A winter camp of the Potawatomi (Nesh-na-bek) nestled on the north bank of the T’auwkiki (Tea-AUW-ki-ki) River. The dome-shaped wigwams, half buried in snow drifts, were arranged in a circle. Thin columns of gray smoke drifted up from small holes at the top of each wigwam. The men had gone hunting. The Women were at work making rabbit fur moccasins and doing winter chores inside the wigwams. Several small children played fox and goose at the center of the circle.
Inside his lodge, Nen-ke-we-be (Resting Thunder) sat cross-legged on his bed of cedar boughs and deer skins. His favorite elk robe was wrapped around his shoulders. The fire at the center of the lodge made dancing shadows on the reed mat walls. Resting Thunder was the oldest and wisest “mesho,” grandfather, in his village. He had been a respected warrior and hunter and although his hair was now as white as snow, his back was lodge pole straight. He could still pull the strongest bow and send an arrow speeding to its target. No hunter shot a musket truer than Nenkewebe. The old man watched the flickering shadows and remembered olden times and the festival dances of past summers.
“Mesho!” said a small voice. “Can we come in?”
Resting Thunder saw a little boy standing in the lodge doorway. “Byan,” said Resting Thunder, beckoning with his hand. “Jib de ben, sit down.”
Several boys and girls filed in and sat along the curving wall of the lodge.
“Tell us a story, Mesho,” they said in a chorus. “Tell us, tell us . . .”
Resting Thunder looked into the fire for a long moment.
“Once, long ago, when I was a young,” he said, “I worked for an old Frenchman who had a trading house up on the river the wabinini call St. Joseph. In the winter he sent men down the T’auwkiki to collect the muskrat and beaver skins our people took from the marshlands. These men made a winter camp at a place called French Island, on the great north bend of the river. My job was to supply them with fresh meat. I would go up onto Tassinong Prairie hunting for birds. I hunted deer along Sandy Hook Creek.
“The Mahegan, the Wolf People, lived on Tassinong Prairie. As you have been taught, they may run on four legs and be covered with fur, but they are our brothers. The first thing I had to do when I started hunting was to make peace with them.
“Several days passed before one of the Mahegans came to see what I was doing. He was the pack leader. His eyes were yellow and his fur the color of fallen leaves. I sat down, took out my pipe, filled it with tobacco and offered him a smoke. I asked the Mahegan for permission to hunt on their land. Then I put some dried venison on the ground. The Mahegan took the meat and trotted off. I later came to call him Annug, Morning Star, because every day before sunrise this wolf would call to his pack and bring them down to drink at Sandy Hook.
“I hunted on Tassinong Prairie for many years. Annug became my friend. Often as I sat by a game trail waiting for a deer to come along, Annug sat near me. I’ve been told by some Neshnabe that they can talk with wolves, speak their language and understand what they say. I could not, but Annug and I spent a long time together and we seemed to know the thoughts of each other.
“After a while, if a deer failed to appear, Annug would shake the dust from his fur and leave. Then, when the sun had moved four fingers across the sky, I would hear the distant voices of the Mahegan people. A deer would come running down the trail to within range of my musket, followed by Annug and his pack. After thanking the deer for providing us all with food—it is important to do this so that the deer will return to another life—I took the hind quarters back to French Island, and left the rest for the Mahegans.
“Annug had a wife. Because she moved so gracefully and always seemed in good humor, I called her Azen, Sky Spirit. Early one morning during the Moon of the Strawberries, Annug and Azen came down to Sandy Hook with two pups. They were small furry balls and blue-eyed. I stayed very quiet. Azen brought them close by. The smallest pup was a girl. I called her Kikyago, which means girl. The boy I called Sasika, which means first born.
“Oh I could tell you more about the Mahegan people, how the wabinini found out they were living on Tassingnon Prairie and told me to bring their hides to them. That I will tell you some other time.” Resting Thunder pulled the elk robe tighter and closed his eyes.
“Megwetch, Mesho!” said the children. “Thank you Grandfather.” And they went back to their games in the snow.
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