The Gathering Begins

​

When of the Gathering finally began not one of the bog folk could have guessed what treachery and malice lay in wait, to appear in it's own time. Most of the Clan folk who were coming were now safely ensconced in either an Elders hut, a Guild lodge or a sometimes beleaguered yet dutiful relative’s home.  It was a foggy morning on the waterfront village, but it would probably burn off by mid-morning.  They could hear the overpowering sound of the endless, untamed surf, the staccato screech of soaring bald eagles and the screeching gulls wheeling overhead.  They could feel the ocean spray in their hair and taste the salty air.  Looking up through the morning fog they could see the snowy peaks of the Coast Mountain Range, embracing the village in their grandeur. The old could feel the damp in their bones. The young reveled in the freshness of the day. They were ready for the Gathering to begin.

​

Most of the wingless young folk would get together as often as they could.  They were amazed, amongst themselves at how much some had matured during the summer months.  Many an eye lingered a little too long on a newly developed girl; or at the newly formed mucsles on a young boy. Although they were none too happy when an adult made the same observation, however.  “Look at you! You’ve lost your wings!  Soon we’ll be hearing you’re an apprentice!” from some well-meaning auntie was enough to put the newly wingless one into a lengthy, pouting snit.  But left alone, new friendships were forged, jealousies established and even marriages discussed. Some, like Rosebud, would rather hang around the Guild groups, learning an art, playing their flutes made from dried hollow stems or just watching the artisans, trying to decide which apprenticeship they would take on now that their wings were gone, and they were of age, childhood behind them. The simple act of losing ones' wings felt to most like their life was finally beginning.

​

Mothers, and some fathers with young ones, some with babes in arms, met to discuss how to keep track of their newly winged toddlers while the young ones buzzed overhead, flitting from upper fungi shelf to shelf, and flying over the heads of many annoyed adults. They could be very bothersome until they were able to fully control the art of flight and many a hand got ready to flick them away like an infestation of blackflies.  For the first couple of years as a youngster, they could fly no further than their parents’ shoulders, but by around age five they could fly up to six feet and the high jinks ensued!

​

Artisans Guild groups met, hunched over, busy hands at work on whatever their specialty was, and discussed new materials or designs of baskets, clay vessels, cedar weaving or wood carving. The Tansy twist was the latest fad amongst basket and blanket weavers this year and Tansy was beaming with pride. Hut builders talked on and on about which young shoots wove most easily. They argued over staying with the old standbys willow and cedar, or using dogwood, grasses, reeds or rushes. One young builder had begun to use cottonwood rootlets with some success. What made the best roof?  Bark cast-offs, lichens?  Some would share new designs they had come up with; some would hold them close to their tunic. One builder thought that Starfish’s designs were starting to look a little bit too much like his.

​

  Home builders who specialized in hollowed out cottonwood logs talked for hours about which tree cone bracts made the best shakes, and even about new shingle materials, while secretly hoping the others hadn’t found the downed cottonwood an accommodating beaver had so kindly dropped onto a nearby hidden beach.  They also liked to compare, and sometimes boast about which fungal conks they had used as upper shelving for the often annoying young winged folk to rest upon. These had to be removed from trees with razor clam chisels and dried for a season before they could be used.  Then they had to be carefully carved to fit the receiving rounded log.

​

The toolmakers always brought their carving tools in order to shape the versatile razor clam shells.   The live clams were too fast for them to dig up, but their razor sharp edged shells were easily found, washed up on the beaches of the Limpet village. They first crafted them into the necessary shape, then fashioned wooden, bone or antler handles to hold the blades.  Some even worked on the more rare flint implements, usually procured from trade with inland clans. The versatile limpet shells were used for a myriad of things including cribs, vessels, scoops and rain hats. Most thought their designs superior to others, but usually kept it to themselves, although a braggart often appeared in at least one Guild circle.  Some artisans specialized in curing leather and fur for clothing; tunics, trousers and boots, using the fur bits cast off as too small for the Giant Wise Ones.  Some methods of curing and sewing these furs and leathers were shared, but patterns were closely guarded.

​

Loggers would tell their fellow Guild members the location of a newly fallen tree whose broken branches could be used for building or firewood. If the blowdown was cedar, the weavers were informed as well. There was always enough for everyone after a big wind storm.  Peat cutters discussed where the best peat bog could be found, what the most affective drying methods were used and argued over which clan had the most compact peat.  Both Guilds liked to compare cutting tools, their sharpness and decide who to commission for their next axe, scythe or chisel.

​

The healers and apprentices spent their time at the healing lodge treating patients, trading their local herbs, and sharing recipes for tonics, salves, poultices and other medicines.  They would soon be demonsrtating a new bone splinting method.   Sphagnum was retiring as senior healer of the four clans and, as was his right chosen Fern to carry on that role.  The older Coyote felt bitterly slighted when he was passed over but Sphagnum felt that Coyote did not possess the patience needed to guide the many apprentice healers that Fern would be busy teaching.  Young Poppy had joined the Guild recently and was showing great promise.  Not all of them would make the grade

​

The Gathering usually meant that Ravens ship would be pulled up on the dry alongside his tall, isolated, cottonwood house, above the high tide line, fastened securely with kelp rope to saplings nearby.  Razors' ship was pulled up likewise, but nearer the village in the sheltering forest, ropes tied loosely to ease with the constant winds. So the fishermen were at on shore for the Gathering.  Captains usually stayed home with their families as did some crew members, but most spent their days making and repairing ropes, traps and nets, refashioning razor clam gaffs, sharpening hooks and attaching bladderwrack and kelp floats to their traps. They gathered around a peat and driftwood fire in the Great Lodge, eyes watering from the never ending smoke and the smell of eulachon candles.  Little Rosebud and some of her friends lingered  nearby to hear the fishermen’s’ amazing stories.  And now that the young lass Eulie crewed on Ravens boat, perhaps an apprenticeship would open up for a wingless girl such as herself!  

​

Some of their stories were full of adventures that seemed unbelievable.  Several members of the Glacier Clan had settled amongst the Limpet folk.  They told tales of another clan who lived at the edge of the world in a land where ice and snow stayed year round!  Rosebud tried to imagine what that would be like, drawing her legs up to her chest and hugging them tightly around herself, an involuntary shiver wracking her young body.  The fishermen said that these faraway clans often lived in huts made of ice and snow.  She shuddered at the thought.  How would they keep warm?  What would they eat? Who could live in a world of ice and snow forever?  No, she thought.  This is just a tall tale the Glacier folk told, hoping to find a gullible ear.

​

Most of the Elders squeezed into the hut put aside for Sage and Owl to discuss upcoming disputes they would need to be put their minds to so that they were prepared for the Grand Council mid Gathering, when these cases would be decided.

​

Be it picnics on the beach, dinners in the dim, murky light of the Great Lodge or just telling tales around a smoky fire, there would be much visiting.  After a few days the hustle and bustle of trading and bartering would begin. Work would be commissioned from shipbuilders, carvers or other artisans.  Lowered voices would be heard haggling a better price for a knife, and most likely some shrewd bargainer would be trying to get an extra basket thrown in to their deal.  But that was for later.

This evening the first Council of Elders was to be held.