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Prairie Smoke, a Collection of Lore of the Prairies
Not long after the death of this little child the people went upon the annual summer buffalo hunt to the Sand Hill region many miles away to the west from the village. As the people drew away from the familiar home scenes of the village the mother was strongly affected by a feeling of sadness and grief for her little one which she had to leave alone in its lone and narrow bed upon the hill. When the people made camp and the evening meal was prepared this mother was so burdened with grief for her child that she could not eat and went away to grieve alone. When she left the camp she was so drawn by yearning for her little one that she walked on and on all night toward the home village. In the morning, weak and weary, she was back in the deserted village. All was still. Not a person and not a dog was there. She went into her own house. Then she went through the village to other houses. At some deserted fireplace she happened to find some coals; so she was able to kindle a fire and cook a bit of food. She sat in her house and wailed for her baby. After a time she heard sounds. She listened and there seemed to be whispers and murmurs all about her. And so it continued day after day. At first she saw nothing, but heard the murmurs and whispers, and gradually she could almost understand what the whispers said, especially when she fasted. She made out enough to know that it was the spirits of the departed, who, in the absence of the living, returned to occupy the houses during the absence of the people.
After a time she became able to understand more of what the ghosts said, and finally she could talk with them in their own manner. Their speech was not like the speech of living people; there was no voice, but slight whispering sounds, as one sometimes hears among the grass on the prairie when all is still, or among the leaves of growing corn, or the light rustling of the cottonwood leaves on a quiet evening.
At first the woman saw nothing, though she could hear the whispering speech like the breathing of those who sleep. Later she could see, as it seemed, feet moving about on the floor, but nothing above the feet. As she looked she could see nothing between herself and the opposite walls of the house. Then, after a time, she seemed to see not only the moccasins but the leggings above them as far as the knees, but she never saw any more. And thus it was with her during all the time she dwelt there alone with the spirits until her people returned to the village.
This time it happened the people did not return for a year. When the woman had disappeared from the camp on their first night out the people supposed she had gone out somewhere to be alone to weep and pray, but when she did not return they sought for her, and not being able to find any trace of her they supposed some accident had befallen her and that she was dead. They were much surprised to find her at home when they returned to the village at the end of a year. But when they spoke to her they found that she was mute; she moved her lips, but no sound came. After some days she recovered speech and again took up her accustomed life with her people.
During the year in which she lived alone in the deserted village she had planted and harvested a crop and had lived by that and by what food may have been left in the storage places and from the wild products which she gathered.
AN OMAHA HERO SONG
All American tribes had many different classes of songs. One class of songs was in praise of tribal heroes. There were also songs of chivalry, celebrating brave and generous deeds. To this class belongs the one given herewith. It must be said in explanation that all Indian songs are very brief. They comprise only a line or two and the meaning of the song is known by the story which is its foundation. To understand this particular song it must be explained that a common military custom among the tribes was to award certain honors for certain exploits, just as we see in our own armies the awarding of the Victoria Cross, the Distinguished Service Medal, the Military Medal, the Croix de Guerre, etc. In the Omaha tribe the highest military honor was awarded for getting near enough to the enemy to touch an enemy body, either with a lance, a bow, or any object in the hand.
There was an old warrior of this tribe, named Yellow-wood Bow, who had fought well and won many honors in his time. But he was now old and no longer able to fight for his people. But one day when an attack had been made on his people by the enemy and the young men were fighting valorously, the old man went out walking feebly toward the field of conflict to see the battle, for he was unable to sit quietly in the village while the fighting was going on. It happened that as he approached the battlefield two young men were just about to count their honors by striking with a lance the body of a slain enemy when one saw the old warrior, Yellow-wood Bow approaching. He held back and spoke to his comrade in the words “Hold! Yellow-wood Bow is coming!” So the young men gave over the opportunity of counting the honor for themselves in order that the highly respected old warrior might have this one more chance to gain an honor, one more honor to his long list of honors. And the generosity of these two young men is praised in the song:
“Hold! Yellow-wood Bow is coming!”
