While we know our northern friends may not feel it, in the South, Spring is
here. So we thought we'd share a few of our gardening sites appropriate
for this time of the year. Along with gardening, there's grilling, and getting
ready to diet so that you can fit back into that bathing suit this summer!
In ancient times the chief god of the Blackfeet
their Creator was Na'pi (Old Man). This is the word used to
indicate any old man, though its meaning is often loosely given
as white. An analysis of the word Na'pi, however, shows it to be
compounded of the word Ni'nah, man, and the particle a'pi, which
expresses a color, and which is never used by itself, but always
in combination with some other word. The Blackfoot word for
white is Ksik-si-num' while a'pi, though also conveying the idea
of whiteness, really describes the tint seen in the early
morning light when it first appears in the east the dawn not a
pure white, but that color combined with a faint cast of yellow.
Na'pi, therefore, would seem to mean dawn-light-color-man, or
man-yellowish-white. It is easy to see why old men should be
called by this latter name, for it describes precisely the color
of their hair.
Dr. Brinton, in his valuable work, American Hero
Myths, has suggested a more profound reason why such a name
should be given to the Creator. He says: "The most important of
all things to life is light. This the primitive savage felt, and
personifying it, he made light his chief god. The beginning of
day served, by analogy, for the beginning of the world. Light
comes before the Sun, brings it forth, creates it, as it were.
Hence the Light god is not the Sun god but his antecedent and
Creator."
It would be absurd to attribute to the Blackfoot
of today any such abstract conception of the name of the Creator
as that expressed in the foregoing quotation. The statement that
Old Man was merely light personified would be beyond his
comprehension, and if he did understand what was meant, he would
laugh at it, and aver that Na'pi was a real man, a flesh and
blood person like himself.
The character of Old Man, as depicted in the
stories told of him by the Blackfeet, is a curious mixture of
opposite attributes. In the serious tales, such as those of the
creation, he is spoken of respectfully, and there is no hint of
the impish qualities which characterize him in other stories, in
which he is powerful, but also at times impotent; full of all
wisdom, yet at times so helpless that he has to ask aid from the
animals. Sometimes he sympathizes with the people, and at
others, out of pure spitefulness, he plays them malicious tricks
that are worthy of a demon. He is a combination of strength,
weakness, wisdom, folly, childishness, and malice.
Under various names Old Man is known to the Cree,
Chippeway, and other Algonquin, and many of the stories that are
current among the Blackfeet are told of him among those tribes.
The more southern of these tribes do not venerate him as of old,
but the Plains and Timber Cree of the north, and the north
Chippeway, are said still to be firm believers in Old Man. He
was their Creator, and is still their chief god. He is believed
in less by the younger generation than the older. The Cree are
regarded by the Indians of the Northwest as having very powerful
medicine, and this all comes from Old Man.
Old Man can never die. Long ago he left the
Blackfeet and went away to the West, disappearing in the
mountains. Before his departure he told them that he would
always take care of them, and some day would return. Even now,
many of the old people believe that he spoke the truth, and that
some day he will come back, and will bring with him the buffalo,
which they believe the white men have hidden. It is sometimes
said, however, that when he left them he told them also that,
when he returned, he would find them changed a different people
and living in a different way from that which they practiced
when he went away. Sometimes, also, it is said that when he
disappeared he went to the East.
It is generally believed that Old Man is no
longer the principal god of the Blackfeet, that the Sun has
taken his place. There is some reason to suspect, however, that
the Sun and Old Man are one, that N[=a]t[=o]s' is only another
name for Na'pi, for I have been told by two or three old men
that "the Sun is the person whom we call Old Man." However this
may be, it is certain that Na'pi even if he no longer occupies
the chief place in the Blackfoot religious system is still
reverenced, and is still addressed in prayer. Now, however,
every good thing, success in war, in the chase, health, long
life, all happiness, come by the special favor of the Sun.
The Sun is a man, the supreme chief of the world.
