how the birch tree got its marks

there is an old anishinaabe legend of how the birch tree got its black marks.

i will tell you as it was told to me.

many many years ago, when the earth was still young, in a time that could be called the dream time or the time before time, it was very cold and the world was freezing. nanaboozho lived with his grandmother in a little hut and it was terribly cold. grandmother told him of the great thunderbird village in lands to the west where they were always toasty and warm. nanboozho decided one day to go and visit the great thunderbirds, the crackling sky gods who emitted fire and lightning from their feathers and claws. nanaboozho disguised himself as a tiny rabbit, a wabooz, and hopped his way to the home of the thunderbirds, which was toasty and warm.

he came to their village and plead with them to allow him to warm himself by their great fire. the thunderbirds agreed, taking pity on the small rabbit. that night, when the thunderbirds slept, nanaboozho snuck to the fire and rolled around in it and caught all of his fur on fire and quickly fled from the thunderbird village, racing through the forest to bring fire back to his grandmother, to the freezing village. the thunderbirds awoke and enraged, rushed to pursue the little rabbit, knowing they had been tricked.

the thunderbirds took to the sky, screeching their rage and threw lightning at nanaboozho who fled as fast as his little legs could carry him.

“help! naadmawshin!!” he called into the forest and it was the proud birch trees with their pure white bark that answered him.

“come nanaboozho, hide under us and we will keep you safe”

and nanaboozho took shelter under the branches of the birch trees as the thunderbirds rained fire from above scorching the pure white bark of the birch.

the thunderbirds eventually tired of their pursuit because throwing fire is hungry work and they retreated back to their village.

nanaboozho brought fire back to his grandmother and to the people so they could warm themselves. and from then on, the birch trees have carried those scorch marks from the thunderbirds, a reminder of what they gave to shelter a little rabbit and to give warmth to the people.

sometimes, i think about this story, because i think about scars and i think about the ones we carry, some of us, memories of a great battle, but sometimes the battle is one we fight within ourselves.