Woodland Indian Camp Journals
You are invited to see how the Woodland Indians, who lived in Lake County before the white man settled here, lived. See the wigwam home, clothing with decorations, wild and cultivated foods – all nestled in the hardwood and pine trees. Hear the stories, smell the cooking fire, and feel the bark of the willow saplings in the wigwam frame as volunteer re-enactors live the lifestyle of those who were here in 1750.
A NOTE TO TEACHERS: The Woodland Indian camp is a wonderful opportunity for your students to connect what they are learning in the classroom with real life experiences. Some teachers use activities as "extra credit" when students attend programs. Teachers may prepare questions for the student to answer or provide a form for interpreters to sign for the student when he or she participates.
Following is a letter composed by our volunteers, written in character and in the style of the time period they specialize in interpreting at the park. The letter is written in the form of historical fiction, which utilizes fictionalized characters and situations to add color and life to the relation of actual historical events, locations, and time periods. This is done with an honest attempt at historical accuracy based on considerable research (or at least plenty of serious reading) to give a glimpse into the historic time periods and life ways portrayed at the parks.
The Buckley Homestead's earliest represented time period is the mid-eighteenth century Woodland Indian Camp. At that point in time, Belshaw Road, which runs through the Homestead property, was not yet a road at all, but the course of an Indian trail. Nearby was the northern edge of the Great Kankakee Marsh, which, before alteration, extended three to five miles to each side of the Kankakee River. The Woodland people who are portrayed in the camp would not have been literate at this time, so the letter is written by Etienne Langlade, a French trader traveling through their country. Langlade is a coureur de bois (runner of the woods), a person engaged in the fur trade without permission from the French authorities, who, in 1749, laid claim to this part of the present United States. During the 18th century, the fur trade was very lucrative for New France. Competition for trading licenses was fierce, and many unlicensed men journeyed from the settlements around Montreal to the pays d'en haut, or "upper country" (the area around the Great Lakes) to seek out Native people willing to trade furs for French goods. Etienne Langlade has been a trader at Fort Michilimakinac, on the Straits of Makinac. Now, he is traveling deeper into the pays d'en haut, searching out further locations to expand his family trade business.
First Journal entry
Letter from the Woodland Indian Camp
Jacques Normand
Marchand Merchantile
Montreal, the Canadas
Colony of New France
Tenth day of November, 1749
My Dear cousin Jacques,
This is the first opportunity I have had to dispatch a letter to you since leaving the Fortress Ponchartrain, on the Detroit River. I told you briefly of my travels from Fortress Michilimakinac at the top of the Lake of the Illinois to Detroit in my previous letter, so I will continue my story from there. One week after my arrival at Ponchartrain, I provisioned myself for the journey to the fortified settlement on the Saint Joseph River. I dined that night with Father Bonnecamps, a priest staying at Ft. Ponchartrain. The good father provided me with a copy of the drawing of ft. Ponchartrain, drawn earlier this year by the engineer Joseph de Lery which you had asked for, and I am enclosing with this letter. I hope it will aid you in developing a trading establishment within the settlement. I was at Detroit too short a time to be able to give you an exact description of it. A clear river runs at the foot of the fort; the village of the Hurons and that of the Odawas are on the opposite shore. Vast plains, which ask only to be cultivated, extend beyond the sight. We would be wise to regard the Detroit settlement as one of the most important posts of the colony. It is conveniently situated for furnishing aid to Michilimakinac, to the St. Joseph River, to the Bay de Puans, to the Miamis, Ouiatanons, Potawatomis and to the settlements that are bound to be made to the south, in the country I have come to establish trade within.
The following morning, I joined my Indian companions and guides at the river. Father Bonnecamps calls them "sauvage," and "a class of men created in order to exercise the patience of those who have the misfortune to travel with them." I myself found their bearing both noble and proud, and learned much during my travels with them. We arrived at Fortress Saint Joseph, a distance of about sixty leagues (210 English miles) fifteen days after leaving the Detroit settlement. I found the so-called fortress to be very small - no more than a few buildings within a sparse stockade - and already provided with more traders than the trade will bear. The commandant there, finding me without a trading license, was none too friendly, at one point threatening me with imprisonment. While at the fort, I had the good fortune to meet some Frenchmen who told me they were visiting at Saint Joseph from an even smaller settlement fourteen or fifteen leagues to the southwest known as the l'Petit Fort, the little fortress, located on the southern shore of the Lake of the Illinois, also called Michigan or Michigamea. They offered their hospitality, should I wish to establish a post in their country, but I feel le petit fort is too close to the inhospitable Saint Joseph settlement. Instead, a Potawatomi man, known at Saint Joseph as Painted Shirt, offered to lead me to a prosperous country beside a large marshland, filled with beaver, mus krat and other valuable creatures, where the people had no Frenchmen to trade with. So, in the company of Painted Shirt (whose actual name I have not learned) and his family, I traveled south, first to Painted Shirt's village at the Lake of the Red Cedars (some say Cedar Lake) which is called in the Potawatomi tongue Musquaokbis. From the lake, we traveled less than three leagues further south along the course of Cedar Creek, to the edge of the great marshland. Here, near the northern shores of the marsh, Red Shirt took me to a small village, little more than a hunting camp, which is to be my home through the rapidly approaching winter months. We crossed a small stream then passed through a grassy meadow. Entering the trees again to the south, we immediately came upon a well trod path running east, leading into the Indian camp. As we approached, Red Shirt shouted a greeting, which was immediately returned. The camp consisted of six occupied lodges, several bare lodge frames, and a larger, communal house. In addition the residences, there are the usual storage structures, drying frames, and sweat lodges that one finds in these villages. There is also a beautiful meadow to the south, bordered by pine trees, and a small but productive garden planted nearby. At this point in time, the great marsh begins not far beyond, and extends a league and a half (nearly five English miles), to the River Theatiki, or Theakiki (Kankakee) which runs through its interior.
