Post #8

I wrapped my grandson in a blanket and left him in my wigwam hidden underneath a bowl in fear that the West Wind would return. Then I buried Wenonah and her other child far from the wigwam. I prayed for their spirits and for four days and nights I mourned them. It was not until the end of the four days that I began to hear a crying.

In my period of sadness, I had completely forgotten about Wenonah’s child. I had forgotten to feed him, to care for him and now I was hearing his cries coming from the wigwam.I rushed into my home and took the bowl off of him. However when I lifted the bowl, instead of a baby, I found a little white rabbit.

My grandson was a trickster from the day he was born alright. He had gotten so upset that I had forgotten about him he turned himself into a rabbit to scare me.

I took my grandson, my little white rabbit into my arms and I rocked him back and forth. “Manabush...Manabush….” I said over and over.

Although so much pain had happened, Manabush was born out of it. He had been sent from the heavens to become a teacher to the people, to teach lessons and to help the native people.

I just know that his mother has watched down upon him, and just like me, she is very proud.