ROBERT HENDERSON STORIESForeword by Craig Charbonneau Fontaine

Illustrations by Rosalyn Boucha

2-1100 Waverley Street | Winnipeg, MB Canada R3T 3X9Email: info@mfnerc.comToll Free: 1.866.319.4857 | Phone: 204.594.1290www.mfnerc.com

Stories originally published in the Winnipeg Free Press:

“Henderson Memoir” on November 29, 1930“Famous Old Boss Packer Recalls Construction Days” on May 31, 1930“Anishinabe Story of the Deluge” on May 17, 1930

ISBN 978-1-927849-45-3

Current MemoriesROBERT HENDERSON STORIES

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Foreword

Story is about connection. It connects us to our lands, history, and ancestors. It also defines our place in the world. Those responsible for storytelling are usually the knowl-edge keepers of a society. The storyteller is connected to all those who have carried on the same story through time. Storytellers can take us on long journeys in our mind, and they can stir emotions and memories within us. Some people call this blood memory, a metaphor or figure of speech that shows the connection between Anishi-nabemowin (language), aki (land), and aadisookaan (legends). When combined into a narrative, these elements form a cohesive whole, providing meaning for the Anishi-nabeg. Together, language, land, and legends form a solid base for the education of students.

In the following three stories by or featuring Robert Henderson (1849–1940) of Sagkeeng First Nation (Fort Alexander), one can appreciate his gift as a storyteller. He had the foresight to leave a small part of our collective history in print. This was a rare occurrence among the Anishinabeg whose body of knowledge was predominantly oral. To take pen to paper in the 1930s to preserve an aspect of Anishinabe culture and history is a testament to his character.

The Winnipeg River figures prominently in Henderson’s memoir. This river is a central feature of Sagkeeng First Nation, as it flows through the existing reserve boundaries. The Winnipeg River travels from Lake of the Woods to Lake Winnipeg, the historical territory of those from Sagkeeng. A story is like a current in a river constantly flowing toward a destination or place. The destination of a story is in the hearts and minds of each listener who is prepared to learn its values and teachings. In this way, stories keep

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Lake of the Woods

Pointe du Bois

Slave Falls

Pinawa

Seven Sisters

McArthur Falls

Great Falls

Manitou Rapids

Sagkeeng(Fort Alexander)

Lake Winnipeg

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memories alive. Just as historical markers point out significant events that occurred at particular places, the Henderson stories serve as markers for Anishinabe people.

The three stories I found by and on Henderson are different in style and message. One is a memoir, and it relays his commitment to hard work, his ability to adapt to and learn the foreigners’ ways, and the importance of family. The “Anishinabe Story of the Deluge” covers one small part of much longer narratives told about the origins of the Anishinabeg. All Anishinabeg are known to have a similar deluge story within their worldview. Slight differences may appear in the storyline due to distance and diversity existing within Anishinabeg territory, but the essential nature of the story remains. For a complete account of the deluge, I suggest reading Wisconsin Chippewa Myths & Tales: And Their Relation to Chippewa Life by Victor Barnouw. The third piece, “Famous Old Boss Packer Recalls Construction Days,” covers an interview Henderson gave to a Winnipeg Free Press reporter in 1930. The article features many direct quotes by Hen-derson, portraying his humour and unpretentious way.

From the little information I’ve been able to gather on Henderson’s life, he was born at the Hudson’s Bay Company post in Fort Alexander. He was the grandson of an Ojibwe Chief. He travelled extensively over Canada and was part of the Trail of ’98 during the Klondike Gold Rush in the Yukon. In 1903, he worked in Grand Forks, North Dakota. He travelled to Seattle, Washington, in 1909 to work as a bricklayer. Upon leaving Seattle, he went back to the Yukon, prospecting in Whitehorse and Dawson City. When the gold ran out, he lived as a trapper in Alaska before coming back to Selkirk, Manitoba. He lived in retirement at the Dominion government home in St. Peter’s Indian Reserve. Marion Nelson Hooker, an artist of some note, painted his portrait, and it was put on display at the Winnipeg Art Gallery. He became known as a writer of stories and Indian legends and as a philosopher. One theory he held was that events reoccur continuously within places along the spectrum of time.

Throughout his life he maintained the key to a healthy, long life was through hard work and activity. It is my hope that students reading Henderson’s stories will learn that anything is possible if one is prepared to work hard at it.

