A Potlatch, Orcas and a Crow War

June 30, 2015 Bella Bella Potlatch: Celebrating a Peace Treaty

More good luck! At Shearwater Marina we hear there is to be a potlatch nearby and we are invited. We leave a little early and take the SeaBus for the 2-mile ride over to Bella Bella where the event will be held. That way we have a little time to explore the village first.

The Chiefs Dance (note the Littlest One!)

We admire the carved poles and ask around about the potlatch. A young man fills us in on the details and invites us to the Elder's Hall for lunch before the main event. There is a buffet of home-made traditional foods, including baked salmon, smoked salmon, sea asparagus salad, herring roe, roe-on-kelp and even eulachon oil, a traditional staple of the First Nations on this coast (and an acquired taste.) It is the oil skimmed from the fermented and crushed bodies of eulachon, also known as candlefish, due to the extremely high oily fat content of their bodies. We sit down to enjoy our meal and find that we are one table over from Guujaaw, carver, historian, activist and former president of the Council of the Haida Nation; and David Suzuki, environmentalist and host of the well-known PBS series "The Nature of Things." You run into the most interesting people up here!

Guujaaw Drumming

After lunch we mosey over to the community center where the crowd is gathering. Many representatives from Haida Gwaii have traveled to Bella Bella for this event, and stayed with Heiltsuk families this week. The potlatch is set to begin at 2pm, but nobody is looking at their watches. 

Yesterday a peace treaty was signed between the Haida and Heiltsuk Nations. It formalizes a verbal agreement made between the two tribes about 150 years ago. Tradition demands that all important business such as this must take place before the community, and so a potlatch is held. Gifts are always given to all who attend the potlatch, as payment for witnessing the business that has taken place. Attending the potlatch means that you support what occurred and will always remember the transaction. You are "paid" for witnessing with potlatch gifts.



The Eagle Dance

 

Speeches and gift-giving are interspersed with traditional dancing, singing and drumming. Guujaaw is given an award and dances to say 'thank you.' The traditional chiefs dance in their button blankets and elaborate ermine-covered headdresses filled with eagle down (a symbol of welcome and peace.) The children perform traditional dances that are handed down through the generations.



The Sasquatch Dance

 

The dancing continues, always accompanied by singing and rhythmic drumming using what look like small clubs on a cedar log. I always get a kick out of seeing the drummers holding their young children, even babies, as they drum. These little ones will grow up knowing the ancient songs of their people! Stomachs begin to growl as the dinner hour approaches. The Heiltsuk women have prepared tray after tray of food, and are serving it onto hundreds of paper plates, laid out on long tables. The teenagers are tasked with serving dinner to the hundreds of people in the hall, carefully carrying two fully loaded plates at a time. All are served surprisingly quickly and we enjoy our plates of chicken nuggets and vegetable chow mein. It's delicious!

After dinner the very special 'owned' dances are performed. In these oral cultures that had no written language, names, stories, carved masks, songs and dances are valuable property and are bequeathed as such. Stories told by the songs, dances and masks may be creation myths, or tales of an ancestor's encounter with a supernatural being, or other family history and lore. The owner of a particular dance is the only one who can perform it, unless he or she gives permission to someone else.

 



New mask and dance celebrating the peace treaty.

We are witness to Sasquatch, Eagle, Bear, Raven and Whale dances, among others. The dancers tell their story and bring their masks to life with their interpretations of the creature they portray. The Eagle  opens and closes its feather-edged wings and dips and soars around the dance floor. The Bear bends low to the ground and them reaches up and out to shred the air with his clawed forepaws. The clever Raven walks with his wide-legged stride, cocks his head and clacks his long beak, for all the world like its living cousins. The Whale mask is a real feat of engineering. Carved from cedar, it has to be at least 5 feet long and balances on the head and shoulders of its (presumably very strong) dancer. The mouth opens, the dorsal fin can be raised and lowered. With an Eagle perched on its head, the whale dives and surfaces in its passages around the dance floor, emitting an eerie moan. I wish I knew that story!

 

Whale Dance

At long last the evening draws to a close. We happily receive our potlatch gifts of commemorative t-shirts, copper prints of the artwork that was commissioned for the treaty signing, and stainless steel water bottles with the same artwork. Along with everyone else here, we are now officially obligated to bear witness: the Haida and the Heiltsuk will not make war on each other any more. 

 

June 18, 2015 Performing Live on Queen Charlotte Strait: The Orcas!

We have just left Blunden Harbour on our way to Port McNeill for fuel and supplies. Patrick is belowdeck and I’m on watch when I notice a splash off in the distance. We are traveling toward it, no need to change course. Yes—there is another splash. It’s probably a whale. I call Pat to come topside with the video camera.