The flat, circular earth in fact is his home, the floor of his
lodge, and the over-arching sky is its covering. The moon,
K[=o]-k[=o]-mik'-[=e]-[)i]s, night light, is the Sun's wife. The
pair have had a number of children, all but one of whom were
killed by pelicans. The survivor is the morning star, A-pi-su-ahts
early riser.
In attributes the Sun is very unlike Old Man. He
is a beneficent person, of great wisdom and kindness, good to
those who do right. As a special means of obtaining his favor,
sacrifices must be made. These are often presents of clothing,
fine robes, or furs, and in extreme cases, when the prayer is
for life itself, the offering of a finger, or still dearer a
lock of hair. If a white buffalo was killed, the robe was always
given to the Sun. It belonged to him. Of the buffalo, the tongue
regarded as the greatest delicacy of the whole animal was
especially sacred to the Sun. The sufferings undergone by men in
the Medicine Lodge each year were sacrifices to the Sun. This
torture was an actual penance, like the sitting for years on top
of a pillar, the wearing of a hair shirt, or fasting in Lent. It
was undergone for no other purpose than that of pleasing
God as a propitiation or in fulfillment of vows
made to him. Just as the priests of Baal slashed themselves with
knives to induce their god to help them, so, and for the same
reason, the Blackfoot men surged on and tore out the ropes tied
to their skins. It is merely the carrying out of a religious
idea that is as old as history and as widespread as the globe,
and is closely akin to the motive which today, in our own
centers of enlightened civilization, prompts acts of self-denial
and penance by many thousands of intelligent cultivated people.
And yet we are horrified at hearing described the tortures of
the Medicine Lodge.
Besides the Sun and Old Man, the Blackfoot
religious system includes a number of minor deities or rather
natural qualities and forces, which are personified and given
shape. These are included in the general terms Above Persons,
Ground Persons, and Under Water Persons. Of the former class,
Thunder is one of the most important, and is worshipped as is
elsewhere shown. He brings the rain. He is represented sometimes
as a bird, or, more vaguely, as in one of the stories, merely as
a fearful person. Wind Maker is an example of an Under Water
Person, and it is related that he has been seen, and his form is
described. It is believed by some that he lives under the water
at the head of the Upper St. Mary's Lake. Those who believe this
say that when he wants the wind to blow, he makes the waves
roll, and that these cause the wind to blow, another example of
mistaking effect for cause, so common among the Indians. The
Ground Man is another below person. He lives under the ground,
and perhaps typifies the power of the earth, which is highly
respected by all Indians of the west. The Cheyennes also have a
Ground Man whom they call The Lower One, or Below Person
(Pun'-[)o]-ts[)i]-hyo). The cold and snow are brought by Cold
Maker (Ai'-so-yim-stan). He is a man, white in color, with white
hair, and clad in white apparel, who rides on a white horse. He
brings the storm with him. They pray to him to bring, or not to
bring, the storm.
Many of the animals are regarded as typifying
some form of wisdom or craft. They are not gods, yet they have
power, which, perhaps, is given them by the Sun or by Old Man.
Examples of this are shown in some of the stories.
Among the animals especially respected and
supposed to have great power, are the buffalo, the bear, the
raven, the wolf, the beaver, and the kit-fox. Geese too, are
credited with great wisdom and with foreknowledge of the
weather. They are led by chiefs. As is quite natural among a
people like the Blackfeet, the buffalo stood very high among the
animals which they reverenced. It symbolized food and shelter,
and was Nato'y[)e] (of the Sun), sacred. Not a few considered it
a medicine animal, and had it for their dream, or secret helper.
It was the most powerful of all the animal helpers. Its
importance is indicated by the fact that buffalo skulls were
placed on the sweat houses built in connection with the Medicine
Lodge. A similar respect for the buffalo exists among many
Plains tribes, which were formerly dependent on it for food and
raiment. A reverence for the bear appears to be common to all
North American tribes, and is based not upon anything that the
animal's body yields, but perhaps on the fact that it is the
largest carnivorous mammal of the continent, the most difficult
to kill and extremely keen in all its senses. The Blackfeet
believe it to be part brute and part human, portions of its
body, particularly the ribs and feet, being like those of a man.
