  The Bella Coola were a tribe that lived along the Northwest coast. Like most of the Indians in this part of the land, they were fishermen and woodcarvers. Some of the most beautiful carvings in the world have come from these tribes. Their chief source of food was fish. Each year at the time the salmon were running, the Indians would go out to the great rivers with spears and fish nets to make large catches. Each salmon was then split and dried and stored. As soon as the Bella Coola boys were old and strong enough, they were taken out to the rivers and taught how to throw the fish spear with its long line attached. They were also taught the use of the large fish nets. Both the spear and the net were hard to handle and sometimes dangerous. One day Little Twig (who had that name because of his size and the thinness of his body when he was born) begged his father to take him on the salmon hunt. All the men of the tribe were getting ready to head for the river steps where the salmon would be leaping. But Little Twig’s father stooped beside his son and spoke slowly to him. “My son, I would like to take you along, but this is man’s work and you are still a young boy with much to learn. Stay here in the village and play with the other children. Your day of hunting and spearing the great salmon will come before you know it. But this time the answer must be No.” Little Twig watched his father leave the village. When all the other fishermen had left, Little Twig went in search of his friend, Running Turtle. He found him carving a new handle for his knife. “Running Turtle, let us go and watch our fathers fish for the great salmon,” he said. “We can go far above them on the river and watch from the ledge. We will stay only for a short while and will be back in the village before we are missed. I have never seen them fish for the great salmon because my father says that it is too dangerous for Indian boys. Will you go?” “My father will not let me go to fish with the men of the village either. But he never said that I could not watch the men as they fish. Come, Little Twig, let us hurry. The men are probably already there.” The two boys set out swiftly after the fishing party. Soon they could hear the river roaring just ahead of them. They stopped at the trees that grew close to the river shore. Peering through the branches, they could see the men of the tribe spread out on both sides of the river, some with nets and some with spears. At the feet of each fisherman were large baskets into which he threw the fish he caught. The boys worked their way around and above the fishermen until they were about three hundred paces upstream from the fishermen. Edging close to the side of the river near the top of the waterfalls, the boys crept out on a sloping ledge of rock that was only an arm’s length from the rushing water. They were so close that the spray wet their faces as they gazed downstream at the fishermen. Soon Little Twig became so excited by what he was watching that he stood up and began to pretend that he was fishing for salmon, too. But he was not used to the slippery rocks as the men were, and he suddenly found that he was losing his balance. He called to Running Turtle to help him, but before Running Turtle could grab him Little Twig was tumbling into the rushing river. His body was caught in the great swirling waters that swept him downstream. He choked as his eyes and nose and ears filled with water. Just as he began to think he would die, he felt his body being lifted from the water, and heard a voice shouting. “Look at this fine fish that I have caught,” someone yelled, laughing. Then Little Twig realized that one of the fishermen had reached out with his net and snatched him from the river. Little Twig sputtered and coughed and rubbed his eyes as strong hands set him on his feet. There he was, in the middle of a circle of grinning warriors from the village. He began rubbing all the sore spots where river rocks had struck his body. Suddenly he recognized his father’s face. Instead of wearing the stern look which Little Twig had expected, his father was smiling. “Were you so eager to take a swim that you dove into the river?” he asked the boy. “Or did you hope to catch brother salmon with your bare hands?” “I disobeyed you, my father, and I am truly sorry. I was a foolish young boy to come to the river when you told me to stay at home. Now I know why I have not been brought on the fishing trips. This is truly a job for men.” Little Twig looked toward the ground. His father reached down and lifted the lad into the air. “Yes, my son, this is a job for men. Someday soon you will join us in hunting the swift salmon with spear and net. But for now, be happy to remain in the village with your friends. You were lucky that my brother had his net where he did, or we might have missed you and your body would have been carried away. Come, we will go back to the village to tell your mother of your swim this fine day.” Then he laughed again. Little Twig laughed this time, too, and all the braves joined in the laughter. No one would speak harshly to him about his foolish act even though it had brought him near death. Indians believed that angry words make people sick. So Indian parents, like Little Twig’s father, always tried to speak happily. Just then Running Turtle came out of hiding, and he started to laugh with the others. |
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