Part 2

As to an individual or personal friendship with a wild creature, the best way is to bring one up from infancy, yet allow it perfect freedom. In this the Indian succeeded remarkably well; and it was not uncommon for him to establish an intimacy with an adult animal or bird, although this is a more difficult feat. You must bear in mind that knowing a captive or domestic animal is not at all the same thing, as their habits and manners are strongly influenced by an artificial environment.

One morning my friend Simon Bonga, a three-quarters blood Ojibway at Leech Lake in Minnesota, found a baby fawn not more than thirty yards from his house. He took some milk to it and left it there. The next day he took some more, and soon the fawn would drink from his hand. After a few days, he would simply stand in his doorway and give the mother call. The fawn would run to him to be fed. A little later, not only he but his wife and children were able to stroke and pet the little one, which continued to live in its native haunts, but came regularly to the house for food and a frolic. The mother was seen once or twice, but made no trouble.

A year later, I wrote to Mr. Bonga and incidentally referred to the fawn. He replied: "She is now a respectable young lady doe, and we are much attached to her." She has lived the natural life and has yet allowed herself the advantage of intimate association with human beings, while my friend and his family have known the charm of close familiarity with one of nature's most graceful creations.

IV--THE LANGUAGE OF FOOTPRINTS

You have often heard it said that "actions speak louder than words."

It is a fact that both voluntary and involuntary actions of the body tell truly the mind's purpose, and this is why the Indian studies so assiduously every record of the comings and goings of his fellow creatures, both animal and human.

The footprint, I want you to bear in mind, is first of all a picture of all the prominent points on the sole. The ball of the foot, the heel and toes, hoof and claw, each makes its own impress. Even the fishes make theirs with their fins, which to them are hand and foot. This is the wood-dweller's autograph. More than this, each series of footprints tells a bit of history, perhaps betrays a secret to the instructed eye, and the natural Indian did not neglect to drill his child thoroughly in this important branch of learning.

I will now ask you to enter the forest with me. First, scan the horizon and look deep into the blue vault above you, to adjust your nerves and the muscles of your eye, just as you do other muscles by stretching them. There is still another point. You have spread a blank upon the retina, and you have cleared the decks of your mind, your soul, for action.

Let us divide our scouts into small groups; one alone is sometimes best, when you are pretty well advanced in this study, but at first two or three, with a head scout or teacher, will do. We will assume that you have passed the primary test; that is, you have learned to recognize the footprints of mice, birds, squirrels, rabbits, and perhaps to some extent the next set, those of the dog, the cat, the fox, and the wolf.

It is a crisp winter morning, and upon the glistening fresh snow we see everywhere the story of the early hours--now clear and plain, now tangled and illegible--where every traveler has left his mark upon the clean, white surface for you to decipher.

The first question is: Who is he? The second: Where is he now? Around these two points you must proceed to construct your story.

If the snow is not deep, the imprint of the toes and even the claw marks are very distinct, but in deep, soft snow you have only the holes made by the foot and leg. Some animals, such as the cow, drag their feet, while the wolf kind make a mark much like the print of a cane. This is also true of the cat family. The distinguishing difference is in the gait, as shown in the relative position of the footprints, and this is a matter that calls for careful attention. The break in each print is usually greater behind than before, and this tells you in which direction the animal is going.

The rabbit makes innumerable tracks as soon as it stops snowing, and we may be sure that its burrow is not far distant, for unless food is scarce or danger imminent, they will not leave their own immediate locality. As to larger animals, love-affairs often lead them far afield, and wolves and bears cover much ground; yet even they have their favorite haunts, and they are masters of their map. All these things the student of footprints should bear in mind.

It is essential to estimate as closely as you can how much of a journey you will undertake if you determine to follow a particular trail. Many factors enter into this. When you come upon the trail, you must if possible ascertain when it was made. Examine the outline; if that is undisturbed, and the loose snow left on the surface has not yet settled, the track is very fresh, as even an inexperienced eye can tell. Next determine the sex, and finally the age, if you can: all these enter into the problem of getting your game. It is easy to tell the sex of the deer family by their footprints; the female has sharper hoofs and a narrower foot, while the male has rounded points to the hoofs.

It will also be necessary to consider the time of year. It is of no use to follow a buck when he starts out on his travels in the autumn, and with the moose or elk it is the same. If the track is a running one, the question is: Was it in play or in flight? Look at the toes; if they are widely spread, he was running for sport and exercise; if close together, it was a race for life.

Many animals for safety's sake go through a series of maneuvers before they lie down to rest. For instance, at the end of the trail they make two loops, and conceal themselves at a point where the pursuer must, if he sticks to the trail, pass close by their hiding-place and give timely warning of his approach. This trick is characteristic of the deer and rabbit families.

