Ah-ne-pe: The Gray Wolf

Sunday, August 17, 2014

“My grandfather, the old Ne-po-nek, told me this story.”  

As Ke-toose began to speak, a circle formed.  Che-naub, Paw-co-wau-pee, No-chunka, and Quetek squatted around the blazing campfire on the sandy beach, near the mouth of the river, at the edge of the great lake.  Ke-toose, chieftain of the Pottawottamie, drew up his ragged blanket and crouched by the flickering flames.  The women sat in the shadows.  Everyone listened as he told them about the gray wolf, Ah-ne-pe.

It happened long before the days of the white man, Ke-toose said.  “There were many wolves in those days but none like the big gray wolf, Ah-ne-pe.  He fed upon women and children.  If a Pottawottamie girl strayed into the forest when we made our camps here, she never returned.  If a child played in the bushes when we came to this river, he never more came back…  Even our hunters sometimes came staggering back…clothing torn…blood running from red wounds.  They had seen the great gray wolf; it had come upon them like a rushing wind from the thicket or pounced upon them like a spirit in the darkness and their arrows were broken reeds and their axes refused to do their work.”  Surely the gray wolf was an evil spirit.  Fear came over the people; red deer and black bear deserted the forests.

 

Far to the south lived a mighty Pottawottamie man, Sha-hoka.  Swift of foot, sure of eye, and strong of arm, Sha-hoka was a keen hunter.  Sha-hoka was a young man and had no wife, just an empty wigwam.  Although many love sticks had been thrown at him, he made no sign to take a wife, until one day, while walking in the birch woods, he met a maiden.  His heart became soft.

 

He went to the chief of her tribe, Os-a-ma-kee, and said, “Give me this maiden to wife.”

  

Os-a-ma-kee laughed.  “Does the wolf’s daughter mate with the rabbit?  Does the eaglet take to husband the catbird?”  The chief challenged Sha-hoka’s strength and manliness.  “Go and kill Ah-ne-pe, the gray wolf,” the chief sneered and he walked away.

 

Sha-hoka, though he was a great hunter, was angry and afraid.  He had heard of the big gray wolf and wanted to hunt him but he was love sick for the maiden and hurt by the chief’s words.  He lay like a sick man by his campfire. 

One day the maiden stole into his lodge and said to him, “Go and kill Ah-ne-pee, the gray wolf.”  She fled back to her village.

Sha-hoka sprang to his feet.  He would kill this Ah-ne-pee, this eater of women and children and slayer of men, and the maiden shall be his wife.

Sha-hoka made a strong bow of wood from the ash tree.  He made the strings from the rawhide of a red deer he had shot in the light of the full moon.  An arrow maker filled Sha-hoka’s quiver.  The medicine man made him a big medicine that would make his heart bold and his arm strong.  Sha-hoka set off for the land of Ah-ne-pe, the gray wolf.

 

The forests teemed with bear and deer, but Sha-hoka paid them no mind.  He hastened on.  When he reached the land of Ah-ne-pee, except for the whispering of the wind in the pines and the lap of the waves on the lake, there was only stillness.  Through the maple, beech, and birch, he moved with caution until he came to the silently flowing river.  Here he made his campfire.

 

For many days he watched and waited with the patience of a great hunter.  But a strange fear began to overcome him:  fear of the dark, fear of loneliness, fear of the deserted forest, and fear of the wolf.
   

One night, when sleep would not come, he heard in the distance the long howl of the wolf.  It was like nothing else Sha-hoka had ever heard.  The great baying cry was repeated for many nights. 

Finally, one day, near a huge thicket of dead leaves, a huge gray beast jumped up and ran away.  With a hunter’s cry, Sha-hoka set out after it.  Through the forest they ran, through limbs that tore Sha-hoka’s hair and bruised his body, and scratched his hands and feet.  He pursued the gray monster.

 

The gray wolf ran toward the river.  Sha-hoka shouted, “Ho, Ah-ne-pe, you have not the mind of a man.  You are but a cowardly wolf with the spirit of a rabbit.” 

The gray wolf turned around, snarled, and rushed the hunter with its red eyes and horrible gleaming teeth.  It came with great leaps and bounds, back arched with bristling hair.

Sha-hoka stood still.  He seized his axe as the demon beast sprang on him.  He struck with his axe and seized the wolf by the neck.  They struggled—the wolf biting and tearing--in a mad embrace.

Many hours later, Sha-hoka awoke.  The sun had gone down, the woods were dark, and he lay with his head upon a gray, lifeless mass.  Ah-ne-pe was dead.

Sha-hoka returned to the land of the maiden and threw the head of the wolf at the feet of the chief.   “Here is the head of Ah-ne-pe; Sha-hoka, the Pottawottamie hunter, gives it to you.”

Sha-hoka took the hand of the chief’s daughter and led her back to the land of Ah-ne-pe.  When they found the den of the great gray beast, they built their lodge home.

With Ah-ne-pe dead, the red deer returned, the bear found their old lairs, the squirrels chattered again, and the birds sang once more.

“This is the story of Ah-ne-pe, the great gray wolf, told me, the old Ke-toose, by my grandfather, the old Ne-po-nek.”

This story is adapted from the writing of George Wing.  As the legend goes, Ne-po-nek passed the story to his son, Chief Ah-kee-waysee, and grandson, Chief Ke-toose (who died in 1869 at about age 110).  Ke-toose passed it to his son, Neen-gaho-sum, and to Ketoose’s grandson, Simon Kahquados.  Kahquados shared it with his friend, George Wing.  Wing recorded many stories of Indian lore of Kewaunee County.