As Long as the Rivers Flow Read online

  As Long as the Rivers Flow

  As Long as the Rivers Flow

  Larry Loyie

  with Constance Brissenden

  Illustrations by Heather D. Holmlund

  Groundwood Books

  House of Anansi Press

  Toronto Berkeley

  To my family and all young people who seek to know

  about a way of life that is fast disappearing.

  In 1944, Larry Loyie, who was then known as Lawrence, was ten years old and living with his family near Slave Lake in northern Alberta, Canada.

  This is his story…

  Chapter 1 | Ooh-Hoo Means Owl

  The baby owl blinked its round yellow eyes at Lawrence, and the boy blinked back. Peering out from Papa’s knapsack, the owlet was a fuzzy brown-and-white bundle. When it saw the people, it let out a demanding “Cheeep” and loudly clacked its beak.

  The children jumped back, then laughed. Little sister grabbed at the fluffy feathers.

  Papa spoke sternly, “Be careful, Maruk. This owl is just a baby but it is very hungry and its beak is already sharp.”

  Maruk quickly pulled her hand away.

  Papa continued, “When I was out checking my trapline, I found this bird at the bottom of a tree. There were no other owls around, so I picked it up and brought it home. It is a wild thing but it needs us now. Otherwise it will die of hunger or be eaten by a coyote. You children must care for it. Don’t give it butter and jam. Feed it wild meat until it is big enough to return to the forest.”

  “We can keep it in the shed,” Lawrence said. “It’s always dark in there.”

  Papa nodded at his eldest son. Lawrence was small for a ten-year-old boy, but he was already wise in the ways of their people.

  “I’ll fix a place for it to roost,” Papa said. Carefully, he carried the owl to the shed. The children crowded around him.

  “It can sleep in my old dolly’s bed and use the blanket,” said Maruk.

  “That’s a good idea, too.” Papa smiled. “Now, my children, you must give it a name.”

  “Is it a boy or a girl owl?” asked little brother Buddy.

  “I can’t tell for sure,” Papa said. “I think it’s a boy.”

  They all fell silent, thinking of a good name.

  “Let’s call him Minos,” shouted baby brother Leonard.

  Minos meant cat. Everyone laughed.

  “Let’s call him Ooh-Hoo,” Lawrence said.

  “Ooh-Hoo means owl in our language,” said Papa. “That makes it a good name.”

  Every day the children took Ooh-Hoo pieces of uncooked rabbit meat to eat. They cleaned the shed and filled the water dish. They chased the dog away when he got too close.

  After supper every night, Lawrence put on Papa’s old moose-hide gloves and went into the shed. At the sight of him, Ooh-Hoo raised his voice and clacked his beak. He seemed to know it was time to play.

  One night, Lawrence carried Ooh-Hoo to Mama’s clothesline, with the other children following behind. Sitting by the fire, Grandma and Grandpa watched the parade pass by.

  Grandma said to Grandpa, “Mosoom, that owl is getting bigger every day.”

  “I wonder if he will ever leave the children?” Grandpa replied.

  At the clothesline, Ooh-Hoo gripped the rope with long, feather-covered claws. He flapped his wings as if to say, “Look at me. I’m big now, too.”

  In a flash, the little owl was hanging upside down from the clothesline, his wings still flapping. The children jumped up and down with joy. Ooh-Hoo never tired of playing this game. He needed the exercise to strengthen his wings.

  When Lawrence put him on the ground, Ooh-Hoo’s ear feathers stood up. Lawrence knew he was angry.

  Grandpa walked over. “Ooh-Hoo wants to play some more. Toss your owl up in the air. See what happens.”

  “He might fall and hurt himself,” Lawrence said doubtfully.

  “Try it. He has been exercising those wings a long time.”

  Lawrence picked Ooh-Hoo off the ground. Hesitating, he looked down at the owl in his arms. He swung his arms upward and tossed Ooh-Hoo as high as he could.

