I love the Native American musician, Robby Robertson. He’s part Mohawk and has been successful both in the ‘white’ world and the Native American one. He collected a treasure of songs by Native American performers and artists in an album called "Robbie Robertson and the Red Road."

One of the songs always takes me back to the place where I was born and raised. The words go like this:

"I gave my love, a Golden Feather, a Golden Feather I gave my love.
I gave my love a Golden Feather, a golden feather to lead him home."

In many Nations of the First Peoples, there are legends about how things were in the ‘Time of the Beginning’, when only the First Peoples walked the hills, mountains, forests and plains of Turtle Island, what the folks now a days call "North America." We are taught that the Teachings and Lessons that made the world a majickal place in that time, can reach through and touch us in our lives at key points, when we are making decisions that affect not only our lives, but those of our children and their children and their children. This story is about one of those times.

As a young girl growing up just off the edge of an Indian Reservation, in the early sixties, these tales, told by the Elders and our families, were all the entertainment we had. There was no running water, or electricity. No movie theaters, or televisions. No computer games, or play stations. We made our own entertainment and found joy in many things, and in all the many parts of the Sacred Medicine Wheel, that we call life.

Back then, most folks walked or drove horse and wagon to get to where they were going. A few people had rattle trap old Fords, mostly Model T’s, or broken down pickup trucks. Many of the Elders and other older folk thought they were ‘the work of Lucifer.’ The old folks said these modern contraptions made people lazy and took up more than their fair share of the road. Not to mention the noise and smoke was a pollution to the eyes, ears and nose! Have you ever smelled a Model T? And it took away a horse’s opportunity to do a good days work!

Now stories and how one came to be the person they were from the life one had lived were an integral part of our world. My favorite person in the entire world was my Grandmother. Her face was full of deep lines, etched by years under Grandfather Sun. She smelled of wood smoke, and cedar water. She had a laugh that bubbled and burbled like the water in the crick close to home. Her voice, it could be soft and gentle like lamb’s wool, or loud and frightening like Thunder after a summer rain.

And a story from her was a pleasure indeed.

Now some of you may remember that my Grandmother was known as the local ‘witch’, so called by the local preacher, The Reverend Findaly, if’n he had a first name no one recalled what it was, so everyone simply called him ‘that preacher man’ or The Reverend Findaly. He’d started the ‘witch’ thing right after the first old board church had burned down, and my Annenaya liked the sound of it she said. She used it to her advantage. She would give him ‘the eye’ and he would flee in terror, making crosses over his chest as he fled, as fast as his legs would carry him. Us children, well, we’d laugh and laugh, unless Annenaya gave us ‘the look’ that said, we’d better be quiet and laugh later. Valuing our ‘hides’, we knew which was which!

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

One of my favorite stories to listen to was about how Annenaya (My Granny’s family name, not the white man’s idea of who she was) escaped going to Residential School, and got to stay on the Reservation, learning all the Medicine Ways, the ways to heal the sick, and bring babies into the world (without all those drugs the white ladies had to have) and the stories and histories of our community and our people. And how it was all because of a Feather from the Golden Eagle, sacred to our people.

Ya see, back when she was a young girl, the government people came each year and took all the school age children off to the ‘white man’s school’ to be given a ‘decent white man’s education’. The real thing it was about was to strip the children of their family connections, language, and spirituality, and turn ‘em all into ‘white Indians’.

Many of the children back then, they saw this was an exciting adventure. They didn’t realize that if they were allowed to return home, they would no longer understand their parents words, having lost their Tribal languages, and been forced to learn English. They didn’t realize that they would have to work very hard, and suffer a great deal of abuse, and that many would die before coming home. Many who came home would be ‘lost’, and turn to violence, alcohol and other addictions to hide the pain of the abuse, and of the grief they felt.

Now Annenaya, she wasn’t like other young’ens. She wanted to learn the Old Ways. She wanted to stay and listen to the old stories, the old ways of thinking, and being and doing and ‘remembering’.

