Beware Those Who Bear ‘Gifts’

“…the beaver does everything to perfection…he makes for us kettles, axes, swords, knives, and gives drink and food.” (Seventeenth century Mi’kmaq hunter commenting on the trade. From LeClercq, Chrestien, 1910. New Relation of Gaspesia: With the Customs and Religion of the Gaspesian Indians, William F. Ganong ed. and trans. Toronto: Champlain Society, p, 277)

University of Alberta, 1970

Harry Reed, first year student at the University of Alberta, sat in class listening to his professor drone on about White contact with Indigenous peoples of Canada.

Finally, an impatient Harry raised his hand. “I don’t understand Professor Langdon. It’s obvious, isn’t it? When Whites came, they brought knives, axes, and guns superior to anything Native peoples had. And the Natives readily accepted or traded for them. What’s so complex and threatening about that?

Professor Langdon stared at Harry, as if he had just grown another head. Instead of answering the question, because the class was just finishing, he motioned to Harry.

“Mr. Reed, perhaps a word with you after class.”

Harry, just fresh out of small town Saskatchewan, groaned inwardly. He had already learned in his short time at the U of A whenever a professor felt you needed more instruction, it meant more reading. Endless reading. Hundreds, thousands of pages of reading.

“Mr. Reed, you’re unconvinced with my lecture?”

“Well, Professor Langdon, when you talk about trade for those fur trade articles, you seem to imply there’s more to the story. How does the acquisition of things change peoples’ lives? Their entire culture?”

“I only have one hour to lecture, Mr. Reed. I can’t elaborate as much as I’d like to on certain subjects. So, to better understand this topic I’d like you to do some extra reading.” With that the good professor gave Harry a list of articles to read.

“And start with this one, Mr. Reed. I’m sure you will find most of the answers there.”

With that Professor Langdon left the classroom, and Harry groaning. ‘More reading.’

Harry looked at the title of the first article his professor suggested. Steel Axes for Stone-Age Australians by Lauriston Sharp. Now just how was reading about stone axes and Australian Aborigines supposed to answer his question about White-Indigenous relations in the Canadian fur trade?

……………………….

A few days later before his next Anthropology class, Harry read about the Yir Yoront, an Australian stone-age people contacted by White missionaries in the 1930s. Professor Langdon asked him to paraphrase what he learned. And what he learned was quite astonishing:

The Yir Yoront

The Yir Yoront lived at the mouth of the Coleman River, west coast of Cape York Peninsula, in today’s Queensland, northern Australia.

First studied by Anthropologist Lauriston Sharp in the 1930s, the Yir Yoront were relatively isolated. They maintained an independent economy, supporting themselves entirely by means of their old stone age techniques. However, their polished stone axes were being rapidly replaced by steel axes they acquired from European missionaries.

The Yir Yoront traded for stone axes some distance because local stones for making axes were lacking. Its acquisition, and subsequent production (making the handles and binding axe heads to them with local resins) was the domain of the more prominent Yir Yoront men. The axe therefore was the property of the men, although family members could use it. In short the stone axe, a very important tool for Yir Yoront economy, was connected to both gender and age identity in Yir Yoront society. It’s ownership, and who could borrow it, defined age and gender relationships among the people. And just as importantly its manufacture and use was closely tied to the peoples’ history.

The introduction and eventual adoption of steel axes changed these relationships. Women and children now had direct access to axes and men no longer were able to control either ownership or their use. Men in Yir Yoront society lost their distinct identity and gender relationships began to change. Confusion about sex, age and kinship roles emerged, for the sake of more independence by women. Trading partners were either lost or prestige relations between partners changed and leadership roles changed. And the last effect of the introduction of the steel axe was an emerging deep hatred by some Yir Yoront males for Whites.

Sharp concluded that, “The closed system of totemic ideas explaining and categorizing a well–known universe as it was fixed at the beginning of time, presents considerable obstacles to the adoption of new or the dropping of culture traits. The obstacle is not insurmountable and the system allows for the minor variations, which occur, in the normal daily life. But the inception of major changes cannot easily take place.”