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Henderson Memoir

My story of life starts at Fort Alexander (Sagkeeng) where I was born August 14, 1849. Last summer I told you some-thing1 about my first job at Fort Alexander 70 years ago, spreading manure on the garden for Mr. Lillie, post manag-er. I froze my feet and was laid up about a month. I could not walk, but I could work, and I spent some of this month cutting beef hides into lines to tie fur packs. After that, they put three or four of us pressing furs. Believe me, it was not a small job. In those days, furs were plentiful. If I remember right, we had about 1,500 mink alone, and it took us all spring pressing furs. When we finished, it was near time to go down to York Factory.

I was a big boy now and I was starting to put on good clothes, so when we came to reckon up, I was in the hole $30. Mr. Lillie, the post manager, wanted me to make the trip to York Factory to pay my debt, but my three years was up and I didn’t want to sign on with the company. I wanted to be free. Then Mr. Lillie asked me how I was going to pay my debt. I said I would sooner work around the place [Sagkeeng] to pay it than go away to York Factory.

He said, “I know, you have a girl; look at me straight in the eye, Robert.” I looked him straight in the eye—not a smile. Then he said, “How much do you want a month?”

1 Henderson wrote stories that have not been located.

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I told him, “Twenty dollars,” but he said that was a man’s wages.

However, I worked around the place for about a month. Then the boss packer who worked for Jarvis, the surveyor, on the line they were running through for a railway from Thunder Bay to Fort Garry, this boss packer got sick and sent for me and asked me to take his place. I told him I owed the company $30. He said, “Go and get a state-ment of account, and the chief [chief surveyor] will pay.” Well, I didn’t know what the word statement meant, so all the way home I kept repeating it.

Mr. Lillie said, “Where did you get that jawbreaker, Robert?” But after a little argu-ment he gave me the statement.

I took it to the chief and he gave me the $30 and said, “Be sure you get a receipt.”

This was another new word and all the way home I kept repeating it: “Receipt, receipt, receipt, get a receipt, receipt, receipt,’’ and Mr. Lillie saw I had another jawbreaker for him.

Well, I got the receipt and went to work for the CPR (Canadian Pacific Railway) survey party and the $50 a month they paid me looked big after my first boys’ wages of $120 a year. I was a canoe hand and I served my master—I found that on the survey party the chief was not called a master, but a boss—I served my boss well. When he was in my canoe I would take a fruit box cover and put it between his back and the thwart to lean on, so the thwart wouldn’t cut into his back. I saw that the men of my gang were comfortable too and had lots of brush under them at night. I got along well and the chief engineer, Mr. McLeod, was very good to me, and he put me in charge of the Native packers in moving the grub and camp. We got cheese sandwiches from the commissary, and I liked them and would go a long way to get them, but some of the men didn’t and they covered the cheese with leaves.

Along about September we were close to Eagle Lake when the party was called back to Winnipeg, and we had to move the provisions back to the Northwest Angle. Mr. McLeod wanted me to go to Winnipeg and go on with him right to British Columbia,

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and he offered me $660 a year. But I preferred to work for the Hudson’s Bay Company at smaller wages because we were paid in goods at cost price, and they had offered me a job at Rat Portage [Kenora]. Besides, I had a girl at Rat Portage.

So, I signed on for three years at Rat Portage, and when my three years were up I signed on for another two years, and that fall a man took charge of the post by the name of Sinclair. That same fall, surveyors came to survey the Hudson’s Bay Company’s land, and I put in to help them, as I was experienced with survey parties. When we finished, the company sent me to take those surveyors to Fort Alexander, and I took them down the Winnipeg River. In coming back, as it was late in the fall, we were frozen-in several times, and I ran onto a rock and bust my canoe and had no pitch to fix it.

When it came on freezing time that year and it was good going on the ice, I sent my men out on jobs, one to the Northwest Angle and the other to round up the Indians to collect furs. I was all alone for about 20 days, and as a man had been lost hunting for cows that season and I was afraid I would see his ghost, I was a pretty scared Indian for those 20 days at Rat Portage.

I thought the world of my mother, and I went back to Fort Alexander to see my folks, hauling a sleigh with some of my baggage from Rat Portage to Fort Alexander. Mr. McKenzie, the postmaster at Fort Alexander, said, “What’s up that you’re coming home?”