On the day I arrived, there were five men and four women present in the Indian town. Painted Shirt tells me that this camp is unusual in that these people are not members of a single nation, but rather come from several nations and bands, having allied into a single band and settling here years before. Their tongue and ways are of the Ojibwe, who together with the Potawatomi and the Odawa (Ottawa) form the alliance known as the Three Fires. I was formerly introduced to each person, but due to the difficulty of the tongue, I am not yet able to relate their names, let alone translate them for you. Happily, I was introduced to Ojibwe ways and words at Michilimakinac, so I have previously made a little progress with the language. Painted Shirt did patiently teach me the name of the village so that I could tell at least this to you. The village is called Wanakiwin Odenawens, which I understand translates as "Peaceful Village", or possibly "Place of Peace". I have attached a rough map of this portion of the pays indicating where the camp is located.
Red Shirt and I were first met by a man who, despite the chill November air, wore only a breechclout and moccasins. His body was covered by tattooed designs which, I am told, relate brave actions and tales of his life. By hand signs, Painted shirt instructed me that the man's name was "wolf" or some form of it; I wonder if he was named for the black wolves reported to be common in the marsh lands. This man took us to speak with the others in the camp; a fierce looking scalp-locked warrior and his wife, who were skinning a deer that the man had recently taken, and another couple who were preparing a buffalo robe for the coming winter. There were two women without men, who were weaving and tanning hides, and one man without a woman, who smiled much. The last habitant of the village is an elderly man who I'm told has seen more than ninety winters, and is called Mishomes by all, a title of respect for this wise elder that means simply grandfath er. The people were told that I am a stranger in this land, a trader, and that I am in need of a place to winter. They immediately invited me to stay, and offered to help me raise a lodge nearby their own. I am told that it is common practice for the Indian people to show great hospitality to travelers, always offering food and shelter. I fear that more contact with Europeans may ruin their generosity in the coming years, but such is their ancient tradition. For this kindness, I have given them all the meager goods I have been able to carry with me, and promised them more in the spring. By that time, I hope to have established good trade relations with the peoples of the marshlands, and to have written you for further supplies and trade goods with which to begin commerce.
Darkness approaches, so Painted Shirt and I are invited into the wigiwam of the Smiling One to take supper and sleep the night. Tomorrow, Painted Shirt will take my letter with him back to his village. Soon, a courier from the Fortress of Ouiatenon, many leagues to the south, is expected to stop there on his way north to Ft. Ponchartrain. Painted Shirt will ask the courier to carry my letter there, to be posted to you in Montreal by the first conveyance. He will also ask the courier to stop here at Wanakiwins Odenawens on future journeys, allowing me to post to you at regular intervals.
I must leave off writing now. As darkness approaches, a lone runner has arrived, and the younger men have taken up their weapons and disappeared into the forest with great haste; something is amiss. I will write again as soon as I am able, to tell you more of this occurrence, and the ways of the village and its people.
Until then, I remain your cousin and most obedient servant,
Eteinne Langlade
Second Journal entry
Jacques Normand
Marchand Merchantile
Montreal, the Canadas
Colony of New France
Tenth day of June, 1750
My dearest cousin Jacques,
It has been half a year since I wrote you, and yet your reply was delivered by courier from Fortress Ponchartrain at Detroit just last week. I am overjoyed to learn that all is well with you and the family, and that the business is doing well. I know you are anxious to learn of my trade prospects here in the pays d'en haut[i]. But first I must tell you more of the excitement that was occurring at the end of my last letter.