Harry finished reading, surprised that the introduction of a simple metal axe had such a profound effect in other parts of Yir Yoront society in a relatively short time. The light bulb was slowly coming on. Still dim but gaining strength. Harry drew up a graphic summary of what he learned.

Confluence of the Boyer and Peace Rivers, Northern Canada, 1801

He was known as the Two-Hearts. A powerful leader among his people, the Dene of northern Canada. One heart was for the love and care of his people. The other for his enemies. Including the Whites who were encroaching on this country. His land, his people.

He stood on the edge of the river valley looking down as the White traders built their new house on his lands. They were back. His steely gaze was filled with disdain for the new arrivals. Around his neck hung a dark stone knife and a green stone axe attached to a leather thong. Both were beautifully crafted and rare. Only the Two Hearts knew where to find the grey banded stone or trade for the green stone axes west in the mountains. Among his people he, and a few other elders, was the keeper of the stones.

As keeper of the stones, he was powerful and revered among his people. Whoever wanted these beautiful knives or axes had to request them from him.

But his power and control of the stone knives and axes was waning. For years now the White traders brought steel knives and axes to his people.

He worriedly watched the traders build their house. The Two-Hearts faced an impasse. A dilemma of considerable proportions. How to protect his people, his lands, his resources, from these Whites, their gifts and pestilence. And how to prevent his neighbors from acquiring those goods, especially the new steel knives, axes, or firearms, thereby increasing their power and diminishing his. There was no easy solution.

Personally he despised the Whites, and everything they brought with them. But many of his people desired these new things. They could not be dissuaded from acquiring the shiny metal pots, the sharp axes and knives. But everything had its price. And what price would his people pay for those objects? By adopting them, gradually the people were losing knowledge of the old ways.

The Two-Hearts’ nephew stood beside him watching. A beautiful stone knife also hung around his neck, given to him by his uncle. He looked down at his knife, and then enviously at some of the metal daggers hanging on the chests of the other men. Traded from another group of Dene downriver.

“You look anxious, Uncle. This is a good thing. They build in our territory. Now we can trade with them directly.”

“You have much to learn, Nephew. This is not a good thing. It only brings grief and uncertainty.” The Two Hearts continued to watch but said no more.

………………………

John Blackburn, trader for the newly formed XY Company, stood in what would be the new fort compound, beside the river, glaring up at the group of Dene standing on the valley edge. Then he slowly turned towards one of his men with that same scowl, as if he was little better than the Dene. “What the hell are those heathens staring at, Pierre? They don’t trade. They just watch us and do nothing.”

“That’s one of their principle men, Sir. He seems unhappy about something. But I don’t know what. We gave his people gifts. Steel knives and axes. Still he seems reluctant to trade.”

“Well don’t just stand there, Pierre. Go bring him down. Maybe we can get him drunk and he’ll be more cooperative.” Blackburn’s solution to most problems was alcohol.

As soon as those words left Blackburn’s, Pierre bolted up the hill with his translator in tow. As he came near the Dene, he could see the look in their leader’s eyes resembled those of his boss. Hard, dark and menacing.

Pierre turned to his translator. “Tell him that my leader invites him to the fort to talk. To smoke and drink. Tell him we have much in common and the trade could benefit everyone.”

The Two-Hearts listened to the translator. Then he continued to stare at Blackburn below. A few minutes passed. The silence was beginning to affect an already restless Pierre. This meeting was not going well. He was beginning to feel that his words were going to displease both his boss and this Dene man.

Finally, the Two-Hearts turned toward Pierre and his translator. “Tell your leader I won’t meet with him. Tell him to stop giving my people gifts. Those gifts must be given to me and I will give them to whom I choose. If he does not cooperate, there will be trouble. The kind he shouldn’t be looking for.”

The Two-Hearts turned and walked away with his men. Leaving Pierre sputtering.

“But we come in friendship. We can give you great things. Tools superior to yours…” His words were cut off as the Two-Hearts returned. In his hand was his sharp stone knife, which he pressed up against Pierre’s throat holding him with the other remarkably strong hand.

“You think our tools are not sharp enough that they cannot cut.” With that he pricked the frightened French Canadian in the neck with his knife drawing blood.