The tracking of an animal in summer is naturally much more difficult than in winter, unless the footprints are on soft ground. The Indian hunter is then even keener in his observations; he looks for the displacement of leaves and blades of grass, or for broken dry sticks. These slight displacements will adjust themselves in a short time, to be sure; but in hunting, the fresh track is what is wanted. Other tracks are not much followed, except those of man or bear from whom danger is to be feared. A new trail, especially one made during a dewy night, is easy to trace the next morning, and on the open prairie the reflection of sun on the grass blades helps, so that sometimes a few paces away one may see the trail clearly.

Referring to winter trailing, I remember well an example of perfect accuracy set by my uncle, who was a famous hunter. I was then a boy of about fifteen, living in the wilds of Manitoba. We came suddenly upon a moose track, evidently made on the day before, as the upturned snow was frosted over by a night's cold. He stopped and surveyed the lay of the country. A little way ahead a ravine led down to a lake, of which the outlet was densely wooded with willows and birches. We followed the trail down the ravine and along the lake shore until we reached this stream, and here my uncle paused and climbed a tree. When he came down, he examined his gun and put in a fresh load, then proceeded cautiously a few paces, when we came upon another trail crossing the first almost at right angles. It, too, was a day old. To my surprise, my uncle now motioned to me to stay where I was, and throwing off some of his garments and adjusting his moccasins, he ran back on his trail. I waited about half an hour, when I heard the report of his gun, and soon after he returned with the good news: "I got him!"

The diagram shows you how it was done. The moose had covered his position by a swinging loop, and was lying down facing the first turn. At that time of year they may remain thus for several days. He had seen that we did not enter the loop and felt safe. My uncle, knowing the trick, had run back a hundred yards or so, then circled behind the loop, and approached him from the rear, where he easily brought him down.

Among the Indians, the study of human footprints was carried to a fine point. Many of us would be able to say at a glance, Here goes So-and-So, with perfect accuracy. Even the children would recognize instantly the footprint of a stranger from another tribe. It was claimed by some that character may be read from the footprint, just as some white people undertake to read it from the handwriting, on the ground that certain characteristic attitudes and motions of the body, reflecting mental peculiarities, affect the gait and consequently the pedal autographs. At any rate, our people are close readers of character, and I do not hesitate to say that faithful study of the language of footprints in all its details will be certain to develop your insight as well as your powers of observation.

V--HUNTING WITH SLING-SHOT AND BOW AND ARROW

It is likely that the earliest weapon of primitive man was that employed by the shepherd David,--the little round pebble from the brook. It was not despised as a last resort by the Indians of my day, and we boys practised with it continually.

It was customary with us to carry about a dozen or so small rounded stones in a special leather pouch. We used soft buckskin thongs about eighteen inches long, attached to a piece of flexible rawhide some two inches square, but usually tapered to a point, for the sling. This was our long distance gun; but the first step toward learning its use is the throwing of stones accurately by hand.

I remember when I was about ten years old that my favorite playmate, Redhorn, and I used to spend many long mornings perfecting ourselves in this art, and we kept up our practice until we could hit the animal or object aimed at as many times as you boys would with a 22 or an air gun.

This training of the eye together with the muscles of the arm is the first essential. The next is to throw with all your strength and still keep your aim true. After mastering the overhand throw, we practised several other varieties, including one straight up in the air, which helps in the development of waist and back muscles.

We boys hunted squirrels, rabbits, partridges, and ducks with stones merely, and often succeeded as well as if we had had arrows or even guns. One advantage of this method is that it is silent and scarcely disturbs the game. It is especially lively in the fall of the year, when game is abundant and often young and inexperienced. At this time we often hunted in groups. In case of a party of six boys, four would take up positions on a point of the lake shore, while the other two swam out into the lake, making as much noise as possible and imitating the screams of the hawk or eagle to frighten the ducks. Sometimes hundreds would rise with a thunder of wings and fly over our heads in large flocks. Then our innocent-looking pebbles whistled through the air like real bullets, and at every volley several ducks would drop into the water for the swimmers to pick up, while flock followed flock in quick succession. At such times we were happy and gave many a war-whoop and yell of delight; though it is true the swimmers were in some danger from stray shots, and had often to dive to escape the missiles.

If the ducks are wild, they may be deceived by stripping off your clothing, daubing your body with mud, and lying motionless on the shore. When we had killed enough, we had the excitement of chasing the wounded ducks in the water, and at last we counted our bag and divided equally. No boy who is not a good shot should hunt in a group with others, as there is danger of injuring his companions.