As you recall, as darkness was approaching on the day of my arrival at Wanakiwin Odenawens[ii] , a lone runner had arrived, and the younger men had taken up their weapons and disappeared quickly into the forest. I asked the Smiling One, whom I have learned is called Turtle (Though this is not his formal name; I'm told it is impolite to ask a man's formal name directly, or to use it casually) "Who has come?" He answered "Póckan níshinno'rbay" which means "A strange Indian" and would say no more. I soon retired, and in the morning, found that a party of Indians were camped in the clearing just to our south. The men comprised a scouting party, sent out ahead of a larger group of men, women and children, whose intention was to migrate from the east and to settle at a place near to our south, called "Amik Sakiegan", or Beaver Lake[iii]. According to tradition, they were stopping to consult with any people living in the area, and ask their permission to settle at the lake. The runner had been dispatched to make contact with our village, and as he and his people were unknown to our Indians, they were wary and took to arms to meet them. Now, convinced of the sincerity of the advance party, council has been arranged with the leaders of this foreign band. Realizing my good fortune and the advantage to our trading venture of meeting these new Indians, I asked for and was granted permission to participate in the coming parlay.
These councils are conducted according to formal protocol, and may last for days. Ours, in fact, lasted for three days. The main group encamped at a respectful distance, about one French league to the east. On the first day of council, a delegation consisting of the main chiefs or leaders, women and elders numbering nearly a score made their way to our village council house. The council lodge, which sits on the western edge of our village, is like an elongated wigiwam, and is constructed for just such occasions. Here, the people of our village, dressed in their finest clothing and trinkets, greeted the delegation, and invited them to join in a feast. Some of the women, aided by the older children, brought round many delicacies; venison, rabbit, turkey, a delicious soup made from corn, beans and squash from the gardens, and many dishes I was not yet familiar with were presented. Everyone ate long and well before the first speech began. An elder of our village, Eagle, began by introducing himself, and speaking of his accomplishments among the people, in war and in peace. This is done not to brag or to impress the visitors, but instead to give them an understanding of the man, and why he is chosen to speak for the people. Each of the village leaders did the same in turn. Eagle stood again, speaking this time about my presence in the village, and my plan to trade with the local inhabitants. At that time, I did not yet understand the language, so this Eagle and Turtle explained it to me. Next, the leaders of the visiting delegation each took a turn speaking of themselves and their accomplishments. Their primary leader was a tall and powerful looking man named Mishikinakwa. This concluded the first day of the council.
The delegation arrived for the second day of council early in the day. Food was again brought in quantity, but this day the speeches began sooner. Today, the visiting group would have the right to speak first. The chief Mishikinakwa stood, and began a long and eloquent speech about the exodus of his people, and the reason for their relocation. It seems that in June of last year, 1749, a Frenchman named Pierre-Joseph Céloron led an expedition of over 200 French Marines, in 23 canoes, into the Ohio country, Mishikinakwa's band's old homeland, as far south as the Miami Indian village of Pickawillany[iv], at the confluence of the Ohio and Miami rivers. The chief there, known as "old Britain", had traded mostly with the English, and was likely to continue despite a warning from Celeron of dire consequences if he continued to do so. As you know, the Ohio country has been claimed as French territory. Whenever British merchants or fur-traders are encountered by the French, they are informed of the illegality of trading on French territory and told to leave the Ohio. Mishikinakwa and his people however, prefer to trade and live with the French, so, fearing hostilities from "old Britain" and his village over allegiances, they chose to move west to the place of the grand marshlands. Again, each of Mishikinakwa's delegates who chose to speak were heard, and again the council was adjourned. Once they had gone, the leaders and elders of our village continued to meet and discuss the plans of the delegation and their request to settle at Beaver Lake. It is mostly the men who speak with strangers, but the council of the elder women is immediately sought upon their departure. Eagle tells me it is done this way because the women are considered the future of the people, as the child-bearers, and are therefore held in the highest esteem; the men always intercede between them and any potential danger. We Europeans often misunderstand this; seeing the men walk ahead and the women behind, we believe the men think less of their women. Seeing the women working at the fires and gardens in the villages while the men seem idle, we believe the women are burdened with the work, and the men lazy. Nothing could be farther from the truth. When food is scarce, the women eat first. The men own nothing but their weapons; women own the lodges and the gardens. While the women work in the village or the nearby woods and gardens, the men who are not hunting or otherwise occupied away from the camp are always vigilant, with weapons nearby. Whenever a decision must be made for the people, the women are always counciled. When I and the remaining villagers retired for the night, the elders were still gathered around the council fire, discussing the matters at hand.
On the third day, Mishikinakwa and his people returned, bearing gifts of game and tobacco to demonstrate their respect and thanks for our village's hospitality. After speeches of praise from both sides of the council, our village announced its approval of Mishikinakwa's plan to settle his band at Beaver Lake. Eagle presented Mishikinakwa with a red stone pipe, a sign of peace and allegiance to Mishikinakwa and his band, which could be shown to the other bands in the region as proof of this agreement. Much to my delight, Eagle then arranged for me to speak with Mishikinakwa and his delegates about establishing trade with them at Beaver Lake. Here, to relate that conversation to you while demonstrating my growing proficiency with the language, I will attempt to provide and translate the conversation as I remember it.