In singing this song not only do the people award praise and glory to bravery and courage, but the virtue of renunciation shown by the young men also receives its measure of praise. The song has the purpose to inculcate emulation of bravery and also of generosity and unselfishness of spirit.
Stories of Plant People
SACRED TREES
A people living under natural conditions in communion with nature, will carefully note the appearance of natural objects in their environment. They become acquainted with the various aspects of the landscape and of the living things, plants and animals in their changes through the seasons, in storm and calm, in activity and in repose. Becoming thus intimately acquainted with the life about them the people will come to regard some of the more notable forms with a feeling akin to that which they have towards persons, and hence they come to have place in folk stories, in reasoned discourse and in ceremonies of religion.
Commonly throughout the region of the Missouri River was to be seen the cottonwood, the willows of several species, and the cedar or juniper. The appearance and habits of these trees impressed themselves powerfully upon the mind and imagination of the Indian folk.
The cedar or juniper was wonderful because it was ever green; unlike other trees it appeared indifferent to frost and to heat, but alike in winter and summer retained its leaves. Also it appeared to be withdrawn, solitary and silent, standing dark and still, like an Indian standing upon a hill with his robe drawn over his head in prayer and meditation. Thus it gave the suggestion, and had the appearance of being in communion with the High Powers.
Leaves and twigs of cedar were burned as incense in ceremonial rituals in order that evil influences might be driven away.
Willows were always found growing along watercourses, as though they had some duty or function in the world in connection with water, the element so immediately and constantly needful to man and to all other living things. Water was not only imperatively necessary for vivifying and reanimating all living things, but was an active agent in processes of change and transmutation. In cases of disease the evil influences which plagued the body might be driven out and thus health might be restored through the use of water transformed into vapor by means of heat. So the vapor bath was used. Also if a man contemplated the undertaking of any serious project, any dangerous mission, or any solemn enterprise, it was important first to prepare himself by purification, by means of the vapor bath, from all evil influences. The framework of the vapor bath lodge was made of willow poles, bent and tied with their bark.
The willow was also mystically connected with that greatest change of all, the departure of the spirit from the body, the change which we call death. Willow twigs had certain uses in funeral rites.
The cottonwood was found growing over a widely extended range, under diverse climatic conditions, appearing always self-reliant, showing prodigious fecundity, and having wonderful means of propagation. It provided its seed, produced in enormous number, with a device by which they traveled on the wind to far places and so became widely disseminated in all directions, traveling up-stream or down-stream, and even across the plains and prairies to other streams where the new generation might establish itself. But besides this admirable provision to insure the perpetuation of its kind it had also another means of propagation; though by this means it could move only down-stream. This method of propagation is by the making of cuttings or planting slips from its own twigs. It is well known that the gardener may make artificial cuttings of many kinds of trees and plants, and so increase his stock. But the cottonwood, alone among trees, performs this operation itself. At the beginning of autumn the cottonwood trees form layers of cork cells which gradually wedge off part of its twigs from the parent branch, thus covering and healing the wound of separation and also covering and healing the base of the separated twig so that it falls off alive and protected from loss of sap.
Falling thus to the ground just about the time that autumn rains are about to begin, they are ready to be carried away by the rising waters of the streams and may be thus planted in a mud or sand bank further down stream, ready to take root and grow in the springtime.
In the springtime the opening of the cottonwood buds and pushing out of the young leaves, even when chilly nights follow the bright breezy days and the rapid growth of these lustrous leaves, brightly dancing in the spring winds, their brilliant sheen and active movement reflecting the splendour of the sun like the dancing, glinting ripples of a lake, suggest the joy and eagerness and energy of movement of all returning life.
The foliage of the cottonwood is peculiar and remarkable so that it may be said the air is never so still that there is not motion of cottonwood leaves. Even in still and sultry summer afternoons, and at night when all else was still, ever they could hear the rustling of cottonwood leaves by the passage of little vagrant currents of air. Secret messages seemed ever to be passing in soft whispers among the cottonwood leaves. And the winds themselves are the bearers of the messages and commands of the Higher Powers, so there was constant reminder of the mystic character of this tree.