Upon the western prairies there are in some places small alkali lakes, where few or no stones are to be found. Here we used the sticky alkali mud, on the end of a pliable rod or willow switch perhaps two and a half feet long. The lump is about the size of a hen's egg and the consistency of artist's clay. It is thrown with one swing of the arm, and as a rule only stuns the duck, so that it is necessary to pick up your game after each volley, otherwise it may come to life and fly away. In an emergency, when no willows were to be had, the Indian boy sometimes used his arrow, first removing the head and the feathers.

The Indian uses a shorter bow than do most primitive people. The regulation hunting-bow is less than five feet long, and some of the most convenient ones are only four feet. The best bows are made of young elm, oak, hickory, ash, and dogwood. Ironwood is good, but not commonly found. There are also elk horn and Rocky Mountain sheep horn bows, as well as buffalo rib bows, which are worked to perfect shape by the use of steam. They are usually made in two pieces, are difficult to make, and highly valued. The boy's ordinary bow is made of any kind of wood, but always that from a sapling, so as to get the necessary elasticity.

The continuous curve bow is not approved by us, as one made with concave ends and convex in the middle is easier to control and does not jerk the arrow off its true direction. As soon as the Indian has shaped it by whittling, he dries it in proper form, and oils it while seasoning to keep it supple. When thoroughly seasoned, he finishes it by scraping and rubbing with the natural sandstone. He then tightly winds each end and the middle with flat sinew and notches the ends for the bowstring, which is best made of sinew, though wild hemp and other materials are used on occasion.

In all my wild life, I never saw arrows made of split wood. The young choke-cherry and June-berry furnish most of the arrows, though the coast tribes sometimes use reeds. The usual length is twenty-eight inches, including the head. They are about one-fourth of an inch in diameter and very light. The man's arrow is feathered with three feathers five inches long, but most boys' arrows have but two feathers, and these may be anywhere from two to five inches long, and must curve around the body of the arrow in screw fashion, otherwise it will not fly straight.

The Indians made arrow-heads of bone, horn, claws and bills of birds, and sometimes of clam-shells. After the coming of the white man, they used iron. The stone arrow-head was used apparently by an earlier race, for most of those that we pick up are too heavy for the Indian arrow. As children, we often played with them but never made practical use of them, unless for shooting fish. Indeed, the boy's arrow needs no separate head, but is merely sharpened at the point, or has a knob at the end, in which case it needs no feather. This is the safest and most convenient weapon for shooting in the woods, for it brings down all small birds and animals, and is readily recovered.

When you have made your own bow and arrows, which you can easily do, the first thing to learn is the correct position for archery. Your attitude is that of one who is ready to jump from a spring-board. Then you must accustom yourself to the strength and spring of your bow, and it is well to know your arrows individually, their swiftness and peculiarities of flight. The highest success in marksmanship depends partly upon one's natural gifts, yet faithful practice must bring a good degree of satisfaction. The arrow does not alarm the game, is not dangerous to the hunter or his companions, and seems to be distinctly the boy's weapon.

The exceptional Indian, with his sinew-backed, four-foot bow and bone-tipped arrow, was able to shoot clear through the body of a large animal, such as elk or buffalo, unless he chanced to hit bone. All Indians could kill the largest animal with this convenient weapon, using the quick off-hand shot. You can learn it, too.

VI--PRIMITIVE MODES OF TRAPPING AND FISHING

It is boy's instinct to try to outwit and capture wild animals. This is as true of the outdoor boy among the whites as of the Indian boy. The point of interest in the Indian boy's way is that he depends more upon his own ingenuity and resources. While he is trying his grandfather's tricks, he often devises a better one.

The first trapping that I ever did was mere childish play, engaged in by Indian boys of seven to ten years old. We snared wild mice by placing slip-nooses of horsehair or fine sinew across their well-beaten thoroughfares. However, it is no easy thing to handle a mouse thus caught, for he can and will fight with his sharp teeth. We used to turn them loose upon some islet or in a mimic fort of clay or sand, to watch and play with.

We also used the slip-knot for birds, especially crows and magpies, which may be attracted to the snares by a bait of fresh meat or corn. A few crows may be caught and hung up to drive their mates from the maize fields; or, by tying your solitary crow prisoner in a lonely place, he will summon all the rest to a pow-wow. This gives the boy, hidden near at hand, a fine opportunity to study their ways.

We caught squirrels with our bowstrings, on the same principle as the horsehair noose, only in this case we stayed by the trap, and when the squirrel put his head through, we pulled on the string. This works well with ground squirrels, or gophers, and prairie dogs, although in the case of the latter we sometimes caught one of his house-mates, the screech-owl or rattle-snake, instead.

The trapping of rabbits is a simple affair. A bended sapling is secured above a rabbit run in such a manner that when the victim runs his head in the noose, he is swung high in the air. Partridges are caught in the same fashion.

