St Johns Ravenscourt School - Eagle Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada)

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The person in Ottawa who replied to my letter seemed quite sure that the Wehtigo was a mythical being, but Gilbert’s story was very different from this. He arrived home weak and exhausted, bab¬ bling like a child, words that no one could under¬ stand. Only after a week in bed, being fed like a baby, did he regain his senses. Gilbert was a sane, normal, healthy man, who had served many terms as chief and councillor on the reserve, so his story canot be credited to the figment of an exag¬ gerated imagination. At the time it was believed that there were no survivors of this shipwreck in Hudson Bay, but more recent happenings and beliefs are contrary to this. Supporting the possibility that there were survivors, is the appearance of a creature in Canada’s northlands, which is known to the Indians as a Wehtigo. The Wehtigo very much resembles a man and is covered with brownish black fur. It is about six feet tall and weighs roughly 250 pounds. Its arms are long and power¬ ful and its feet are shaped like those of a man, but have no toes. The Wehtigo walks upright like a man and has a face so urgly that it is repulsive to look at, and once seen is never forgotten. The Wehtigo’s tracks have been reported by trappers in remote areas along the northern fringe of the tree line from Hudson’s Bay to the Rockies, and one was reported as being shot in the North¬ west Territories about seventy-five years ago, as well as the more recent shooting in Manitoba. A theory of the appearance of this creature is that it is the descendant of sailors shipwrecked in Hudson Bay, perhaps as long ago as the seven¬ teenth century. In the stark region of Hudson Bay there would be little food or shelter, and had there been survivors of a shipwreck they would doubtless degenerate in order to adapt themselves to this new way of life. In the degeneration for survival the shipwrecked might have undergone, the reverse of normal evolution, and rather than their bodies improving they grew more hair to protect themselves from the elements, fangs to be better able to cope with their food, and acquired greater strength and size to afford protection. These creatures had once been human but now had degenerated to the level where they had lost the ability to speak, and their hair covered faces were so ugly that for a person who had seen a Wehtigo, to recall that gruesome face brought mental torture on himself. In order to keep alive the shipwrecked would have had to learn to live like animals, eating the raw meat of smaller animals, such as the shrew, degenerating more and more all the time, becoming more animal than human, until they became what the Indians call the Wehtigo. The Wehtigo, being powerful, might even prey on larger beasts, such as the timber wolf, a beast which the Indians often associate with it, for if a lone wolf were to pass through their village at night, this to them would be a bad omen and a sign that the Wehtigo was nearby. Perhaps the Wehtigo, a descendant of human beings had even degenerated to the point where it would eat other humans if given the chance. —Alan Graham Form VI Upper JL)eso lation There was steam coming off the desert of Manitoba in the early morning rays of the sun. The desert came to view before my eyes. It was cold, unmoving; the sand dunes stretched out for miles. There was no cheerful sight or sound of life existing, or ever having existed there in my first glances of the desert. As I walked, however, I saw the wellworn trail of jack rabbits, but not one stirred. There was no cheerful movement in the coarse sand and sparsely situated tumbleweed. There was the track of a sidewinder, but only the track, no more. Further on was the cool pleasing odour of the spruce trees. And then came the trees themselves. It was a thin wood with a moss rug under the silent boughs which no wind disturbed. It was discovered that this was only the frame. The forest inside was burnt, a charred ruin of a forest. The sun was above the dunes now and was beating mercilessly down on creatures not shel¬ tered from it. Along the way were bones of luckless animals who had not found a waterhole and had laid down, tortured by the seemingly sadistic sun, until the cold night stole upon them and killed them. There was no movement now in the sand except for the ants working on their coarse floor in the heat of noon. The sun sweltered in the cloudless sky; the air was dry and the cruel sun was beating on a desolate barren waste. The desert was hot underfoot, the air full of dust, stirred up by a wind which rose suddenly. There was going to be a sand storm. In a seemingly desolate wilderness a movement had occurred. —Blair Carlson Form III Upper Jfo to It had started out to be a fun-filled afternoon at the movies but it turned out to be a disaster for me. Not the kind of disaster anyone would think of, but one which was to frighten me much and leave me with a memory that I would never forget. It all started when my father told me that I could not go to a movie because our whole family was going to a really posh restaurant to celebrate New Year’s Day. But after I pleaded for awhile, he finally consented provided that I be home at five o’clock sharp! 69

