A Story About A Man From Hydaburg

Woody Morrison shares this story on Facebook:

G̱úut Ḵ’áawaas - Crow's Deer

(Eagle-Entering-The-Water) 

by Dr. Woodrow Ḵaawan Sangáa, BA. JD.

Robinson Beatty’s Kya’áang (Haida name) was G̱úut [immature, mottled eagle] Ḵ’áawaas - Eagle Entering The Water . One day when he and his nephew were beach combing, he saw Ts’aak’aay (an Eagle) bathing in a freshwater pool. So he stripped off his clothing, entered the water and bathed in the same manner as Ts’aak’aay (the Eagle) . He also had a nick-name.

His Given name was Robinson and, many had heard or read the story of Robinson Crusoe. So he was called "Crusoe" however, most had trouble with that pronunciation and, instead, called him "Crow-so" which was shortened to K’áalts’adaa (Crow). He was small in stature (about 5ft. 6in. tall but very wiry and strong).

Growing up and hunting with our G̱ungaa (fathers), Ḵaa (uncles), K’waay (older brothers) and Tawíi (cousins) we were Stága (warned) to not hunt alone. If something went wrong, there would be no one to assist. Also, we were to always tell someone where we were going in the event we didn’t return when planned. The others would know where to look. However, once in a while we didn’t always heed the warning.

That is what happened to Crow; one chaanúut (Fall), he was hungry for fresh K’aat Ki’íi (deer meat) and didn’t want to ask anyone for some or to wait until fresh meat was brought to the village. So he decided to go out and take a look around on the land - the polite way of saying, "I’m going K’áajuu (hunting on land)." One never named the quarry, to do so was like telling that Being, "You have no say in this Relationship. And, when the Prey presented itself, Ḵáajuu ’la’áay (the hunter) would either accept the gift or give it back.

The night before he was going to go out and take a look around (K’áajuu), Crow stayed up late reading and, was still a bit sleepy when he got out of bed around 6am. He took his skiff (Tlúu) and rowed to Blanket Island, about 5 miles south of Hydaburg.

He pulled the skiff up on the beach (Cháaw Salíi) and moored it to a tree (K’íit), the tide was coming in (Gíihliit) and he wanted to make certain it didn’t drift away while he was in the woods (adíitiit). He then walked the beach (Ḵ’adeed) toward the southwestern side of the island then entered the woods (adíitiit).

The weather was clear but chilly, however, after walking for about a half and hour, Crow warmed up and sat down with his back to a tree (ḵíit). He blew his Deer-Call a couple of times and felt drowsy so, leaned his rifle (Jagw) against the tree, then leaned back and closed his eyes(x̱angíi) and fell asleep (k’ada).

He was abruptly jerked awake to fine himself hanging from the antlers of a large buck, hooked onto his belt. It was trying to shake him loose, he yelled loudly in surprise and the buck started running through the brush with him still hanging from its antlers. He managed to pull his hunting knife and stabbed at the buck’s neck. Everything was happening so fast, all he could do was to keep stabbing at the buck’s neck.

Apparently the buck took the deer-call to be a challenge and, when it answered the call... maybe Crow was snoring, whatever, but when Rutting (in heat) the bucks are very aggressive. So maybe that is why it nudged Crow and it’s antlers caught on his belt.

When he came to, he was lying against a tree. It looked like he had made contact with a tree, knocking him unconscious and breaking his belt. He looked around and saw that his coat was bloody (g̱ayáa), he opened it to see where the blood was coming from but it wasn’t his blood. His knife(ya’áats’) was lying on the moss (k’inaan) nearby. He picked it up followed the blood trail and found the buck lying dead. He dressed it, put it on his back and back-tracked, looking for his rifle. He never did find his rifle.

When he returned home he was all scratched and bruised. Crow told the story and showed the buck with all the stab wounds on its neck.
Áaw tláan gyaahlangáay láa g̱íidang.

That is all there is to the story.