31 - The Drum

At the center that I attend each week, the drum holds a place of honor. It is draped in a blanket with beaters close by. It has an area specifically designated for it and we gather around it each week to sing songs of healing, mourning, and honor, to name a few. All have significance.

When a drum comes to a group, it comes in a ceremony and is officially named. It often has a "keeper" who looks after it and takes it from place to place if it is moved for an event such as a powwow. We make offerings to the drum of tobacco before we sing. It is powerful and respected. Before events that we attend or powwows coming up, the drums are always announced. They hold a place of honor and anticipation for the music that we will hear. In most cases, we will know the drummers, the songs and the people and friends who sing with them.

The drum has great power because of it's connection to mother earth. It is the heartbeat of mother earth. The creator gives everything life, but mother earth sustains it. The drummers are the warriors and are male. Adult females, like myself, do not drum on the large drum because of our close connection to mother earth and this feminine power. We stand in the outer circle as a circle of protection around the warriors and we sing and keep time with our rattles.  We approach the drum only for offerings and in skirts out of respect for this feminine power. These are traditions I have learned and respect.

As someone learning these traditions, these concepts were completely foreign to me. The place that the drum holds and the place of music in this culture is very different from anything I have known. I have grown up in a culture that loves music, but if I am honest, it is for entertainment mostly and we are self-conscious about it. If one doesn't have a nice voice or play something perfectly they are embarrassed to be heard. Perhaps closer to it is singing hymns at church or singing the national anthem, but even these are not the same. There are very few moments that I have experienced that come close to  being a part of the singing and drumming in this culture. The experience here is something much more vital and communal. I would call it something closer to prayer. When people are in need of help, we sing. When they are sick, we sing. When we wish to honor someone, we sing. When someone has passed, we sing. When we wish to celebrate, we sing. Connecting all of it is the drum and no voices are held back.

Last month, I had the opportunity to make my own hand drum. The experience was exciting for me and I couldn't help but notice as I touched and worked with the wet deer skin, how alive it felt. I was aware of it each time I touched it. One friend who had made many of her own drums gave me the advice to "own it" and work it to the way I needed it to go. It was my drum after all and I had to make it my own. All the time there was the awareness that this skin once belonged to something alive, something else made by the creator and given to me for the songs I would sing. I was grateful and have used it daily in the days since. 

These hand drums are played by both men and women and are sometimes painted if the owner feels the spiritual need to paint it. Knowing I would be making my own, I was at a loss for what I should paint on something so meaningful as my first drum. I had almost decided I  was not going to paint it until Roland, my teacher, came up  to me and said, "Why not paint your children's hands on it?" As they are the most important force in my life I thought it was perfect. In children, I also see hope for the future and I am hopeful that these traditions will carry on to the next generation in my family. So, that's exactly what I did. I included some double curves and a "V" symbol (Mi'kmaq) that represents Cape Breton, the home of my Mi'kmaq ancestors. I chose to use the four sacred colors of black, white, yellow and red, which hold so much meaning to all native people.

As my journey continues, I am looking forward to singing my first lead line in a song in January (in public that is). So far it has only been in the safety of our group and usually not alone. Roland let the women know that they would be singing the bear song with our hand drums at an upcoming event. It is funny to me that after all the singing I have done in my life, this makes me so nervous.  Perhaps it is because of its meaning. I think I am in good company as other women seem to be a bit nervous as well. Roland's announcement created a great conversation about how the drummers communicate to know who is doing the lead and when. Some of the signals I had seen, but no one had ever explained them. I like the idea of the women singing songs together. I hope we can do more of it. I am grateful to all of them, women and men, for teaching me so much.

My finished drum with my children's hand prints. The symbols
on the drum are Mi'kmaq. 

30 - Muin (The Bear)

As I write this post, I am sitting in my bed nursing a broken ankle. It is appropriate that I am writing this now as it centers around the figure of the Bear in Mi'kmaq culture.  I have often wondered about the various totems and symbols which are common to see at events. One that I often see is the symbol for the bear (Muin). This symbol, usually represented by a bear paw, is one of great power and strong medicine. It is a healing symbol. Recently, I participated in my first Mi'kmaq pipe ceremony which centered around this strong and powerful animal. It is known as the Bear Feast.

This ceremony is usually a full day event in Mi'kmaq tradition which begins with a sunrise ceremony and includes a sweat lodge, pipe ceremony and culminates in a feast to honor Muin. The version I participated in was a slightly modified one, without a sweat lodge, but powerful none the less. It is celebrated in both the fall and the spring to honor the bear before his journey to the spirit world to gather medicines and upon his return to celebrate the medicines he brings back. In both ceremonies, a woman of the bear clan prepares the feast and a song is sung to honor Muin. 

This feast is based on a traditional story which tells of Muin and his journey to the spirit world after hearing songs of the people honoring him and asking for medicine to help them. Muin knew that he must go on a spirit journey to bring medicines to the people and he prepared himself for his long journey which would last many moons. Upon his return, he visited a woman who he named Muiniskw (Bear Woman) who was praying in a sweat lodge. He asked her to prepare a feast to replenish him after his journey. Four days after he visited her, a feast was prepared, they gathered in a circle and the sacred pipe was shared. The people were grateful to Muin for bringing back the medicines to help them.

The Feast prepared for the bear. It includes foods
he would have eaten to prepare for his journey.

At our ceremony, strawberries, blackberries, blueberries, cranberries and salmon were laid out and smudged while we gathered in a circle. Each person came forward and made a tobacco offering before the pipe ceremony began. These offerings of tobacco are always done before we sing each week and are given as an offering to the Great Spirit or the Creator.  In addition to the prayers, this sacred plant invites the ancestors to gather with us.

After the smudging and reading, we gathered in a circle outside for the pipe ceremony. The sacred pipe is usually carried by one person who has received this calling after a long fast and a sweat lodge ceremony. The person who carries this pipe holds an important position as this pipe will be shared with the community. Only the pipe carrier is allowed to carry the pipe. In our case, we did not have a carrier with us, so our chief led us with his personal pipe that he allowed us to share with him.

UNACC member reading the story of The Bear

 The pipe was filled with tobacco, lit, and passed from person to person. Each one offered a silent prayer to the creator and took the pipe. The pipe was passed among us four times to represent the four sacred directions and the last time, prayers were said for those who were sick. It concluded with a prayer, hugs and greetings among those of us who shared the pipe together. It was very moving and incredibly powerful.

While some of us took the pipe, others stayed inside and told stories of bear encounters. Afterwards, the food was passed around from person to person. We sang the Mi'kmaq honor song facing each of the four directions and shared the feast. Afterwards, we sang the Bear song and our ceremony concluded with a potluck. A great afternoon. I will look forward to the spring ceremony when we wake the bear up.