The first year that Annenaya was big enough to be taken by the government agents, when they came to collect all the young children, she was ill with ‘influenza’ and looked to ‘sickly’ to survive, so they left her. After all, couldn’t have one of those ‘heathen’ children infectin’ good white folks now, could they? Or so the agent said that day, shaking his head and walking away with a hankie over his mouth.

This left Annenaya a whole year to come up with another plan to stay put on the lands of her ancestors and family. She thought about it night and day. She conferred with the Elders, finding holes in all her plans, until one was designed that all agreed would work and protect the community at the same time.

The night before they knew the children would leave, Annenaya snuck out of her home. This was easy enough to do as her father had drunk a bunch of his own ‘hooch’, his favorite pastime. She ran across the fields in her moccasined feet.

As she fled over the grass and through the great Trees, brothers to all HumanKind, she looked up at the starry sky, and offered prayers on Brother Wind for safe passage and safety in the coming days.

The sky was so clear, with just a hint of autumn coming. The stars all shone so bright! She couldn’t imagine living in a place where she couldn’t look up each night and see Grandmother Moon or all the twinkling stars. She could hear the crickets singing in the bulrushes near the pond, and hear the "Moo" of the Jersey cows that they milked each day.

It took only a short time to reach the home of one of the Traditional Elders, Old Tom Maracle, and his wife Elizabeth. His home was across several hay fields, set up on a hill, and ringed by old Maple and Elm trees, like her home was. This home was full of love and kindness, and they always had food to share with those who needed it, or even those who wandered by.

Old Tom was as old as the hills, or so Annenaya thought at the time. He was tall, way over six feet, one of the tallest men for many miles. His face was deeply lined, from years of working out under the rays of Grandfather Sun. His eyes shone with love and kindness each time he looked into the face of a child. Old Tom always smelled of Sage and Sweetgrass and hand made lye soap. The leathers he wore were decorated with ancient porcupine quill work, and he moved with dignity and grace. Old Tom could move so silently that no one ever heard him coming! He loved to take the children out into the woods, disappear on them and leave them to find their way home. He always stayed where he could keep an eye on them, but most children didn’t catch on. Ananeya had caught him doing it first time! And she was really proud of that!

That night, Old Tom and his wife were waiting for her. They gathered her in their arms and held her close for a long moment. Ananeya loved the way they smelled, and vowed that when she was grown and older, she would always smell nice too!

After the long hug ended, they brought her into the sitting room in front of the fire place. Old Tom had build a Sacred Fire, offering Tobacco to the Four Sacred Direction and asking the Guardians there to be with them as they prayed, shared fresh bannock and homemade jam and spoke.

They sat up much of the night, talking and planning. Old Tom gave Annenaya some herbs. He explained that these herbs would make her cough and appear sick. Just as Grandfather Sun was rising in the early morning hours, he pulled out a Gold Eagle Feather and handed it to Annenaya. She was astounded! Eagle Feathers were won with acts of bravery, or acts of honor!

Old Tom told her how the Golden Eagle is a messenger who carries prayers of the People to the Spirit World. That the Spirit of the Golden Eagle would guide the Souls of those who left the World of Physical Things on their Journey to the Spirit World, helping them reach the Sacred Fire where the Guardians of the Four Sacred Directions waited, keeping watch over all the things of the Physical World. Each Soul would visit with these Guardians before facing Creator to give an accounting of their use of the Gifts and Blessings they’d enjoyed in their physical life.

He explained to Ananaya that if one gave a Golden Feather to someone who was Beloved, that Golden Feather would help guide that person home again, to fulfill their destiny in life. Old Tom wrapped the Feather in a piece of red cotton, added some Sacred Tobacco and some crumbled Sage, and then wrapped once more in a piece of hard leather. It was tied with a string, with four knots, one for each Sacred Direction. This was then wrapped in a piece of cotton to make a bundle. They ate a small meal together and then his wife walked Ananaya back to her home and helped her sneak back into the house, undetected. Her father was still asleep in front of his own fire, snoring loudly and smelling foul.

Annenaya spent the remaining hours singing softly and praying for her safety and for the protection of the Spirits, not so much for herself you understand, but for the future of her people.