The raven is cunning. The wolf has great endurance and much
craft. He can steal close to one without being seen. In the
stories given in the earlier pages of this book, many of the
attributes of the different animals are clearly set forth.
There were various powers and signs connected
with these animals so held in high esteem by the Blackfeet, to
which the people gave strict heed. Thus the raven has the power
of giving people far sight. It was also useful in another way.
Often, in going to war, a man would get a raven's skin and stuff
the head and neck, and tie it to the hair of the head behind. If
a man wearing such a skin got near the enemy without knowing it,
the skin would give him warning by tapping him on the back of
the head with its bill. Then he would know that the enemy was
near, and would hide. If a raven flew over a lodge, or a number
of lodges, and cried, and then was joined by other ravens, all
flying over the camp and crying, it was a sure sign that during
the day some one would come and tell the news from far off. The
ravens often told the people that game was near, calling to the
hunter and then flying a little way, and then coming back, and
again calling and flying toward the game.
The wolves are the people's great friends; they
travel with the wolves. If, as they are traveling along, they
pass close to some wolves, these will bark at the people,
talking to them. Some man will call to them, "No, I will not
give you my body to eat, but I will give you the body of some
one else, if you will go along with us." This applies both to
wolves and coyotes. If a man goes away from the camp at night,
and meets a coyote, and it barks at him, he goes back to the
camp, and says to the people: "Look out now; be smart. A coyote
barked at me tonight." Then the people look out, and are
careful, for it is a sure sign that something bad is going to
happen. Perhaps some one will be shot; perhaps the enemy will
charge the camp.
If a person is hungry and sings a wolf song, he
is likely to find food. Men going on a hunting trip sing these
songs, which bring them good luck. The bear has very powerful
medicine. Sometimes he takes pity on people and helps them, as
in the story of Mik'-api.
Some Piegan, if they wish to travel on a certain
day, have the power of insuring good weather on that day. It is
supposed that they do this by singing a powerful song. Some of
the enemy can cause bad weather, when they want to steal into
the camp.
People who belonged to the Sin'-o-pah band of the
I-kun-uh'-kah-tsi, if they were at war in summer and wanted a
storm to come up, would take some dirt and water and rub it on
the kit-fox skin, and this would cause a rainstorm to come up.
In winter, snow and dirt would be rubbed on the skin and this
would bring up a snowstorm.
Certain places and inanimate objects are also
greatly reverenced by the Blackfeet, and presents are made to
them.
The smallest of the three buttes of the Sweet
Grass Hills is regarded as sacred. "All the Indians are afraid
to go there," Four Bears once told me. Presents are sometimes
thrown into the Missouri River, though these are not offerings
made directly to the stream, but are given to the Under Water
People, who live in it.
Mention has already been made of the buffalo
rock, which gives its owner the power to call the buffalo.
Another sacred object is the medicine rock of the
Marias. It is a huge boulder of reddish sandstone, two-thirds
the way up a steep hill on the north bank of the Marias River,
about five miles from Fort Conrad. Formerly, this rock rested on
the top of the bluff, but, as the soil about it is worn away by
the wind and the rain, it is slowly moving down the hill. The
Indians believe it to be alive, and make presents to it. When I
first visited it, the ground about it was strewn with decaying
remnants of offerings that had been made to it in the past.
Among these I noticed, besides fragments of clothing, eagle
feathers, a steel finger ring, brass ear-rings, and a little
bottle made of two copper cartridge cases.
Down on Milk River, east of the Sweet Grass
Hills, is another medicine rock. It is shaped something like a
man's body, and looks like a person sitting on top of the bluff.
Whenever the Blackfeet pass this rock, they make presents to it.
