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Many years ago a wizened Chippewa shared a campfire with us. He told us of a day long, long ago when
the Chippewa were a prolific and happy nation. They owed their peace and prosperity to their reverence for the soil, plants, and creatures the
Great Spirit placed into their stewardship.
One season, after several poor harvests during the preceeding years, a drought settled in the land.
The crops on which
the villagers depended were failing, and the game the Chippewa reluctantly had to hunt were
scarce.
One afternoon a bluebird flew into the Chief's tent and perched on the ground near the Great One. As the
kindly chief offered a morsel to the bird, his woman scolded him, reminding him of their perilous
situation.
The old man gently reminded his wife, and later, over the campfire, his tribe, to extend their
love and concern to the wild ones who also were suffering.
As this spirit of love and brotherhood with their animal kindred permiated the camp, the drought
ended never to return. The bluebird's lesson is remembered in the Chippewa tradition of
lovingly providing for the nesting of winged
creatures.
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