“Go back to you leader and show him how sharp my knife is. It cuts quite well.” The Two-Hearts let go of the trembling Pierre who rapidly left, his translator trailing after him, telling him what the Two-Hearts had said. Pierre didn’t need translation. He got the message.

Blackburn watched the incident above and had drawn his musket, ready to shoot. But finally Pierre was loose and running and the Dene were gone.

Pierre stopped in front of Blackburn holding his bleeding neck.

“Well, man, what did he say? From here they didn’t look too pleased. Can’t you negotiate anything, Pierre? You seemed to upset him.”

A trembling Pierre finally managed to stammer out the Two-Hearts’ words to Blackburn. An incredulous Blackburn lost his temper. “He what? He threatened me? How dare he threaten me. That soulless heathen! I trade with whom I want, when I want, how I want.”

Then Blackburn kicked at Pierre almost knocking him to the ground. “You useless French scum. You ruined our trading relations. I will trade with and gift any of these primitives whenever I want. That man can’t tell me what to do.”

………………….

The Two-Hearts’ nephew finally reached camp. His hands were bloodied and raw and he was tired from the long journey. He had traveled with his uncle the last two days searching for the rare stones best for making stone tools. His uncle, who had no children of his own, was passing the knowledge of the stones to him.

Some of his friends saw him stumble into camp. Bear Fang shouted out. “Where have you been Two-Minds? Out searching for pretty rocks again. And making stone knives.” The others nearby chuckled.

Two-Minds was not Two-Hearts’ nephews’ real name. His real name, given to hm in a dream, was Standing Elk. His friends started calling him Two-Minds, because he could not decide whether to follow the traditional ways of the Dene, or the new path of his friends.

Bear Fang wasn’t finished. “Well it looks like whatever you made cuts well enough judging by all the blood on you. Why do you continue this foolishness Two-Minds? We can trade for knives and axes and no longer have to make them.”

“It’s my uncle’s wish that I learn the old ways.”

“Your uncle fights change, Two-Minds. These new things the traders bring give us freedom. Now we can acquire them without the meddling of the elders. Or your uncle.”

Two-Minds listened to his friends. Part of him believed them. But, part of him believed his uncle also. He simply shrugged and walked off toward his lodge.

Behind him the snickering and taunting continued. “Try not to cut yourself, Two-Minds. Perhaps you’re not ready for these sharper steel knives.”

……………………

Blackburn was good to his word. He traded with any Dene who came to the fort with either meat or furs. He gave lavish gifts to any who would only trade with him. And threatened those who would not.

In the Dene camp, the Two-Heart’s watched his nephew cautiously approaching. “He continues to defy you, Uncle. He trades with others of our people and gifts them lavishly.”

The Two-Hearts didn’t answer, only staring at the camp fire. Finally he spoke. “I had a dream the other night, on how to deal with these Whites. I saw smoke and flames approaching the fort. Smoke everywhere and frightened people who do not understand fire. Its power. Its usefulness.” With those words he got up and strode off into the woods toward the fort where the rivers met.

His nephew looked on. Without another word he casually gathered a few men and followed his uncle. As if knowing what was about to happen.

……………………

Blackburn lay in be in his new house, barely awake as dawn approached. Outside he heard shouting. And then many feet running. Then he smelled it. Smoke. He quickly dressed and rushed out the door, into the new spring morning. All around him he could see the fires. One in particular was moving rapidly towards the fort.

“What the hell is going on, Pierre? Where are all those fires coming from? It’s spring. There’s no lightening this time of year.

Pierre, out of breath from running, barely managed a squawk. “I don’t know, Sir. That one there though could burn us down and kill us if we don’t move. It’s coming right at us and moving fast. I think we should leave, Sir. And fast.”

A worried-looking and suspicious Blackburn considered. Why so many fires in the early spring? It just didn’t feel right. He was about to order his men to pack and move down to the river, when suddenly the winds changed. The large-looking fire heading toward them turned on itself and within a half hour was almost burned out.

Everyone sighed with relief, realizing that they were no longer in danger. As the smoke cleared, Blackburn looked up to the valley edge. And there he was standing with some of his men. Watching.

‘Watching what?,’ thought Blackburn? ‘Watching me die?’