The cottonwood was, among trees, the symbol of fidelity, one of the four great virtues inculcated by the ethical code of the people of the Dakota nation.
So from all these considerations, it might be expected that this tree should have an important place in the rituals of the people for many generations associated with it. And so it had.
The Sacred Pole of the Omaha nation was made of the cottonwood. The Sacred Pole was an object of the greatest veneration to the people of that nation, similarly as the Ark of the Covenant was sacred to the Hebrew nation.
The Sacred Tree, the central object of the Sun Dance, the most momentous religious ritual of the Dakota nation, was a cottonwood. The tree which should be chosen to be felled and brought into camp and set up in the lodge erected for the performance of this ritual, must be a growing cottonwood tree, the base of whose trunk is not less than two spans in circumference. The tree must be straight and forked at a distance from the ground of about four times the measure of the outstretched arms from hand to hand.
Twigs and bark of cottonwood were burned as incense to ward against the scheming of Anog Ite, the spiteful malevolent being who foments scandals, strife and infidelity.
Such then, were some of the relations in the philosophic thought, the religious conceptions and the sentiments of the people of the Dakota nation in regard to these three species of trees.
THE SONG OF THE PASQUE FLOWER
The pasque flower (Pulsatilla patens), has a very extensive range upon the northern prairies, reaching from about latitude 43 degrees north to the Great Slave Lake above 60 degrees north latitude. It is the earliest flower to put forth its blossoms in the springtime, often appearing before all the snow is gone. Its bluish purple flowers gladden the bare brown hillsides with great profusion of bloom, in earnest of returning life. For this reason it has a strong hold upon the affections of all the native tribes throughout all its extended range. The plant is closely related to the anemone, which is sometimes called the wind flower.
The people of the Dakota nation have a number of pretty little folk stories concerning the pasque flower. One story is that in the long ago, whenever any of the people happened to pass by where these flowers were blooming they tried to show the friendliness which they felt for human beings by nodding their heads in the chilly spring wind, showing their smiling faces and saying, “Good morning! Good morning!” But the people passed them unheeding. They became abashed at this indifference, so nowadays still feeling friendly towards the people in spite of such rebuffs, they bashfully turn their heads to one side as they nod and call their kindly greetings in their sweet low voice.
There is another pretty conceit connected with the pasque flower. Indians generally are keenly observant of all things in nature, and reverent towards them. They feel reverence for all living creatures, whether plant or animal. They have songs and stories about most of the species of plants and animals with which they are acquainted, the specific song being the expression of the life or soul of the species to which it pertains. The song of the pasque flower, translated out of the Dakota language into English runs something like this:
“I wish to encourage the children of other flower nationsWhich are now appearing over all the land;So while they waken from sleep and rise from the bosomOf Mother Earth, I stand here old and gray-headed.”The saying: “I wish to encourage the children of other flower nations,” refers to the very early prevernal blossoming of this plant and its consequent ripening while the other flower species (nations) are just peeping through the ground. The entire plant is hairy, and when mature its seed head is plumose and white, similar to the clematis head, suggesting the head of a very old man with long white hair. This explains the allusion in “I stand here old and gray-headed.”
When in springtime an old man of the Dakota nation first finds one of these flowers it reminds him of his childhood, when he wandered over the hills at play as free from sorrow and care as the birds and the flowers. He sits down near the flower, upon the lap of Mother Earth, takes out his pipe and fills it with tobacco. Then he reverently holds the pipe towards the earth, then towards the sky, then towards the north, the east, the south and the west. After this act of silent invocation and thanksgiving, he smokes. Tobacco was sacred and was used ceremonially as an incense. The pipe was therefore a sort of censer, and was accordingly treated with respect and reverence. In smoking, Indians did not seize the pipestem in the teeth. Such an act would be sacrilegious. The mouthpiece of the pipestem was gently presented to the lips and the breath drawn through. By this inspiration the smoker united the mystery of the tobacco, the mystery of fire and the mystery of the breath of life.
