Aye-Mee and the Mermaid
BY LELA OMAN
The traders that came to Kot
zebue each summer, had gone
back to their villages. Leaving
behind just the evidences of
camping places, memories of big
potlatches and merry dancing.
Left behind, too, were families
that had learned to like Kotzebue.
They were people from the vil
lages along the coast and the
three rivers, No'atak, Kobuk, and
Selawik.
This year this growing village
had not done so well. The sea
animals were scarce, the fish very
few. The salmon that came in
hordes each year, almost choking
the inlet, as they swam into Noa
tak and Kobuk Rivers to spawn,
were not plentiful. Few that were
caught were used to maintain the
living during the summer. Older
people predicted hard times ahead.
Some talked of summers like this
that were followed by cold, stormy
winters, when many had died of
hunger.
Early in the spring reports
from the interior told of rabbits
in migration to other parts of the
country. No one had noticed any
ptarmigan roosting nearby. Even
little birds did not twitter joyous
ly on low bushes.
In one of these winters, even
a tomcod could not be caught
through the ice, although the
presence of this very necessary
and highly nutritious fish was a
relief to the people during winter
months. All knew that famine in
the country was a certainty, but
no one could do anything about it.
As each day passed and the early
fall approached, the knowledge of
this was frightening to the igloo
dwellers.
Many seal pokes that formerly
bulged with seal oil and meat lay
in caches quite empty. Flat and
carefully piled, they were rude
reminders that 'these people had
not put up food against the long
and cold days of March, the most
dreaded month of all the winter.
This month’s storms were the
most dreaded, because a beautiful
day of March could not be trusted.
In a short length of time a lovely
and sunny morning could turn
into a blizzard of howling winds
I
that could suck a man’s breath i
and blind him with particles of
stinging snow. Kill-each tutt-cat
(white hawk’s mooni they called
this month. So the food that was
put up was mainly for this month.
Aye-mee was picking berries on
the tundra. Low bushes she had to
walk around, while thinking of
the coming winter that was sure
to bring hunger along with its
cold. Flocks of young ptarmigan
did not scurry into bushes to hide
like they formerly did during
other summers . Little brown
fluffs of rabbits did not nibble on
swamp grass. She walked to the
lagoon and sat down on the pebbly
shore and watched the surface of
the water, straining her eyes to
see if there were ripples that
could be made by a playful fish.
There was none.
This small lagoon was filled by
the flow of waters from the low
banks on its south side. It was a
round lake, its slough running
eastward, making a long sandspit
•where the village was located.
“If I set my net in the lagoon,
I wonder if it could catch fish,”
Aye-mee said aloud. She had
never seen anyone setting a net
here but the lagoon was deep
enough. She went home to get her
birchbark canoe and her water
willow-bark net, with meshes
small enough to catch whitefish.
She set her net; it was long but
it did not even reach the middle
of the lagoon. She paddled about
it to see if it was tangled. Through
the clear water she could see that
it swayed a little. The floats,
stained pink at the tips, brilliantly
bobbed as she made ripples with
her paddle. Back ashore she went
to' pick more berries. After a
while she watched to see if the
floats were being tugged, but they
were still. It had not caught any
fish.
Next morning she went to see
it. There were no floats showing
on the water. She launched her
canoe and paddled close to where
the net had been. She saw the
rope that held it to a post was
still there. The net had sunk to
the bottom. She was about to
stick her paddle down to' touch
WIEN AIRLINES
To Galena: A. B. Armstrong,
E. H. Moss.
From Galena: Elizabeth Martin.
To Candle: Tom Washington.
From Candle: Ben Swan.
From Fairbanks: Eleanor Holm,
G. Cooper, Irving Cooper.
To Fairbanks: E. Rittenhouse,
A. Whitlow, Ruth Beltz, Glenn
Shaffer, Jack Adams.
To Kotzebue: Russell Hermann.
From Kotzebue: S. Krutchfield,
James Kelley, Rev. R. C. Havens,
Ruth Parcell, Mr. and Mrsi C. R.
Temperi, Mr. and Mrs. Wolke,
Mr. and Mrs. C. Brotlund, and 20
through tourist passengers.
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National League
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American League
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Chicago 5, Boston 1
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RUSSIANS SEEK REFUGEE
TEHRAN, iff)—An authoritative
source said today Russia has of
fered to trade 50 Iranian prison
ers for a mysterious Russian sol
dier who fled to Iran loaded
with guns and maps.
MUNZ AIRWAYS
To Wales: Sgt. Wm. Lauder.
To Teller: Lily Adams and in
fant.
From Tin City: Wm. Brown,
I E. H. Moss, E. B. Armstrong.
! To Lost River: Mr. and Mrs.
I Guy Elam, Leonard Otitituk.
! From Golovin: Myrtle Cham
bers and family.
—
Inventory Blanks at Nome Nugget
the net when there was a big
splash that almost capsized her
canoe. She quickly paddled away
from it. From a safe distance she
watched to see what her net had
caught for her. After a brief mo
ment there was another struggle
in the net, followed by a big
splash.
“A mermaid!” Aye-mee whis
pered incredulously. She saw her
head and a fish tail as it threw
herself out of the water in an
effort to get free. Her long black
hair was tangled in the meshes
of the willow-bark net in a hope
less mess. Aye-mee could not do
anything but sit in her canoe and
stay close to the shore as the
furious struggle went on. The
mermaid thrashed about, threw
herself into the air, only to land
with a deafening slap on the sur
face of the water. Aye-mee's net
was made to hold anything it
caught. Its post and the anchor
did not budge an inch. After what
seemed an endless struggle, the
mermaid had spent her strength.
She sank to the bottom along with
the net. Aye-mee ventured out
close to it when the big waves
subsided. She was about to touch
the net with her paddle when
white arms reached out for her
canoe. She backed away just in
time and shuddered when long
fingernails ran along the bottom
of the birchbark canoe.
(To be Continued*
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