then, if a convenient new kill offered elsewhere. Owl should be completely safe as he attempted to salvage what remained of the kill.
This did not prevent him from being uneasy. He dropped his bundle of assorted possessions and began to work as rapidly as possible. He had no desire to be here when the cougar returned. Desperately though he needed this kill, he had no intention of meeting a real-cat in hand to claw combat for possession of it. Therefore, his actions were quick and decisive.
Deftly he split the skin up the belly, and stripped it from the carcass. There were holes and cuts from the cat's claws, but it was basically intact. It was necessary to roll the carcass over to pull the skin from under. This Owl accomplished by using a foreleg as a lever. His experience in the butchering drudgery while a prisoner of the Head Splitters now stood him in good stead. As expertly as any woman of the People, he trimmed out the best remaining cuts, tossing them on the raw side of the freshly skinned hide. He gulped a few mouthfuls of liver as he worked, his body starved for the nutrition of good red meat.
When Owl had assembled all the meat he thought he could conveniently carry, he stripped out the sewing sinew from alongside the backbone. This white glistening band of fibrous tissue would be needed as he attempted to fashion his garments for winter. He tossed it and the various small articles he carried into the skin, and bundled the four legs together to make a pack. He swung it to his shoulder and rapidly left the scene.
The pack was heavy, but no heavier than an ore sack, and far softer. Owl was on top of the world as he jogged along, his deliberate pace putting distance behind him. Occasionally he glanced back to make sure he was not followed. If he could find an acceptable area for his camp and his fire, he could forget about the threat of the great cat. They were known to avoid fire.
Odd, he thought. He had hardly dared build a fire for fear of the Hairfaces. Now he hardly dared do without one for fear of the real-cat.
When he did stop, it was with plenty of daylight left. He could not search in the dark for firewood tonight. His first move was to lay in a good supply. He had selected a sheltered area near a flowing stream, with plenty of wood close at hand. A grassy meadow stretched before him, and an abrupt cliff behind. It seemed an ideally defensible position. This was good, for he expected to spend several days here. There was meat to cure, and the skin to process.
Again his experience in the women's work of the Head Splitters was helpful. The first night he had the shelter of the fresh elk skin, turned hair side toward him, but this was only a temporary expedient. Next day he began his work in earnest.
All day he worked. He cut meat in slender strips and draped them to dry over a rack of willow sticks. At every opportunity, however, he worked with the elk skin. He scraped fat and loose tissue from the inner surface. He selected a sapling near his camp and bent it over to form a rail for working on the hide. He would pull, scrape, and work the stiffening hide intermittently, while he performed other camp tasks.
Badly needed were moccasins. His feet had become toughened, but were now sore from traveling over rocks. And he would surely need protection for his feet in the winter. He remembered a method told him by White
Buffalo. It would produce not the well-designed plains moccasin of the People, but an acceptable substitute.
Buffalo. It would produce not the well-designed plains moccasin of the People, but an acceptable substitute.
With this in mind, he had skinned out the hock section of each hind leg separately. He had cut the skin in a circle around the thigh, and without splitting it, had inverted it toward the foot, detaching it above the ankle. Now he examined the two sleeves he had created, still with the flesh side out. On one side of each was a well-defined bulge, formed by the protruding hock of the animal. Owl held one of the skins against his foot. Yes, it was as White Buffalo had said. The bulging portion of the hock would fit his own heel almost perfectly. He slipped the skin over his foot experimentally, hair side still in. It was necessary, he found, to slit the portion above his own ankle. This could be fastened with thongs. The loose skin beyond his toes he gathered and tied like the mouth of a bag, leaving plenty of room for shrinkage. This extra space, he believed, could also be stuffed with dried grass or fur for warmth when Cold Maker really struck.
He rose and walked around, feeling clumsy in his new footwear, but realizing the great protection they would offer. Now he must wear the moccasins most of the time while the skin dried, to preserve the shape.
A magpie sailed across the clearing and alighted on his meat-drying rack to peck at the strips. Owl waved his arms to scare the bird away. This promised to become a real problem. The gaudy black and white birds seemed without fear. They and the smaller jays of various sorts seemed determined to rob him of all his labors. He found that it was best to do most of his work with the skins while sitting almost within arm's length of the drying meat.
Once, striking out with a stick, he landed a lucky blow and knocked a magpie fluttering to the ground. Very much aware of all possibilities for food, Owl methodically plucked the bird. It was smaller than it looked with the feathers on, but formed a quite acceptable addition to
his food supply. He propped it on a stick over the fire.
his food supply. He propped it on a stick over the fire.
As he carefully nibbled the last shreds of meat from the bones, Owl was developing a general plan for his sustenance. He would avoid entirely the use of any of the elk meat as long as possible. It would be stored for the Moon of Snows and the Moon of Hunger. He thought that he could manage to obtain enough small creatures for his daily needs. Squirrels, porcupines, birds, had all proved useful already. Even the small striped squirrels like the one flitting among the rocks might help sustain him if necessary.
He was not likely to be so fortunate as to share a real-cat's kill very often, but that was a possibility. And, he should be able to make his own deer kill occasionally. He did need more skins before really cold weather.
Owl rolled over to expose a new portion of his body to the warmth of the fire, and drew the elk skin around him. He was pleased with his progress. He had come in contact with elements of nature completely foreign to his prairie culture, and had so far managed to adapt. White Buffalo would be proud of him. He looked forward to telling the old man of all the things he had seen and done. There were wondrous things to be learned beyond the land of the People.
He thought of Willow. She, too, would be proud. He longed to share with her the triumph of his escape, and of his lessons in survival among strange surroundings. She would be amused, he knew, at his story of robbing the real-cat's kill. She would laugh at his strange-looking moccasins.
Sleep came slowly. The girl's memory troubled his mind. She had been so vibrant, so radiantly alive, that his mind refused to accept her loss.
Even the reassuring call of a coyote from the ridge seemed at odds with reality.
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