Sometimes, when they give it an article of clothing, they put it
on the rock, "and then," as one of them once said to me, "when
you look at it, it seems more than ever like a person." Down in
the big bend of the Milk River, opposite the eastern end of the
Little Rocky Mountains, lying on the prairie, is a great gray
boulder, which is shaped like a buffalo bull lying down. This is
greatly reverenced by all Plains Indians, Blackfeet included,
and they make presents to it. Many other examples of similar
character might be given.
The Blackfeet make daily prayers to the Sun and
to Old Man, and nothing of importance is undertaken without
asking for divine assistance. They are firm believers in dreams.
These, they say, are sent by the Sun to enable us to look ahead,
to tell what is going to happen. A dream, especially if it is a
strong one, that is, if the dream is very clear and vivid, is
almost always obeyed. As dreams start them on the war path, so,
if a dream threatening bad luck comes to a member of a war
party, even if in the enemy's country and just about to make an
attack on a camp, the party is likely to turn about and go home
without making any hostile demonstrations. The animal or object
which appears to the boy, or man, who is trying to dream for
power, is, as has been said, regarded thereafter as his secret
helper, his medicine, and is usually called his dream (Nits-o'-kan).
The most important religious occasion of the year
is the ceremony of the Medicine Lodge. This is a sacrifice,
which, among the Blackfeet, is offered invariably by women. If a
woman has a son or husband away at war, and is anxious about
him, or if she has a dangerously sick child, she may make to the
Sun a vow in the following words:
"Listen, Sun. Pity me. You have seen my life. You
know that I am pure. I have never committed adultery with any
man. Now, therefore, I ask you to pity me. I will build you a
lodge. Let my son survive. Bring him back to health, so that I
may build this lodge for you."
The vow to build the Medicine Lodge is repeated
in a loud voice, outside her lodge, so that all the people may
hear it, and if any man can impeach the woman, he is obliged to
speak out, in which case she could be punished according to the
law. The Medicine Lodge is always built in summer, at the season
of the ripening of the sarvis berries, and if, before this time,
the person for whom the vow is made dies, the woman is not
obliged to fulfill her vow. She is regarded with suspicion, and
it is generally believed that she has been guilty of the crime
she disavowed. As this cannot be proved, however, she is not
punished.
When the time approaches for the building of the
lodge, a suitable locality is selected, and all the people move
to it, putting up their lodges in a circle about it. In the
meantime, at least a hundred buffalo tongues have been
collected, cut, and dried by the woman who may be called the
Medicine Lodge woman. No one but she is allowed to take part in
this work.
Before the tongues are cut and dried, they are
laid in a pile in the medicine woman's lodge. She then gives a
feast to the old men, and one of them, noted for his honesty,
and well liked by all, repeats a very long prayer, asking in
substance that the coming Medicine Lodge may be acceptable to
the Sun, and that he will look with favor on the people, and
will give them good health, plenty of food, and success in war.
A hundred songs are then sung, each one different from the
others. The feast and singing of these songs lasts a day and a
half.
Before the Medicine Lodge is erected, four large
sweat lodges are built, all in a line, fronting to the east or
toward the rising sun. Two stand in front of the Medicine Lodge,
and two behind it. The two nearest the Medicine Lodge are built
one day, and the others on the day following. The sticks for the
framework of these lodges are cut only by renowned warriors,
each warrior cutting one, and, as he brings it in and lays it
down, he counts a coup, which must be of some especially brave
deed. The old men then take the sticks and erect the lodges,
placing on top of each a buffalo skull, one half of which is
painted red, the other black, to represent day and night, or
rather the sun and the moon. When the lodges are finished and
the stones heated, the warriors go in to sweat, and with them
the medicine pipe men, who offer up prayers.
While this is going on, the young men cut the
centre post for the Medicine Lodge, and all the other material
for its construction. The women then pack out the post and the
poles on horses, followed by the men shouting, singing, and
shooting.
In the morning of this day the medicine woman
begins a fast, which must last four days and four nights, with
only one intermission, as will shortly appear. During that time
she may not go out of doors, except between sunset and sunrise.