For now however, I will be singing a healing song and thinking of Muin and his healing power.

The following is a link to the entire story in greater detail and is the source for my summary of the story. This story was read at our feast. http://www.muiniskw.org/pgCulture3d.htm

28 - Community

If you search long enough, sometimes you find exactly what you are looking for. Fortunately for me, this was the case earlier this spring.  I have been actively searching for someone to teach me the Mi'kmaq language. Last summer, when I met with an elder in the Pictou Landing Band in Nova Scotia, I expressed interest in learning some Mi'kmaq songs. She encouraged me to begin to learn the language and to go from there.

 Not sure exactly where to begin, I asked around in Millbrook when I visited the Glooscap Center last year and a very nice woman encouraged me to find a cultural center in Boston. "There are lots of Mi'kmaq in Boston," she said. In fact, Boston boasts the largest Mi'kmaq community outside of Canada, so I thought I would be certain to find someone to help me. After a long search, I had absolutely no luck.

One afternoon this winter, while I was waiting for my children to finish Sunday School, someone who knew that I was writing this blog casually mentioned that he sometimes attended a Powwow each spring in Devon, MA. He said, "There is a cultural center there, why don't you ask them?" Since starting this blog I often stumble upon information this way. These casual comments or bits of information lead me in the right direction if I take the time to follow up.  I found the group on facebook and they were holding Mi'kmaq classes!

This organization is called UNACC (United Native American Cultural Center) and is an inter tribal group. I arrived one Sunday afternoon, a bit nervous about coming to a strange place, but I was warmly welcomed. I immediately felt right at home and everyone there was down to earth and incredibly kind to me as a stranger. Even better was the fact that the classes were being taught through songs. I had actually found a center where the leader was Mi'kmaq and he was a drummer with an active drum group! So, I began to learn my first song in Mi'kmaq. A big, big, day for me in my journey.

After I had been there a few times, the "Chief" as we call him, whose name is Roland, took some time to talk to me about where he came from and explained a bit to me about what was happening with the drum group. I was thrilled for this because I had lots of questions. For those of you who may be reading this blog for the first time, I have only recently discovered that I am of Mi'kmaq descent through my grandmother. It is part of my heritage and sadly I know little of it. My ancestors hid their Mi'kmaq identity and with that hiding, came a disconnect with the culture. This is not an unusual story for many of First Nation descent.  I am learning all of it for the first time. I eagerly listen to and absorb everything that anyone tells me about Mi'kmaq culture or any native culture to which they belong.

Some members of UNACC practicing at a weekly meeting.
Roland is seated above in red. 

 Roland hails from Quebec on the Gespe'gewa'gi reserve. He is a fluent speaker of the Mi'kmaq language. He showed me some of the artifacts in their center from his reserve and Mi'kmaq culture. We also spoke about connections that he had in Nova Scotia.

As for the singing and drumming, he told me that only the men did the drumming traditionally. I had often wondered why this was. He explained that the men or the warriors were the keepers of the drum. Traditionally, in times of war, the grandmothers would keep the drums when the men were away because they did not menstruate.  It was believed that women who are "in their moon time" take power from the drum. Females must wear skirts when they are near the drum and I was welcome to sing along and use a rattle when I sing. If I was not wearing a skirt, I could not approach the drum. Roland explained to me that this was tradition and rooted in spirituality. It was not meant to to be disrespectful to women in any way.

The women and other men who do not drum will stand around the inner group of drummers forming a circle of protection around the drum. Roland is doing a great thing with this group because he is taking the time to teach these songs to the members who sing and drum. He takes great care that they are done well. I am lucky to have him as a teacher and I hope to learn everything that I can from him. My hope is that when I know some more songs I will be able to sing with them at powwows.

My ji'kmaqn, a gift from my cousin Cheryl.

As for my rattle, I asked him about using a Ji'kmaqn, a traditional Mi'kmaq percussion instrument.  I had been given one as a gift from my cousin Cheryl when we met at the Ma'wiomi Powwow last summer in Halifax. It was made by a Mi'kmaq basket maker and I treasure it because of the connection made that day to my history and to my new friend and cousin. (She is the granddaughter of my grandmother's sister.) Just last week, I used my Ji'kmaqn at the drum circle for the first time.

 I have since joined the UNACC organization and feel as if I have a new cultural home and community.  I will help with their powwow in May and some other events later this spring.  I am truly excited about this connection that I have found, the new friends I have made, and what I will learn about native communities as times go on. UNACC also has a connection to the Arostook Mi'kmaq Band in Maine and collects food and donations for elders in that community. Check them out on Facebook under UNACC.

This link was added as a comment to this post and I want to make sure people find it. It's a great resource site on Mi'kmaq culture for those of you who use Facebook. Here is the link: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Mikmaq-Culture/426006544126591
Thank you to the kind reader who directed me to it!

29 - Regalia

This past week-end I had the opportunity to participate in a Native American cultural demonstration presented by UNACC (United Native American Cultural Center) here in Massachusetts. This organization regularly performs at events and does workshops to bring awareness to Native American cultures. There are between 15 and 16 separate nations represented in this organization including the Mi'kmaq.

My new leggings and moccasins.
A UNACC member beaded the moccasins
and she showed me the technique so I could
do the leggings myself. 

This is not the first event that I have attended with UNACC, but this one held special meaning for me. This is the first time I wore my own hand made regalia, sang and danced at an event. For some of you, this may not seem such a feat, but to me it is. When I was just beginning this journey a few years ago, I had the opportunity to meet with an elder who told me I would have to start thinking about my own regalia. At the time I felt she was testing me, and I did not say much as a response. I remember thinking that this was not something I was likely to do. These thoughts occurred because at that point I had an incredible feeling of isolation and no connection to a community.

I am happy to say this has changed largely due to the new friends I have made. It was not long after I started attending Mi'kmaq classes and weekly meetings at UNACC that many of the women began asking me about my regalia. I think they sensed that I was learning and to their credit they helped me along. It was not long before they were helping me to make a dance shawl, showing me beading, talking to me about the advantages to hide or cloth clothing, and I was on my way. One woman brought me cloth for the shawl, one showed me how to fringe it and another showed me beading for my moccasins and leggings. I have worked on this first outfit all summer and this week-end I wore it.


In addition to the lessons I was learning about regalia, Roland and the drummers have kept me singing and learning traditions. I learned about making a tobacco offering before I sing each week and I am memorizing my songs daily. So, this week-end, I went happily to the event excited that this time I could sing and wear my regalia. I should also mention that I have made some friends on face book. Some of these people are singers and dancers who come from the Eskazoni reserve and they have encouraged me to sing and learn the songs but to do it first and foremost from my heart. This is where it all comes from for me, so that's no problem.