We cautiously approach what turns out to be a pod of orcas, and oh boy, are they having a good time! We shift into neutral about 100 yards from them, and just enjoy the show. One young orca seems to get a big kick out of the splash made when it slaps its tail on the water; it does it over and over. Several of them pop their heads up out of the water to look around, spy-hopping. A big male porpoises through the pod, arching his huge, beautiful black-and-white body almost out of the water.

What strikes me about the orcas is how close together they are most of the time. Though always in motion, they are intimate, touching, constantly in contact with fins and tails, sliding their sleek rubbery skin alongside each other even while rolling and dipping, rising and splashing. Its so easy to feel the affection they have for one another. Occasionally the big male moves off in another direction, soon to return to the group. Each time he comes back he is joyously greeted with whistling calls and welcomed back with more exuberant rubbing, touching, rolling and splashing. They are such a beautiful family.

As we silently drift, the pod approaches us. Their gusty blows are explosive and we can clearly hear their vocalizations. Squeals and high-pitched cries alternate with bubble-blowing and a funny sound that reminds us of a  Bronx cheer. I tell Pat, “They’re giving us the raspberries!” Jake is on deck and intrigued, watching the huge animals diving and surfacing. They disappear for a few moments and we begin to wonder if our orca show is over. Suddenly there is a loud PFFFFFTTTT! The huge head of the big male surfaces a few feet from our starboard side, right next to Jake and Patrick. We are all startled—Jake leaps up and races to safety down below as we laugh. True to form, two of the other orcas surface nearby, close to the big male.  We can clearly see their distinctive white “saddles” underwater. Patrick tells me he could have counted the teeth on the one that scared Jake.

They amble past us and continue their antics. We are thrilled when one of them launches its huge body completely out of the water in a breach, coming down with a gigantic splash. We say farewell to the orca family, thankful for their visit, grateful for their wild, loving presence in our world.

June 21, 2015 Jake and the Crow War

It may never be known who started it, but in the war between Jake The Cat and the crows of Port McNeill, we believe Jake has had the last word …

We are getting ready to leave the dock at Port McNeill. The morning bustle of topping up the water tanks, picking up the power cord and generally preparing for departure tells Jake this is his last big chance at shore leave. He casually jumps off the boat, sniffs the dock lines, checks out the neighboring boat and strolls shoreward. Fifteen or twenty minutes go by and it’s time to leave. A quick check reveals Jake’s absence. (As usual, Simon is the GOOD kitty!)

We are tied up at the very end of B Dock finger. I walk toward the main dock calling for Jake while surreptitiously peeking at the decks of neighboring craft along our finger, in case he is visiting other boats, one of his favorite things to do. I get to the main dock and still no Jake. Usually when he hears me he, he comes running, meowing excitedly to tell me all about what he has done and seen, and to claim the extravagant petting, scratching and praise he receives when he answers my call. I have to decide which way to go,  either left to the rest of the huge network of dockage, or right toward the ramp to shore. I sigh. I know Jake, and Jake would head for land.
 

The Crows Yell at Jake

At the top of the dock ramp is a small parking lot filled with cars. I begin calling Jake. A boater asks, “Are you looking for your dog?” “My cat,” I reply. Then I hear the raucous caws of a dozen crows having some sort of squabble. They are quite agitated. Still calling for Jake, I walk between the cars toward the back of the parking lot. There, standing on his hind legs up against the back wall, is Jake, using his front claws to swat at the gang of crows who are dive-bombing him from the surrounding trees. They are clearly unhappy with the presence of a cat in their midst. They clamor for blood! They swoop and dive! Jake hears my call and runs toward me, then ducks under a car. The crows are relentless! They fly low and hunt for their sworn enemy on the ground. Spooked, Jake moves from car to car. I can’t follow him quickly enough to catch up.

 

By this time, other boaters have figured out what’s going on. They pitch in and help spot Jake from different vantage points. “He’s under the blue pickup!” shouts one. “He’s next to the dumpster!” calls another. I’m scrambling between cars, trying to get close enough to rescue Jake. Finally a woman calls out, “He’s heading down the dock!” And sure enough, he is. He races down the ramp with a squadron of crows on his tail – almost literally. They squawk and scream and dive on Jake all the way back to Tenacious. 

Jake Keeps an Eye on the Crows

By the time I catch up Jake is up on top of the bimini, in a stare-down with two crows that are perched on our spreaders. The crows loudly express their highly uncomplimentary opinions of Jake and all cats. Their meaning is clear and war has been declared. Jake stands firm, not moving from his staked-out position. They keep up their harangue until finally, when Patrick starts our engine, they fly back to their (cat-free) parking lot. Jake has prevailed in this battle.

 

We wonder what will happen when we return to Port McNeill in the fall.