Last Updated: 10 years ago
In the realm of ancient lore, passed down through generations via oral tradition, there existed a young boy named Sigo. His story, etched in the collective memory of his people, speaks of loss, betrayal, and an unlikely bond with the wilderness. Sigo’s father, a hunter and provider, had passed away when the boy was still an infant. Too young to take on the responsibilities of a man, Sigo could not contribute to the sustenance of his family’s wigwam.
Faced with hardship, Sigo’s mother was compelled to seek another husband, a man who could provide for her and her son. Unfortunately, this new husband harbored a jealous and spiteful nature. He grew resentful of young Sigo, perceiving that the mother’s affections were more directed toward her child than toward himself. Consumed by this jealousy, he began to plot a way to rid himself of the boy, a plan conceived in the shadows of his envious heart.
One day, feigning concern and a desire to mentor the child, the stepfather approached Sigo’s mother with a proposition. "Wife," he declared, his voice laced with deceit, "it is time the boy learned something of the forest. I will take him with me today, hunting, and impart to him the skills he will need to become a man."
The mother, sensing the ill-intent lurking beneath her husband’s words, cried out in protest. "Oh no!" she pleaded. "Sigo is far too young! He is not ready to face the dangers of the forest."
Her pleas fell on deaf ears. The stepfather, driven by his malicious plan, disregarded her concerns. He seized the boy and forcefully led him into the depths of the forest, leaving the mother behind in a state of despair. She wept, her heart heavy with the knowledge of her husband’s jealous nature and the potential harm he intended for her son.
The stepfather, familiar with the hidden recesses of the forest, led Sigo toward a specific destination: a deep, dark cave nestled within the side of a rocky hill. This cave, known only to a few, was to become the stage for his cruel deception. Upon reaching the cave entrance, he instructed his stepson to venture inside and search for the tracks of rabbits, a common prey in the region.
Sigo, intimidated by the darkness and the unknown dangers that lurked within, hesitated. "It is dark in there," he stammered, his voice trembling with fear. "I am afraid."
The stepfather, feigning scorn, mocked the boy’s apprehension. "Afraid!" he scoffed. "A fine hunter you’ll make! A true warrior knows no fear." With a rough shove, he propelled Sigo into the cave, his voice echoing with malice. "Stay in there until I tell you to come out," he commanded, leaving the boy alone in the oppressive darkness.
With his stepson trapped inside, the stepfather proceeded with the final act of his sinister plan. He located a sturdy pole and used it to leverage a massive boulder, dislodging it from its resting place. With a thunderous rumble, the boulder tumbled down, completely sealing the mouth of the cave. The stepfather knew that there was no other opening, no escape for the trapped boy. Sigo was effectively entombed, destined to perish from starvation and despair.
Having carried out his cruel deed, the stepfather departed from the desolate location, his mind already formulating a fabricated story to present to Sigo’s mother. He would claim that the boy had been disobedient, that he had wandered off and become lost, and that despite his best efforts, he had been unable to find him. To further conceal his treachery, he would delay his return home, allowing time to pass as if he were still actively searching for the missing boy.
As an additional layer to his deception, an idea sparked in his mind. He would spend time on Blomidon’s beach, a place known for its distinctive purple stones, believed to be remnants of Glooscap’s power. He would collect these stones and present them to his wife as a peace offering, hoping to assuage any suspicions she might harbor. He believed that even if she suspected foul play, there would be no evidence to prove his guilt, and the truth would remain buried within the confines of the cave.
However, the stepfather’s belief that his actions would remain hidden was tragically mistaken. There was one who already knew the truth, one whose gaze penetrated the deepest shadows and whose judgment was swift and unwavering: Glooscap, the Great Chief, a powerful and benevolent being deeply connected to the land and its people. Glooscap was well aware of the stepfather’s wicked deed, and his anger burned with righteous fury.
