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