Here in the east, you see regalia that is a bit more subdued than in other parts of the country. No less beautiful, but the traditions are different. Often, when people think of traditional regalia, it is the Plains nations that come to mind. Take the large feathered war bonnets as an example. You will not usually see these in the east although they are worn by some chiefs at ceremonies. They are not traditional to this area. The Mi'kmaq traditions range from painted or beaded buckskin (pre-European contact) to ribbon applique skirts, piqued caps and beautiful bead and quill work on red, dark blue or black felt. I have been pouring over books doing research and they are simply beautiful.

My regalia is not incredibly elaborate. I have kept my first one simple and I do plan to make more. I will say that it is definitely special because I made it myself. No small feat for a girl who has not done much more sewing than was taught in an eighth grade home economics class. I included some traditional Mi'kmaq beading patterns on the leggings, dress and shawl to give it more meaning.  I chose to add a traditional curve motif. It is believed that this motif had great spiritual meaning, but it has been lost to time. The motif appears in petroglyphs and on other items that have been preserved and it is a main feature of bead work throughout the 18th and 19th century. The other patterns on my dress and shawl are taken from 19th century ribbon work dresses.

 I do not have a spirit animal as of yet, so I have not included any of these powerful symbols, which are common on regalia. It is my understanding that this is something an elder can bring to you or it can reveal itself at a sweat lodge, in a dream or another meaningful way. I am the equivalent to a toddler in this journey, so I will wait until it reveals itself to me. I chose shades of turquoise because this color has always had special meaning to me and I have always been drawn to it for some unknown reason.

So, now that I have one outfit, I need to make a few more  to keep up with the events I hope to attend! Thanks to the wonderful women at UNACC, I have also begun making shawls as gifts to women close to me or that have influenced my life in some important way. These shawls are given to honor someone and I have to admit to finding great joy in making them. I am currently working on one for my grandmother, who I am happy to say is anxious to wear it.

27 - Kwe!

Kwe! (Hello) I hope that you are all still out there and that this very short post will let you all know that I am still here and on the trail. I am looking forward to another great year discovering Mi'kmaq culture. The Powwow lists are out and I can't wait to learn more.

This winter was relatively quiet, but I did take in some great museum displays, did a lot of reading, and managed to find a cultural group where I am starting to learn a bit of the Mi'kmaq language and songs. It pays to be persistent. It took me eight months to find them, but I did! I will write about all of it and fill you in with coming posts.

Tonight's post is short, but last summer I heard a short story that I want to share. It came from my father's first cousin, who is a Campbell from Pictou Landing. It was passed to him many years ago by Raymond Francis, who was the former chief of the Pictou Landing band and a friend to my father and his brothers growing up.

Each year when I go home in the summer, I love to hear the stories that this cousin tells about this small community. He usually leaves us in a state with our bellies sore from laughing and our faces stiff from smiling so much. It's wonderful. Every so often, one story gets in among them that makes us all pause and breathe for a few minutes. This small story was one of them and one that I had never heard.

Kate Campbell (far left) in Pictou Landing on the homestead.

He told us that day that my great great grandmother, Kate Campbell once had a job with Indian Affairs. The reservation at Pictou Landing is relatively small and Kate's job was to distribute rations of food to the local Mi'kmaq according to agreements between the Mi'kmaq and the government. Butter and eggs were mentioned, but there may have been other provisions as well.

One summer, there were larger than normal numbers of babies born on the reservation. Kate saw that the families didn't have enough to eat, so she provided more of the rations than she was supposed to give. Raymond Francis told my father's cousin that the people she helped never forgot her kindness to them and spoke of it for years to come. Kate Campbell was fired from her job with Indian affairs for this very act. Sadly, I was not surprised.

I found two pictures of Kate while searching through some old family photos.  Stay tuned for more adventures!

Neil Campbell, Kate Campbell (holding child). 

26 - Thanksgiving

This coming week will mark the Thanksgiving holiday here in the United States. Plans have been made and are well underway in most families and this annual day of thanks will mark the official beginning of the holiday season. It is a major holiday and is generally a time celebrated by most families.

For those of us here in Massachusetts, the place where this celebration has its origin, this time is especially poignant. Many may be surprised to learn that the actual Thanksgiving holiday we celebrate has its roots in more than one event, but the most famous portion of it of it occurred right here in Massachusetts, just a short drive from where I now live. This place is Plymouth, MA. The fabled story goes that in the late summer of 1621, (the exact date is not known), about a year after the Pilgrims arrived from England on the fabled ship, The Mayflower, a feast of Thanksgiving was celebrated in this very place.

Plymouth Rock, landing place of the Pilgrims in 1620

The native people of the Plymouth area are the Wampanoag, also known as "the people of the first light." Like my Mi'kmaq nation, the Wampanoag are an Algonquin nation and had an established civilization in North America long before the Pilgrims arrived. Other neighboring nations in the area were The Massachuset, Nipmuc, Mohegan, Narraganset and the Pequot. All of these nations spoke different dialects of Algonquin language. These nations had times of peace and war with one another. They were used to having European visitors, but there were no attempts to settle. These visitors did occasionally capture native people and take them as slaves.

Wampanoag woman demonstrating cooking methods in the Wampanoag village

During the years between 1617 - 1619, there were plagues that swept through many of these nations in New England. Many died and left entire villages completely wiped out. One of these Wampanoag villages was Pawtuxet. In December of 1620, after 66 days at sea and 5 weeks at Cape Cod, the newly arrived Pilgrims sent a party of men to explore this area. They came upon the village of Pawtuxet and found human bones, houses in ruins, and in addition, cleared fields on high ground with a view of the harbor. They believed that God had provided this place for them. The Wampanoag, at the urging of their sachem, Massasoit, watched the Pilgrims. They saw women and children who were sickly and starving and the Wampanoag did not see them for the threat they would later become. From the 102 Pilgrims who made the original journey, more than half would be dead by the end of the first winter, including 13 of the 18 women. Miraculously, all of the children survived. They were a weak group in the eyes of the natives who watched.

Wampanoag dugout canoe.

The leader of the Wampanoag, Massasoit, was a chief who had the great respect of his people. He led by example and his people had faith in his leadership. The Wampanoag were badly hurt by disease and were fearful of the neighboring Narraganset who had not lost large numbers in the plagues. They needed allies, and judging by the delicate state of the Pilgrims, Massasoit felt he could control the situation. He knew that the Pilgrims came from a country of military might and they had weapons. In early spring of 1621, he sent a party of 60 men and waited until they sent a man for talks. This man was Edward Winslow, a 25 year old with no family. He invited Massasoit to talk with the Governor in Plimoth.