A novel device for catching rabbits, in time of scarcity an important source of food supply, is to scatter large, sharp burrs along their runs. The burrs stick fast to their feet, they sit on their haunches to try to get them off, and so fall an easy prey to the boy hunters.

Perhaps you would like to try the log deadfall. To make this effective trap, you need a good knife or a hatchet--nothing more. First drive into the ground four stakes about the size of a broom-handle, one pair on either side of a rabbit furrow, if this is the game you are after. Leave just enough room between each pair for a good-sized log, which you may lay directly across the path. The stakes serve as gate-posts to your trap, and on either side you build a slight barricade of brush. Next take two round pegs and cut off the ends squarely at about three inches long, or longer, according to your game; smooth a place for them at either end of the log between the stakes, and upon them balance a second log, which is partly supported by the two pairs of stakes as well. The aperture, just big enough for a rabbit to squeeze through, is crossed by several hairs from a horse's tail tied to the supporting pins. The unsuspecting victim springs along, knocks out the underpinning, and the log falls upon him.

For larger game, such as the fox, mink, or fisher, two more logs are used, one end of each resting upon the upper log and the free end on the ground. This gives extra weight to the trap, which may be baited with a piece of meat, firmly attached to a string in such a way that when the animal tugs at the bait, the pins are pulled out and the trap falls. Indian men use this deadfall more than the boys.

Our fishing was even more primitive, since we were not provided with hook and line. Sometimes we would select a convenient water-hole and just below it build a rough dam of sticks and stones in a V shape, with the nose pointing down-stream. In the center of the dam we left a small opening, and just under it hung a cage or basket roughly woven of willows, projecting slightly above the surface of the water. It was great sport to wade the brook from a point some distance above the dam, poking under the banks with long sticks and slapping the water with flat paddles, so as to frighten the fish and drive them into our trap. When the basket was well filled, we shut off the opening in the dam with logs or stones, and proceeded to catch the fish with our bare hands, snare, or spear them.

If we did not care to go to the trouble of constructing a basket, we simply drove the fish into a deep hole with a rude dam below to prevent their escape, and caught them by one of the methods named, or by shooting with bow and arrow. But we were never allowed to take more than we really needed. If a surplus were caught, we usually freed them, or stored them in a small pond or spring where we could study and play with them at our leisure.

The best time for taking large quantities of fish, which may be dried or smoked for future use, is in spawning time in early spring, when most fishes migrate into shallow water and are so sluggish that they may be knocked on the head with a club. At this season all kinds of wild hunters, crows, wolves, wildcats, minks, otters, come to the outlets of the lakes or the banks of the streams for food, and my people were not much behind them in this. The streams of my boyhood days were sometimes packed like a sardine can, and we boys have more than once opened a way and saved large numbers of fish from suffocation.

VII--HOW TO MAKE AND HANDLE INDIAN CANOES

There are several different kinds of canoes made by Indians, of which the birch-bark canoe is the most generally available. The skin boats of the Esquimaux are larger and are skilfully made, but we are considering here only the handiwork of our own Indians.

The Plains Indians formerly used the buffalo-skin boat, called "bull-boat," but this is at best an emergency vessel, constructed only when they were forced to cross a river too deep to ford and too wide to swim. It can scarcely be called a boat and might be termed a raft of skins, for it cannot be paddled like the true canoe. It is probably the crudest form of native craft.

The bull-boat is made upon a framework of willow withes roughly woven into an oblong shape, using long poles for the bottom to give the necessary firmness. Over this frame rawhides are stretched, and sewed with sinew. The seams are smeared with tallow or gum. Two or three long strings are attached to the front end. Having loaded the unwieldy vessel to its full capacity with household goods and children, one or two persons would stand in it with long poles to shove, while two or three others swam ahead, pulling it by the ropes, and sometimes others pushed from behind. The bull-boat was easily capsized, therefore every precaution was taken against accident to the precious cargo. As soon as the stream was crossed, it was taken apart, and the materials put to other uses.

The dugout is much used where birch-bark is not obtainable. The tree, preferably basswood, cottonwood, or soft maple, is selected with care, the trunk cut the proper length, twelve to sixteen feet, roughly shaped externally, and then hollowed out with much pains. Some of these boats are very serviceable, and many Indians think them swifter as well as more durable than the birch canoe; but it is not safe for a novice to undertake to handle one. It is very graceful in the hands of an expert Indian canoeist, but in some respects still retains the characteristics of a log in water.

After the introduction of modern tools, the dugout became common throughout the Indian country, while the forest Indian alone still clung to the bark canoe. The white trapper, hunter, and explorer readily adopted the convenient dugout, but it has almost disappeared with these avocations; yet the boy hunter or camper who has the requisite patience can easily make his own.