A Spectacular Event

We hope you all enjoyed a wonderful 4^th of July!

It's unusual for the entire clan to assemble away from the lodges, but on this special night, like many before, Atnas and Hantar gathered all members at the top of the hill near the river.  The bluff here was densely covered with bayberry and beach plum, to the extent that one could not see the clearing overlooking the harbor amid that ring of vegetation.  The elders sat in the center surrounded by the others, and all rested on woven blankets waiting for the thunderous lights which were about to come.   

Many years before they learned that on this particular night the tall ones let loose with their cannons, shooting high into the air, exploding in great beautiful colors.  They did not know why this had become the custom; but they did know that when the tall one who farmed the land near them lined his drive with flags, the next night the light show would come.  And so it was this eve, and with each loud explosion in the sky above them, came the veils of colored light, every pattern a bit different than the others. They cheered as the intensity of the event grew to its finale; and when it was over they stood and bowed to the southeast where the cannons were fired.  Then they waited for the smoke of the display to drift across the water and fill their nostrils with the scent of the exploding lights, as this heartened their spirits even more and entrenched a memory never to be forgotten.

Impending Storm

The elders met at the lodge that eve to discuss the oncoming summer, and while they knew the abundance of food reserves depended on the warmth and long days of light, their bodies were more suited for a colder climate.  Heavily haired, the summer heat and humidity drove them deep into their lodges where it was cool.  The summer also was known to them to bring great storms from the south, and it was for this reason that they met on this particular night. When all were assembled, Atnas took out the record journal, in which all important events were recorded, and he began to read.    

“That summer was much like others, the days which had gained longevity as the sun reached the zenith, soon slid backward and the harvest months were upon the horizon.  There was a strong feeling in my inner self which caused me to know that a storm would come with this season, and its magnitude would be great, and there would be much destruction.  The tall ones had set their dwellings too close to the waters edge, and they would soon find the wrath of the sea owns that region, as well as the deep.  I know not why I was given this premonition so long before the storm arrived, but I felt it deeply, and it was this that had us prepare well for what was to come.  

The tropers readied their gear, for there would be need to rescue, and food supplies were stored into the lodges.  Early harvest of the berries was completed before the winds of this storm would ruin them; and the matrons readied linens for bodies we knew might come, and then we waited.  Common days went by, as the lower sun filtered through the valley, and all was good.   The heat of the dog days had now subsided and we were almost upon the day when light would equal darkness, when I felt the ground tremble. Although far to the south and many days from our lodges, I could sense the storm’s strength.  All were called together for final preparations, and then it was upon us like no other storm before it.  

As I knew would happen, they suffered terribly as the waters rose quickly along those shores which faced its fury (1).  Even the tall one who farmed the fields just beyond the valley suffered much damage to his crops, and the large tree which shaded his sitting place fell upon his dwelling causing the roof to cave in and much rain entered the opening.”


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(1) Through our research, we believe this account is in reference to the 1938 Hurricane.

The Migrant Fisherman

My research has uncovered numerous stories of unexplained events which support the existence of these little people, and there are even a few which describe actual sightings and interactions. Yet, I must admit I have never encountered them, despite my search. Thus, I have chosen to share some of my findings, and let you be the judge.

This tale comes from the Aldrich family, who, like us, had ancestors that lived in the area once known as Fresh Brook Village. Martha Aldrich came to me after hearing of my research in this area. The story, which follows below, was first told to her when she was about twelve years old.   

In 1972, when she was cleaning out the attic of their grandparents’ home in South Truro, she came upon the written text of the same story.  I have viewed this document, dated 1887, and would say it is of that age; however it could simply be a tall tale written by a well intended parent of her past family, done to humor some young ones. Our family ancestry at Fresh Brook is mentioned in the tale, so that much is fact, and for that reason I have included it in my files. It is copied here word for word from that early document.  

January 1756

A migrant fisherman was staying with friends in what is now South Wellfleet in the area called Fresh Brook Village, and he told of his chance meeting with a family of little people in the early winter of 1756.  It is said that when he described his meeting with these little people to the village residents, they scorned him, saying he was a mad man who drank too much rum. This is the story he told.  It ended in his being driven from the village, never to be heard from again.

“We had just returned from fishing.  The mackerel schools were now much further offshore, and a storm had cut our trip short. I had to walk from the harbor this day, as deep snow kept the carriage in town.  The blinding snow soon made my walk difficult, and I did not know this area well, thus felt uncomfortable as darkness came upon me.  I became disoriented and was not sure what direction I was walking. The cart-way was no longer visible on account of the drifting and accumulating snow.  

I followed what I thought to be a path, and soon found myself at the top of a steep bank overlooking a stream, which my reckoning caused me to believe should be Fresh Brook. Unable to see more than a few feet ahead, and feeling insecure of my place, I decided to climb down the bank and see what direction the water was flowing, as I knew the Fresh Brook stream flowed east to west, and I could simply follow it East the short distance to Jeremiah Atwood’s, where I was staying between offshore trips.  

