North Dakota: A Guide to the Northern Prairie State

by Federal Writers' Project of the Works Progress Administration for the State of North Dakota

Uniformity was not so evident in the later types of villages. Between the lodges only room enough was left for men and women of the village to pass; consequently, the broad earth roofs served the additional purpose of verandas. Out upon these roofs, especially in the summertime, was much activity—children played, old men watched for enemy tribesmen, sweethearts conversed, neighbors gossiped. Although the tribes were often ruthless and cruel in war, in their prairie homes and villages they were very friendly and companionable people. Both men and women indulged in a great number of games, and spent a good deal of time in visiting, feasting, and dancing. Catlin upon his departure after living with the Mandans for months was loaded with gifts and urged to continue his visit.

Heavy garments were worn in the winter, and at that season the buffalo robe was very much in evidence both for bedcovering and as an article of clothing; but in summer time clothing was rather scanty. Both men and women went down to the grassy shore of the Missouri in the morning to bathe, often with little regard for dress—a fact that greatly shocked some early travelers.

As the morning sun flooded the narrow dirt lanes of one of these villages, braves, clad in breechcloths and moccasins, might have been seen preparing for a hunt, while naked boys played with scores of scampering dogs. If the village was Mandan, some of the hunters were surprisingly Caucasian in appearance—the skin somewhat lighter than that of the average Indian, the nose not so broad, and the cheekbones less prominent. Early travelers noted cases of extraordinarily light complexions, and also instances of brown hair and blue eyes—characteristics suggesting European blood. By certain of the first white visitors the Hidatsa were regarded as being rather superior intellectually, but this was not so apparent in later days.

At their sides the hunters carried knives and bows and arrows in leather sheaths. If they were going out to kill rabbit, ducks, geese, beaver, deer, or elk along the river bottom, they might go afoot. If they sought the wilder bighorn sheep or the buffalo, however, they brought their ponies from the lodges, where they had been quartered overnight, as that was the safest place available. Lariats, bridles, and saddles were of leather. To protect themselves from enemy attack the hunters had spears, tomahawks, shields, and lances, in addition to the ever present bows and arrows.

As they threaded their way between the lodges, here and there they saw some of their women baking pottery of a mixture of clay and powdered granite or flint—Catlin says they modeled it into a thousand forms, and that some of their pottery held as much as five gallons. Other women, using bone awls and needles, were decorating girdles, fans, moccasins, and dresses with beadwork and embroidery. Clothing, especially headdress, was elaborate and spectacular on ceremonial occasions. Still other women were weaving wickerwork, both flat and in the form of baskets; making bone spoons, ladles, and other household utensils; fashioning implements for the work in their gardens; and working over hides stretched on crude frames, in the process of tanning. In the latter art all the North Dakota tribes were unusually proficient. Hides prepared by them retained their softness and resilience even after being subjected to moisture many times.

Farther on, a group of boys hovered about a hoary old man who sat near the door of a lodge in the soft summer sun and told them the history and traditions of their tribe. They had just come in from the prairie outside the village, where the older warriors had been teaching them the art of war by leading them in a sham battle. The victorious side had danced the scalp dance, just as their elders did after the actual taking of scalps, and now all were gathered about this old man to hear the stories of their people. If the village was Mandan, very possibly the old man was telling them of the great tribal hero, Good Furred Robe, who is supposed to have played so large a part in establishing the Mandan way of living. The narrator would tell them, too, that the Mandan were the first people created in the world, and that originally they lived inside the earth, where they raised many vines. Of course, they were constantly striving and struggling to find a way out of this dark, underground world. Finally one of their vines pushed its way through a hole in the earth overhead, and some of their people climbed up and out into a rich, fine country. A large fat woman, trying to climb out, broke the vine, however, and the remainder of the Mandans live underground to this day.

The storyteller also had another version of the beginning of things. At first the world was entirely water, inhabited by no living creature but a swan, which in some unaccountable way produced a crow, a wolf, and a water hen. Through the unsparing efforts of the crow to improve their situation the water hen was finally sent to the bottom of the waters to fetch some earth. Taking a small quantity of this in her bill, the crow made the earth. Later, persevering in her labor of improving their lot, she assumed the form of an Indian, and made all the beasts, birds, fishes, and insects, and became the first of all Indians.

If the aged narrator had been an Arikara, his story would have been similar to that of the Mandan. The Arikara believed that they together with all other living things existed first in an embryo state deep within the earth. There they gradually developed, and after many generations of patient struggle were at last successful in their attempt to get to the surface. As they emerged, they were directed by a Voice, which remained with them, comforting and guiding them until after many hardships and vicissitudes they came to a fair land. Here there came to them a beautiful woman—the one whose voice had led them. She was Mother Corn, the protective spirit of the agricultural tribes, and the one who gave them their staple food grain.

As the hunters passed along they heard through the village the sound of music—crude flutes, whistles, and drums. All the North Dakota tribes were musical, even though their product was hampered by the limitations of their scale, which had only five notes. Frances Densmore has placed hundreds of their songs in notation, copies of which are published in the bulletins of the Smithsonian Institution.

Now and then, above the sound of the music, voices raised in wailing were heard. These came from the scaffold cemetery on the prairie just outside the village, whither some had withdrawn to lament the death of loved ones. Great mourning followed upon a death—the wailing could often be heard for miles. The Mandan slashed themselves until their bodies were covered with blood, and mourned for a year. In the tree or scaffold method of burial, the one usually followed by the North Dakota tribes, the cemetery was ordinarily situated only two or three hundred paces from the village. The body was wrapped in blankets and placed upon the scaffold very soon after death—some say before the sun again sank below the prairies. The Arikara and the Chippewa placed their dead in the ground, the former resting the body in a sitting posture, or on its side, with the knees drawn up, in a shallow stone-lined grave. The latter people believed the spirit followed a wide, beaten path to the west, at the end of which lay everything an Indian could desire.