  Ooh-Hoo looked surprised to find himself in the air. He flapped his wings furiously. For an instant he stayed aloft. Then slowly he fluttered to earth.

  “He’s flying down instead of up,” Little Buddy squealed.

  Maruk stroked the owl on his head.

  “Poor little Ooh-Hoo. You don’t have a mama and a papa to teach you how to fly.”

  * * *

  All afternoon, Mama smoked a moose hide over the smoke pit. Now she took it down from the smoke rack and gave it to Grandma.

  “Kokom, here is more hide for those winter clothes you want to make,” she said. Lawrence sat and watched his grandmother sewing winter moccasins. The needle in her small hands went smoothly in and out.

  Papa and Grandpa were at the barn working on the wagon. They checked the wheels carefully, putting grease on the axles. Uncle Louis oiled the buckles on the horses’ harnesses.

  “Lunch is ready,” Mama called. Inside their log house, they ate moose stew and fresh bread.

  Grandpa sipped his tea. “We will soon leave for our summer camp near the river,” he said. “The wagon is ready for travel.”

  “I want to take some vegetables on this trip,” said Mama. “And Kokom has canvas tarps for drying berries.”

  “Do we take our tent?” asked Lawrence.

  “Not this time,” Papa replied. “The weather is hot and dry. We can make a lean-to for sleeping.”

  The younger children ran outside to play. Lawrence stayed with the older people, listening carefully.

  Mama spoke quietly. “Kokom keeps hearing that children are being taken from their families and put in a school far away.” She looked at Lawrence, then lowered her voice even more. He could only hear part of what she said. It was something about prison.

  “What are they going to do to us next?” Grandma said.

  Lawrence didn’t understand. What was this school? He didn’t want to leave home. He played with the other children all day. He was learning to hunt and fish to help feed the family, and he was pretty good at it, too.

  That night as he lay in bed, he remembered Mama’s words. What did they mean?

  * * *

  The sun was rising as Lawrence slipped out of bed. As always, Grandma and Grandpa were already awake.

  “Why are you up so early?” Grandma asked.

  “I’m going fishing, Kokom.” Lawrence took some hooks and fishing line. At the creek he would cut a fishing pole with his pocket knife. He also took a small frying pan and a piece of bannock.

  As he walked along the forest path, he heard a squirrel chatter. To Lawrence she was saying, “Get out of my way! I’m gathering nuts for winter.”

  An eagle swooped overhead, looking for breakfast.

  “You leave my owl alone,” said Lawrence.

  He smelled wild mint in the air. He would pick some for Mama on his way home.

  Lawrence came across some bear tracks. His grandpa had told him that grizzly bear claw marks were deeper and wider than a black bear’s marks. The tracks Lawrence found had been made by a black bear, but they were old and dried out.

  At the creek, Lawrence caught enough fish to feed the family that day. As he ate his breakfast of fried fish and bannock, he thought of Uncle Louis. Everyone said Uncle Louis was the best tracker and hunter they knew.

  Already his uncle had taught him a lot
. Once, when they were out in the bush, Uncle Louis had pointed to some half-chewed leaves. “Look at this,” he had said. “A moose was here less than an hour ago.”

  “I want to know as much as Uncle Louis,” Lawrence said to himself as he walked home carrying his heavy catch of fish.

  Chapter 2 | The Summer Camp

  Before leaving for their camp, the family laid all their supplies on the ground to see whether anything had been forgotten. There were pots and pans for cooking, and pails for water and berries. A large ax and a small hatchet lay nearby. The sacks would be used to carry dried berries and dried meat. Warm wool blankets were wrapped in a tarp to keep them dry.

  “Let’s get the rest of last summer’s vegetables out of the root cellar,” said Mama. Lawrence followed her under the house. It was cool down there, and that kept the vegetables fresh. He held open a sack. Mama put in turnips, onions and potatoes from her garden. Lawrence carried them up for her.

