Myths and Folk-lore of the Timiskaming Algonquin and Timagami Ojibwa

by Frank G. Speck

Wiske·djak was travelling about looking for adventures. He never succeeded in anything he tried to do. He never did well and was always hungry. In his travels he came to Ki·we·′goma “Turn-back lake” (Dumoine lake). Now he even had no canoe, but he was a great swimmer. When he came to Ki·we·′goma, he found it even too big to swim, so he started to [[3]]walk around it. He wanted to hunt beaver. On one side of the lake, he came to a round, high mountain that looked like a beaver-lodge. In front of it he found deep water, just as there is in front of a beaver lodge. And a little way off shore was a little island with many grasses; just as the beaver provides a winter supply of greens for himself near his lodge, so this island he supposed to be the beaver’s winter supply and the mountain his lodge. Wiske·djak wanted to get this great beaver, but did not know how to get at him. Then he thought of draining the lake, so he went way around to the lower end and broke away the dam so that the water would run off. Soon the water began to go, and Wiske·djak lingered about, waiting for it to get low enough to get at the beaver. Pretty soon he took a nap. When he woke up, it was rather late and he hurried back to the mountain only to find that the beaver had gone. Now he thought the beaver might have escaped over the dam with the water, so he started back, and sure enough he saw the beaver going over the dam. “Now,” said he, “I lost my beaver.” He followed hard after him and had lots of trouble to keep up.

He followed him past Coulonge river and Pembroke lakes. But when the beaver reached Calumet chutes, he was afraid to go through and took to the portage. Then Wiske·djak saw him and chased him harder over the portage. When he got to the lower end, he lost sight of the beaver and started back up river (Ottawa river). When he got to the upper end of the portage, he saw fresh tracks. “Well,” said he, “there has been somebody here. I wonder if I could trace him. We might have something to eat.” Then he followed the track to the lower end of the portage where he had already been, but nobody was there. So he went back to the upper end of the portage and there saw more fresh tracks leading to the lower end. These he followed to where he had been twice before, but saw no beaver. He then discovered that they were his own tracks he had been following and gave it up. The tracks back and forth can be seen plainly to-day imprinted in the stone of Calumet portage, which the Indians call Wiske·djak tracks. After this he started off on another trip. [[4]]

(2) Wiske·djak Kills the Bear and Gets his Head Fastened in the Skull.

Wiske·djak was always in trouble. One time he was going along the shore of a big lake carrying a big pail. He felt very hungry and was looking for something to eat. Pretty soon he saw a lot of clumps of high-bush cranberries and commenced to eat from one little clump to another. Then he remembered his pail. Said he, “If I could pick my pail full, I would have a good supply to last me a long while.” So he began filling his pail, and as he went on he got into some big clumps. Suddenly he saw a big Bear sitting down among some bushes, every little while rubbing his eyes and picking out his paws as though something was hurting his eyes. Wiske·djak watched him a while and thought how nice it would be to kill him. What a big supply of food he would have then to fill his pail with! So he went up to the bear and said, “Hello, Bear! What’s the matter with you?” The Bear answered, “Oh! my eyes are so sore, and I can’t see where to go. I just wish somebody would help me.” “Well, come along with me. I will help you. I know where to get some fine medicine that will fix you up all right.” “Very well,” said the bear.

Wiske·djak led him off to a big bunch of cranberries. There he gathered a lot of berries and crushed them in his hands. Then he told the Bear to open his eyes so that he could put the medicine on. “It may hurt you when I put this medicine in, but it will cure you, so don’t mind it.” Then Wiske·djak began to rub the cranberry juice into the Bear’s eyes. The Bear began to roar and tear around with the pain, making a great time. “But never mind,” said Wiske·djak. “It may hurt, but it will cure you.” In the meantime he hunted around and got two big stones, and while the Bear was blinded with the pain, began pounding him on the head with the stones. He had a hard fight all over the berry-patch, but finally succeeded and killed the Bear. Then Wiske·djak went back to where he had left his pail and got his knife. He skinned the bear and cut him up. He put some of the pieces into his pail to make a bouillon. Then he got sticks and made a fire for the cooking. Next he got some birch bark peeled off and cleaned a big space [[5]]near the fire, spreading the birch bark to put the meat on. He stuck the pieces of meat on sharp sticks. When they were well roasted, he spread them on the bark to cool off before eating them. He left the bear’s head for the last, then he began to eat lots of the bear’s fat and the meat. He had a great big pile of it. He sat down to enjoy his meal.

Now, just as he was ready to begin, the wind began to blow a little, and at the same time from above came a little cry, “Whun!” He looked around, because it bothered him, but could not see anything, so he started to eat again. Then the same little cry sounded again, “Whun!” and he stopped to look around, but couldn’t see anything. The third time he started to eat, the same cry sounded, and then he got up and hunted for the cause, for it bothered him and was spoiling his good time. When he looked up, he saw a tree that had been blown down, resting in the crotch of another tree over him that rubbed when the wind blew and made this noise. Said Wiske·djak, “You had better stop that noise until I get through eating. I don’t like it at all.” “Oh!” said the tree, “I have to do it. I can’t stop it.” Whenever Wiske·djak started to eat again, the wind blew a little. Then Wiske·djak climbed the tree and put his hands in between the tree and the crotch to stop the rubbing, and when the wind blew a little the space spread and closed again. It pinned his hands in the crotch and held him fast. “Let me go! Let me go!” he begged of the tree. “I must get down to my meat.” But the only answer he got was, “No,” and there he stayed.

