In the woods, on the other side of the Wakeby, on the Canaumet, a Great Pine has been asked for its life to build the Great Mashoon, as dried grasses, twigs, and sticks are piled around its base.
Honor songs and prayers are sent to the soft blowing winds, with tobacco bundles adorned, a sacred fire is lit.
All in Prayer one speaks.
“Oh Great Pine with such height and girth, we have not seen another like you, with your limbs falling of age, and your children at your feet that run so deep. We ask you to give yourself for a great cause, the Great Mashoon, to carry us across the waters. We will take your children and plant them around our sacred circle and stories of you will be told for generations to come. Your skin will be used for our Wetu, in which we use for our sweats. Your blood will be used for medicine and to fasten our feathers to our arrows, and your needles will be used for healing.”
As the morning seeps its way through the dew, the chipping on the southwest side is of many, some with tears in their eyes of gratitude, some of love, but many have both.
A sharp crack finds its way from the base to the tip of the tree, its voice saying;
“My people I have been waiting for many moons. I have seen many winters and have many stories to tell.
Go to your inner voice and I will share before I rest on the bed of my Mother.
You see I have watched children at play from a distance while the winged ones have nest themselves upon me,
I have seen many births as the chipmunks, squirrels, deer, and others feast upon my cones.
They are carriers, so you see I have younger family through the Canaumet.
My roots run deep, however throughout the years the woodpecker has left me vulnerable in certain places, only to let the termites feast upon me.
I have sent my blood to heal for many sunrises and sets, but the holes are of too many now.
So it’s with great honor I give myself to my people and I will take my people safely across the waters.”
As the voice came to a soft fade and songs at a fever pitch, a thunderous snap split through the ears of all.
And as the Great Pine started to fall it took many limbs of others with it.
Snap-crackle-snap,! as it laid itself down on its mother, a sweet smell of pine travels Southwest, weaving its way through the others.
By Medicine Man-Soaring Eagle Cash