Plimoth Plantation looking over the harbor

Massasoit took a warrior named Tisquantum (Squanto) to the talks. He had been kidnapped by the English years before and could speak some English. This was to be the first official treaty  in the area. They agreed not to harm one another and each would help to defend the other against attacks from other native nations. The Pilgrims needed allies as did the Wampanoag. The day after the treaty was made,  Massasoit sent his people to plant corn on the side of the stream and ceded the village of Pawtuxet to the Pilgrims. They renamed it Plimoth. That same year in July, Edward Winslow made a 40 mile trip to visist Massasoit at Pokanset and presented him with a gift of a chain. Massasoit agreed not to trade with the French and a few weeks later was invited to the Thanksgiving Feast.

When the Wampanoag arrived for the feast, they were not sure how they would be received. They brought with them 5 killed deer to contribute to the feast. The relationship was still very new and fragile and both groups were cautious of one other.  In retrospect, for the Pilgrims it was a time of beginning, but for the Wampanoag, this event would come to represent the beginning of bad times for their people. In the coming decades, as the number of colonists increased and their need for native assistance diminished, the relationship between the two groups would change dramatically. The native way of life would be forever changed.

Each year in Plymouth, thousands flock to this area, and many take part in a feast made up of the traditional foods served there is 1621. This year in this small village, there will be protests by Native Americans as there have been each year for decades. While we are warm inside watching football and enjoying our family and turkey, they will be standing on Cole Hill observing an official day of mourning. My thoughts will be with them and their ancestors on this day. Maybe some who are reading this will take some time and send them a prayer or a thought as well. These collective thoughts have power I think.

There are some wonderful resources on Plimouth Plantation. They have a great website which may be found at www.plimoth.org/learn/just-kids/thanksgiving-virtual-field-trip This particular link is a virtual field trip that includes both the Pilgrims and Wampanoag and is suitable for young people.

In addition to the Plimoth Plantation site, there is a video that is a part of The American Experience series called We Shall Remain. A more complete story of the Wampanoag and their relationship with early settlers may be found in Episode 1, After The Mayflower. 


Information for this post comes from the film, We Shall Remain Episode 1, The Atlas of the American Indian and my own visit to Plimoth Plantation.

Note: (added 3/ 7/12)

Since writing this post in November, I have learned more information that the "Thanksgiving Feast" that was celebrated, may have in fact been "talks" and not an intended feast at all. Also, Squanto's real name was "Tisquantum" which I have fixed above. That's the great thing about writing this blog. I keep learning, which is the point after all.

25 - Messengers

I am being visited by hawks. I see them everywhere. It started a few weeks ago when my daughter and I were driving to pick up my son at his school. We saw a huge red tailed hawk sitting on a fencepost very close to the side of the road. The place where he was sitting was in farm area, cows included. It had a small pond, changing leaves and weathered stone and wooden fences. It was beautiful New England in the fall. We pulled over and watched him for quite a long time. He looked at us, turned his head back and stared so we could watch him side on. It was almost as if he had acknowledged our presence for a moment. I was amazed that he didn't move. In fact, we had to leave before he did.

Red Tailed Hawk, Source Wiki media Commons

I have never had the opportunity to see a hawk so close in the wild. Since that day, they have returned along my drive regularly and often in groups of two and three. Sometimes close by on the side of the road only to swoop up beside us. I often catch a glimpse of white and the red tail behind it as it climbs into the air. Other times, I see them circling above the trees. They are magnificent.

I live about 25 minutes outside of Boston, but in an area that boasts a lot of conservation lands. It is not uncommon to be visited by deer, turkey, foxes, coyotes, owls and the occasional bear as has passed through the past two springs. None of this is strange. It was what my daughter said that day that got me thinking. After looking for a few minutes in complete silence, she said, "Is he protecting me?" This small statement floored me for a second. My daughter is one of these children that regularly says these things that give me pause to think. She has been doing it since she could speak. It immediately brought to mind images of eagle and turkey feather bustles at powwows and it started me thinking about the significance of these great birds in Mi'kmaq and Native American tradition. So, I did some research.

Bald Eagle, Source Wiki media Commons

Birds, it turns out, are messengers.The most important of them being the eagle. These great birds are sacred in most First Nation cultures, and I was able to find a Mi'kmaq connection specifically to the eagle. Just as in Christianity, the Mi'kmaq have a God who was sent by the creator to walk the earth. His name was Kluscap. (Glooscap). I have often wondered after hearing these stories of Kluscap, if this is in part why the Mi'kmaq could be converted to Christianity so early on in their relations with the Europeans. There is a similarity to Christ in this fact.

In the Mi'kmaq creation story, Kluscap is formed out of the elements of the earth by Kisu'lk (Gisoolg), the creator. The word Gisoolg means , you are created and is a verb. When Kluscap was created from a bolt of lightening, he lay in the earth unable to move. After the third winter, he was freed and travelled the four sacred directions across the entire continent until he saw grandfather sun and returned to the place of his creation in the east. He looked up at grandfather sun and a bald eagle descended and landed. He was called Kitpu. He said."I am the bird who flies the highest in the sky and I am the messenger for Kisu'lk." He told Kluscap that he would be joined soon by the rest of his family who would  help him understand his place in the world. As he flew away, a feather floated down and he caught it in his hand. Kluscap touched it and held it. He felt strong holding it. Since this day the eagle feather is a symbol of strength and symbolizes connection to the creator , grandfather sun and mother earth.

Wild turkey, Source Wiki media Commons

As for my new friends the hawks, I was unable to find much specifically from Mi'kmaq teachings that I searched. There are many stories involving birds and it appears that all of these great birds of prey are important and had significance. As messengers, they carried messages from the creator and the ancestors. From what I can understand, the birds were not worshiped as many believe, but were respected because they embodied strong spirits. Kisu'lk, the creator, who made these great birds and everything on the earth was worshiped.

In some Native American cultures they do represent the protection of the creator and the ancestors, which is very reassuring. The hawk is known for its keen eyesight which is eight times greater than a human's. In many of these cultures, the hawk is believed to offer greater insight into one's talents or self, sometimes also representing gifts of prophecy.

Mi'kmaq dancer wearing Eagle feather regalia

Tribes of the northeast were known to adorn themselves with feathers of these great birds. The turkey, which is a game bird and not a bird of prey, is also sometimes known as the earth eagle and represents a connection to mother earth. These feathers were often used for arrow fletching as well as headdresses, decorations and capes. Today, these feathers are still used to adorn powwow regalia and are considered to be powerful and important symbols. I am not sure what my hawk sightings mean, if anything as of yet, but I know that when I see them, something in my soul stirs. I will be watching as long as they appear.

