Medicine Brew
The call of the wind draws The Old Woman from her bed in the cave. Ladling herself a mug of herbal tea, she stands at the entrance where a gust tugs at loose strands of her long, white hair, as if in invitation. On the top of the island, the wind roars through the trees, tearing the clouds apart. The storm sends the mammals scuttling to their dens, but heralds the birds to the great wing dance in the sky. Eagles soar in wide arcs. A flock of Seagulls forms its very own storm cloud. The Old Woman is so entranced by the wonder of the white and grey birds filling the air with their feathers and their cries, that she misses the rustling sound behind her. Raven flies headfirst into her arm and tea sloshes from the mug in her hand. She sighs at the loss as the black and white Ravens join the Seagulls dancing in the wind.
The light is so dim and the days so short that The Old Woman decides to make today a plying day. She carries to the cave entrance her basket of perfectly wound cops she had slipped from her spindles. Arranging them just so, she joins two separate strands to each other, and hooks them onto her spindle. With a quick roll against her thigh, she sets her spindle spinning and the two yarns wrap around each other. As the spindle hangs from her hand, The Old Woman watches the birds dancing in the wind. From time to time, she stops the spindle, checks the balance of her yarn, and winds the plied yarn onto the spindle. Hook, spin, catch, wind, hook, spin, catch, wind, her body’s rhythm matches the birds’ as they wheel through the sky.
When the sun sets in the afternoon, The Old Woman draws back into the cave and tucks away her plying for the next day. She stokes the fire and fills a bowl of broth for herself. She then stirs her herb cauldron, lifting a ladleful to her lips to taste. Wings swoosh and Raven once again flies into her hand, upsetting the ladle of brew. The Trickster caws with laughter as his white feathered friend lands on a warm ledge beside the hearth.
“That looked like quite the party out there,” comments The Old Woman as she bends to mop up the spilled herbal tea.
“One of the best!” exclaims Raven.
“Sometimes, I wonder what you all talk about up there in the wind,” The Old Woman muses, mostly to herself.
“We share stories of the happenings of the world,” Spirit, the white Raven, tells her.
“Anything interesting going on these days?” asks The Old Woman.
“Oh, yes,” replies Spirit “Would you like to hear?”
“Always.”
“Though this is a tale carried on the wind, passed from bird to bird on its journey,” Spirit explains, “it begins in the dense Sphagnum Moss of a muskeg. In that muskeg lives a Boreal Toad with skin mottled like lichen-encrusted Alder bark. This autumn, that Toad gathered Bog Cranberries and S’ikshaldeen1 leaves to make a tonic to heal the world. Using ki’s2 intuition, the Medicine Toad sought out harder to reach ingredients, such as Rose hips drooping from sagging branches and Chanterelle mushrooms hiding in their secret places.
“As the Medicine Toad brewed the herbs and mushrooms, a tendril of steam lifted up into the air and caught the attention of three X’éishx’w Jays3 flying past. They landed and asked what the Medicine Toad was cooking.
“‘I am trying to brew a tonic to heal the world,’ explained the Medicine Toad, ‘but all I have so far is a warm winter brew. Taste it and tell me what is missing.’
“When the Jays had all tasted the tea, the one with blue eyebrows said, ‘This is an earth brew. It needs medicine from the air.’
“The white Jay offered one of ki’s feathers. The Medicine Toad stirred the brew with the white feather and tasted it once more. ‘That’s good, but something is missing.’”
“So there’s a white Jay now, too?” asks The Old Woman, significantly.
“They think they’re so special with their fancy white feathers,” croaks Raven, “but we will see if they last the winter when they have no black feathers to soak up the warmth of a meager winter’s sun.”
“Perhaps,” muses The Old Woman, “the white ones are not so concerned with lasting the winter. What if they are coming as messengers?”
“What’s the message?” demands Raven.
Spirit impatiently declares, “I’m just going to tell my story and maybe you will figure it out. The white Jay told the Medicine Toad, ‘We Jays do not fly very far, so we do not know what more the world needs for medicine. However, we can take you to the Seagulls who fly over the ocean and see much more than we do.’
