The Birchbark House: Chapters 12–14

The girls knew people like Fishtail’s father, Day Thunder, who kept the records for the religious gatherings, the Midewiwin, and etched stories and songs on scrolls made of birchbark.

His hair was short and wild as porcupine quills, his face starved and sallow with grief.

No longer did he wear the proud, somewhat disdainful look he’d worn when walking seriously along through the woods, his pipe cradled in his arms.

She herself was smoothing out a paddle to use in stirring the syrup, and just the day before Deydey had started hollowing a peeled, smooth piece of basswood for a trough.

“Minopogwud,” said Omakayas, licking up a dollop of thick syrup.

She heard the song of the white throated sparrow, and was soothed by the piercing refrain.

Standing in the clearing, safe, she peered into the maze of branches and undergrowth.

No thunderstorms marred the flavor of the sugar.

In the center of that stone there was a hollow, and into that natural small bowl Omakayas put the leaves that smelled summery and sharp, fresh and potent.

With the other long stone Nokomis often used, Omakayas crushed them to a paste. From a bag of deer tallow, she added a yellow smear of grease and then, forcing Pinch to lie still, she spread the paste on his burns and propped him against a tree.

Once again, the family was building the birchbark house, moving out into the woods, dragging pots and other provisions out to the fishing camp where they would live.

Although spring, with all the force of its poised new growth, called to her, although the tender new buds, opening magically, touched her heart, there would always be a shadow to her laughter, a corner of sadness in her smile.

“I have a new spirit helper,” he declared, his voice portentous.

“Yes, I know.” LaPautre waved his hands modestly, as if to sweep away his incredible perfections.

Everyone then waited, expectant, for LaPautre to continue.

“Please be silent while I tell my story,” LaPautre admonished.

Deydey was overcome with hilarity, and every time he tried to explain to LaPautre, he sank into helpless sobs and guffaws.

LaPautre, slowly picking up his things, turned to the laughing family in a state of bewilderment.

He put out his hands as though to ask, but then, when Deydey tried to blubber an explanation, only to collapse in fresh laughter, LaPautre swiped his hand through the air and scratched his head.

While the others broke dirt clods and struggled with roots, picked stones and smoothed out rough rows to plant, Pinch pretended to help.

Nokomis baked the deer bones, cracked them, and used a special long carved spoon to scoop out the hot rich marrow.

“Haven’t you wondered," said Old Tallow, a bit testy with the difficult girl Omakayas had become, “hasn’t it occurred to you to ask why you didn’t get the chimookoman’s sickness?”

She rustled in the tatters of her dress, groped for her smoking pipe, then remembered she was out of tobacco and let her hands splay restlessly in her lap.

She rustled in the tatters of her dress, groped for her smoking pipe, then remembered she was out of tobacco and let her hands splay restlessly in her lap.

Omakayas knew the question she needed to ask. She took a deep breath, and asked it forthrightly.