If you are interested in hearing more of the Kluscap creation story in greater detail, I learned this information from Mi'kmaq Stephen Augustine's teachings. He is a fantastic storyteller and well known in the Mi'kmaq community. The version I present here in my blog is very basic and omits a great deal of the story. There is a wonderful video at www.fourdirectionsteachings.com/main.html which explains each of the seven levels of the creation story. You can find many of Stephen Augustine's teachings on line and on you tube as well.

Dancer wearing turkey feather regalia

24 - Columbus Day

This week-end in Massachusetts, Columbus Day will be celebrated. There is a large Italian American community, and no doubt, somewhere in the city of Boston, there will be parties to celebrate the famous explorer, who sailed for Spain and discovered a great new world.

I am not celebrating this holiday. Officially that is, for the first time. Truthfully, I have never celebrated Columbus Day. I have always opted to host a party for my Canadian friends, where we cook a turkey and watch the Patriots play football. A bit of both American and Canadian worlds. Yes, this is the week-end that Canada celebrates Thanksgiving, so that's what this displaced Canadian will do along with my friends who live in the area. I also plan to unveil a beautiful new photo of a Mi'kmaq warrior that will hang in my living room as a tribute to my heritage.

There is a movement afoot here in the United States to do away with Columbus Day. Only some states still observe this day and there is a national movement to abolish it completely. The Native American communities are pushing to create an Aboriginal Awareness Day. It is not without controversy. The Italian American community view Columbus as a hero and celebrate him as such while the American Indian community views him as a murderer who began the genocide of many nations throughout the continents of the Americas.

I have been doing some research on this man and his legacy. I do understand the Italian community's position and mean no disrespect to these people. Italian Americans were also discriminated against in the early formation of the United States and Columbus was a worthy hero when one was needed. He was a great navigator. He is given credit for discovering these continents, but I don't think that many of us here in the United States have the facts. It was not just about three boats accidentally discovering a continent where people traded freely as we are led to believe. There is a lot more to it than this. This story deserves a closer look. 

People are writing doctoral dissertations and lengthy books about this subject. I cannot possibly do it justice in this short piece, but I will at least give you an idea and encourage anyone who is interested to read some of the books out there about this subject. Probably the best example of the situation are the words of Christopher Columbus himself. 

  "....since they have become more assured, and are losing that terror, they are artless and generous with what they have, to such a degree as no one would believe but him who had seen it. Of anything they have, if it be asked for, they never say no, but do rather invite the person to accept it, and show as much lovingness as though they would give their hearts...And they know no sect nor idolatry; save that they believe that power and goodness are in the sky...And this comes not because they are ignorant: on the contrary, they are men of subtle wit, who navigate all those seas, and who give a marvelous good account of everything... And as soon as I arrived in the Indies, in the first island that I found, I took some of them by force....their (Spanish) Highness may see that I shall give them (the Spanish crown) as much gold as they may need... and slaves as many as they shall order to be shipped, and these shall be from idolaters." Pg. 9 (Letter from Columbus in Forbes, The Indian in America's Past)

"Columbus proceeded to enslave these "loving' people, shipping thousands of them to Europe and Africa for a profit. Then he and his European cohorts enslaved tens of thousands of others and liquidated several millions of other humans in the islands within a generation. " Pg. 31 (Columbus and other Cannibals, Jack D. Forbes)

There is, of course, the knowledge that Columbus did not discover the new world in the first place. How does someone discover a place when there are people already living there? If it is determined by European acknowledgement as is often an argument in favor of Columbus, the Norse had been there already and established a settlement in Newfoundland until being driven out by the Beothuk hundreds of years before. There are also theories that Columbus had prior knowledge of these "Indian" civilizations because some "Indian merchants had been blown by a storm to the coasts of Germany (probably Netherlands). Writers living in the sixteenth century cited this account when they discussed the background for the voyages of Columbus, since these "Indians" must have come from across the Atlantic." page 37 (Columbus and other Cannibals) The reason that most of us have learned to celebrate him is not because "he recorded his voyage" as I was taught in school, but simply because another racial group needed him  to be a hero figure. The rest of the story was simply omitted because it wasn't convenient. 

Whatever the real truth is, whether he came with the intention to exploit these people or not, he did just that. Columbus and his associates murdered, terrorized and enslaved thousands of the the Taino (Arawak) people, almost completely destroying them. His views and actions set the stage for not only the enslavement of the Taino people, but the African slave trade as well and the control and slaughter of other American Indian people for hundreds of years to come. Through these actions, disease and opportunists who followed Columbus' lead, the population of the Americas and its indigenous people was reduced by millions. 

The definition of genocide is the deliberate and systematic destruction of a racial, political or cultural group. This story of Christopher Columbus's legacy is not one of new discoveries but of death, destruction and yes, genocide. Let's call it what it is. In the end, we have a choice in who we honor. 

So long Christopher.

Happy Thanksgiving to my Canadian friends and family!

23 - Storyteller

A few weeks ago my family and I attended the MCNAA annual Powwow in Haverhill, MA. I love this powwow. Everyone is friendly, the dancing is great and they have nice interactive exhibits and cultural displays throughout the day. My children hung out at the tee pee and played Native American games. From a distance, I saw Mr. Barnaby, who I met last year, and in a way helped to launch my exploration over this past year. He was sporting beautiful new regalia and danced as wonderfully as ever. The setting at Plug Pond is pretty and the sun was shining after a week of rain. There were some new faces among the dancers as well other familiar ones. All in all a fun day for us.

Playing traditional games at the tee pee

The guest speaker at the powwow this year was a Mi'kmaq flute maker and story teller named David Sanipass. He is from  the Aroostook Band in Maine but spends time traveling and speaking throughout the world. He mentioned that he had not spoken at a powwow in a very long time. I was there close by listening, trying to soak in every word that he spoke. I was especially interested because he brought with him and played a variety of his own hand crafted flutes, and the musician in me was captivated.

Mr. Sanipass had some big messages that day and spoke of many large ideas and important things. I will recall the things that ring true to me but there were many others that passed through as well. He spoke of kindness. How important it was for people to simply show an act of kindness to each other. I have heard this same message several times in different forms since this day from others as well, so, I have been working on this in myself. It is a message that seems to be trying to reach me. Kindness is a powerful thing and it spreads when you put it out there.

He spoke a lot about how people do not take the time to listen to the stories and he feared that many were just not ready for the messages and in turn to advance spiritually. This may be true, but there was a time when many listened. This was when he played his songs. It is an amazing thing when people in the midst of doing other things, just stop and listen. There are no words, but something gets through. Something just hits the spirit and you know that what you are hearing is important.