During the whole ceremony her face, hands, and clothing are
covered with the sacred red paint.
When all the material has been brought to the
spot where the lodge is to be erected, that warrior who, during
the previous year, has done the most cutting and stabbing in
battle is selected to cut the rawhide to bind it, and while he
cuts the strings he counts three coups.
The centre post is now placed on the ground,
surrounded by the poles and other smaller posts; and two bands
of the I-kun-uh'-kah-tsi, the Braves, and the All Crazy Dogs
approach. Each band sings four songs, and then they raise the
lodge amid the shouting of the people. It is said that, in old
times, all the bands of the I-kun-uh'-kah-tsi took part in this
ceremony. For raising the centre post, which is very heavy,
lodge poles are tied in pairs, with rawhide, so as to form
"shears," each pair being handled by two men. If one of the
ropes binding the shears breaks, the men who hold the pair are
said to be unlucky; it is thought that they are soon to die. As
soon as the centre post is up, the wall posts are erected, and
the roof of poles put on, the whole structure being covered with
brush. The door-way faces east or southeast, and the lodge is
circular in shape, about forty feet in diameter, with walls
about seven feet high.
Inside the Medicine Lodge, at the back, or west
side, in the principal place in the lodge, is now built a little
box-shaped house, about seven feet high, six feet long, and four
wide. It is made of brush, so tightly woven that one cannot see
inside of it. This is built by a medicine man, the high priest
of this ceremony, who, for four days, the duration of the
ceremony, neither eats nor goes out of it in the daytime. The
people come to him, two at a time, and he paints them with
black, and makes for them an earnest prayer to the Sun, that
they may have good health, long lives, and good food and
shelter. This man is supposed to have power over the rain. As
rain would interfere with the ceremonies, he must stop it, if it
threatens.
In the meantime, the sacred dried tongues have
been placed in the Medicine Lodge. The next morning, the
Medicine Lodge woman leaves her own lodge, and, walking very
slowly with bowed head, and praying at every step, she enters
the Medicine Lodge, and, standing by the pile of tongues, she
cuts up one of them and holds it toward heaven, offering it to
the Sun; then she eats a part of it and buries the rest in the
dirt, praying to the Ground Man, and calling him to bear witness
that she has not defiled his body by committing adultery. She
then proceeds to cut up the tongues, giving a very small piece
to every person, man, woman, or child. Each one first holds it
up to the Sun, and then prays to the Sun, Na'-pi, and the Ground
Man for long life, concluding by depositing a part of the morsel
of tongue on the ground, saying, "I give you this sacred tongue
to eat." And now, during the four days, outside the lodge, goes
on the counting of the coups. Each warrior in turn recounts his
success in war, his battles or his horse-takings. With a number
of friends to help him, he goes through a pantomime of all these
encounters, showing how he killed this enemy, took a gun from
that one, or cut horses loose from the lodge of another. When he
has concluded, an old man offers a prayer, and ends by giving
him a new name, saying that he hopes he will live well and long
under it.
Inside the lodge, rawhide ropes are suspended
from the centre post, and here the men fulfill the vows that
they have made during the previous year. Some have been sick, or
in great danger at war, and they then vowed that if they were
permitted to live, or escape, they would swing at the Medicine
Lodge. Slits are cut in the skin of their breast, ropes passed
through and secured by wooden skewers, and then the men swing
and surge until the skin gives way and tears out. This is very
painful, and some fairly shriek with agony as they do it, but
they never give up, for they believe that if they should fail to
fulfill their vow, they would soon die.
On the fourth day every one has been prayed for,
every one has made to the Sun his or her present, which is tied
to the centre post, the sacred tongues have all been consumed,
and the ceremony ends, every one feeling better, assured of long
life and plenty.
Most persons have an entirely erroneous idea of
the purpose of this annual ceremony. It has been supposed that
it was for the purpose of making warriors. This is not true. It
was essentially a religious festival, undertaken for the bodily
and spiritual welfare of the people according to their beliefs.