Blackburn cursed at no one in particular. “It’s that barbarian. He set the woods on fire and tried to kill us.” Blackburn removed his musket from his belt and was about to shoot at the Two-Hearts, when Pierre finally grabbed his arm.

“Sir, I don’t think that’s wise. If you shoot at them they will retaliate. They outnumber us and we will surely die.”

But Blackburn was having none of it. Although he did lower his musket. “They tried to burn us down, Pierre. Those fires were set intentionally. Those ruthless heathens. I want answers, Pierre. Go up there and ask him why he did that.”

At Blackburn’s words Pierre turned pale, rubbing the wound on his neck. ‘No, please, not again,’ he thought. “Sir, perhaps you should send up someone else. I didn’t do so well the first time.”

“Get up there you coward, and deal with him,” roared a red-faced Blackburn.

‘Who’s the coward here. Why don’t you go, Blackburn?,’ thought Pierre. Finally, he reluctantly gathered his translator and trudged up the hill toward the waiting Dene.

The Two-Hearts watched Pierre approach, a slightly amused look on his face. Now wearing a bandana around his neck where he had scratched him with his knife. ‘Maybe this time I’ll hack one of his fingers off,’ thought the Two-Hearts. No. Better not. Violence was not the answer.

Finally Pierre and his translator arrived. The fidgety French Canadian turned to his translator. “Ask them why they set the fires and nearly burned us down.” His translator asked Two-Hearts.

The Two-Hearts turned toward his men, laughing. They talked and laughed more. Finally the translator turned to Pierre. “He says that his people always burn in the spring. To freshen the grasses and burn down the undergrowth. This brings more game to the region. He says if he really wanted to burn down your fort he would have set the fires from another direction.” Then his translator hesitated.

“Well, is there more, Jean Baptiste?”

“He asks why you build in the middle of a forest? Why do you not clear the land around the fort of trees. Fires are dangerous.”

Pierre frowned. Blackburn was not going to like that answer. Blackburn thought everything the Dene did was a threat to him. “Tell him my leader thinks it a threat, and you deliberately frighten off the animals so trading your meat will be worth more.”

The Two-Hearts merely laughed as he heard the translator’s words. “Your leader has quite an imagination. Perhaps too much alcohol makes him think these things. Those fires look worse than they really are in the spring. A lot of smoke. They don’t burn hot and the snow still among the trees slows them down. Tell him that perhaps the next time we will set the fires in a different direction. Unless he stops giving out gifts to my people.”

‘Oh, God. I really don’t want to deliver his words to Blackburn,’ thought Pierre. ‘He will only get angry and kick me again.’

Before Pierre could ask any more questions, the Dene turned and left. Pierre felt like going with them. Better than facing Blackburn. That man was becoming insufferable. He did little else except pray and drink. And not always in that order.

Blackburn, arms folded across his chest, was waiting for Pierre to come down the hill. “He told you what? He threatens me again? I will trade with whom I please. For God’s sake Pierre can’t you get anything right.”

“Perhaps Sir we should deal only with him in the trade. That may appease him. And these shenanigans might stop. He is a powerful man, to be respected.”

“I won’t give into that heathen. He deliberately sets fire to the countryside and then tells us this is normal. He threatens us. We must stand firm. And not put up with this nonsense.”

“But, Sir. It’s a small enough gesture. As long as he brings the trade, what does it matter?”

“He only brings us trouble. Nothing else. I prayed last night, looking for guidance. I was told we must oppose him.”

A confused Pierre wondered, ‘Was it the liquor that spoke? Or the Almighty?’

Blackburn sent out a volley of curses and then stomped back to his cabin, slamming the door behind him.

‘Well some progress,’ thought Pierre. ‘No cuts or kicks this time.’ But he had an uneasy feeling that this was not the end of things. They were playing a dangerous game with these people. Blackburn’s arrogance and stupidity might get them killed.

………………….

The summer rolled on. Most of the Canadians from the little fort were hundreds of miles away, paddling their large freight canoes back to Montreal with their furs. In the fall they would return with more trade goods. Blackburn, who usually went with his men, stayed at the fort and continued to defy the Dene leader. He traded and gave out gifts lavishly with his people, in hopes of attracting more trade.