  “Now we’re ready,” Mama said.

  Uncle Louis hitched the team of horses to the wagon and drove them to the supplies.

  “Whoa, Blackie and Nellie,” he commanded in a loud voice.

  Mama supervised the loading of the wagon. “Let’s put the grub box some place handy so we don’t have to dig for it when we get hungry,” she said to Papa.

  Soon everything was neatly loaded for their two-week stay in the bush.

  The little ones were crying because they wanted to go, too.

  Lawrence told Maruk, “You have to stay with Auntie Jenny and look after Ooh-Hoo. Don’t forget to feed him every day. You know how hungry he gets.”

  “I know that already,” Maruk said in a huff.

  Grandma and Grandpa sat on the front seat of the wagon with Mama. Grandpa took the reins. Papa and Uncle Louis set out ahead on foot to clear the trail of any trees or branches that might have been blown down by the wind.

  Lawrence slipped into the shed to say goodbye to Ooh-Hoo.

  “I wish you were coming,” he said.

  * * *

  The camp road was narrow. Trees crowded in on both sides, sometimes forming a canopy above their heads. A few hours down the trail, Grandpa stopped to rest the horses.

  Another wagon pulled up. Auntie Rose, Uncle James and cousins Clara, Leo, William and Sammy had arrived. Sammy, the youngest, was Lawrence’s age.

  The children walked behind the wagon, telling stories and jokes. They laughed and teased one another. A couple of dogs walked with them.

  “I hear you have an owl,” said Sammy. He pointed to a shaggy dog with one ear longer than the other. “My dog can do tricks. He can roll over. He barks when I tell him to speak,” he boasted.

  “My owl is very smart,” Lawrence said. “He flies upside down on the clothesline. He’s tough, too. He eats raw rabbit.”

  “But you can’t keep him,” said Sammy.

  “You’re just jealous,” Lawrence blurted out. “He’s ours anyway until he flies away. Ooh-Hoo will always remember us.”

  He gave Sammy a shove and walked away.

  * * *

  Every year the families camped at the same spot beside a wide river.

  When they arrived, Uncle Louis told the children, “Give the horses a good rub-down, then water them. When you finish, go in the bush and haul wood for the fires. Then you can go swimming.”

  Lawrence and Sammy led the horses close to two tree stumps. They stood on the stumps to rub and brush the horses’ backs. Clara, William and Leo looked for wood.

  After their chores were done, they raced each other to the river. They had a great water fight, then lay in the sun to dry.

  As each family set up a lean-to for sleeping, Grandma and Grandpa gathered spruce boughs for the beds. They laid canvas tarps and blankets over the boughs.

  “Spruce boughs keep the frogs and mice out,” said Grandma. “They don’t like the prickly needles.”

  Lawrence found it hard to sleep. He could hardly wait for morning. He wanted to pick berries, fish and go swimming all at once.

  Far away he heard the sound of an owl hooting. Nearby another owl answered. He fell asleep thinking of Ooh-Hoo.

  * * *

  In the morning, Mama, Grandma and the children walked to the berry patch. Along the way, the children picked small but tasty saskatoonberries. After they had filled their cups, they dumped the berries into big buckets.

  “Help me make the berry racks, Lawrence,” said Mama. Every year they used the same spruce poles to make the racks.

  With Mama’s help, Lawrence wove willow tree branches between the poles to make a table. They laid a tarp on top, spreading the berries out in the hot sun. “Turn the berries over,” Grandma told cousin Clara. “We want them to be dry by tonight.”

  Lawrence walked back along the rolling hills to the berry bushes. Sammy shouted, “I bet I can fill my cup faster than you.”

  The boys picked faster and faster. Lawrence remembered the good patches from the year before. Soon he had filled his cup.

  “I win,” he yelled and raced toward the buckets. In his haste he tripped over a tree root and went flying. His berries scattered everywhere. His elbow was scraped raw.