In a display of his immense power, Glooscap struck his great spear into the red stone of Blomidon. The cliff face split asunder, unleashing a cataclysmic landslide. Earth and stones cascaded down upon the beach, burying the wicked stepfather beneath their crushing weight, bringing his life to an abrupt and deserved end.
With justice served, Glooscap turned his attention to the trapped boy. He summoned a faithful servant, Porcupine, a creature known for its wisdom and loyalty, and instructed him to undertake a mission of rescue.
Meanwhile, within the dark and suffocating confines of the cave, Sigo cried out in loneliness and fear. He was only six years old, a child who longed for the comfort and security of his mother’s embrace. Suddenly, amidst the oppressive silence, he heard a voice, a gentle and reassuring sound that cut through his despair.
"Sigo! Come this way," the voice beckoned.
Trembling with a mixture of fear and hope, Sigo followed the sound, his eyes straining to pierce the darkness. Gradually, he discerned two glowing eyes, their intensity growing brighter as he approached. Finally, he was able to make out the form of an old porcupine, its quills shimmering faintly in the dim light.
"Don’t cry any more, my son," Porcupine said, his voice filled with compassion. "I am here to help you." Sigo, sensing the creature’s benevolence, felt his fear begin to dissipate. He watched as Porcupine approached the cave entrance and attempted to push away the massive stone, but the boulder was far too heavy for the small creature to move alone.
Undeterred, Porcupine placed his lips close to the crack of light between the boulder and the hillside and called out in a loud, clear voice: "Friends of Glooscap! Come around, all of you! A boy has been left here to die! I am not strong enough to move the rock. Help us, or we are lost!"
The call resonated through the forest, reaching the ears of the animals and birds who were loyal to Glooscap. From far and wide, they came: Wolf, Raccoon, Caribou, Turtle, Possum, Rabbit, Squirrel, and birds of all kinds, from the majestic Turkey to the tiny Hummingbird.
The animals, united by their loyalty to Glooscap and their compassion for the trapped boy, gathered around the cave entrance, eager to assist in the rescue. Porcupine, still trapped inside with Sigo, explained the situation. "A boy has been left here to die," he called out. "I am not strong enough to move the rock. Help us, or we are lost."
The animals responded with determination, vowing to do everything in their power to free the boy. First, Raccoon stepped forward and attempted to wrap his arms around the stone, but his limbs were far too short to gain any leverage. Then, Fox came and bit and scratched at the boulder, but his efforts only resulted in bleeding lips and a futile struggle.
Next, Caribou stepped up, and thrusting her long antlers into the crack, she tried to pry the stone loose. But only broke off one of her antlers. It was no use. In the end, all gave up. They could not move the stone.
Just as despair began to set in, a new voice broke through the atmosphere of frustration. "Kwah-ee," the voice spoke, a greeting in the native tongue. "What is going on?"
The animals turned to see the source of the voice: Mooinskw, which means she-bear, who had emerged quietly from the woods. Some of the smaller animals, intimidated by her size and power, instinctively hid themselves. But the others, recognizing her gentle nature and her connection to Glooscap, recounted the events that had transpired.
Upon hearing the story of the trapped boy, Mooinskw immediately understood the urgency of the situation. Without hesitation, she embraced the boulder in the cave’s mouth, wrapping her powerful arms around the massive stone. With a deep grunt and a surge of incredible strength, she heaved with all her might.
With a deafening rumble and a ground-shaking crash, the stone rolled over, finally clearing the entrance to the cave. Sigo and Porcupine emerged joyfully, blinking in the sudden light after their ordeal in the darkness.
Porcupine, overwhelmed with gratitude, thanked the animals for their valiant efforts. "Now I must find someone to take care of this boy and bring him up," he said. "My food is not the best for him. Perhaps there is someone here whose diet will suit him better. The boy is hungry—who will bring him food?"