I went to see my mother. She was glad to see me. I was the only boy. There were nine girls. My old dad was trading, and I told him I had to go back to Rat Portage for the rest of my baggage, and if he would give me some goods to take along I might pick up some furs for him. By this time I had learned a little about fur-buying. He told me to take along what I wanted.

I went up the river in a birchbark canoe that I had bought, and I bought a few furs, among them a fox that was caught a little late and was rather bare on the belly. When I got to Rat Portage, where Captain Hackland, an old steamboat captain, was manager, I was short of flour, and I sent my man with the fox skin to buy some. He came back

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with a pound of flour and half a pound of pork. I was going to ask the captain what the fox skin was worth, but he told me to eat first and we would talk afterward. Then he said the fox skin was only worth one dollar. I said, “Don’t you think it’s worth more than that?”

“No, I don’t,” he said, handing me back the skin. “Here, take it and bring back my flour.” Well, I couldn’t do that, as the flour was all eaten, so I kept the fox skin and went back to Fort Alexander. Shortly after I got there, a strange steamer came to the post. The Hudson’s Bay man said he would give me 25¢ an hour to go down to the dock and help unload her.

I went down to the boat, and the first man I met was the old captain himself. He said, “Oh, hello, you’re here, are you?” Well, that was the first time in my life I couldn’t look a man in the face. The captain said, “What about that fox skin?”

I said, “I will pay you for the flour and pork,” but he laughed and told me to forget it, and that was the last of that. I was glad I was through with it.

By this time work was picking up around Rat Portage, and I was employed by another survey party relocating the CPR line. I was canoe-man for the chief engineer, Henry Carr, on Section 15, west of Rat Portage. I worked for him two years, until they started the rock work and I heard they were paying more there, so I quit and went with the rock work men, who were getting three to four dollars a day. I worked where they were building a tunnel on the island. I worked for a Scotsman, named Dave Munroe, and got along very well. He put me packing drills. I was young, and it was nothing for me to pack a lot of drills to the backsmith shop on top of the hill, where the blacksmith had to sharpen those drills for two gangs. The boss gave me lots of chances to make money overtime, and I made very good wages.

After they finished the tunnel, my boss, Dave Munroe, was made walking boss, and I came in to Winnipeg to blow my money. I adopted the white man’s way, drinking, and in a short time I would be broke and back at work again. I worked along like this till I got blown up one time with nitroglycerine and was laid up for a few months. My

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father came after me when he heard I was hurt and took me home to Fort Alexander.

When I was cured I went back to work again. I learned to speak English well and to read a little by reading the newspapers that were brought into camp. When I would get stuck on a word, I was not ashamed to ask the man sitting next to me. I would say, “Partner, what’s the meaning of this word?” When they saw I was trying to learn, they all helped me, and I got along fine, and I do the same yet.

Well, that is all of this part of my story.

Photographs of Sagkeeng (Fort Alexander) from Winnipeg Free Press, Saturday, May 31, 1930.

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Famous Old Boss Packer Recalls Construction Days2

Robert Henderson, Klondike old-timer, and known as boss packer, interpreter, guide, dog-driver, prospector, and fur trader to every prominent official of CPR construction days, gave an interview this week to a Free Press representative at Dynevor hospital.

Mr. Henderson, who is a full-blooded Ojibway Indian, grandson on his mother’s side of Chief Everlasting-Bird, was born at Fort Alexander, August 14, 1849, and is there-fore well on in his 81st year. Up till a year ago he was roughing it in the Klondike, where he was one of the pioneers in the famous gold rush of ’98, going from Winni-peg with a party of three. Then last year at Kushukown, Alaska, a leg began to swell ominously, and Mr. Henderson, though as he says, “my body is as good as ever,” was advised to go for a while to the Old Men’s Home at Juneau, Alaska. But he decided to come “down home,” and is hence now at Dynevor, waiting for the leg to mend, and meaning to go back to Alaska.

Robert Henderson, whose English name was given to his father years ago at St. Peter’s mission school, has led a life as a foreman, a master, and manager of men. There is a quiet authority in his way of speaking. He has the eye and the nose and forehead of a chieftain and a philosopher and talks with a native honesty and simplicity.