“There. What do think Pierre? I made two of them trading captains. That should solidify trade in furs and meat for us for the rest of the winter.”

Pierre looked on nervously. He knew enough that the men Blackburn had selected were of minor importance among their people. “Sir, by making them leaders you purposely snub one of their principle men. That could cause more confusion and trouble.”

“Oh come now Pierre. They have no organized system of leadership. There’s no harm in this. And now more of them will have our superior metal knives and axes instead of those stone ones. This can only do good Pierre.”

Pierre remained silent. What could he say. Blackburn was not to be crossed with that temper of his. Only recently he had beaten one of the men for some trivial act of insubordination.

Later. ‘Arrogant bastard. I’ll show him. I’ll trade with whomever I want. He can’t stop me.’ Blackburn was half drunk by now, both slurring his words and his thoughts. Why, he had half a mind to walk into the Dene leader’s camp and shoot him. Fortunately the other half of his mind was not as brave. Instead, he poured himself another drink.

……………………..

It was late fall and the northern winter was fast approaching. Before they reached the camp fire, the Two-Hearts’ nephew said in a low voice. “He still defies you, Uncle. He trades with everyone. Your stone knives and beautiful stone axes are no longer sought after as much. The people have new steel knives and axes. They follow those leaders who now trade with the Whites. Your power and authority diminishes.”

The Two-Hearts ignored his nephew as he continued walking towards the camp fire. Once there he looked at those sitting around it but said nothing. Then he sat, silently looking into the camp fire flames. As if the answers to his problems lay in there somewhere. Finally he spoke.

“I had a dream the other night about the Whites. It told me what must be done.” And then the Two-Hearts told those around the fire about his dream. He was a powerful dreamer among his people. He was also a powerful orator and the people became frightened when they heard his words.

One of the more prominent men, and the Two-Hearts’ strongest adversary, stood and spoke. Often challenging him. “These things the Whites bring us are useful and benefit all. You’re just jealous because now you no longer control who gets the knives and axes.”

Two-Hearts’ nephew was holding his breath, knowing what this challenge meant. He saw the darkness cross his uncle’s face.

There was silence around the fire, as the Two-Hearts remained standing. Staring off, it seemed, into a distant future only he could see. The people waited for him to speak.

Then barely in a whisper he began. “For years I have risked my life visiting our neighbors and setting up trading alliances with them. Yes, I do benefit from those visits. But I take the risks, so I deserve most of the rewards.”

“But that’s my point Two-Hearts. It’s all about you. Some of us would like to trade as well. Be our own men and not always be dependent on your goodwill.”

But the Two-Hearts had just begun. “Let me finish. Those trading relations are important for all of you. They are not just about some pretty stone objects or the red paint I trade with them. Remember that bad winter a few years ago when the snows were deeper than usual and game was hard to find in our territory. Our neighbors to the west kindly allowed us to hunt on their lands. How do you think that happened, Running Otter?”

Many around the fire nodded in agreement. That had been a bad winter. If it weren’t for their neighbors they would have suffered terribly. Even died in the unforgiving northern winters.

The Two-Hearts continued to speak. Again everyone was silent. “Also remember not so long ago, our neighbors to the south became not so neighborly. And violence between us almost broke out. How do you think bloodshed was prevented, Running Otter?”

Again there was murmuring around the fire and heads were nodding. The people remembered. It was the Two-Hearts’ gift-giving and veiled threats that his allies to the west might intervene in the dispute, that prevented further violence.

“If I and a few others are not allowed to control the trade, then these alliances will fall apart. And our people will suffer. In these matters I must lead and you must follow, Running Otter. Your skills as a great hunter and our hunt leader are admirable and I always follow you on the hunt. But I am the keeper of the stones and trade. I must control those, or we are doomed.”

Running Otter reluctantly nodded in agreement. As did many others around the fire.

The Two-Hearts looked solemnly at his people. “And has it dawned on any of you what would happen if these traders move past our territories further upriver and start trading with our sometimes not so friendly allies. Arming them with muskets.” There were gasps among the people. No one had really thought of that.