As I started down the hill, I slipped and went rolling down to the water's edge.  A frightful pain in my right leg, which had struck against a tree during my fall, had me believing my leg was broken.  I tried to use my elbows to pull myself up, but kept sliding back.  After several tries, I lay there exhausted, cold and confused.  It was then that a light caught my attention, just to my left and under some very dense brush.   

Pushing myself a bit closer to the light, which appeared to be coming out of a hole in the hillside, I could smell smoke.  I thought I was now losing my senses because of the numbing cold, and I tried to garnish enough clarity of mind and strength to pull back the branches and peer deeper into the hole. Just as I reached forward, a shrill voice shouted, "Hwert eart yo?” or “Who are you?” as I later decided.   I closed my eyes, and now truly thought I was losing my mind; for I saw a little man standing on the snow-covered log just to my right,  

Again, I closed my eyes in disbelief, but when I opened them the little elf-like fellow was still staring at me.  I was heavily shaken and thought myself to be dead, but I do remember pointing to my leg and telling this apparition, ‘I think I broke my leg.’  The little fellow jumped next to me in one very long leap, much like a cat.  He studied my leg, and then pointed to the hole. "Broo’ors!" he called.  Soon, five other little men were pulling me into the hole.  I was going in and out of a state of consciousness, but inside, I recall, was a large, warm room with a very low ceiling constructed out of cedar planking…and the smell of this cedar reminded me of my mother's dressing chest…  There were passages that led elsewhere and in the center of the room was a small stone fire pit.  I saw three little women, one of whom gave me a drink of what I thought was seasoned rum.

I remember nothing else.  When I awoke, I was in the hay of Jeremiah’s barn with my leg wrapped tightly, and an arrow wood walking stick at my side. Three days had passed since Jeremiah found me asleep in his barn. When I related my tale of these little people, he laughed and told me I was a drunken fool, and that I was no longer fit to be near the children.  The elders soon came and I was told to depart or I would be locked up.

But as surely as we know Christ has risen, I swear this is the truth of that night.”

The Colbus

The little men headed back along the deer trail, which ran east to west through deep thickets at the edge of the swamp. The narrow path then led them up out of the valley into an open area of old pines with a well lit under-story consisting of tall grasses.  Here they stopped to look at a group of moccasin flowers (1). The pink blossoms were highly regarded by the Nubbins, who knew that many of these flowers were taken by the tall ones to add to their gardens.  

After bowing to the blooms, they went on their way, soon to come upon an adult quild (2), who was followed by several very young birds. The older male welcomed the men with its call of “bob-white.” These chicken-like birds of the open forest and field were no longer plentiful as they had once been. The immature birds in this group numbered just four, so the men knew a portion of the brood was likely taken by some predator, as the quild usually have a dozen or more in one hatching. The female may have been taken as well, but with any luck she was sitting on a new brood. They stepped aside off the path, as the small covey headed down hill.   

 © Jarek Tuszynski / Wikimedia Commons /
CC-BY-SA-3.0 & GDFL , via Wikimedia Commons

The patrol went on along the ridge, and then descended down the west slope. Here the thickets once again closed in, and they were now walking through a tunnel of heavy vegetation. Finally they found him slithering through the uppers branches of the blueberry. This Colbus (3) was very large, almost seven feet in length. Each spring the men would visit this place to pay homage to the snake, which could climb so well. They knew the creature was searching the brush for the nests of unsuspecting birds, for it seemed to favor eggs at this time of year. The black snake would also seek out rodents and use its heavy long body to coil around them till they were lifeless. For most this is not a pleasant sight to watch, but for our Nubbins, it was life as it was meant to be.   

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(1) Moccasin flower is another named for Pink Lady Slipper, now threatened in many areas.

(2) Quild is the Nubbin term for the Northern Bobwhite (Quail). Origin of quild unknown.

(3) Colbus is another Nubbin term for which we could find no origin, but it is the name given to the northern black snake.

It is Often Hard to See Danger

Resmis and Dipuc spent the early morning picking ticks off the pulling deer.  Wood ticks are common to them; but the tiny black-legged ticks now frequently found on the animals are becoming much more prevalent in the forest margins, and are likely being brought to the area by migrating birds.  Although Nubbins are not affected by the ticks, as oil in their skin repels them, they are concerned by the number of ticks found on just one deer.   The deer do not seem to exhibit symptoms of illness, yet they know that the ticks carry a disease, a disease which has become more common among the tall ones living nearby.   It is said one child of the tall ones presently cannot walk because of the illness, and is being pushed around in a cart with wheels.  Knowing this is bothersome to the Nubbins, for they usually can find herbal remedies for diseases, even those suffered only by the tall ones, but not in this case.  