Mr. David Sanipass playing one of his handmade flutes

He mentioned before he played one of his beautiful flutes, that as spirits, we would be known in the afterlife by our songs. I love this thought. I have dwelled on its meaning often since I heard him say this. As a singer, and one who is surrounded by so many musicians and students learning to communicate through song, this rings so true to me. Actually, I think this is in all of us and doesn't have to be learned. Most of us are moved by music in some way if we let it happen and don't try to control it. Just watch a baby move to music. It's instinct. It's just conventions that are taught. In history, song has often been considered to be a higher kind of speech because it does come closer to spirituality. In Christianity, the angels sing. There's something to this idea I think. That day when Mr. Sanipass played, I'm not sure if he knew it, but we were listening, and the power of the song he played came through loud and clear.

I spoke to Mr. Sanipass later that day and thanked him for his message and his songs. He was very kind and took time to show my daughter a magic trick. She was shy, but thrilled.

The music in the slideshow above is by A Tribe Called Mi'kmaq and is from their album, We Honor the Water available on i tunes.

22 -Congratulations!

Congratulations to all Mi'kmaq friends and relatives in Newfoundland! Yesterday, the Qalipu Band finally received federal recognition and takes it rightful place among the First Nation People of Canada. The Mi'kmaq in Newfoundland had not been officially recognized by the federal government of Canada although there have been people of the first nations in the province for thousands of years. This was a long, hard fight for them and this is a happy day!!! Well done to all of you who worked so hard for so long.  If you listen, I bet you can hear the celebrations from wherever you are in the world. Great news!!!!!

21 - Grandfathers

Their names are etched in my mind. Pierre, Germain, Joseph (old Joe), Francois, his brother Gabriel, John, John Henry and John Robert.  I am speaking of my Mi'kmaq grandfathers, the Lejeune men. I have read about their movements, where they settled, fled, and in my mind imagined their feelings based on what I learned. This knowledge is definitely not usual. I doubt there are many that can go back so many generations with details like the ones we are so fortunate to have as their descendants. We have this information because there are others that have taken the time and searched countless hours providing us with that which is now so dear to our hearts.

A lot of what we do know of these Lejeune men and women comes from church records. The Mi'kmaq were converted to Christianity early on with the baptism of their Grand Chief Membertou in 1620. The Jesuits converted many and as is important in this case, kept records of their sacraments. I have to hand it to them, because throughout the generations, they were devoted to receiving the sacraments when they could. This is largely how we know their movements and it allows us to piece together their stories as much as possible centuries later. While the conversion to Christianity appears to have been fairly amicable and not quite as bloody as other native nation conversions, it still appears to have been a rocky road at times.

There are traces of these men far back. One writing, which was originally in French, speaks of Pierre Lejeune as a type of Courier de Bois and it refers to him as "an espace du sauvage." The exact meaning of this phrase is not known, but it is translated loosely as "a type of savage." He fled into the woods when he refused to bring his people "fire water" and disappeared from the men who were looking for him. A valuable skill that was due to his Mi'kmaq upbringing.

In the Bras d'Or area, there is one grandfather in particular that some of us feel close to our hearts. His name is Francois Lejeune. Many of the Lejeune descendants, including me, come through his line. I also come through his brother Gabriel's line as a granddaughter as well.  I wonder if our attachment to Francois is because we have a little more of his story so to speak. He has left us with information that allows us to piece it together and in turn know him a little better than the others.

Francois was the son of Joseph Lejeune more affectionately known as "Old Joe."  His family spent time abroad in exile, but he was born in 1772 in Cape Breton. He was a farmer and owned a large plot of land in what is now Little Bras d'Or but was then called French Village. A portion of this land remains in the possession of some of his descendants to this very day.

Last year, the Chief of the Bras d'Or Indian Village Band Association, Nancy Swan, was kind to give me a link to a magazine article which mentions our common grandfather by name. The article in its entire form comes from Cape Breton's Magazine and can be found at this link:  http://capebretonsmagazine.com/modules/publisher/item.php?itemid=3694  It is an entry from the Journal of French Bishop Plessis' journey to Cape Breton in 1815, where he intended to visit the Mi'kmaq of the area. The portrait that the Bishop paints of the inhabitants of French Village is not flattering, in fact, he paints them to be lost heathens who engage in all types of debauchery. Knowing this history as I do now, there is always the Mi'kmaq version of events to be considered and that is definitely the case here. The article states,

"Francois Lejeune, the most prosperous inhabitant of the place, had prepared his house to lodge the bishop and the four ecclesiastics; a new small barn was to serve as a church and the portable chapel was set up immediately." pg. 54

The bishop goes on to speak of the people of the village and says "There is probably no place in the diocese of Quebec where the the catholic religion has fallen so low." page 54 The truth of the state of the  Catholic flock of Mi'kmaq on the island is something else in fact and has more to do with the fact that these people were abandoned by the church for a long period of time. The Bishop mentions that the people of the French Village had not seen a priest in four years and then they only saw a priest once per year before that for a period of eight days.  Later in the article, there is a statement that comes from the Mi'kmaq themselves in a neighboring village when they asked the Bishop for a missionary.  The Bishop says "....we were obliged to listen to their request and their lamentations on their need for a missionary," page 58 This was the recorded request of the Mi'kmaq:

 "We live like dogs, in danger of dying without the sacraments. Our children are ignorant of their religion. No priest speaks our language. Our elders have not heard a sermon in fifty years. What have we done to be abandoned in such a way? My father, will you do like the others and leave us without hope of bettering our future." page 58


The response was "These words were heart rendering. The bishop (he refers to himself here) understood them and promised to meet their request in a few years, provided they get used to paying their tithes more punctually than they did to Mr. Lejamtel  who will, from now on, spend two weeks with them each year rather than just one, until further notice." page 58  Later in the article, it is noted that Mr. Lejamtel did not speak the Mi'kmaq language.


I have to admit that when I first read the article, I was not feeling fondness for the Bishop, especially as Francois Lejeune had apparently worked hard to get things ready for him, probably awaiting the day with much anticipation. This is perhaps more importantly a glimpse into the real and changing world of the Mi'kmaq in the early 19th century and the attitudes that prevailed at the time.

Fur bag once owned by Francois Lejeune
and containing the original land grant

Making this man Francois Lejeune all the more real to us is the fact that he had the foresight to place his original land grant in a fur bag so that his family would know that it was important. This fur bag has been handed down through the generations and recently was given to the Nova Scotia Museum by its owner Mr. John Brennick, a Lejeune descendant. He allowed descendants of the family to photograph this bag this year and one of the photos was passed on to me. Due to the fragile state of the bag, it was not allowed to be opened, so it is possible that as it is examined by the Nova Scotia Museum that additional important documents may be revealed inside.

In addition to the bag, there is also a record of a protest of a name change forced upon him by the fairly new British government. Francois wanted to retain the name of Lejeune but was forced to change it to the English equivalent of Young, the name still used by his descendants today.