“We must control the trade and where these Whites can build. Or we face even greater problems in the future.” Finally the Two-Hearts sat down. He had made his point.

Two-Hearts’ nephew sat in silence, shocked. What his uncle said made a lot of sense. He looked down at his stone knife hanging on his chest. A little more proud of it now than a few moments ago. Some of his friends were looking at him with slightly more respect.

Later when everyone had left, Standing Elk spoke. “But, Uncle, if we do what you propose they could starve.” He listened incredulously as the Two-Hearts spoke.

“They don’t listen. They threaten our way of life. Our beliefs. Belittle our leaders. Get our people drunk to take advantage of them in the trade. Trade should be an honorable undertaking. These Whites are not honorable. Especially that evil leader of theirs. Did you notice even his men don’t like him. They fear him. There’s no honor in that man. He must learn a hard lesson.”

“As you wish, Uncle. Some say he prays to a God like you, Uncle. For guidance. And sees things to lead him on the right path. Our people talk. He wears a special symbol around his neck that he prays to. The people wonder if it might be more powerful than your dreams.”

The Two-Hearts merely chuckled. “I think his God mocks him. If he tells him to hoard his wealth, scorn others, and respect no one. Surely that is not what his God is telling him. That is what his black heart is telling him.”

Standing Elk looked at his uncle. This time in a different light. All he gained in trade, he gave away to his people. He followed when he felt it was not his place to lead. He respected those in the band with knowledge he did not have. Many of these things were changing among the people.

“I have noticed changes among our people, Uncle. Some of them are not good. Before we had hunt leaders. Men who knew the hunt path. Now everyone can be one making a terrible racket with those muskets, driving off the animals. It becomes harder and harder to find game. These Whites require so much meat. Our game animals dwindle.”

His uncle sighed. “Yes, we trade ourselves to starvation. Tomorrow we will carry out our plan. The snows will soon come.” The Two-Hearts seemed to be talking almost to himself, as if in a dream. But his nephew knew. Soon it would begin.

…………………..

“…the greatest philosophers, as they never give themselves the trouble to acquire what they can do well enough without.” (Samuel Hearne among the Denesuline (Chipewyan), c.1771, and their attitude towards European trade goods)

Pierre stumbled into Blackburn’s cabin, coughing and hacking, only to find him sitting by the fire, drink in hand, eyes barely open.

“They’re at it again, Sir. The entire country around us burns for miles. All the winter meadows have been fired. It will be hard to find game nearby.”

Blackburn sat up, suddenly somewhat sobered by Pierre’s words. “It’s that damned leader of theirs, isn’t it? He’s at it again. That scoundrel! Thank God we have good hunters. Even if the game is further away, we should still manage.” Blackburn took another drink, satisfied that the problem was solved.

Pierre didn’t move. Blackburn finally looked at Pierre, only to see the young French Canadian turning somewhat pale in the late afternoon light. “Well, what is it, man? What else is wrong?”

Pierre stood near the cabin door as if his next words might require a rapid exit. “Well, Sir, it seems our fort hunters have disappeared. We don’t know where they’ve gone.”

Now the wobbling, crimson-faced Blackburn was started shouting. “What do you mean they’ve left, Pierre? We hired them for the winter to supply us with game. They just can’t leave. Without my permission.” Blackburn stared at Pierre, waiting for some sort of answer that would remedy this problem.

“It seems, Sir, the entire band has moved further west up the river. Their leader convinced them to follow him. There won’t be much game here this winter and none of the Dene will hunt for us.”

“We treated those devils well enough, Pierre. What else do they want?”

“Apparently their leader feels slighted by you, Sir. It might have been better to respect him and trade through him, Sir.”

Blackburn took a chair and threw it at Pierre. “Get the hell out of here you idiot. Don’t you dare tell me what we didn’t do right. I don’t respect those savages, especially their leader. Tell the men, that they must hunt this winter. It shouldn’t be that difficult. If those savages can do it.”

Pierre left. Rather rapidly before another chair came flying his way. Not just his head was shaking. Blackburn did not know the half of it. This half-wit leader of theirs thought hunting was easy? Just moving around in the northern winters was hard enough. They were about to die. And all Blackburn did was sit there and drink and rage. And pray to a God for guidance, whom Pierre felt, he was not listening to.