While the old man sits by the flower and smokes he meditates upon all the changing scenes of his lifetime; his joys and sorrows, his youthful hopes, his accomplishments, his disappointments, and upon the guidance of the Unseen Powers accorded to him thus far upon the journey of life, and he is encouraged to believe that he will be guided to the end of life’s journey “beyond the fourth hill” of life; as he has been guided over the hill of childhood, the hill of youth, and the hill of manhood’s prime, that he will also be guided over the last hill, the hill of old age.
After finishing his pipe he empties the ashes reverently upon the ground near the pasque flower which he has been contemplating. Then he rises and plucks the flower prayerfully and carries it carefully home to show to his grandchildren, singing as he goes, the song of the pasque flower, which he learned as a child and which he now teaches to his grandchildren, commending to them the example of the flower in its courage and endurance and its faithfulness.
THE SONG OF THE PASQUE FLOWERBy Rev. Ignatius Forster, O. S. BMount Marty, Yankton, South DakotaFebruary 1, 1921Lovely Pasque Flower,Herald of Spring,Proclaiming the hour,Gladly to sing.Gently thou greetestThe wintry sun;Boldly thou peepestIf snow is gone.Callest thy playmatesWho still do sleep:“Arise, lo, spring waits!No longer weep.”Slowly they waken,Lowly they sigh:“Wasn’t that beckonPasque Flower’s cry?”They rise in raimentsOf colors bright;Pasque Flower’s garmentsAre hoary white.Noble thy preaching,Pasque flower brave;“Work,” is thy teaching,“Unto the grave.”Lovely Pasque Flower,Herald of SpringProclaiming the hourTo work and sing.Father Forster was moved to write this delightful little song upon reading one evening, (February 1, 1921), the foregoing prose account of the Dakota (Sioux) Song of the Pasque Flower or Hoksi-Cekpa Wahca.
THE PRAIRIE ROSE
The prairie was gray and drab, no beautiful flowers brightened it, it had only dull greenish-gray herbs and grasses, and Mother Earth’s heart was sad because her robe was lacking in beauty and brightness. Then the Holy Earth, our mother, sighed and said, “Ah, my robe is not beautiful, it is sombre and dull. I wish it might be bright and beautiful with flowers and splendid with color. I have many beautiful, sweet and dainty flowers in my heart. I wish to have them upon my robe. I wish to have upon my robe flowers blue like the clear sky in fair weather. I wish also to have flowers white like the pure snow of winter and like the high white cloudlets of a quiet summer day. I wish also to have brilliant yellow flowers like the splendor of the sun at noon of a summer day. And I wish to have delicate pink flowers like the color of the dawn light of a joyous day in springtime. I would also have flowers red like the clouds at evening when the sun is going down below the western edge of the world. All these beautiful flowers are in my heart, but I am sad when I look upon my old dull, gray and brown robe.”
Then a sweet little pink flower said, “Do not grieve mother, I will go up upon your robe and beautify it.” So the little pink flower came up from the heart of Mother Earth to be upon the sad prairie of her mother’s robe.
Now when the Wind Demon saw the pink flower there he said, “Indeed she is pretty, but I will not have her trespassing in my playground.” So the Wind Demon rushed at her shouting and roaring and blew out her life, but her spirit returned to the heart of Mother Earth.
And when the other flowers ventured, one after another to come out upon the prairie which was Mother Earth’s robe, the Wind Demon destroyed them also and their spirits returned to the heart of Holy Mother Earth.
At last Prairie Rose offered to go and brighten the appearance of Mother Earth’s robe, the prairie. Mother Earth said fondly, “Yes, dear, sweet child, I will let you go. You are so lovely and your breath is so sweet, it may be that the Wind Demon will be charmed by you, and that he will let you remain on his ground.” And Prairie Rose said, “Yes, dear mother, I will go, for I desire that my mother’s robe shall be beautiful. But if the Wind Demon should blow out my life my spirit shall return home to the heart of my mother.”
So Prairie Rose made the toilsome journey up through the dark ground and came out upon the sad gray prairie. And as she was going Mother Earth said in her heart, “Oh, I hope the Wind Demon will allow her to live for I wish my robe to be beautiful!”