Last Will and Testament of Francois Lejeune

There is a last will and testament and on it is my G3 grandfather's name, John. He was granted a dollar as were most of his brothers and sisters. He is mentioned again when Francois recommends him with his sister Rachel and brother Philip to his wife if she should choose to bequeath the estate to one of them at her death.

Earlier this summer, I visited Little Bras d'Or and as we walked the grounds of St Joseph's Church, where so many of our family's records were kept, I wondered where the original grant had been. It turns out that I was staring right at it, or at least a portion of it.


That day I also found the site of my great grandfather, John Robert Young's home where my grandmother lived for a time growing up. This is the house in which my mother was born. It was located on a small lane named Young Road on what was once known as the Gannon Road. This house still stands today and relatives that we questioned in the area told us that at one time there were wigwams in the woods behind the home. At John Robert's death, the home was passed on to John Charles Young ,or Baba, as he was spoken of that day. The house remains in the family today but stands boarded up as you can see in the picture below.

John Robert Young's home on what was then Gannon Road

Just today, as I finished this post, I stumbled upon two more documents that reveal more of my Lejeune grandfathers. They were there all along, I had just missed them in the piles of papers I am accumulating on this amazing clan of mine. A will of Joseph Lejeune, where he names Gabriel Lejeune his heir, and a marriage certificate from  the Fortress of Louisbourg in 1754 naming Joseph Lejeune and his bride Martine Le Roy. Keep it coming ancestors. I know you are at work out there. 

20 - Reflection

Next week, I will attend the MCNAA Annual Inter Tribal Powwow in Haverhill, MA. This event for me marks the one year anniversary of my journey to discover my ancestry and my first connection to the Mi'kmaq people. A few weeks ago, I  had the opportunity to speak about my journey at my church. Our pastor was traveling to visit his family in the mid west and he asked me to say something about it while he was gone. He has been following my blog and is one of the reasons I started it in the first place.

Last year, when I returned to the states with this new knowledge, Pastor seemed to be genuinely interested in this story. Unlike others that I told, his eyes didn't seem to glaze over when I started to speak of it, so I was comfortable telling him what I was learning. He had a Native American connection of sorts as well, but in a different way, so this may have been of interest for that reason. Throughout the year, he would often ask me about the things I was learning, and in March of this year, he said, "Why don't you write it all down in a book?" Maybe that will happen some day, but as I had no answers at that point, I decided on a blog as it was a way that I could write while I explored.

When he asked me to speak, I was happy to do so, although I wasn't sure what I would say. I spent the time  following his request gathering my thoughts about what I had learned, how I felt, and thinking about where it might take me. It was a nice way to end the first year of this journey. As I reflected on the year, looking back, I think the hardest thing for me to accept was the fact that I have a new identity. It is not that I am saying that this is all that I am or that I am denying any of the other wonderful parts of my heritage, but it has changed me and the way I view myself. I know for certain it has changed the way I view others. I am excited by this new history and I am proud of this heritage, but it was hard to learn I am connected to a culture that is in some ways so different from what I thought I was for so long. And then to be so disconnected from it makes it all the more strange. I will admit to feeling like an impostor at times. I can say however, that after this year, it is getting a bit easier to say "I am Mi'kmaq," and I do feel a bit less of a stranger in this nation than this time last year.

I thought about the fact that I have connected with people in the Mi'kmaq community. I have connected with relatives I didn't know I had. I have connected with people in Bras d'Or. I have visited Bras d'Or. I have learned large parts of the history of my ancestors, in a way I know no other part of my heritage. I have read many books and have learned about many aspects of Mi'kmaq culture, at least in a basic way. I have read beautiful poetry and heard beautiful songs in a language I had never heard spoken much less sung. A language that had been spoken in the homes of my ancestors not so long ago. It is all incredible to me.

There is one connection with this culture that I could not have imagined however. That I had not even thought about until a few weeks ago. That is the effect this journey of mine would have on my children.

Last year in Haverhill, Don Barnaby, a Mi'kmaq dancer, said to us, "I hope your children dance!" as he left us after talking with him that day. I was reminded of him this summer. We bought my daughter a beautiful pair of moccasins and one evening I came into my parent's living room to find my daughter, blanket in hand, dancing around the room as she had seen the other young girls doing at the powwow. She smiled up at me and said, "Look mom, this is how they danced at the powwow!" I could do nothing but smile as I thought that she had identified with the things she saw that day. She identified with a part of her own history.

Later in the summer, after we were back in Massachusetts and driving to get school supplies for the new school year,  my eight year old son said. "Mom, what am I going to do?" I said, "About what?"" What if my new teacher wants me to do a project on Christopher Columbus?" Immediately, my teacher mind went to thinking, "Oh no, he is going to do something and we will be viewed as trouble makers or radicals." I said, "Well, your teacher probably will talk about Christopher Columbus because he is given credit for discovering America. Not everyone knows the other parts of the history and you may just have to listen and understand that." He very quietly said, "No, I think if my teacher wants me to do that, I just won't do it. I don't like what he did."

There are these moments in parenting, when your children teach you things. This was one for me. It occurred to me that my children had come along on this journey with me. They are with me because I am their mother. I have never preached to my children about native rights or Christopher Columbus's legacy for that matter. They were just with me. They have been at powwows, visited historic places, watched me reading and writing and heard me speaking on the phone...a lot. Their great grandmother is Mi'kmaq and they know her. They will remember her. This experience is different for them already than it is for me. I don't know what they will do with it, but at least they have this knowledge and they have a right to own it.

So, I will continue my journey and when Columbus day rolls around, I will talk to the teachers if I have to and try to explain that they have had these experiences and that this is their ancestry.  I will respect the moral decision that my eight year old has made based on what he sees and feels to be right inside of him. And, Mr. Barnaby..... if you are out there.....my daughter danced!!

19 - Elders

I did an unusual thing this summer. Unusual for me anyway. I am fortunate to have three of my grandparents still living. My paternal grandmother is 96, my maternal grandparents are both 87, and all are going strong. This summer I asked them about their lives and recorded them on video. I have heard stories from them throughout my life but I wanted to capture them telling these stories themselves, so my children and my grandchildren will have a sense of them at some point in their lives. Maybe all this searching has me thinking. I'm getting older myself, and in middle age I realize their importance and I am glad I took the time to do it.

This idea to film them and ask them about their lives was prompted by this Mi'kmaq journey of mine. This journey to put together pieces of the puzzle of one part of my history has me thinking about it all. I learned that my maternal grandmother's mother was a midwife.  I never knew this. I learned that she and her younger brother were heartbroken at the death of their father and took his passing hard. She was eleven when it happened and she told me my great grandfather was tall with dark eyes and jet black hair. There are no pictures of him that we know of, although we are searching.