………………….

It was nearly the end of February. The north was freezing cold, the temperatures sometimes so unbearable to even go outside. Blackburn woke up in his cabin. He could see his breath in the dawn light in the cold room. The cabin’s fires had burned down to embers giving off little heat.

As he tried waking up, he sensed something was wrong. There was an eery silence outside this morning. By now, he should have heard more noise as his men awoke and the little fort came to life.

‘God I’m hungry. I could eat my boots right now,’ thought Blackburn. He and his men hadn’t seen any fresh meat for weeks and were down to their last rations. The hunting had been poor and his men really didn’t know how to find the game without the help of the Dene.

‘Why is it so quiet out there? What are those lazy men of mine doing?’

Now fully awake Blackburn rushed out the cabin door only to be greeted by a low rustling of the trees as a slight breeze blew through them. And bitter cold. He saw no one. He heard no one.

“Hello. Anybody hear me? Where are you, you lazy scoundrels? This is no time for tricks.” Nothing.

A frightened Blackburn started running from cabin to cabin frantically searching for his men. They were gone. Not a single man to be found anywhere in the fort. Even the sled dogs were gone.

He rushed into Pierre’s cabin. There on the table was a letter peeking out from under a few beaver parchment skins.

Dear Sir,

We begged you to leave this place before we all perished. But you obviously had other ideas about our welfare. So we decided to leave for Fort Chipewyan before disaster befell us.

We have taken most of the green beaver parchments which we now eat to stay alive. We have left you some on the table. They are best boiled then chewed thoroughly before swallowing.

Pierre La France

An enraged Blackburn crumpled up the letter and threw it at the wall.

He rushed out the door into the fort courtyard, screaming. “You cowards. You worthless scum….” Blackburn suddenly stopped screaming as he noticed movement on the ridge above the fort. There in the distance he thought he saw people. A chill, even colder than this northern morning, ran through him. The Dene were watching. He was all alone. Perhaps best not to scream too loudly lest the wrong people hear him. He was about to turn when he saw the Dene leader raise his stone knife in his hand, as if saluting him. Blackburn quickly hurried back into his cabin, shutting the door to keep out the cold. And the reality of his situation.

The Two-Hearts watched the fort. He had seen Blackburn’s men leave. He saw the helpless Blackburn screaming his lungs out in anger. Would this lesson be enough? For now, perhaps. But this was not the end. Only the beginning of a long struggle his people faced. He turned and left an enraged Blackburn preparing his parchment skin breakfast.

……………………..

It was a hot, dry summer. They ran for their very lives. Through the bush and down the trails until they reached the river, and crossed. To safety from the raging fire. They had left everything behind in their hunting camp. Occasionally the fires in the northern forests obeyed no one, only the laws of Nature.

“We’ve lost everything. Not even a knife among us. We are a many days travel away from our people. And the traders have left.” Bear Fang, their young hunt leader looked rather frightened and forlorn as he spoke of their plight. The group of young Dene hunters stood soaked on the river bank, realizing all too well what could happen.

Standing Elk, also with the hunters, strode towards the river edge and started searching. Then he picked up some stones and was soon banging away, fashioning something from them. The others walked over and looked. Finally Bear Fang asked, “What are you doing Two-Minds? This is hardly a good time to be playing with rocks. We are in trouble.”

Standing Elk looked up and simply said. “I’m making a stone knife, Bear Fang. Without knives we can’t do much of anything. You all need to make a knife so we can fashion other weapons. Soon. Or we will die.”

The others looked nervously on. Then, at one another. “But Two-Minds, we don’t know how to make stone knives. We didn’t need to know since we got our metal knives. Our fathers or mothers didn’t teach us.”

“There’s always a need to know, Bear Fang. Here I’ll show you how it’s done.”

…………………………..

“Of what use to us are the skins of beavers, wolves, and foxes? Yet it is for these we get guns and axes.”

(First Nations leader Kootenae Appee talking about trade. From David Thompson’s Journals, c.1809. 1971. Travels in Western North America, 1784-1812, edited by Victor G. Hopwood, p.269. Macmillan of Canada, Toronto).

