Village Raises Another Child

Ryan loved fishing as a pass-time, and the creek was teeming with
Salmon. It's what he always chose to do when there was spare time, in
which to do anything he wanted. And for a nine-year-old, he was
knowlegable enough to be consistent in satisfying his catch from a
rushing Alaska creek. Most times he would 'catch-and-release' them, as
it was called; since it was for sport, and not to fill our freezer.
Ryan had respect for the Cycles of Life and Earth, and he never
littered or injured a fish carelessly.

One sunny day, he was at the creek when he saw two boys a little older
than him on the other side. They were laughing loudly and yelling to
each other as they went along, grabbing a female Salmon, squeezing Her
eggs out onto the rocks, and tossing Her away from the creek. Then they
got a male, and pretended to fertilize the eggs on the rocks, before
tossing Him into the bush. Ryan knew other boys who enjoyed doing this,
but he didn't find it pleasant entertainment, and never took part. In
fact, he hated that they did it at all.

"What are you guys doing that for?"he called out. For Ryan, that was a
stern warning; Ryan was mild and polite, and rarely spoke harshly, no
matter what. The boys across the creek looked at him and laughed.

"Because we can!" one of them said, as they continued on with what they
were doing.

"Well, you shouldn't!" Ryan responsed. Disgusted at what they were
doing, he couldn't help but stare at them, open-mouthed. He even
stopped reeling his line in, and it sunk and got hung up in the rocky
creek-bed. He began jerking his pole around, trying to dislodge the
hook from the rocks without having to walk in the water; there was
already too much disturbance to the fish going on, he figured.

"What are they doing?"

From behind Ryan spoke an Elder of the Haida Tribe, in his calm, slow
manner that is characteristic to the People. He wore a beaded Eagle on
the medicine bag that hung on his broad, blue-flanneled chest, and when
Ryan turned he could see the stranger was of the Eagle Clan. Ryan
shrugged and then shook his head.

"Killing fish."

"Why?"

"I asked them that, and they said, 'because they can'," Ryan said,
still shaking his head and just as disgusted.

"What did you do then?" asked the old man. Ryan was re-rigging his pole
by this time, and he stopped to look at the old man.

"I-I... I told them they shouldn't," he said, wondering why the old man
wanted to know that.

"And then?"

Ryan still didn't see his point. "And then, I... kept fishing and got
my line stuck." Ryan didn't return his attention to the pole now, he
was absorbed by this man, and looked him in the eye when he listened to
him.

"So, how many fish will die?" he asked, looking over the length of the
creek. Ryan pointed to where he'd first seen the boys.

"I don't know, they killed two down there, then two more over
here,"

"Each fish that dies means five thousand that don't even get a chance,"
he said, slowly pronouncing each syllable, as was his tongue. He
pointed his finger, turning from one end of the creek to the other.
"All these fish are full with egg and sperm. Each fish will give five
thousand a chance to fight the waters of survival and return to give
each, another five thousand. Imagine this creek; if even one fish dies
before spawn, imagine this creek with five thousand less fish in it.
Future runs will suffer." Ryan knew future runs would be affected, but
he thought it was a pretty amazing statistic and it showed on his face.
But, he still didn't see what it had to do with him.

"Why did you not stop them?"

Ryan was taken aback for a moment, not realizing he'd ever have to
answer that question, either. "I was just fishing, and besides, who am
I to try and make them stop?"

"Do you not enjoy catching these fish?"

"Yeah, but-"

"Do you feed your family fish?"

"Yeah, but you-"

"Do you keep fish in your freezer for future use?"

"Yes."

"Do you want your children to know Salmon and her gifts?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"Then who are you to stop them? Salmon cannot protect Herself. How many
fish will die?" Ryan didn't have any response, but he turned and looked
down the creek at the boys, who were on the big rock, still enjoying
their killing spree.

"Hey! Hey, you guys!" he yelled, his voice nearly drown out by the
gentle rushing of the water. They paid no attention to Ryan's calls, so
he waved his arms while he yelled and tried again. "Hey! He-e-e-e-ey!"
They still ignored him.

"Like this," the Elder said, and he walked into the water with shoes
and all. He slowly waded through the shallowest path to the other side,
careful not to kick Salmon as he went, and then he walked down the
creek toward the boys. Ryan watched from where he was, as the old man
approached them, and they stopped to listen. Somehow, he knew the boys
would pay attention to the hypnotic old man.

The Elder used his hands to show his words, and he gestured toward the
water, then over the rocks, and then all around them. Ryan could almost
hear his slow, enunciated speech, just from watching him talk to the
boys. He didn't go there to fight with them, but instead, he was
teaching them. In a few minutes, he turned to return up the creek, and
the kids hopped from rock to rock along with him.

Ryan decided to bag the fishing for the day; it had sort of lost its
pleasure after listening to the old man. On the walk home Ryan couldn't
help but think about what the man had said. He'd been right about Ryan
not taking responsibility, but Ryan thought doing that meant conflict.
The nine-year-old realized that the fish can't protect themselves, so
if people never did, it might really upset the natural runs. He made a
silent vow to protect anything from cruelty and waste if he could, it's
all a gift that can be lost so easily. From now on, he would take
responsibility. Though they learned different lessons, that day, the
old man had taught him and two other boys; Ryan knew there were lots of
other boys who did this, and now he knew how to teach them, too.