Poet Lois Red Elk reflects on how, for thousands of years, the aftermaths of successful autumn hunts have been times of coming together for families expressing reverence to the creator
"The Deer Dancer," a painting by by Woody (Woodrow Wilson) Crumbo, (Potawatomi), 1912-1989. In addition to Crumbo's original paintings, a major selection of his prints are in the permanent collection at the National Museum of the American Indian. Find out more by going to americanindian.si.edu
Hello Friends in the MoJo Universe—
A beautiful autumn day in Eastern Montana. The poplars and cottonwoods are dropping their orange and yellow leaves into the rivers like gold coins. As you know November is Native American Month for all who will celebrate the culture, music, language and spirituality of the original peoples. I will be in the schools all month sharing my poetry which reflects all of the above.
One poem I always share as an introduction to myself as an elder and a woman is titled, "The Knife Wearer." It speaks to how I was raised with respect to my mother, the elders, the animals and culture. The aftermath of successful hunts have always been times of togetherness and sharing with those in need.
I have consistently encouraged teachers to use it in their classrooms, and am always surprised by the response from the students and teachers.
I would like our readers to share what they will learn.
All the best,
Lois
A painting, gauche and graphite on board, by Bob Kuhn, in permanent collection of the National Museum of Wildlife Art, Jackson, Wyoming. The museum has the largest public collection of works by Kuhn, considered one of the premiere American wildlife artists of all time. Kuhn's notes from the work read, "Front half of a dressed white tail deer. Road-killed buck, dressed by me, then popped in the freezer." Learn more abut the National Museum of Wildlife Art by going to wildlifeart.org
The Knife Wearer
(for my mother, Josephine)
by Lois Red Elk
This morning we found ourselves skinning a deer,
cutting meat, hanging some to dry and packaging
some for the freezer. It was the dogs late last night
that set off a howling, the unexpected smell of fresh
blood floating down the block, then a familiar car
horn honking in the driveway. My nephew and his
friends were hunting and brought us a deer. Mother
always said, “Cut-up the meat right away, don’t let
it sit.” I look at a front quarter, a hole filled with
coagulated blood. Grandma says not to eat the part
next to the wound, “cut it out; offer it to the earth for
healing, a sacrifice to remember the hungering spirits”.
Auntie says to save the muscle along the back strap,
“It makes good thread”. I carefully learned the exact
place to cut the joints so the bones separate easily.
Mother said that is important – “it means you are a
thoughtful person." Auntie is at the door waiting for
a roast. “An elder takes the first piece she reminded.”
Mom tells me to save the hooves for her. She wants
to make a bone game for the new grandchild, wants
them to be patient and skillful. I boil the hoofs with
sage, find the little toe-bones for her. My hands begin
to ache from all the work, I soak them in warm water
and start again. I admire the placement of tendons
on the deer shoulders, no joints, just the crisscrossing
of muscle. Grandma says, that’s why your dad called
them jumpers, they bounce off the strength of their
flexing muscles. Late at night mom helps me stake
out the hide. My back hurts; my feet feel like I’ve
been walking on rocks all day. I want to complain,
but mom caught the look in my eyes. She said to me,
“When you get dressed for the dance this weekend,
you will proudly wear your beautiful beaded dress,
your beaded leggings and moccasins, and last but not
least, you will put on your beaded belt, and attached
you will wear your sharp knife and quilled knife sheath
POSTNOTE: We are pleased that Lois is working away on a new collection of poems and will let you know when it is published. In the meantime, ask for her other volumes at your favorite local bookseller: Our Blood Remembers, winner of the best non-fiction award from Woodcraft Circle of Native Writers and Storytellers; Dragonfly Weather; and Why I Return to Makoce with a foreword from Montana's recent state poet laureate Lowell Jaeger and nominated for a High Plains Book Award in poetry. Given headlines that continue to appear about the discoveries of new atrocities committed at boarding schools for indigenous children, we encourage you to read Lois' contribution to MoJo that appeared in June, The Unspeakable Past Of Indian Boarding Schools
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About Lois Red Elk-Reed
Lois Red Elk-Reed is a poet who calls the high plains home. She is Mountain Journal's poet in residence.