Incidentally, it furnished an opportunity for the rehearsal of
daring deeds. But among no tribes who practiced it were warriors
made by it. The swinging by the breast and other self-torturing
were but the fulfillment of vows, sacred promises made in time
of danger, penances performed, and not, as many believe, an
occasion for young men to test their courage.
From the Indians of the tribe, the Medicine Lodge
woman receives a very high measure of respect and consideration.
Blackfoot men have said to me, "We look on the Medicine Lodge
woman as you white people do on the Roman Catholic sisters." Not
only is she virtuous in deed, but she must be serious and
clean-minded. Her conversation must be sober.
Before the coming of the whites, the Blackfeet
used to smoke the leaves of a plant which they call
na-wuh'-to-ski, and which is said to have been received long,
long ago from a medicine beaver. It was used unmixed with any
other plant. The story of how this came to the tribe is told
elsewhere.1
This tobacco is no longer planted by the Piegans, nor by the
Bloods, though it is said that an old Blackfoot each year still
goes through the ceremony, and raises a little. The plant grows
about ten inches high and has a long seed stalk growing from the
centre. White Calf, the chief of the Piegans, has the secrets of
the tobacco and is perhaps the only person in the tribe who
knows them. From him I have received the following account of
the ceremonies connected with it:
Early in the spring, after the last snow-storm,
when the flowers begin to bud (early in the month of May), the
women and children go into the timber and prepare a large bed,
clearing away the underbrush, weeds and grass and leaves and
sticks, raking the ground till the earth is thoroughly
pulverized. Elk, deer, and mountain sheep droppings are
collected, pounded fine, and mixed with the seed which is to be
sown.
On the appointed day all the men gather at the
bed. Each one holds in his hand a short, sharp-pointed stick,
with which to make a hole in the ground. The men stand in a row
extending across the bed. At a signal they make the holes in the
ground, and drop in some seed, with some sacred sarvis berries.
The tobacco song is sung by the medicine men, all take a short
step forward, make another hole, a foot in front of the last,
and then drop in it some more seed. Another song is sung,
another step taken, and seed is again planted; and this
continues until the line of men has moved all the way across the
bed, and the planting is completed. The tobacco dance follows
the planting.
After the seed has been planted, they leave it
and go off after the buffalo. While away during the summer, some
important man one of the medicine men who had taken part in the
planting announces to the people his purpose to go back to look
after the crop. He starts, and after he has reached the place,
he builds a little fire in the bed, and offers a prayer for the
crop, asking that it may survive and do well. Then he pulls up
one of the plants, which he takes back with him and shows to the
people, so that all may see how the crop is growing. He may thus
visit the place three or four times in the course of the summer.
From time to time, while they are absent from the
tobacco patch in summer, moving about after the buffalo, the men
gather in some lodge to perform a special ceremony for the
protection of the crop. Each man holds in his hand a little
stick. They sing and pray to the Sun and Old Man, asking that
the grasshoppers and other insects may not eat their plants. At
the end of each song they strike the ground with their sticks,
as if killing grasshoppers and worms. It has sometimes happened
that a young man has said that he does not believe that these
prayers and songs protect the plants, that the Sun does not send
messengers to destroy the worms. To such a one a medicine man
will say, "Well, you can go to the place and see for yourself."
The young man gets on his horse and travels to the place. When
he comes to the edge of the patch and looks out on it, he sees
many small children at work there, killing worms. He has not
believed in this before, but now he goes back convinced. Such a
young man does not live very long.
At length the season comes for gathering the
crop, and, at a time appointed, all the camps begin to move back
toward the tobacco patch, timing their marches so that all may
reach it on the same day. When they get there, they camp near
it, but no one visits it except the head man of the medicine men
who took charge of the planting. This man goes to the bed,
gathers a little of the plant, and returns to the camp.
A small boy, six or eight years old, is selected
to carry this plant to the centre of the circle. The man who
gathered the tobacco ties it to a little stick, and, under the
tobacco, to the stick he ties a baby's moccasin. The little boy
carries this stick to the centre of the camp, and stands it in
the ground in the middle of the circle, the old man accompanying
him and showing him where to put it. It is left there all night.