Pretty soon when he looked down, he saw a Squirrel come and take some of his meat. He shouted for him to go away without any success. Next came the Marten, then the Fisher, then some Wildcats, then Ravens, and in fact all kinds of animals came and began to eat up his supply of meat. He tried to drive them away, but couldn’t. The more he shouted at them, the more they danced and sang and ran off mocking him. They carried away all his pieces of meat to their dens, but didn’t touch the pail of grease. By the time all the meat was gone, a little breeze arose and the tree let him go. When he got down, all was cleared away. There were not even bones enough for [[6]]bouillon. There was only the grease in the pail. “Well,” said he, “I’ll have grease anyway.”

The Bear’s bladder was hanging in some willow trees where he had thrown it when he had cut him up. And he went over and filled the bladder with the grease, so that he could cool it. He tied the neck of the bladder so that it would hold the grease. “Now,” said he to himself, “even if they have taken all my meat and bones, I’ll have the grease. I’ll just tie it by a string to a stick and let it float in the river until it is cool, and then I’ll make a good meal of that anyway.” So he tied the bladder of grease to a stick and let it swing in the current of the river to cool it. A Muskrat came along. “Kwe, Muskrat! Where are you going?” said Wiske·djak. “Oh! anywhere,” answered the Muskrat. “Well, then, come work for me,” said Wiske·djak. “Come, tie this bladder on your tail and swim further out in the deep water where it is cold and cool it for me. Don’t swim too fast and go easy or you might break the bladder and spill my grease.” “All right,” said the Muskrat, “I will do it for you and you will tell me how fast to go.” Then Wiske·djak tied it to his tail and the Muskrat started off with it. He made a plan meanwhile. The Muskrat swam way out. “Hold on,” said Wiske·djak, “you’re going too fast.” But the Muskrat swam farther and when he got far enough, he snapped the string with his tail, broke the bladder, and dove out of sight. The grease spread all over the water. Wiske·djak cried and ran out into the water and tried to scoop up the grease in his hands to save some of it, but it all escaped him.

When he had lost his grease, he thought of his bouillon, and went back to his pail, but when he got there, he found that the Wolverine had come and eaten it all up. Then he searched about to see if he could even find a small bone. There was not a thing left. After a while he saw a string of little ants going back and forth from under a log. “I wonder what they are doing,” thought he. “Maybe they have something hidden under there.” He followed them and looked under the log, and there were the ants eating away on the Bear’s skull, devouring the brains. “If I could get in there myself, I could get some of those brains,” said he. He tried different ways to reach in, but could not get at it. “If I could only put my head in [[7]]that hole, I could eat some. I wish my head was as small as a snake’s head, then I could get it in.” Then his head began to get small like a snake’s head and he poked it inside the skull and began eating a great snack. He licked the skull clean and said, “Well, I had a meal. Now, if I could only get up and out, I would be all right.” But when he tried to get his head clear of the skull, he could not, because his head had turned back to its original size and was fast inside the skull. He couldn’t see where he was going.

Then he sat down on a log, thinking what to do next. “If I knock my head against a rock, I might break my own head.” Then he thought of the Indians and started off in search of a camp to get help. He was blinded by the skull and could not see where he was going. Soon he banged against a tree. “What’s your name?” he asked of the tree. “Maple,” was the answer. “Well, I’m in high ground. I won’t find any people camping way up here.” Soon he banged against another tree. “What’s your name?” he asked. “Beech,” was the answer. “I’m still in high ground,” said he; “I must strike lower ground.” Soon he banged against another tree and asked its name. It answered, “White-pine.” “Still in high ground,” said he, “but getting lower.” The next tree he bumped against proved to be a red pine. “Still in high ground. No Indian camp here.” At last he banged against a balsam and then a spruce. “I am getting on low ground now,” said he. Pretty soon he got into ragged bush and struck a rough-bark tree. “What’s your name?” he asked. “Cedar,” said the tree. “Aha! Now I’m in low ground and may strike a camp at last.” He went on and soon got into very tight bush and struck an alder. “Aha! Now, I am close to a lake. I will soon find a camp.” Next he got tangled up in knee-high twigs. He asked them what their name was and they told him willows. He said, “Am I near a lake?” “Yes,” they answered. “Can you see people?” “Yes, up at yonder point there is a camp,” they answered. “Is it far?” he asked. “No, not far,” said they. So he went on and got into something still lower. “What’s your name?” he asked. “Grass,” was the answer. Now he walked on and got into water, deeper and deeper. “If the people would only see me, I would be all right,” said he. Next he started to swim. [[8]]He splashed about and made a noise to attract the people if any were about. Suddenly he remembered about the skull on his head and said, “If the people see me, they might think that I’m a bear and try to kill me.” So he swam on.