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■ C77,e JZeg end of tie WJeltigo Another wave smashed down upon the deck accompanied by the splintering of timbers as the mast crashed to the deck. The ship rolled heavily under the weight of the seas toppling on her deck, and at times she soared up swiftly as if to leave the sea completely. Then, during interminable moments with every heart on board of her stand¬ ing still, awaiting the frightful shock, she fell. The sea swept over the bridge, driven on by the gale which howled and scuffled about in the darkness, looting the deck with a destructive fury. The bridge had been swept clean of everything on it; rails were twisted; light screens smashed and two of the boats had gone already. A faint burst of lightning quivered all around, unveiling for a moment the long dark outlines of the ship, the destruction on it, and the dark figures of men clinging to the fallen mast, which covered the ship with a network of riggings and canvas. The ship had ceased to struggle intelligently and now began to flounder, being unable to shake herself clear of the water. Breaker after breaker fl ,- ..ig itself out of the night, thundering down on the ship with an outburst of unchained frenzy, followed by seething mad-scurry of the water returning to the sea. Had it been possible to get the remaining lifeboats into the water they would have capsized anyway, so everyone hung on where he was, in the hope that by some miracle the ship would survive the battering. The flashes of lightning had become less frequent and except for a faint glimmer which shone from the wheelhouse windows, the ship was in total dark¬ ness. Suddenly out of nowhere, rocks appeared and with a deafening roar the ship lurched onto them. Water poured into the hofd through the gaping slash in the side of the ship, and she began to go down quickly. Darkness closed in on one of the wheelhouse windows, then the other. The clouds hung low in the dull December sky. There was no appearance of life anywhere as Gilbert ran along behind his dogteam. Even the usually cheery snowbirds were silent and seemed to have completely vanished. No breeze stirred the tops of the tall dark Jack-pines. In a small clearing Gilbert brought his team to a halt for lunch, and removing a canvas bag from the sled, threw half a frozen fish to each of his five lean malmutes. Then he set about to gather up an armful of dead twigs to light his fire. Having got the fire going he took his long since blackened lard pail from the sled, packed it with snow and placed it on the fire to boil water for tea. The snow melted and he dumped a few tea leaves into the lard pail. A few minutes later the tea was ready and he poured it into his tin cup, then broke off a piece of bannock and sat down on a log by the fire. He would be at his cabin by about 5 o’clock he figured, as he sat there washing down mouthfuls of bannock with the rapidly cooling tea. It was only a one room trappers shack, but at least it was warm and he could prepare himself a decent meal. Finishing his meal he dumped the tea leaves out of the lard pail, dropped his cup into it and put them back on the sled, then kicked some snow on the fire and was once again on his way. By late afternoon he had checked most of his traps, finding none of them empty. It had been a good winter for trapping as far as he was con¬ cerned. Darkness was coming on quickly, he thought, as he removed a now frozen mink from the trap and threw it on the sled. Having reset the trap, he yelled at his team who obviously frightened by something, bolted at the sound of voice. Immediately Gilbert stepped heavily on the brake, reaching for his 30-30 and pumping a shell into the chamber in the same move. There by a thick stand of spruce was what seemed to him like a large bear walking upright and coming straight toward him. The distance between them was about ten yards when Gilbert raised his SO¬ SO, fired and missed. He, who could hit a squirrel with the same rifle at thirty yards, miss a bear at ten? Pumping another shell into the 30-30, he fired again, and as the beast fell at his feet he began to tremble and he now knew why his first shot had missed. At his feet lay not the bear he had expected, but a Wehtigo. He staggered to his sled, and headed for home, not bothering to go back to camp for the necessary supplies for the three day trip. In order to find out more about the Wehtigo and how it came to be, I wrote to the Indian Affairs Branch in Ottawa and got the following reply. “The term Wehtigo referred originally to an evil spirit of which the Indians stood very much in dread. The name came to be applied to an Indian into whom the evil spirit had entered, and who was affected thereby with the craving to eat some human being, usually a child.” “The Wehtigo was supposed to have super¬ human strength and cunning. All that saved those he wished to kill, according to tradition, was the warning that preceded his coming. Large foot¬ prints in the snow were among the signs by which Indians thought they could detect the presence of the evil spirits.” “When an Indian showed signs of having be¬ come a Wehigo, songs and incantations were used by the medicine men to effect a cure. When these did not appear to have the desired result, the Indians felt justified, in view of self preservation, in taking the life of the Wehtigo.” “The Chippewa and Ottawa Indians believed that a tribe of cannibals inhabited an island in Hudson Bay. This mythical tribe was called Wehtigo, and the term came to be used to des¬ cribe an insane person with a tendency to commit murder and to devour the flesh of his victims.” 68