The next day there is a great feast, and the kettles of food are
all brought to the centre of the camp. The people all gather
there, and a prayer is made. Then they sing the four songs which
belong especially to this festival. The first and fourth are
merely airs without words; the second has words, the purport of
which is, "The sun goes with us." The third song says, "Hear
your children's prayer." After the ceremony is over, every one
is at liberty to go and gather the tobacco. It is dried and put
in sacks for use during the year. The seed is collected for the
next planting. When they reach the patch, if the crop is good,
every one is glad. After the gathering, they all move away again
after the buffalo.
Sometimes a man who was lazy, and had planted no
tobacco, would go secretly to the patch, and pull a number of
plants belonging to some one else, and hide them for his own
use. Now, in these prayers that they offer, they do not ask for
mercy for thieves. A man who had thus taken what did not belong
to him would have a lizard appear to him in a dream, and then he
would fall sick and die. The medicine men would know of all
this, but they would not do anything. They would just let him
die.
This tobacco was given us by the one who made us.
The Blackfoot cosmology is imperfect and vague,
and I have been able to obtain nothing like a complete account
of it, for I have found no one who appeared to know the story of
the beginning of all things.
Some of the Blackfeet now say that originally
there was a great womb, in which were conceived the progenitors
of all animals now on earth. Among these was Old Man. As the
time for their birth drew near, the animals used to quarrel as
to which should be the first to be born, and one day, in a
fierce struggle about this, the womb burst, and Old Man jumped
first to the ground. For this reason, he named all the animals
Nis-kum'-iks, Young Brothers; and they, because he was the
first-born, called him Old Man.
There are several different accounts of the
creation of the people by Old Man. One is that he married a
female dog, and that their progeny were the first people.
Others, and the ones most often told, have been given in the Old
Man stories already related. There is an account of the creation
which is essentially an Algonquin myth, and is told by most of
the tribes of this stock from the Atlantic to the Rocky
Mountains, though the hero is variously named. Here is the
Blackfoot version of it:
In the beginning, all the land was covered with
water, and Old Man and all the animals were floating around on a
large raft. One day Old Man told the beaver to dive and try to
bring up a little mud. The beaver went down, and was gone a long
time, but could not reach the bottom. Then the loon tried, and
the otter, but the water was too deep for them. At last the
muskrat dived, and he was gone so long that they thought he had
drowned, but he finally came up, almost dead, and when they
pulled him on to the raft, they found, in one of his paws, a
little mud. With this, Old Man formed the world, and afterwards
he made the people.
This myth, while often related by the Blackfoot
tribe, is seldom heard among the Bloods or Piegan. It is
uncertain whether all three tribes used to know it, but have
forgotten it, or whether it has been learned in comparatively
modern times by the Blackfeet from the Cree, with whom they have
always had more frequent intercourse and a closer connection
than the other two tribes.
There is also another version of the origin of
death. When Old Man made the first people, he gave them very
strong bodies, and for a long time no one was sick. At last, a
little child fell ill. Each day it grew weaker and weaker, and
at last it fainted. Then the mother went to Old Man, and prayed
him to do something for it.
"This," said Old Man, "will be the first time it
has happened to the people. You have seen the buffalo fall to
the ground when struck with an arrow. Their hearts stop beating,
they do not breathe, and soon their bodies become cold. They are
then dead. Now, woman, it shall be for you to decide whether
death shall come to the people as well as to the other animals,
or whether they shall live forever. Come now with me to the
river."
When they reached the water's edge, Old Man
picked up from the ground a dry buffalo chip and a stone. "Now,
woman," he said, "you will tell me which one of these to throw
into the water. If what I throw floats, your child shall live;
the people shall live forever. If it sinks, then your child
shall die, and all the people shall die, each one when his time
comes."
The woman stood still a long time, looking from
the stone to the buffalo chip, and from the chip to the stone.
