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The story of Yellow Feather, a member of the Wahpeton Dakota Band. |
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“To Where the Sun Sets” By Ben Wydeven circa 1862 Sioux tribe, Wahpeton Dakota Band The face of the winter moon shined in between the clusters of white pines sitting patiently on the shores of the Big Waters . Nearby stood the lodges of a small Wahpeton band. The nights were growing colder but the Buffalo herds still remained in great numbers, a necessity for the band. On this night, Sings with the Sparrows, the daughter of Chief Falling Star, had given birth to her first child, the Caske , Rides on Turtle’s Back. Sitting quietly in her winter lodge , she held her new son whom she had covered in the warmest Buffalo and Elk hides in the camp. The game had been hunted by the child’s father Wild Horse the most skilled hunter in the band, who was visiting his father’s people, the Sissetons, at this time. The Buffalo herds began to disappear when Rides on Turtle’s Back was old enough to follow his elders Buffalo hunting for the first time. Most of the Buffalo had been killed off by the White Man’s screaming arrows, although some of them followed the river beyond the setting Sun to escape the White Man and his large, complex groups of lodges. The White Men lived only a few nights’ travel downstream, several Wahpeton hunters had once reported. But even the courageous Chief Falling Star was too wary of the White Man and his ways to get close enough for them to see the pasty color of his eyes. The nearby Sisseton band had visited the Wahpetons many times, often warning them of the White Man’s dreaded screaming arrow. Rides on Turtle’s Back was almost six winters old when he followed his father and grandfather on horseback through the woods to hunt Buffalo. He watched everything they did to be alert: listening to the sounds of the forest, watching for tracks, and observing the changes in the wind. They came to the edge of a clearing where a herd of Buffalo were grazing peacefully on the field grasses. Wild Horse led his mare through the field, moving briskly toward the Buffalo, looking for a steady shot. He raised his bow and carefully aimed the weapon. Rides on Turtle’s Back watched in admiration as his father’s arrow struck its mark, taking down a full sized bull. The burly creature struggled for a short time before it fell to the ground, taking one final sigh as its soul rose from the carcass. Grandfather covered the Buffalo’s head with his shawl as Wild Horse took out his knife and cut open the Buffalo’s belly, steam rising from the opening. Rides on Turtle’s Back watched this sequence for the first time in perplexity. “Why do you do that, Grandfather?” Rides on Turtle’s Back asked as his grandfather fed the dead Buffalo herbs from his pouch. “Well, my Grandson,” the Chief explained. “When we kill the Buffalo, we take his body with pride by covering his eyes while his innards are being taken out. Then I feed him to thank the Buffalo Spirit by giving respect to the remains.” Rides on Turtle’s Back nodded in understanding. “It is very important to remember, never show hatred toward the Mighty Buffalo when his life is being taken with your arrows, because otherwise the Buffalo spirits shall become angry from your disrespect, and it will not return and there will be no more Buffalo left for the Santees.” “But I thought that the White Man is the reason there are not as many Buffalo now.” “That is true, my Grandson. But we still show the Buffalo that we are honored to take his body in order to provide for our people in honor of Buffalo Calf Woman. But really it is the Buffalo that is honored to give its life to those who ask for its meat and fur.” As they were taking the Buffalo carcass back to camp, Rides on Turtle’s Back became curious again. “Where do all the Buffalo go, if they aren’t hunted away by the White Man?” Grandfather smiled. He enjoyed answering his Grandson’s vigilant questions. “They travel far, far away, crossing the path of the Big River, beyond the spirits of the great oaks, to the place where the Sun Spirit rests his head before Moon darkens the earth for all to rest. Below the Sun’s resting place is where the Buffalo go.” The Wahpetons and the White Man did not cross paths very often, for the Shamans often saw visions of the White Man traveling nearby and every time this was so, the Wahpetons packed up their teepees and Chief Falling Star would lead his tribe deep into the hills rising above the Big Waters. The Wahpetons knew the surrounding forests well and easily disappeared before the White Man could ever find them. Over the years, the Wahpetons moved further north along the river, hunting mostly deer and rabbit since there were no longer any Buffalo to hunt. On his fourteenth summer, Rides on Turtle’s Back, who had since become a great hunter, went on his first vision quest. He followed the trail leading up into the highest of the hills where even the white pines did not grow. There, he began fasting. He prayed for the Wakan beings to guide his people to the place where the Buffalo roamed. On the second night, the Great Eagle Spirit, with the Sun sitting on the top of his head, came to him. The Eagle Spirit told Ride’s On Turtle’s Back that he had been sent by the Wakan Spirit to be his spirit guide. He informed him that he would become a great leader to his people if he did what the Eagle told him. The Eagle then told about his journey flying high above the place where the Buffalo Spirits had gone. He explained to Rides on Turtle’s Back that they roamed in large areas where the grasses grew higher than the tallest Wahpetons. All the Buffalo had been sent there by the Wakan Spirit to eat the grasses and keep the fields low for his people. “You must travel for six moons following the resting place of the Sun,” the Eagle instructed him. “When you have walked for six moons, you will be in the land of the great grasses, but they will not be so high, because the Buffalo have gotten there first, to help your people hunt them and live in happiness without having to keep running from the White Man.” The Eagle Spirit then plucked one of his yellow tail feathers and gave it to Rides on Turtle’s Back. The Eagle told him to put the feather into his medicine pouch for protection and instructed him to collect several other items. Rides on Turtle’s Back returned to the village three days later, carrying the Eagle feather with the color of Sun Spirit in his medicine bundle. As soon as he returned, he told his grandfather what he had seen on his vision quest. Chief Falling Star then led Rides on Turtle’s Back to the sweat lodge, where he engaged in a second