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So here I now was filling my face with popcorn and enjoying a horror movie which after, I wished I had never seen. Well, the show went on and I sat there thoroughly enjoying myself until I noticed that I had only half an hour to get home. I bade farewell to my friends and departed. This was my first time downtown without a parent or experienced friend so I naturally became afraid when I came out on the noisy streets. However, just when I was relieved at having spotted my bus stop, the bus roared by while I was still on the other side of the street. Because I was unfamiliar with the surroundings, I decided to stay close to the stop and hope that the next bus would come soon and carry me to “home sweet home.” I was greeted by a very stern voice which ordered me into the car. Upon explanation of my plight to Dad, he saw it in a different way and pardoned me for my disobedience. I enjoyed dinner that night but I think I would have enjoyed it even more if I had not undergone the terrifying experience an hour before. —David Boult Form III Upper ‘Why JVot dQead Jaynes J ond in the (Classroom? Booming buses approached from all over but none of them was the one that I wanted. As my anxiety grew, so did my fear. I had hoped that my friends would come out of the theatre soon, for they were ‘old hands’ at this downtown business. Yet they never came. I asked various people if the bus I wanted was running at the time and their replies were all yes—so I waited . . . for some time. I hadn’t noticed a small clock across the street, but when I did, my fear reached a high peak. It was then that I did the most foolish thing that I have ever done. I began walking—walking in a world that was unknown to me! I was walking blindly and I knew it, but I kept on. The terrain seemed to change after a long while. Gone were the tall department stores and in their place stood tiny bungalows, surrounded by small stubby trees. Gone was the continual din of traffic; only the odd car passed now. Things were becoming desolate. The thin film of soot that coated the ho uses and land around told me a freight yard was nearby. The idea of being lost materialized now and before I knew it, my eyes were fast filling with tears. I encountered a man and woman as I approach¬ ed a train underpass. I enquired where I could find the bus that would take me home and I was informed that I was about three miles away from the nearest stop. This only served to make me feel more ‘lost’, but after receiving information on how to get to the stop, I was on my way again. Now that I knew the way back, my tension was relieved somewhat. However, I dreaded the consequences of being over one and a half hours late for New Year’s dinner. I was relieved when I boarded the last of a succession of buses. I don’t think any bus will ever be a greater comfort to me than that’‘last’ one was. The James Bond cult, a fast-growing phenome¬ non, has now reached the classroom—under clandestine circumstances, of course. Because of this fact, the question “Why not read James Bond in the classroom?” has arisen. Taken at face value, reading James Bond in class possesses unmistakable virtues. Few things are quite as relieving as turning from a frustrating Mathematics class to an assuaging love scene, performed in true Bond style. Surely the monot¬ ony of a geography class can in no way be com¬ pared to the excitement of James Bond saving the world from the malicious schemes of a villain like Goldfinger. Even Literature class, which presents the student with gripping pieces of read¬ ing like “Richard the Second”, has a difficult time rivalling the exploits of secret agent, double-O seven. Nevertheless, the practice of reading James Bond novels in class, is not a wise one. Without a doubt, James Bond thrillers are great books to read; they were popular even unto the tastes of the late John F. Kennedy, but they are not for the classroom. The classroom is a hall of learning and what can be learned from a thriller is negligible. The classroom should not be perverted to the point where thrillers and cheap novels are read freely in it. Indeed, the people who would dare to pervert and degrade the classroom this way are precisely the people who should be working. James Bond should not be read in the class¬ room. The novels were not designed for the pur¬ pose of distracting students, however good they may be at it. They pervert the high ideals of learning in the classroom and can only harm a student’s studies. —Doug Mackay Form IV Upper Upon getting off that bus at my stop, I ran all the way home. I half expected to find the family still there, waiting for me, but all I found was a gruff note, saying that sandwiches were in the refrigerator. Just then the phone rang and I recog¬ nized my father’s voice on the other end. Without letting me explain anything, he told me to get changed into my Sunday-best, because he was coming around to pick me up. L Jle Teenage individual or C onformist “John Ravenscourt for Prime Minister.” So reads the sign of a crew cut youth, in plaid shorts, red sneakers and a sweat shirt, who is standing on the corner of Portage and Main. It is only thirty 70