  His cousins laughed at him until Mama chased them away. Then she put her arm around him.

  “Are you all right?” she asked gently, wiping his elbow with a cloth. Her smile made him strong again.

  “Mama,” he asked, “am I going to school soon?” He really wanted to know why Mama and Grandma looked so sad and worried, but he didn’t know how to ask.

  Now Mama frowned. “Don’t worry about the school. Just keep picking berries. And remember, slow down next time. Don’t pick any more berries for the mice.”

  * * *

  Dawn touched the sky. Wisps of mist floated on the damp ground.

  “Papa, can I go hunting with you this year?” Lawrence stood as tall as possible when he asked.

  Papa shook his head. “Not yet, my son. When we’re in the bush, we spread out and walk for miles looking for game. If we’re too far from camp, we stay overnight. We take only one blanket each. Your mama wouldn’t like you getting cold or sick.”

  Lawrence looked at the ground to hide his disappointment.

  “While we’re away, why don’t you test your skills?” Papa said. “There’s a family of beavers living in the river. They come up for food early every morning and late in the evening. If they smell you, they will dive down and go somewhere else. See if you can fool them.”

  “I can fool them, Papa.”

  “Don’t be so sure until you try it.”

  Papa, Uncle Louis and Uncle James picked up their packsacks, waved goodbye and disappeared down the trail.

  Grandpa told Lawrence, “To see a beaver, you must find a bushy spot near the river. You must have a clear view of where the water is dark and deep. Look carefully for a nose above the water. That is how beavers check for danger.”

  In the late afternoon, Lawrence walked to the beaver dam. He chose a spot that looked right, then sat and waited. He heard the buzz of a horsefly and shuddered to think of its painful bite.

  Suddenly he remembered his grandma’s trick. With his pocket knife, he cut a willow branch to use as a fly swatter. The beavers would think it was the wind blowing.

  As he waited, he thought of Mama’s delicious rabbit stew cooking on the campfire for supper. His stomach grumbled with hunger. His mouth was dry and got drier as he watched the river.

  Now he understood what the hunters meant when they talked about patience and discipline. It would be easy to go back to camp, eat supper and go to bed. But he had to stay to prove himself to his father.

  A speck of dark appeared on the silvery water. Ripples followed behind it. Lawrence’s heart beat faster. Would the beaver smell him or see him? A long time seemed to pass as he sat motionless. Then
the beaver swam to the opposite side of the river, unaware of the boy nearby.

  Lawrence had fooled the beaver.

  Chapter 3 | Grizzly!

  Lawrence was almost as tall as his grandma. Sometimes he wondered exactly how tall she really was. She always seemed to be bending down, reaching for her sewing or putting a log on the fire.

  Her best friend was Whiskers, her dog. He was a rusty brown color. Many long hairs grew on each side of his nose. When he was a puppy, Grandma wanted to call him Wapoose, which meant Rabbit, but she chose Whiskers instead. Wherever Grandma went, Whiskers was not far behind.

  Grandma knew just about everything. When she was young, she had been a bronco buster and had ridden horses every day. She could hunt and fish better than most.

  “Your kokom is equal to anyone,” Papa once told Lawrence. “You will learn a lot from her if you watch and listen.”

  Listening to Grandma was fun. She talked to the birds, scolding them if they were too noisy. If she heard the howl of a coyote or a wolf, she wondered out loud if it was hungry or lonely. At night she told funny stories until the children fell asleep.

  “Today we have to walk a long way,” Grandma told Lawrence one morning. “The special medicines I want to pick are on the other side of that big hill. Make sure you pack enough lunch so we don’t get hungry.”

  Lawrence took a gunny sack and packed their lunch. He slung it over his shoulder.

  “I’m a real hunter now,” he pretended. “I’ll bring home lots of food to feed everybody for lots of days.”

  Grandma turned and looked back at him. “Hurry up, Lawrence. Quit your daydreaming. You’re lagging behind.”