 My grandfather told me stories of coal mine floods and explosions that he lived through as well as stories of his wanderings in childhood eating berries for sustenance until he arrived home. My paternal grandmother told me about electricity coming to their community, funny stories from her school days,  about German submarines cruising outside Pictou Harbour during war time and of seeing the Hindenburg pass over their community before its demise in New York City. These were just some of things. I loved every second of it.

Our current culture in North America is obsessed with youth. Maybe cultures always have been. I can't say that I think that is a bad thing. Youth has an important place in the world. My children certainly keep me looking at the world through their eyes and I have to admit that I like it. Youth is valuable, but as I age myself, I am learning the importance of experience.

 This summer my father set up a meeting for me with a much loved and well known Mi'kmaq elder named Sarah Francis of the Pictou Landing Band. I visited Sarah at her home one morning and told her of my new found connection to the Mi'kmaq people and what I had learned of my ancestors. We had some discussion about the brutal aspects of the history but she was quick to turn the conversation and warned me not to dwell on the negative, that it would do no good. Good advice that I am following.

Me and Sarah

We talked about the fact that my ancestors hid and she had some insights on this aspect of the history. She told me it's just the way it was. Intermarriage was common, especially with the French, and in those dangerous days Mi'kmaq people identified with those where they found safety. She told me of her own grandfather who was half Scottish. (It's a small world isn't it.) She told me that he would not acknowledge this part of his history. He was raised in a Mi'kmaq community and was safe there. The white community was not kind at that time.

I showed her pictures on my computer from the Mawiomi Powwow and then we talked a bit more.  I told her I would like to learn about Mi'kmaq music. We talked about learning some of the language and then she told me that she had started a singing group for young women years ago and they travelled all over the province performing. She took me into a room where she had the most wonderful pictures of her family hanging on the walls. I was so happy she let me see this. She showed me pictures of her singing group. She said all of the girls were grown up and were mothers themselves now. This was so exciting for me to learn! Maybe it's the music teacher in me knowing I had found someone who knew that peculiar joy of working with young people singing. I thought it was wonderful.

Sarah showing me Mi'kmaq talking cards

Before I left, Sarah brought out some large cards that showed some of the basics in the Mi'kmaq language. She told me where to get them and that these cards would give me a start with the language and I could go from there.  I have found this exact information on line and I will be studying them as she suggested. I am so happy and grateful for this opportunity to meet her and ask questions.

  Sarah mentioned to me that she has been studying her culture for over 50 years. Well, I am just starting out on this journey, but  I know that I am blessed to have had this day and this experience meeting her. I hope I will see her again next year and maybe speak a few words of Mi'kmaq. Who knows? Maybe she'll teach me a song.

 Mi'kmaq stop sign
at Pictou Landing Reservation

18 - Quills

It is said that the Malicite people of eastern Canada referred to the Mi'kmaq as Porcupine people. The porcupine was important in Mi'kmaq life. They were used traditionally as a source of food and its quills were used to adorn many items in their daily lives. Early explorers to Nova Scotia first commented on this quill work called matachias as early as 1603.

 There seems to be an abundance of porcupines even to this day throughout mainland Nova Scotia. Just this summer, I pointed one out to my children as it slowly crossed a highway near the Caribou ferry terminal outside of Pictou. Luckily, the porcupine made it safely across the road and into the woods. Unfortunately, many do not, and seeing them dead on the side of the road is very common in this part of the world.  It is interesting to note that porcupines do not live on Cape Breton Island, Prince Edward Island or Newfoundland, all places where there are Mi'kmaq communities. All quill work that is done in these areas is made with quills imported from the mainland provinces.

Sheila Porter demonstrates how a quill is prepared.  

When I think of the Mi'kmaq and porcupines, it drums up images in my mind of  beautiful birch bark boxes decorated with the quills. Once common in households as button boxes and souvenirs, these days the boxes are costly, mostly due to the large amount of time, skill, gathering and preparation of the materials that goes into making them. They are treasures to those who own them. This year at Mawiomi, I was fortunate to see a demonstration with Mi'kmaq artist Sheila Porter from Lunenburg. Sheila is an artisan who makes beautiful quill jewelry and quill boxes. I loved her work so much that I purchased a necklace and earrings at the powwow.

During her demonstration, Sheila told us that one porcupine can produce up to 30 000 quills. She gets her quills from animals that have died on the road, but she mentioned that others do catch them for this purpose. She takes it home, removes the quills and then buries the animal with respect, as it has been given to her for her work. She groups the quills according to color because just like we have different color hair, all porcupines have different colored quills and often she will want to use similar colors together depending on the project. Quills may be dyed with natural dyes from plants ,which produces more subdued colors, or other dyes which produce brighter colors. Both have been used by Mi'kmaq for generations. She mentioned that she is beginning to experiment with traditional ways of dyeing the quills but the work that I saw that day used the natural color of the quills and was beautiful. You can see a few pictured above.

Sheila Porter, Mi'kmaq quill artist

The quill itself has small barbs on the end, which are rough to the touch. She burned these off with a cigarette lighter producing a smooth, sharp quill. As I did not see an actual box being built that day, I did a bit of reading on the subject of quill work and apparently the white birch bark that is used in these projects is gathered at one time of the year when it peels easily from the tree in sheets. Bark used for baskets, wigwams and canoes was harvested and the time of year varied depending upon the location of the tree. The design for the quills would be scratched or drawn on the bark. "Both bark and quills were traditionally worked while slightly damp, the quills being moistened one at a time as required. A bone or metal awl, or a darning needle, was used to make the insertion hole, first for the base of the quill; next another hole was made and then the barbed end was inserted, until the entire dark tip of the quill was pushed into the hole." (pg. 97 Micmac Quill Work, Ruth Holmes Whitehead) Traditionally, the dark area of the quill was not used in designs, but this has changed today as artisans find original ways to design their own creations with the quills. Sheila is one who uses the dark portion of the quills to great effect.

Mi'kmaq quill work was always popular with early settlers but gained great popularity in the nineteenth century. Chair panels, purses, wallets, pin cushions, boxes, and tea cosies were some of the items adorned with porcupine quill work. The Nova Scotia Museum in Halifax houses what may be the word's largest collection of Mi'kmaq quill work on bark. Other major collections both public and private are housed in Canada, United States, Great Britain, Ireland and France. Ruth Holmes Whitehead, a noted Mi'kmaq historian has written a wonderful book, which I used as a reference for this post called Micmac Quill Work. 


If you are interested in owning beautiful quill work, either jewelry or boxes, please contact Sheila Porter at Little Arrow's Porcupine Quill Jewelry via email at littlearrow92@yahoo.ca or you can order through the Halifax South Western Railway Museum at www.hswmuseum.ednet.ns.ca