North Dakota: A Guide to the Northern Prairie State

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

Here and there about the tipis hung bows with quivers of arrows. As in the case of the agricultural tribes, the bow and arrow was the chief weapon, and the Sioux were expert in its use. Ready to hand, too, were shields, clubs, stone hammers, and spears. It is interesting to note here that as a means of communication in peace and war the tribes made good use of the art of signaling with fires and smoke. By this method messages were transmitted long distances with almost incredible rapidity.

Not far from the fires some of the women were preparing for drying the buffalo meat brought in from the chase. Others were storing dried berries and fruits in caches, in the making and concealing of which the Sioux were very skillful.

About the big fire near the center of the village the old men and chiefs were meeting in council over some weighty matter, perhaps the arrangements for the great annual sun dance. For this a special lodge was prepared on the prairie, around which the whole village pitched its camp in the form of a horseshoe facing the east. The ceremony required several days and involved self-torture similar to that of the Mandan feast of Okeepa.

In one group about the fire an elderly man was relating the history of the tribe to a circle of youthful faces. Some of the tribes kept a chronicle of their history by means of the winter count: the council met in winter and decided on the outstanding event of the year; thereafter the year was designated by this event, which was often pictured symbolically on a buffalo hide.

With the history, of course, as the evening stars came out, were mingled fancy and legend. On this night the boys and girls heard of the great monster who breaks up the ice in the Missouri each spring, of how one of the goose nation was shown in a dream that her people should go south each autumn in order to avoid the harsh winter, and of the Iktomi, the little "spidermen," who on moonlight nights, high on hilltops, can be heard with their tiny hammers, shaping arrowheads which they place in piles where Indians can find them.

One of the Iktomi, who was a very excellent singer and dancer, was hungry, continued the storyteller, and went into the woods to catch some birds. Being unsuccessful in his attempts to bag them, he invited them into his house to hear him sing. After they had accepted his invitation, he told them that if they were to hear his sweet voice, they must keep their eyes closed tightly. He warned them that their eyes would turn to a blood red if they opened them. Then he sang and danced. In his dance, however, as he passed each bird, he took it by the head and wrung its neck. This continued until he came to Siyaka, the duck. Siyaka opened his eyes just as the Iktomi seized him, and managed to break away. But where the Iktomi had his hand about his neck there was a red ring which is there to this day, and Siyaka is now the ring-necked duck.

The thunderbirds, so ran another tale of the aged storyteller, live suspended between heaven and earth, their wings supported by lightning. Above are the dark clouds. Below is the earth. When the thunderbirds shake their wings favorably, it rains. There was a time when they tired of living between heaven and earth, and asked the Great Mystery if they might become men and live on earth. This the Great Mystery gave them permission to do, but told them that they should become men such as no other men were. Accordingly, they became giants so large that one living on the Big Muddy could reach the Atlantic Ocean in a single step. One of them playfully took up a handful of earth, and the waters flowing into the depression formed Lake Superior, while the handful of earth which he tossed aside made a mountain. They dug a ditch to the Gulf of Mexico, and it is now called the Mississippi River. Such antics finally produced all the lakes and rivers. At last the thunderbird men grew old and died, and went back to the spaces between heaven and earth. Lightning is the fire from their eyes, and thunder the reverberation from their eggs as they hatch.

While the night settled darker and a breath of cool air stole in from the prairie, the storyteller told of the great giant who lives in the North and whose name is Wasiya. The feathers of his bonnet are icicles, and his clothing is of ice. When he blows his breath, it turns cold and winter comes.

Later, as strange lights began to play far away in the northern sky, the narrator told the story, heard from the Chippewa, of the Northern Lights. A woman in a dream once visited the land where these lights shine, and discovered that they are ghosts rising and falling in the steps of a dance. All the women wear gay colors, and the warriors brandish their war clubs.

The boys and girls heard, too, of the beautiful Indian maiden who came from the land of the setting sun and brought the Sioux the pipe of strange red stone, which is the solidified blood of Indians. She told them to use the pipe only when there is peace, or peace to be made, and in times of sickness and distress; and urged them to be kind to the women because they are weak. She is now the morning star, the Indians' sister, and stands in the heavens, wearing a white buffalo robe. The boys and girls were told, too, as the darkness deepened out on the prairies, that the earth is the Indians' Mother, and the sun their Father. Therefore, they should treat kindly and with reverence all things in earth and sky, because they are manifestations of Wakantanka, the Great Mystery, or the Great Spirit, to whom the Indians pray.