sweat bath to become purified. Afterwards, the Chief took him to his own teepee where he gathered the tribal elders and smoked in his honor. He offered Rides on Turtles Back to smoke from his tobacco pipe, and he accepted his grandfather’s pipe with honor. After a long time of reflection and contemplation, the Chief finally spoke. “My grandson, Rides on Turtle’s Back,” he said, smoking his pipe, “You left our camp three nights ago, with the spirit and wisdom of a boy, but now you have returned with a vision for our people to follow, as you also carry back the wisdom of a man. The Wakan Spirits have given you their power and guidance with the gift of an Eagle feather. In three nights, we shall follow the Eagle’s wishes and travel to where the Sun sleeps. He stood up and motioned Rides on Turtle’s Back to do the same. He addressed the elders: “My grandson, Rides on Turtle’s Back, has been given the guidance of the Eagle Spirit and has therefore proven himself by carrying out his vision quest. For this, he shall be known as Yellow Feather , the holder of the Eagle feather that carries the Sun on his head. The Eagle Spirit is the symbol of a great warrior because he can fly higher than any other being and he is even better than the bald eagle, for the Sun Eagle has captured the Sun on his head. ” That night, after the Chief had helped Yellow Feather collect the items for his medicine bundle , there was a great feast in honor of his vision. The tribe spent the next few days preparing for the great journey ahead, gathering fruits and berries and drying meat for storage. They took down the teepees and lodges, knowing they were leaving the shores of the Big River for good. They crossed the shores of the Big River before the Sun Spirit appeared in the sky, three days after Yellow Feather had returned. “You shall one day become a great chief, Yellow Feather,” Chief Falling Star said one day. Yellow Feather nodded, but didn’t say anything. He knew that if they did not leave soon, the White Men would have eventually chased them out as they did the Buffalo. The journey was hard, but the habitat they crossed was rich in game although they never came across any Buffalo. One day, after the tribe had stopped and set up camp, Yellow Feather and his older cousin, Four Horses, went ahead on foot to follow the tracks of a deer on the shore of a nearby stream. The path of the stream was narrow where the tracks led and the mud was soft, capturing every one of the deer’s steps. But on the bank where the river bends, the tracks disappeared into the moving waters of the stream. Yellow Feather suggested that they look for another set of tracks, but Wild Horse wanted to cross the river. “But Father,” Yellow Feather said, “the deer might not have crossed the river; it could take another sunrise to find it, and our people will be waiting for us.” “Yellow Feather. Do you remember what my brothers and I have told you about hunting the one who wags its tail?” “That they are unpredictable, like the changing of the seasons.” “Yes. That’s right. And like the seasons, the deer can appear sooner than they are expected to.” They crossed the stream. The tracks continued up the bank into the fields on the other side of the stream, into the path of the setting sun. Yellow Feather and Wild Horse followed the tracks for a long way, until they disappeared at the edge of a bog. “Looks like we lost the trail,” Wild Horse said, looking around. Yellow Feather looked up at the sky, then at the ground, the bog, and the forest and then back at the setting Sun. Flying high above them was the Golden Eagle, with its wings spread far and wide, soaring proud and courageous. It soared into the fires of the Sun, and then flew in circles, as if to hover over the “Promised Land”. “There is a White Man’s fire beyond the forest where the sun sets. The deer was scared away from the white men who threatened its spirit. If they kill it, they will not respect the spirit, and they will not return the next summer.” Wild Horse was impressed by his son’s wisdom. “How do you know this, my son?” Yellow Feather looked up at the sky and smiled. “The Eagle who flies toward the sun; he has warned us.” “I see the White Man’s smoke now, too,” he said. “We mustn’t go any further, my son, for they have already begun killing many animal Spirits.” They turned their backs to the sun and headed for the river. The Sun Spirit got lower and lower in the sky. Finally, the little waters could be seen when they reached the edge of the forest. They paused for a moment to admire the splendorous effect the Sun Spirit had on the river when it was humble. As they stood gazing, a doe emerged from the forest to drink from the water’s edge. Yellow Feather smiled at his father. “You may take her body with your arrow; I will carry it back for you.” But Wild Horse shook his head. “This is your hunt, Yellow Feather. Her Spirit has been provided for you.” Yellow Feather stepped forward and aimed his bow, with the Sun on his shoulders. He never took the shot. A hunting party from the White Man’s village saw the Indians as they aimed their bows at the “White Man’s Deer.” The men in green furs did not think twice before firing their screaming arrows at Wild Horse and his son. Yellow Feather was so frightened by horrible screams which seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time, that he forgot about the deer and ran for the river. He turned in surprise at the Sun Spirit, whom he thought had sent the Great Drums to scare the deer away. But instead, he saw Wild Horse drop to the ground, with blood pouring steadily out of his body, like the waters that fall from the hills. He ran as fast as he could for the river and back to camp; Wild Horse had not been wounded with an arrow, yet he had fallen and bled. He didn’t look back; he couldn’t look back. The screams still came from the White Man’s hunting weapons, and Yellow Feather had only heard how their noisy weapons worked. He dreaded what the Chief would do when he returned with the news of the White Man camping nearby. What would become of them? -AFTERWORD- By Yellow Feather “We did not like being slaughtered and herded like the Buffalo, so we fought the White Man for our freedom, but now, like the Buffalo, we have only a few of our kind left and no where left to go. When I was a young man, my grandfather would always tell me that death would not appear in a surprise, but in a footstep, like the changing of the seasons. Even when the White Man hunted all the Buffalo in the plains that the Golden Eagle had promised our people, no one could have convinced him otherwise.” ________________________________________ |
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