EndNote:

Although a work of historical fiction, parts of this story are based on historic facts.

The Yir Yoront are real and so is Anthropologist Lauriston Sharp. Her study has become a classic piece of anthropological fieldwork still used today. Here is the link for those of you who are interested: http://web.mnstate.edu/robertsb/380/steelAxes.pdf.

At the time of contact First Nations people throughout the Americas had well-established trade networks. Trade, therefore, was not something foreign brought by Whites. In prehistory there is little evidence of these networks except for the most durable items. Rocks, such as nephrite from British Columbia found their way along the Peace River as far as the current community of Fort Vermilion. And perhaps further. Other exotic rocks, from other areas of Canada and the United States, are present in Alberta prehistoric assemblages.

The study of culture contact is difficult and controversial. And often emotionally and politically charged. As the historic quotes used in this story show, the fur trade documentary evidence, mainly compiled by Whites, is conflicting and contradictory. If you search the historic documents long enough you can support just about any argument you choose – Indigenous people welcomed the trade, despised the trade, or were indifferent about it. And attempts at understanding how contact and trade affected various parts of Indigenous society are even more difficult. We do not have the advantage Lauriston Sharp had, of being there to carefully document it.

We also cannot generalize from the Yir Yoront example and assume it was similar everywhere in the world. We do know that trade and contact between North American Indigenous peoples and Whites occurred. Precisely how and with what intensity it affected traditional ways is often very difficult to document. White traders made trade captains of people who brought in the most furs, often unknowingly (or knowingly) undermining traditional Indigenous politics and social relations. European goods eventually replaced traditional goods and technologies. But how quickly and at what rate is difficult to ascertain. Some of these material things likely had little impact on people, being simply incorporated into traditional ways. Others, like the horse, firearms, alcohol, and disease, had profound impacts on Indigenous culture.

The Boyer River, Fort Vermilion region, was one of the first areas along the Peace River to be occupied by fur traders. That trade between the local Dene population and the different Companies was not always smooth, is understatement. And certainly, trade was not always welcomed by everyone in the Native community, or carried out fairly by the White traders. There was lots of politics involved on both sides and almost outright violence when Companies did not listen to the local Dunne za. The HBC’s Thomas Swain’s remarks, in 1802, about the turmoil caused when the XY Company tried moving up the Peace River is telling:

“Mr. Leith and his Canoes was obliged to return down the River again as the Natives this Morning told them if they offered to go up the River they would kill them. Their reason was owing to some disorder that came amongst these Country people this summer which killed 10 of them, and they said it was the New Co. [XY Company] that brought bad medicines amongst them which was the occasion of the deaths.” (from the Journal of Thomas Swain, October 6, 1802, HBCA B224/a/1; brackets mine)

North West Company policies towards First Nations people were often brutal. They threatened and bullied the people if they did not trade. The HBC’s Thomas Swain’s Native hunters abandoned him, forcing him and his men to eat the green beaver parchment skins to stay alive. The rival NWC had a lot to do with their predicament, and either drove off his Native hunters, or bribed them to not work for the HBC.

The superiority of one article or technology over others is the single-most used explanation for the acquisition of European goods in the Americas by Indigenous people, and elsewhere. In some ways steel knives and axes were better than Indigenous equivalents. But, there was always a trade-off. Abandonment of traditional technologies assumed constant supply of European goods. That was not always the case. What happened when your musket broke or you ran out of ammunition, and at early contact your source of repairs or supplies was thousands of miles away? As a mobile hunter-gathering society just how much material culture could you carry around without changing transportation methods?

Years ago I had a photograph of an Inuit hunter on his snowmobile heading out onto the ice pack to hunt. Behind the snowmobile he pulled a sled with his sled dogs in it. I can’t find the original so the one below will have to do. The message the image depicts is clear. Rapid abandonment of traditional technologies was not wise. Best to always have a back-up plan. You can always return to camp with your dogs if the snowmobile breaks down. Or, if worse comes to worse, you can eat the dogs to survive. Not snowmobile parts which are even less nutritious than those green parchment skins the traders were forced to eat.