At last she said, "Throw the stone." Then Old Man tossed it into
the river, and it sank to the bottom. "Woman," he cried, "go
home; your child is dead." Thus, on account of a foolish woman,
we all must die.
The shadow of a person, the Blackfeet say, is his
soul. Northeast of the Sweet Grass Hills, near the international
boundary line, is a bleak, sandy country called the Sand Hills,
and there all the shadows of the deceased good Blackfeet are
congregated. The shadows of those who in this world led wicked
lives are not allowed to go there. After death, these wicked
persons take the shape of ghosts (Sta-au'2
), and are compelled ever after to remain near the place where
they died. Unhappy themselves, they envy those who are happy,
and continually prowl about the lodges of the living, seeking to
do them some injury. Sometimes they tap on the lodge skins and
whistle down the smoke hole, but if the fire is burning within
they will not enter.
Outside in the dark they do much harm, especially
the ghosts of enemies who have been killed in battle. These
sometimes shoot invisible arrows into persons, causing sickness
and death. They have hit people on the head, causing them to
become crazy. They have paralyzed people's limbs, and drawn
their faces out of shape, and done much other harm. Ghosts walk
above the ground, not on it. An example of this peculiarity is
seen in the case of the young man who visited the lodge of the
starving family, in the story entitled Origin of the I-kun-uh'-kah-tsi.
Ghosts sometimes speak to people. An instance of
this is the following, which occurred to my friend Young Bear
Chief, and which he related to me. He said: "I once went to war,
and took my wife with me. I went to Buffalo Lip Butte, east of
the Cypress Mountains; a little creek runs by it. I took
eighteen horses from an Assinaboine camp one night, when it was
very foggy. I found sixteen horses feeding on the hills, and
went into the camp and cut loose two more. Then we went off with
the horses. When we started, it was so foggy that I could not
see the stars, and I did not know which way to run. I kept
travelling in what I supposed was the direction toward home, but
I did not know where I was going. After we had gone a long way,
I stopped and got off my horse to fix my belt. My wife did not
dismount, but sat there waiting for me to mount and ride on.
"I spoke to my wife, and said to her, 'We don't
know which way to go.' A voice spoke up right behind me and
said: 'It is well; you go ahead. You are going right.' When I
heard the voice, the top of my head seemed to lift up and felt
as if a lot of needles were sticking into it. My wife, who was
right in front of me, was so frightened that she fainted and
fell off her horse, and it was a long time before she came to.
When she got so she could ride, we went on, and when morning
came I found that we were going straight, and were on the west
side of the West Butte of the Sweet Grass Hills. We got home all
right. This must have been a ghost."
Now and then among the Blackfeet, we find
evidences of a belief that the soul of a dead person may take up
its abode in the body of an animal. An example of this is seen
in the story of E-kus'-kini. Owls are thought to be the ghosts
of medicine men.
The Blackfeet do not consider the Sand Hills a
happy hunting ground. There the dead, who are themselves
shadows, live in shadow lodges, hunt shadow buffalo, go to war
against shadow enemies, and in every way lead an existence which
is but a mimicry of this life. In this respect the Blackfeet are
almost alone. I know of scarcely any other American tribe,
certainly none east of the Rocky Mountains, who are wholly
without a belief in a happy future state. The Blackfeet do not
especially say that this future life is an unhappy one, but,
from the way in which they speak of it, it is clear that for
them it promises nothing desirable. It is a monotonous, never
ending, and altogether unsatisfying existence, a life as barren
and desolate as the country which the ghosts inhabit. These
people are as much attached to life as we are. Notwithstanding
the unhappy days which have befallen them of late years, days of
privation and hunger, they cling to life. Yet they seem to have
no fear of death. When their time comes, they accept their fate
without a murmur, and tranquilly, quietly pass away.
1: The Beaver Medicine, p. 117. 2: The human skeleton is also called Sta-au',
i.e. ghost. Compare Cheyenne Mis-tai', ghost.]