The next day was just at the beginning of the Harvest Time. The local Indian Agent, Mr. Knight, arrived in the community in an old horse drawn wagon. He had flaming red hair, and a temper to match. When he pitched a ‘royal fit’ it was high entertainment for all!

Why that old white man, he could cuss and swear better than almost any one and most people paid attention, hoping to learn something new and innovative to take to the County Fair cussing contest. His face would get all red, and spit would fly out of his mouth. He would jump up and down, kick things, throw things and generally give everyone a good show. The fact that everyone found it so entertaining only made him more angry.

Now Mr. Knight, he really enjoyed this time of year. After all, he was getting rid of ‘Indian vermin’ and better yet, making sure that someday, in the future, the Indian Problem would no longer exist! This was a topic he was happy to expound upon at the local tavern (in the nearest town which was eight or so miles away on rutted, gravel and hard packed mud roads). None of the Indians were allowed to go there unless he gave them a piece of paper called a ‘travel permit’. If it was terribly important, he might allow himself to be bribed, but most times he wouldn’t help anyone for anything.

On this happy (for him at least) day, Mr. Knight went from house to house, yard to yard, and farm to farm, demanding that all the children who were six years old be brought to the local church, (the old one, not the new one, remember this was about 1908 or so) where the preacher who was there before the famous Reverend Findaly, lived in a house built on the side. Annenaya never could remember his name and no one else bothered. I thought he must have been a real ‘waste of skin’ but didn’t say to her when she was sharing the story.

There was an empty hay field where those attending church would leave their horses just across from the church. It was surrounded by big old Maple and Elm trees, with a few Blue Spruce thrown in to keep the bugs away.

Now Annenaya was brought there by her Pappy, a man who was ‘mean as a snake’ and had the ‘mind sickness’. (A few years later he went out in the barn and hung himself, and not a soul ever expressed any sadness about that fact. Many, in fact, drew large sighs of relief to be rid of him, being as mean spirited as he was!)

Pappy, known as "Mean Sam" by most, was a tall man. He wore his hair cut short in an army style cut. Most men at that time wore long hair, but he was ornery and just had to be different. He dressed in worn out old pants, with suspenders to hold them up, and a shirt made from an old flower sack, like most of the men there and then. Mean Sam, he had a loud, raspy voice, hoarse from all the shouting and raging, and drinking and smoking that he did. His hands were work toughened and calloused. He used them to slap anyone or punch anyone he took a mind to. Annenaya was scared of him as he was wont to ‘tan her hide’ at any time, and for little or no reason other than being mean. And she liked her hide just the way it was thank you and didn’t think ‘tanning’ improved it any!

The entire drive to the church, which was all of a mile or so, Pappy lectured her on how she had best not ‘pull any Heathen’ tricks, and that she had "better come home really educated so she could support him in his old age". Since his idea of support was enough moonshine to drink himself into oblivion each day, Annenaya wasn’t too keen on doing that.

As they drove slowly down the tree lined roads, Annenaya wondered if her plan would work or if this would be the last time she’d see the fields and woods of her beloved home. She loved to walk in the woods and fields, looking for herbs to help heal others, enjoying the feel of Brother Wind on her skin, feeling the warmth of Grandfather Sun on her face. She felt if she was forced to leave her home she would surely die of heart sickness. And who would learn the old ways? Who would preserve them? Pass them along to the next generation? Someone had to do that and she believed it was her destiny to do just that. The Traditional Elders agreed with her. Her Pappy didn’t follow those old ways, not at all. He thought it was all mumbo jumbo, which Annenaya felt was a sad thing.

Annenaya often told us how Grandfather Sun was shining so high in the sky that day. The sky was the prettiest shade of blue, and only a few wispy clouds floated in the air. The Autumn colors were just beginning to take hold in the Maple trees the lived all about the community. There was a feeling of frost soon to come.

Annenaya knew that she still didn’t look right, she was pale and pasty. (She’d stayed up two nights in a row to make herself look ill). The herbs that Old Tom had given her made her cough and cough and her chest and throat hurt.