Now when the Wind Demon saw Prairie Rose he rushed at her shouting and said, “Indeed, though she is pretty I shall not allow her to be upon my ground. I will blow out her life.” So he came on roaring and drawing his breath in strong gusts. Just then he caught the fragrance of the breath of Prairie Rose. “Ah,” he said, “how sweet her breath is! Why, I do not have it in my heart to blow out the life of such a beautiful little maiden whose breath is so sweet! I love her. She shall stay here with me. And I must make my voice gentle and sing a melodious song, for I wish not to frighten her with my awful noise.”
So he became quiet and breathed gentle breezes which passed over the prairie grasses whispering and humming little songs of gladness.
Then the other flowers also came up through the dark ground and out upon the dull, gray prairie and made it bright and joyous with their presence. And the wind came to love all the flowers and the grasses.
And so the robe of our Mother Earth became beautiful because of the loveliness and the sweet breath of the Prairie Rose.
Sometimes the Wind forgets his gentle songs and becomes loud and boisterous, but he does not harm a person whose robe is ornamented with the color of Prairie Rose.
THE SONG OF THE WILD ROSE
The following is a translation into English out of the Dakota language by Dr. A. McG. Beede, of an old Dakota song. The people of the Dakota nation, and other tribes also, think of the various plant and animal species as having each their own songs. With these people music, song, is an expression of the soul and not a mere artistic or artful exercise.
Where the word “Mother” appears in the following song it refers to “Mother Earth,” a living, conscious, holy being in Indian thought. The earth was truly venerated and loved by these people, who considered themselves not as owners or potential owners of any part of the land, but as being owned by the land which gave them birth and which supplied their physical needs from her bounty and satisfied their love of the beautiful by the beauty of her face in the landscape.
The trilled musical syllables at the close of the last two stanzas express the spontaneous joy which comes to a person who has “life-appreciation of Holy Earth.”
The first stanza is an introduction by the narrator; not a part of the “Song of the Wild Rose.” The remaining stanzas are the song itself, of the Wild Rose.
I will tell you of something I know,And you can’t half imagine how good;It’s the song of wild roses that growIn the land the Dakota-folk love.From the heart of the Mother we come,The kind Mother of Life and of All;And if ever you think she is dumb,You should know that flowers are her songs.And all creatures that live are her songs,And all creatures that die are her songs,And the winds blowing by are her songs,And she wants you to sing all her songs.Like the purple in Daydawn we come,And our hearts are so brimful of joyThat whene’er we’re not singing we humTi-li-li-li-i, ta-la-la-loo, ta-la-la-loo!When a maiden is ready to wedPin wild roses all over her dress,And a rose in the hair of her head;Put new moccasins onto her feet.Then the heart of the Mother will giveHer the songs of her own heart to sing;And she’ll sing all the moons she may live,Ti-li-li-li-i, ta-la-la-loo, ta-la-la-loo!USE OF THE GROUND BEAN BY INDIANS
There is a native wild bean found growing over an area of wide distribution in North America. The botanical name of this bean is Falcata comosa. In the Dakota language it is called maka ta omnicha, which means “bean of the earth;” in the Pawnee language it is called ati-kuraru, which means “earth bean.” The plant grows in dense masses over shrubbery and other vegetation in some places, especially along banks and at the edge of timber.
It forms two kinds of branches, bearing two forms of flower, producing two forms of fruits. Leafy branches climb up over the shrubbery, but under these, in the shade, prostrate on the earth, starting out from the base of the main stem, are leafless, colorless branches, forming a network on the surface of the ground. The tiny inconspicuous blossoms borne on these prostrate branches are self-pollinated and push into the leaf mold and soft soil, and there each produces a single large bean closely clothed by a thin filmy pod or husk. These beans which are formed in the earth are about the size of Lima beans. Upon the upper, leafy branches are borne showy, purplish flowers appearing like small bean blossoms. From these blossoms are produced small bean pods about a half inch to an inch in length. These pods contain each from three to four or five small, hard, mottled beans about an eighth of an inch long.