Thunderbird, a Tlingit Ledged

In 1765, Sazanovich, a Russian trapper of sea otter married a Bella Coola woman called Kolina. They had a son, and the Russian named him Niki. My story begins when they leave a small village and are headed home to the big island of Vancouver on the west coast of North America.

*

Leaving the Tlingit village was hard for Sazanovich and Niki. They were leaving family and friends behind.

Sazanovich was up before the sun. Last night’s goodbyes were sad, so he wanted to leave while the village was still sleeping. The cove was blackboard smooth and just as dark. A hint of dawn was blushing over the eastern mountains and the yawning moon was crawling under her cover in the western horizon.

The small family paddled in silence across the dark water and was happy to be homeward-bound. At the far end of the cove, two large birds, who were sitting in a madrona tree, interrupted their silence. One was a raven, and the other was the owl who had watched them enter his cove.

Raven clucked and croaked at Owl. The dignified old owl answered back, “Who… who, who.” This made Sazanovich smile and Kolena laugh out loud.

“What is so funny, Kolena?”

“It is Owl and Raven, and they argue with each other over who is the wisest.”

Sazanovich was skeptical that anyone could understand what birds and animals were saying, but he didn’t disbelieve her either. He had seen many coastal Indians who seemed to have an insight into nature and the animals they lived with. So, he asked, “Who is winning?”

“Raven and Owl always have this argument. Raven is smarter than Owl, but he never wins, because everyone knows that Owl is the wisest.”

They had a forty-mile run to reach the tip of Vancouver Island, as the crow flies. Fortunately, the Pacific Ocean was pacified. It had long rollers that lifted the dugout canoe to the top of its liquid hills and then the canoe would slide down into the sea’s shallow valleys. A following breeze would help, but the wind is lazy and does not wake until the sun rolls a little higher in the sky.

Each paddled in quiet thought.

The big island of Vancouver looked closely, but because of the curvature of the earth and the tall mountains, the distance was deceiving. One could not see the missing ocean between the sea’s horizon and the hidden shore. On their far right were the islands of Haida Gwaii, the home of the fierce Haida. It was hidden in a thick fog.

Niki broke the silence. “I’m hungry.”

When a chief threw a potlatch, it was their custom to cook more food than the guests could eat. And they would send the leftover food home with the guests. Usually by spring, with this custom of waste, a lot of tribes would run short of stored food. It would become lean times for the tribe. The slaves would suffer the worst, and they would not give them food. They would end up scavenging for themselves until the spring bounty would again come.

Kolena and Sazanovich continued paddling, while Niki foraged through the baskets of left-over-feast. When the smell of food filled the canoe, both Kolena and Sazanovich put down their paddles and began eating with Niki. The canoe drifted in the gentle sea.

Niki had opened Pandora’s Basket. The smell of the fresh salmon swelled into the sky and a flock of seagulls arrived. They circled the canoe and began begging for a morsel of food.

Niki threw a small chunk of smoked salmon into the water. The swimmers flapped their wings and ran across the water while the flyers folded their wings and dove at the target. No less than ten gulls attacked that small piece of salmon like they hadn’t eaten in weeks. The water exploded in a pile of gray feathers.

Niki thought it was funny and tossed another piece at the flying vermin. Sazanovich shook his head as he reached for a piece of cold salmon.

Kolena was suddenly distracted. A lone blackfish surfaced near her and swam between the canoe and the fighting seagulls.

Sazanovich thought it was strange to see a lone orca. These whales travel in hunting packs of family. When the whale surfaced, the seagulls took to the air, circled a couple of times, and left. So, Niki tossed the whale a morsel, and the whale took the dried salmon. He considered the gesture as friendly and continued swimming alongside the canoe.

Kolena gasped and pointed at a dark X-shaped cloud forming high over the coastal mountains behind them. “It is Alkuntam.” She sounded terrified. “And he has seen blackfish. We must hurry.” She began paddling frantically away from the ominous, dark cloud.

*

Alkuntam is the Bella Coola word for Thunderbird, which has four horns on its massive head. The legend of this mighty bird is a tale told at many potlatches, and by all grandfathers to their grandchildren. Niki had heard this story from many chiefs, and each time, it put nightmares into his sleep.

This giant bird, which hides in dark clouds, can destroy a whole village with its talons that shoot lighting. It has huge wings that thunder and bring heavy wind.

Whenever Niki heard a thundercloud coming, he would hide under a cedar tree and try to get a glimpse of this mighty stormbird. But when the lightning flashed across the sky, he ran in terror and hid in his lodge.

Niki saw the cloud and also began frantically paddling with Kolena.

*

The Haida called him Ooolala, and the legend of him was the same for all tribes. At potlatches, Chief Kyallanhoo’s son-in-law Wenutu, who had heard the story many times from his father, the chief of the Haida, who loved to tell the story. He would stand in front of the hearth fire and have the young tribe members gather around him.

“Once, a large blackfish, who was as big as a mountain, and who had a great appetite, and a very large belly, swam into the waters of our people. He began eating all the salmon that swam in it. The salmon now could not reach the rivers and their home streams, and so they left. Soon our people starved.

“Chiefs, from far and wide, gathered to discuss this and to decide what to do. They went to the whale and implored him to leave, but the whale declined. He just laughed and continued feasting on all the salmon.