Even before they arrived, they could both hear a great commotion. Moaning and crying, wailing and weeping. Many of the little children were crying, and most of the parents, and grandparents. Everyone was related to everyone else there and then, so this affected almost every single soul for miles around. All the children leaving carried little cloth bundles of varied colors of cotton cloth. Inside each of the bags was a change or two of clothes, some bannock or other food for the long ride to the residential school.

It seemed like everyone in the entire community was there, and all of them were crying. Maybe Mr. Knight expected trouble, as he had two ugly white men standing around with loaded guns in plain sight.

Mr. Knight stepped forward, and told the parents to bring all the young children to the tables that were set up in the shade of the biggest Maple tree at the edge of the field. Trust the white folks to take the best real estate!

After the children were all gathered around, the Missionaries came along. Two older ‘penguins’ in black and white habits, Sisters of the Catholic Church were also there. Now these ladies were mostly afraid of us Heathens, but it was their Christian Duty, or so they told us, to collect all the children’s names, make a written record and ensure that all children of school age were present and ready to leave.

Annenaya was afraid of these strange ladies in the black and white dresses, with the funny things that almost, but not quite, covered their faces.

The children lined up as they were told in a long scraggly line and waited their turn. Annenaya got ready to put her plan into place. She took out a needle and began to poke the ends of her fingers to make them bleed. She put some of the blood on the white hankie she carried in her hands. Each time she coughed, she made it louder and louder, until she thought her lungs would come right out her mouth!. She turned her face away from the white folks. Her heart fluttered hard in her chest. Her mind cried out to Creator to strengthen her and help her. The closer she got to the table, the more fear she felt.

Then she put her hand on the bundle of cloth she carried. She knew that inside was the Golden Feather. As she touched it, she felt a strange peace fill her up, even as her cough felt like her chest was going to rip open. All of a sudden she coughed up this HUGE bunch of blood! She moved fast and the hankie caught most of it, but some ran down her face, and onto the front of her shirt. Children on either side screamed in horror and moved away as far as they could.

Mr. Knight and one of his guards came running over to quell the disturbance. One look at Annenaya and they gasped in horror! "That child has consumption!!!" Mr. Knight shouted! "Quick, get her away from us! Far Away!!! We can’t have her poisoning all of us! Get her out of here!"

"Who’s responsible for this child??? GET OVER HERE!!!!" He was too scared to grab Annenaya, but his guard pushed her out of line using the end of his rifle! Hurriedly, but weakly, she went to the edge of the field and waited.

Where was her father? Had he left without her? Annenaya was frightened. She couldn’t see him anywhere. What should she do now? How would she get home? She was feeling very weak and the coughing wouldn’t stop.

Slowly, Old Tom Maracle came over to her side. He wrapped her in a big old Star Blanket, picked her up and took her to his wagon. She wondered, where had he come from? He appeared like majick!

Softly he whispered in her ear: "Hey little one! We’re almost home free. Just lay quietly till I get you out of here and back to my Missus. She’ll have some warm food and a warm fire for both of us."

Annenaya slumped into his arms, comforted by the smell of wood smoke, and Sage and Cedar. The plan had worked!!! It really had! They wouldn’t take her away this year! She offered prayers of thanks to Creator and the Sacred Guardians for their protection. And she thanked the Spirit of the Golden Eagle for bringing her safely back home!

Tom placed her in the bed of his wagon, all wrapped up in blankets, clucked to his old horse, "Red" to Giddyap, and away they went down the tree lined, dusty road. Once they were out of sight, they stopped to offer some Sacred Tobacco in Thanksgiving. Then Old Tom gave her some Cedar Tea with more herbs in it to help ease her cough and take away some of the pain.

"Did you see, Sir? How I coughed up all that blood at just the right time? Wasn’t that something?" Annenaya was so excited! The Golden Feather, it helped me come back home! Just like you said!!!"

Old Tom, he just smiled and let her go on talking. Soon enough, he knew, there would be lots of hard work for her to do. Let her have her joyfulness! She had a Destiny to fulfill, and he was pleased to be a part of it. Creator, after all, always has a Plan!

Many years later, when she was sharing this Story with me and my rascally brothers, her eyes would light up with delight as she recounted each and every detail.