Though the elders have long studied the ticks, both adult and nymph stages, they have not found anything apparent on which to build a recipe.  They have learned that the ticks have a two-year life cycle, and like all species of ticks, they require a blood meal to progress to each successive stage in their life cycle. They also have concluded that the disease is likely associated with the white-footed mouse, and it appears the ticks are infected when feeding on this particular rodent.  The disease is then passed on when biting to achieve another blood meal for the next life stage.  This, they are fairly sure of.  Because it is so small, the bite of the nymph is most likely the cause of the disease.  The best way for the tall ones to avoid it is to keep the ticks off their skin and to stay out of areas where the ticks are prevalent.  

The elders have walked the paths frequented by the tall ones, and here they have found the ticks in great numbers.  So small are the dangerous infected nymphs, they can hardly be seen; hanging on the grass, waiting to hitch a ride to get a blood meal on whatever comes along: a deer, a dog, a bird or a tall one.

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 This black legged tick (Ixodes scapularis) is also known as the deer tick.  Ticks are not insects, but are members of the arachnid family.  Adults are about the size of a sesame or apple seed. Nymphs are much smaller about the size of a poppy seed.  Nymphs are active during the late spring and summer months (May to July) and adults are active during the spring and fall.   Most people get Lyme disease (Borrelia burgdorferi) during the summer from infected nymphs because of their small size. Adult deer ticks are large enough to be noticed and generally people can remove them before becoming infected.   Hence, fewer Lyme disease cases are reported outside of the summer months.  The key to avoiding infection is to stay out of vegetated areas, tuck pants into socks when out on walks, wear light colored clothing, and use a repellant with DEET.  

Tree on the Take

It is not surprising that the legends of these diminutive human-like creatures are often disregarded, for most people simply disbelieve. This remains the case despite the fact that many cultures around the world have stories of little people in their history.  Even the amazing discovery of “hobbit like” bones on the Island of Flores near Indonesia in 2004 has not swayed the minds of most.  Even more unlikely heard or believed are the tales from their culture, but knowing the quality of their content, we will share one short translated Nubbin legend with you, and let you decide upon its place in your mind.  These stories always have some type of a moral to teach a lesson.  The following is not about them, but comes from them.

It Takes…Only a Tree

There are those places not to travel and things we shall never know why; and so it is told that deep in the forest to the south, an old tree lies bent, broken and seemingly gone to the world beyond.  But our ancestors have told us that the tree lives and has been in that state for generations long before our time.
  

One like you who has learned to give will never see it, for it lies on a darkened path used by those always on the take.  Most of them never notice and simply pass by, but there are others, perhaps so chosen, who come upon it.  As they look at the tree, a face within they can see, the eyes of which are like white gold and seeing them shine out of the blackened bark, they approach the tree, and it begins to speak:

“I can tell you of a vast treasure; it’s simply yours to take. Come closer and touch my branches and you will see where it is hidden.”  

And so they move in and touch the nearest branch, and with a flash of light, they are justly taken in.  A ragged branch becomes their fate, and the tree takes another soul to fuel its life.  There it stands broken and bent, awaiting another to find its place, another always on the take.

Richard Webb [CC-BY-SA-2.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

The Adjid

During his early morning patrol, Dipuc found asbans (1) (raccoons) raiding the herring run.  His approach made them run off, but fish scales and carcasses lined both the stream bank and the path that led up out of the valley.  Upon his return to the lodges, he told Atnas of his find and it was decided that a gathering crew would be sent to collect the dead fish.  They would then be taken into the eastern pine forest, where they would be buried next to selected low-bush blueberry plants. This use of dead or stranded fish as a fertilizer for various plants was a common practice, and it is said by some that the method was taught to them by the native tribesmen, yet there is no evidence to prove this. Regardless how they came upon it, the method did indeed seem to improve production, as those bushes of that chosen site always produced more berries than other populations nearby.  

The fish were quickly gathered up, and each crew member now carried a small basket full upon their backs, and they headed out toward the pines.  As they made their way up the hillside, they came upon a large midden of the adjid (2).  Looking up into the large old pine they saw the small animal, which was about half the size of a gray squirrel.  Its red bushy tail standing almost straight up, the fury creature seemed to greet them with a long chattering of clucks and grunts, but they soon realized this chatter was more intended for another adjid making its way toward them. The men laughed as they watched the first jump from branch to branch, chasing the rival male that had entered his territory.  The two scrambled up and down the trees and soon were out of site.  

Adjids are known to store great quantities of food, a practice highly regarded by the Nubbins. Their legends told how the food stores of the adjid had once been used by the clan during the long great winter of many years before.  In fact, it is this legend that is the reason why some adjids are now trained by the elders to store certain berries, to then be collected as needed at a future time.  

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(1) Of interest, Asban is also a Native American (Natick tribe) term for the raccoon meaning more or less ‘one who lifts things up’, seemingly to describe the use of the fore-paws.

(2) Adjid, the Nubbin term for the American Red Squirrel, is likely derived from Native Americans as well, though no source for its origin could be found. These squirrels feed primarily on conifer seeds, and the scales of the cones which hold the seeds often collect in large middens below the favorite dining place of these little animals.  These middens are a sure sign a red squirrel is in the tree above or nearby, as they are very territorial.