2 Winnipeg Free Press, Saturday, May 31, 1930.

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He laughed over his first enthusiasm when he received a job with the great company, the Hudson’s Bay Company, 70 years ago. It was in a garden at Fort Alexander, with a windbreak of black currant bushes, and young Robert, then about 12, was invited by Post Manager Lillie’s head workman, Taylor, to show his caliber as a workman by spreading manure on that garden. “I was all in a tingle,” he said, “and I forgot to ask for rations, and worked away, running back and forth with the wheelbarrow, and when Taylor came to look, he said, ‘Why, you can do as much as a man, my boy!’ and I was hired at 40 shillings a month and worked with the company for seven years.”

By the time Robert had reached husky young manhood, Jarvis, the CPR surveyor, was running a preliminary line through Thunder Bay to Fort Garry. There was a chance of a good job as boss packer and interpreter. Robert paid the Hudson’s Bay Company the $30 he owed at that juncture, and joined the survey gang, and worked from July till October, when the gangs were called into Winnipeg for the winter. “Then McLeod, the engineer, said to me, ‘Henderson, I am going west for five years, and I want you to go along and look after my stuff and you will have a horse to ride on.’ But I was young and full of health, and I had a girl in Rat Portage, and so when I got an offer at the same time from Lillie to go back and work for the Hudson’s Bay Company at Rat Por-tage, I hired with the company for a few years more and turned McLeod’s offer down.

“I had some great experiences at Rat Portage. Once, for a month in the winter I was all alone, and if you had seen me then, you would have seen a badly scared Indian. I kept big billets burning in the clay fireplace all night, and I would sit there watching the door for the ghosts to come in, starting when the spruce tops broke with the snow.

“After Christmas that year, Captain Hackland, a regular old Mississippi steamboat gang driver, came to take charge at Rat Portage. We were necking—that means hauling by hand—200 pound loads of flour from the Northwest Angle, and Captain Hack-land wouldn’t give us our usual day’s rest after each trip.

“I spoke right up to him, ‘Cap, you are not running a steamboat gang now; this is a Hudson’s Bay Company post. We haven’t had our rest for five days, and now we’re going to take it. It is hard work to haul that flour.’ The Captain said, walking up and

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down, ‘If you boys won’t work, you get no grub.’ I said, ‘I will attend to that, Cap.’ I took my gun and snowshoes and went out into the bush and brought back a big bag of prairie chickens and we had a fine mulligan stew without asking the captain for a thing. Then a cousin of mine came along and said, ‘The captain has sacked you.’ So I went to the captain’s office and knocked. The captain roared out, ‘Come in!’ I said, ‘Cap, am I sacked?’ He said, ‘I have been over men for 20 years, and when any man refuses my orders, I have no more use for him.’ I said, ‘Thank you very much, Cap; that was all I wanted to know.’ You see I was glad to be sacked, as that gave me my discharge without applying for it.

“I went back to Fort Alexander to see my folks. I did a little work for Lillie, but with-out joining the service, and then I came back to Rat Portage and worked for the CPR on the contract where Charlie Whitehead was superintendent. But day labour seemed to me like being a dog chained to a post, and I thought trading would suit me fine, and I could live like a gentleman. I had a good sailboat, 40 feet over all by 12 feet beam, and I traded all around Lake Winnipeg for 17 summers.

“Then this Klondike excitement started. I had a little to do with C.W.N. Kennedy over an iron strike near Lac du Bonnet, and later he used to show me the reports that came from Dawson. Gold running $1,400 to the pan! But they didn’t tell me you had to go through 10 or 15 feet of frozen ground to get to that $1,400 gravel. However, I sold out and gave my $500 year’s outfit and went, three of us, Couser brothers and me. You see, you had to have your outfit to show when you got to Skagway, as the police would not let any roughneck through, for fear of famine in Dawson.

“I was four years in the Klondike the first time. After I came back in 1902, I went to Grand Forks and worked for a season at my trade, mixing mortar for a government building. Then I went back to Alaska, and was there till this scurvy took [hold of me at] Kuskukowm, northwest of Dawson.

“Now, I want to tell you something. Through going down to Grand Forks it seems I got out of the Indian treaty, and I haven’t had any treaty money since 1901, and right now I could use that back-treaty money if I could get it—five dollars a year for 29 years.”