I was directed to sit at the head of the council, across a large bison robe from. Using hand signs, I greeted Mishikinakwa, and asked if he and his people had had a good hunting season the previous year. "Anga'ymer, O, níshshishshín." "Yes, a very good hunt." Through signs and help from Red Shirt, I suggested that now that his people would be settling in a new land, they would be in need of an honest trader to take their furs. "Meegwoyack." "That's right." I then asked if I would be welcome in their camps as that trader. "Meégwoyack, négee," he said. "Very well, friend." And so it was done. In my first week among the people of the marshes, I was able to gain trading rights to two bands of Indians!
The people of Wanakiwins Odenawens, the little summer village I found a home with, moved, as all the small bands of the region do, deep into the Grand Marshlands for the winter months. We joined with two other bands to build winter wigiwams on one of the many islands within the marshlands. Here we wintered, warm and comfortable in our snug lodges, the marsh providing more game and convenient firewood than we could possibly use. I went with the men to hunt, ice fish and trap beaver and muskrat often, while the women and children gathered firewood, snared rabbits and other small game. Boys often honed their hunting skills by shooting water fowl from the island, and when the waters thawed, they took their bows to the shore and fished with their arrows! These people took many fine furs this winter, and have promised to trade me all the beaver and muskrat they have, as soon as the shipment of trade goods you are sending to me with Gaston and his voyageurs arrives. The Indians at the shore of the Riviere Theatiki[v] will send word when Gaston and his men reach the landing a few leagues from here.
When we were at home in the lodges, time was spent making and repairing tools, weapons, and clothes. I gave one of the women, called Seen From High, some tobacco twists, and she made me a fine set of Indian clothes; a breechclout, leggings and moccasins that I now wear with my own shirt and capote. The women cook the food while the men hunt, and keep kettles always at the ready so anyone may eat at any kettle whenever they are hungry. In the evenings, the people gather and tell stories to one another; stories of ancient legends, and recent occurrences. We tell jokes and humorous tales as well, and have many gambling games. When the weather allows, we played games like snow-snake and stick-and-ball games. There were many spiritual ceremonies and rituals, and we gathered for sweat-lodges. Life is very good here. But I will have to tell you more of this at another time. It is spring now, almost summer, and there is much to do; the furs must be prepared for the voyage to Montreal, the gardens must be tended, summer lodges built, and food must be gathered. I have been invited to continue to stay on with the people here for the summer. Soon I will be going to Mishikinakwa's village on Beaver Lake to begin trading with his band for their furs as well. I will send this letter on from there to Fortress Quiatenon with a runner, to make its way back north to you. I look forward to receiving another letter from you from the voyageurs when they come, and will send one of my own back with them as well.
Until then, I remain your cousin and most obedient servant,
Eteinne Langlade
[i] Pays d'en Haut [French "upper country"] was an expression used during the FUR TRADE to refer to the area to which the coureurs and voyageurs traveled to trade. In the days of NEW FRANCE it referred to what is now northwest Québec, most of Ontario, the area west and south of the Great Lakes and beyond to the Canadian prairies. Later usage was limited to the prairies and today pays d'en haut is used in Québec to refer to the northwestern part of the province.
[ii] Wanakiwin Odenawens, the name of the place where Langlade now resides, translates "peaceful little village".
[iii] The mysterious Beaver Lake, near Lake Village, Indiana, was once the largest body of water in the State of Indiana, ten miles long, 7 miles wide with depths up to fourteen feet, covering 36,000 acres. It has now been drained, but was a beautiful place, home to Native people, and rich with game. For more information on Beaver Lake, read historian Richard Schmal's account at: http://www.lowellpl.lib.in.us/s2005may.htm
[iv] Pickawillany was a Miami Indian village located on the current site of the city of Piqua, Ohio. It was created in 1748 by a Miami chief and was destroyed by the French and their Indian allies under Charles de Langlade in June 1752.
[v] Kankakee River.
Weweni wijii'idig. Go with each other respectfully. Visit: www.GreatLakesWoodlandAlliance.tk and: www.Theatiki.tk
The Callumic Band of Great Lakes Woodland Alliance sets up camp in the Buckley Homestead back 80 acres, just southeast of the pioneer farm. Follow the pathway behind the cabin.
For reservations and more information about the Lake County Parks Call 219-769-PARK
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Lake County Parks and Recreation Department Corporate Office
8411 East Lincoln Highway, Crown Point, Indiana 46307
Just west of Deep River WaterparK 4.5 miles east of I-65 on Route 30