“After many seasons of famine, they could no longer hold potlatches. The chiefs gathered again, and with their shamans, they performed rituals to summon a great power; a power greater than the greedy blackfish. A great voice echoed from the tall mountains and asked, ‘Why have I been summoned?’ The chiefs explained their problem and told the high power they were sorry that they could not hold a potlatch in honor of this Presence. The Presence then asked, ‘What will I get if I remove this mighty whale?’ The chiefs then promised to raise totem poles in his honor and that his image would be on top of these totem poles for all their tomorrows.

“The Presence agreed, and he showed himself. He appeared out of a violent storm cloud. First lightning flashed from his eyes and his sharp talons, and then thunder rolled from his wings. He took flight, and the ground shook and in a single swoop, Thunderbird sized the whale and took him to the top of a mountain, and he feasted upon him.”

Wenutu would pause. The wide-eyed children had his undivided attention. “Now, whenever a killer whale approaches a canoe, Indians must beware, because the Thunderbird still feeds on these mighty whales. And when he does, he brings a violent storm with him.”

Sazanovich studied the dark X-shaped cloud hovering in the northern sky. It was a large rain squall with thunderheads, and it was moving their way. He needed to find a protected cove and find it fast.

The killer whale was curious and continued following the strange canoe. Kolena began chanting a prayer.

They were halfway to the north end of the big island called Vancouver. They had about twenty-five miles of open ocean between them. The seas remained calm and windless. Sazanovich began praying for a little wind. With just the three of them paddling, they would not outrun the storm.

The whale continued to follow.

Kolena continued her chant.

Sazanovich saw ripples in the water. A light breeze came out of the north. His prayers were answered. He raised the blanket sail, and the canoe came alive. It soon picked up speed and surfed across the water. The crew laid down their paddles, and hung on. The ride was both terrifying and thrilling.

When the canoe sped up, the black whale accepted the challenge and swam faster. He chased it and came up beside it like a dog chasing a wagon wheel. With his tall dorsal fin held high out of the water, he rolled slightly to his side, exposing his left eye. He studied the humans riding this fast log with a curious fascination.

This upset Kolena. To her, it was like they were trolling for a giant thunderbird with a whale as bait.

It fascinated Niki. The whale was like a new pet running alongside.

Sazanovich kept a tight hand on the sail. If the wind increased or changed direction, it would be dangerous. He glanced up at the dark cloud. It was gaining on them. He glanced over at the terrified look on Kolena’s face and gave her a confident smile. Her eyes were wide in terror. He needed a distraction, so he sang.

He chose a Russian opera and began singing from deep in his chest. This was something Kolena had never heard before. At the potlatches, each singer sang in a different key. You could compare it to seagulls singing. Her strange husband’s voice was more like a lark.

*

Catherine the Great loved the opera even more than riding her horse or her men. She sent two of her music teachers to Italy to study French and Italian operas. They, in turn, came back and translated them into Russian operas. Catherine had an opera house built just for her new Russian operas.

They translated the one Sazanovich was singing from Italian. He had heard it performed when he was in St. Petersburg with his captain showing Catherine the Great the rich sea otter hides. He had never forgotten the tune. He found the written words and sang them silently to himself during night watches on the long voyages between Russia and Alaska.

Sazanovich belted out this opera loud and clear. This was the first time he had heard it through his ears. It was different. It pleased him with how well it sounded. He stood up, steadied himself on the mast, inhaled a lung full of air, and continued singing his opera.

Kolena was in awe. The singing made her forget the thunderbird as she listened to her strange husband sing. She wondered what other surprises he might have in store for her.

Niki understood the Russian words but did not understand their strange poetry. It was about a man singing woeful things to a woman trapped in some kind of deceit. He had never heard of such a tragic story. But the sound of his uncle’s voice made it alright. He had many questions.

And the whale, which was running with them, swam closer to better hear this wailing song. He became fascinated by these two-legged creatures.

Sazanovich, the singer-sailor, adjusted his sail with one hand and swayed the other in tune with his voice. His audience was in awe. The storm was fast and about to catch them as they rounded the tip of Vancouver Island. The surf was breaking and pounding the rocky shore. They needed to find a protected cove or at least a sandy beach to land on and wait out the storm.

Kolena’s sail proved extremely strong. The stretched strands of ropes, which held the mast in place, were as tight as violin strings. Sazanovich had to hold the control lines with both hands. He could feel the power of the raging wind as it pushed on the sail. It was time to lower the sail, but first, he had to finish singing. He was near the climax.

Niki worked the waves with his steering paddle while easing the heavy canoe closer to land. This was a new country for him. He needed to find shelter in a cove that was well hidden. He glanced up at the storm, and it engulfed them. He glanced at the water. The blackfish was still swimming beside him.

“Blackfish,” shouted Niki. “Please help us find shelter.” If Kolena could talk to ravens, maybe he could talk to whales. The orca rolled his head and looked at Niki. He understood and swam toward the rugged coast of Vancouver Island.

Niki followed.

Sazanovich sang.

Kolena had a death grip on her husband’s leg.

And Blackfish led.

The canoe ran aground just as their singing captain belted out the crescendo.

Niki tossed a whole basket of salmon to Blackfish as a reward for saving them.

Blackfish smiled and disappeared into the ocean.