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Anishinabe Story of the Deluge

It was told among the Indians [Anishinabeg] that in the far-distant ages there was a man by the name of Weskagak who made all animals talk to him and he was very harsh with them. While he was living with a family of grouse, he was so stubborn with them that he had to leave. At this time the weather was cold, and he was travelling on the lake. He saw a band of wolves—five in all—one female and four males; one was black and the rest were grey. Weska told them that he would like to go with them and the old She-Wolf told them that he could come, to which he replied that she would have to make him over.

She said to him, “How can I make you over when you are made as you are?”

The Weska said, “But you must make me over.”

So the She-Wolf said, “Which one of these four would you wish to be like? This black wolf is the fastest runner. Do you want to be like him?” The Weska did not want to be like the black wolf. “See this big grey one; when he gets hold of a moose he will not let him go. Do you want to be like him?” The Weska did not want to be like him. The She-Wolf then said, “This third one can make fire. Would you like to be like him?” The old Weska said he did not want to be like him either.

The fourth wolf was sitting back on the trail shivering with the cold, all red between his legs from flea bites. The Weska caught him and said, “Just right. You make me like him.” Then he and his pal [fourth wolf ] would have to follow the trail and break the bones of the moose. This suited the old Weska fine. After this arrangement was

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made they started on their journey. The four [male] wolves—the black and the three grey ones—started ahead, with the old Weska and the She-Wolf following them, and presently the four were seen sitting in the bottom of the bay where there was a whirl-wind, scenting something. When Weska and the She-Wolf came up to them, the old She-Wolf said, “Is he fat?”

They said, “It is a female moose; as a rule they are good in the winter, not like the male.” So the wolves started, with the old Weska and his pal and the She-Wolf, to follow the trail. Pretty soon they came to where they made ready to jump the moose. As they were going along they saw the tracks where [one of ] the wolves “jumped the short jump,” dragging him with the short jump on the snow, and others took long jumps. The She-Wolf asked the old Weska which one he thought was the fastest runner. The old Weska stopped and looked very carefully, then pointing at the long jumps he said, “The long jumps are the fastest,” but the She-Wolf told him that this black wolf who makes the short jumps is the fastest runner.

After some distance, they caught the moose, and the wolves played a trick on the old Weska. They cut up the moose, cached all the meat, and when the old Weska and his party came, he saw only blood on the snow, and he thought they had eaten all the meat. Of course, the She-Wolf knew what was going on, but the old Weska did not know. The wolves looked as if they were full, and that is what fooled Weska. They then gathered dry wood and one wolf started a fire; he jumped over the pile of wood and nearly burnt his tail when the wood blazed up. They then gathered all the meat and the old Weska was glad when he saw the meat, as he was very hungry. They stayed two days and finished the moose, and now for the bones.

The wolf full of fleas with red between his legs was the one to make the marrow and crack the bones. The She-Wolf told the old Weska not to look at the wolf who was cracking the bones, but the old Weska was very stubborn, so he kept on watching the wolf crack the bones, and as the hip bone was moving from one side of the wolf ’s mouth to the other, and the old Weska was looking with one eye, the bone slipped from the wolf ’s mouth and hit the old man right in the eye, making him see stars and

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almost knocked the old man’s eye out. The wolf said, “I suppose you were looking at me again?”

But Weska said, “I was not looking at you.” Of course he was stubborn, so they let it go at that.

So this wolf made lots of marrow. They started again that day, but did not get any-thing, so when they were ready to camp, they told the old Weska to pick out a place to camp, and he picked out thick timber, and the She-Wolf gathered lots of wood. She said, “He will be cold, as wolves generally stay in open places.”

They had nothing to eat that night. They gathered some dry poplar bark and rotten alder to lie on, and the She-Wolf told that old Weska not to do anything through the night. But he was very stubborn, so when he woke through the night he felt something under him, and feeling around this bark and alder he was lying on, found something like dry meat and started to eat. The next morning the wolves all had dry meat except him, so the She-Wolf told each one to give him some and then the old Weska had enough.

They commenced their journey again that day and got a moose. After they had fin-ished the moose, it was old Weska’s turn to make the marrow and crack the bones. Of course, nobody watched him. When he came to the hip bone he took it and hit the flea-bitten wolf right in the eye, and in this manner old Weska got back at that wolf. As the She-Wolf began to feel mating time, she told the old Weska that she was going to leave him to go west, but would leave him the black wolf to support him, so they left him and the black wolf together. At this time spring was near, so the black wolf was able to chase a moose close to camp and killed him right there. All the animals were jealous of Weska for having such an easy living. They held a council to see who would take the black wolf away from him so that he would have to hunt for his living the same as the other animals. The Sea-Lion3 said he would take the black wolf away and they all agreed.

