A Question of Bears and Firekeepers

 

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            Kids are always paying attention, or snooping according to some. I can remember being shooed away when the adults, especially the women, were talking. It seemed sinister to us kids.
            So, it’s certainly not surprising that Twigg had heard some things which he didn’t quite get. Sometimes he even put his own spin on information, as children will. It’s part of the way they learn. Naturally.
            Twigg had a couple of questions on his mind. He sought his sire out, down by the river, where Ralph was preparing to catch some fish.
            “Hey, Dad,” he said, when he got down there, “what do you think about bears?”
            “Oh, hi, Twiggo! Bears? Are you worried about bears? No. 1, black bears can be negotiated with. They are mainly looking for food, easily fobbed off with a cinnamon bun or something. You remember that bear cub, I can’t remember his name, that spent the night of the big rain storm in our cave? Well, neither he nor his mom were very dangerous, although they are bears, so…maybe, in a pinch, they could be, if forced to be.”
            “Then why is Thaga so afraid of bears?” said Twigg.
            “Maybe because she can read? She has heard of those big mean brown ones and thinks that maybe there are some of those near here,” said his patient father.
            “Are there any around here?” said Twigg, wide eyed and very impressed.
            “Nah, I don’t think so, and besides I’m pretty sure I could spank one pretty good, Twigg. Don’t worry about it, OK? Also, don’t talk about bears to Cherry. When she gets scared she starts flying around and it’s hard to catch her!” added Ralph, looking sideways at his kid to see if he was done asking odd questions. “Do you remember that time Maeve had to go up and get her out of the top of a tree?”
            “Yeah, I do,” said Twigg.
            Twigg sat on the bank and watched the surface of the river while Ralph went fishing. It didn’t take too long. Ralph has a way of getting the fish to come to him. It’s one of his best tricks. Maybe he smells like something they like, or maybe they just fall in love with the big ol’ fuzzy guy floating in their stream?
            When he had a good dozen big fat trout in one of Thaga’s baskets, Ralph and Twigg walked on back to the family’s main hanging out area, the fire circle.
            “Um, Dad,” said Twigg, after they had gotten settled, “I have heard you calling Mom your Firekeeper. How can she keep a fire? What do you mean? I can’t figure out how to keep a fire.”
            “Oh, that’s based on one of our oldest legends out here. It’s one of those stories that is so old that nobody knows how it got started,” said Ralph. “It’s a way of saying that she is wife and mother but using our own traditions instead of talking like the Hairless all the time.”
            “Well, what story is it, Dad,” said Twigg.
            “OK. Here goes.” Ralph cleared his throat and took a big breath.
            “Once long, long ago, Forest Keepers, like us, were much more nomadic. We didn’t stay put much. We made camp, stayed there until the game was too hard to find, and then we moved on to another place to make another camp.
            “Just like here, the fire was the most important part of the camp. Those people didn’t have Bic lighters or matches to start fires. They had a belief that their fire must never go out also. The story went that fire was given to them by some people from the air or the sky and they were warned that they must never let the fire die. It had to be the same fire that was given to them.
            “So they invented a way to move some burning coals that would last through their march to their next campsite. The oldest and most important mother would make a wet clay vessel, she would fill it with sand and some charcoal, then put some live coals from her fire into it, and she would carry this jug to the next camp. She was helped along the way, as the most important person. She was even more important than the best hunter.
            “She was called the Firekeeper. So, now days, we have kind of let that tradition go. We have other ways of starting fire, but you know, I still give your mother that honor, because though we stay here and don’t travel, she is the one who keeps the fire going, and it’s so important. It would be a sad situation here in the forest without her fire, Twigg.
            “One other thing, that I think is a bit funny, is that the hunters knew how to make a fire when they were out hunting, but that fire could be left to go out and no big deal.  So there was a very important mother fire, but also the not a big deal hunter's fire.”
            “OK, Dad, I just didn’t know,” said Twigg.
            Ramona, who was busy around the fire, as usual had heard all of this. She had to smile.
            She whispered to Ralph, “that may very well be true, Baby, but I never heard it told before this very day!”
            “It has to be true,” said Ralph. “Otherwise, where did we get the tradition of calling the woman at the camp the Firekeeper?”
            She sat down beside him and gazed into the fire, as the night descended around them. The dancing flames twinkled in her sweet brown eyes.
            She glanced back at Ralph, and he felt that he was looking deeply into the history of his race, sitting right there beside himself.