The animals, eager to help further, scattered in all directions, searching for sustenance that would nourish the rescued boy. Robin was the first to return, laying down a pile of worms before Sigo, but the boy could not bring himself to eat them. Beaver came next, offering bark, but Sigo shook his head in refusal. Others brought seeds and insects, but Sigo, despite his hunger, could not touch any of them.
Finally, Mooinskw returned, holding out a flat cake made of blueberries. The boy seized it eagerly and devoured it.
"Oh, how good it is!" he cried, his face lighting up with satisfaction.
Porcupine nodded wisely, recognizing the significance of the boy’s preference. "From now on," he declared, "Mooinskw will be this boy’s foster mother."
And so, Sigo went to live with the bears. Besides the mother bear, there were two boy cubs and a girl cub. All were pleased to have a new brother and they soon taught Sigo all their tricks and all the secrets of thee forest, and Sigo was happy with his new-found family. Gradually, he forgot his old life. Even the face of his mother grew dim in memory and, walking often on all fours as the bears did, he almost began to think he was a bear.
One spring when Sigo was ten, the bears went fishing for smelts. Mooinskw walked into the water, seated herself on her haunches and commenced seizing the smelts and tossing them out on the bank to the children. All were enjoying themselves greatly when suddenly Mooinskw plunged to the shore, crying, "Come children, hurry!" She had caught the scent of man. "Run for your lives!"
As they ran, she stayed behind them, guarding them, until at last they were safe at home.
"What animal was that, Mother?" asked Sigo.
"That was a hunter," said his foster-mother, "a human like yourself, who kills bears for food." And she warned them all to be very watchful from now on. "You must always run from the sight or scent of a hunter."
Not long afterwards, the bear family went with other bear families to pick blueberries for the winter. The small ones soon tired of picking and the oldest cub had a sudden mischievous thought.
"Chase me towards the crowd," he told Sigo, "just as men do when they hunt bears. The others will be frightened and run away. Then we can have all the berries for ourselves."
So Sigo began to chase his brothers towards the other bears, whooping loudly, and the bears at once scattered in all directions. All, that is, except the mother bear who recognized the voice of her adopted son.
"Offspring of Lox!" she cried. "What mischief are you up to now?" And she rounded up the children and spanked them soundly, Sigo too.
So the sun crossed the sky each day and the days grew shorter. At last the mother bear led her family to their winter quarters in a large hollow tree. For half the winter they were happy and safe, with plenty of blueberry cakes to keep them from being hungry. Then, one sad day, the hunters found the tree.
Seeing the scratches on its trunk, they guessed that bears were inside, and they prepared to smoke them out into the open.
Mooinskw knew well enough what was about to happen and that not all would escape.
"I must go out first," she said, "and attract the man’s attention, while you two cubs jump out and run away. Then you, Sigo, show yourself and plead for your little sister. Perhaps they will spare her for your sake."
And thus it happened, just as the brave and loving mother bear had said. As soon as she climbed down from the tree, the Indians shot her dead, but the two male cubs had time to escape. Then Sigo rushed out, crying:
"I am a human, like you. Spare the she-cub, my adopted sister."
The amazed Indians put down their arrows and spears and, when they had heard The Bear’s Child story, they gladly spared the little she- bear and were sorry they had killed Mooinskw who had been so good to an Indian child.
Sigo wept over the body of his foster mother and made a solemn vow.
"I shall be called Mooin, the bear’s son, from this day forwards. And when I am grown, and a hunter, never will I kill a mother bear, or bear children!"
And Mooin never did. The Bear’s Child never forgot his adoptive mother’s sacrifice.
With his foster sister, he returned to his old village, to the great joy of his Indian mother, who cared tenderly for the she- cub until she was old enough to care for herself.
And ever since then, when Indians see smoke rising from a hollow tree, they know a mother bear is in there cooking food for her children, and they leave that tree alone. The tale of The Bear’s Child serves as a reminder of respect for nature.