3 A mythological being known as Mishibizhii in traditional Anishinabe stories.

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The old Weska knew at once what was going on. He told the black wolf to be very careful never to jump over anything that looked like a creek and always to put a stick across to walk on, so he could run fast away and be safe. The black wolf did this for a while, but one morning as he was near camp, there was a little dry wallow which he thought was all right, so he jumped and landed in the big river. The old Weska knew at once and followed the black wolf ’s trail, finding where he jumped the moose, so he traced him to where he made the last jump. It was a big river, so he went down to the mouth, where there was a sandbar.

As he stood there he saw a kingfisher across the creek and told him to come over, but the bird would not come at first. A little later the bird came and lit on his shoulder, and Weska asked her if she knew anything about the [sea] lions that took his black wolf. The bird told him that the lions lived on the other side of the lake, and on fine days they came and slept on the bar, so the old Weska went home and made two bows and arrows.

The next day he went down and saw the bird, and she came over and lit on his shoulder and told him that the two lions would come up soon—one black lion, the one that had taken his wolf, and the white lion. The bird said, “When they come, you shoot at the shadow, not at the body.” So they started a whirlpool, and Weska turned himself into a stump, and the lions came up close, and the white lion stopped and said he never saw that stump before, but the black lion said that the stump was there before. The white lion was a little shy, so the black lion put his tail around the stump, but it was in so solidly that it would not come out, so they lay down and slept. The bird told old Weska to shoot at the shadow, but he was stubborn, so he shot at what he thought was the body and struck sand; he took the other arrow and shot at the shadow and hit his mark.

Right away, the first flood started and the old Weska ran for his life up the mountains, and the water came very close to him. Finally, the water went down and old Weska went home, made a big raft, peeled a lot of willow bark, plaited a long rope, and put everything on the raft. Then he went over to the sea lion’s den.

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On his way he heard little bells, so he went over where the sound came from. Here he saw a big toad, and every time the toad jumped, bells rang, as she had them tied on her legs. The toad was peeling willow bark and the old Weska asked her what she was going to do with the bark. She said that she was going to make a net around their tent as they were afraid of the old Weska because “he shot my grandchild [sea lion].” And the old toad said she [toad] was doctoring the sea lion and was getting the arrow out some, and the toad said to the lion: “What performance are you going to do now my grand-child? It can’t be you the old Weska wanted. Do you suppose the old Weska would look for you? I suppose you got him angry when you took his wolf away from him.”

After that Weska, jumped the toad, killed her and put on her skin and went over to their tent. When he got there he found two doors and did not know which one to enter, so he called the toad’s grandchild [sea lion] to come and lead him to his place. Weska said his eyes were swelling and he could not see, and the white lion came out of the toad’s tent and led him to her place. Weska had the skin of the old toad on. When he went to the tent, two toads were there and they knew him. After they had some-thing to eat they told him to make medicine again. The white lion made a tent and Weska took the black lion outside and killed him and pulled out the arrow and cried, “I pulled the arrow out but see, no life in him. In the morning you all move and I will stay over a day.” So after they all moved, he cut up the lion, made a pack, and went over to the toads’ home and killed them. They had the wolf skin for a door; he took the skin and ran for his raft and the flood started for good and the old Weska was on his raft.

The Indians think the sea lion was the cause of the flood. All the mountain was out of sight. After a while old Weska got tired of floating on the raft. He told the otter to come and dive for clay, so that he could make the world over again. He tied the otter by the tail with the rope he made. The otter went down and was drowned and the old Weska brought him to life again, and the muskrat went down and when the old Weska pulled him up he had his hands full of clay, and Weska made the world over again.

After he got the clay he put it on the palm of his hand and blew it four times, and he thought it big enough, and so the world was made.

A personal memoir, a legend, and an insightful interview, Current Memories presents three stories by Robert Henderson of Sagkeeng First Nation. Each story in this rare collection, com-piled by Craig Charbonneau Fontaine, differs in style and message; however, they all seek to show the connection between Anishinabe-mowin (language), aki (land), and aadisookaan (legends).

ISBN 978-1-927849-45-3