“The Medicine Toad agreed to go with the X’éishx’w Jays, so the two dark ones helped nestle the little amphibian and the brew safely onto the back of their white companion. They flew to the shore and found a flock of Seagulls resting on a bit of land only exposed at low tide. Curious Seagulls waddled over to the strange entourage that landed at the edge of their flock, squeezing between each other, all trying to get a better view of the Jays and the Toad. The noisy Jays quickly got the Seagulls’ attention so that the Medicine Toad could explain ki’s predicament.
“One Seagull tasted the healing tonic and said, ‘This brew is of the earth and the air, but it’s missing medicine from the water. Wait here.’ With that, the Seagull took to the sky, and the rest of the flock joined the first in the air. In a flurry of cries and flapping wings, off they all flew together.
“The Seagulls returned after a while, smelling strongly of fish. The first Seagull offered the Medicine Toad a single fish eye to add to the healing tonic.
“‘How did you find this?’ asked the Medicine Toad, stirring the eye into the brew and tasting a drop.
“‘We Seagulls work best as a flock. When I told the others what you needed, we all worked together to find it. How does it taste now?’
“The Medicine Toad smacked ki’s mouth and said, ‘It’s good, but something is missing.’
“The Seagull told the Medicine Toad, ‘We Seagulls do not fly very high, so we do not see enough to know what more the world needs for medicine. If you would like, I can take you to the Ravens who ride the thermals high above the mountains.’
“The Medicine Toad said farewell to the Jays and hopped up onto the Seagull’s back with the cauldron. Once again, the flock lifted off into the sky, this time to find the Ravens.
“This is the part of the story where Trickster and I met the Medicine Toad and heard the whole story. The Seagulls found us playing in the air currents coming down off of a mountain. The Medicine Toad told us ki’s story from the Seagull’s back, and asked us to taste the healing tonic.”
“I told the Toad that it was missing fire,” interjects Raven. “So I brought a piece of the Sun to add to the brew.”
Spirit continues, “The Medicine Toad stirred the cauldron with the white Jay feather, tasted the tonic, and said, ‘It’s good, but something is missing.’
“‘We Ravens fly high,’ I explained, ‘and there are Ravens all over the world, but we don’t fly to the World Beyond the Horizon. So, we don’t know what what more the world needs for medicine.’
“‘Then how will I ever complete this tonic to heal the world?’ cried the Medicine Toad.
“‘You will have to ride the Star Swan down past the horizon,’ I explained. ‘After the Sun sets, I can take you up there.’”
“I offered to carry the Toad, too!” Raven croaks indignantly.
“Yes,” explains Spirit, “but we all know that you would have performed every flight stunt known to Raven kind, and the little Medicine Toad and the cauldron would have fallen —splat!— on a mountain top, never to be seen again.”
“No they wouldn’t!” protests Raven, his neck feathers all fluffed out. The Old Woman lifts an eyebrow skeptically, while Spirit just stares at him with pale, blue eyes. “I would have eaten the Toad before ki ever hit the mountain.”
The Old Woman rolls her eyes and Spirit continues, “So the Medicine Toad hopped from the Seagull’s back to mine, then another Seagull brought the cauldron over.
“‘Burrow deep into my feathers,’ I told the Medicine Toad, ‘because the air will only get colder where we’re headed.’
“‘Why do we have to wait until after the sunset?’ asked the Medicine Toad, so I explained that the Star Beings wear their spirit lights on the outside of their bodies so everyone can see them in the dark, while here on the earth, we wear ours so they can shine in the dark inside of us. We have to wait until the sky gets dark before we can see where to find the Star Swan.”
The Old Woman’s eyes light up with understanding. “My sister, the Old Woman of the Tides, tells me that there are creatures who live in the deeps like that: they wear their lights on the outside, some to hide, and some to be seen.”
“Exactly,” agrees Spirit. “Well, that little Toad and I flew and we flew and we flew until at last we reached the Star Swan soaring down the milky star river. I coasted right next to the Star Swan’s head so that the Medicine Toad could tell ki’s story.
“The Star Swan tasted the brew and said, ‘Your brew is missing the star milk that nourishes the whole galaxy.’ Then the great Star Being swooped low and gathered a beakful from the milky star river.
“I carried the Medicine Toad close to the Star Swan’s beak to scoop out some of the star milk. I could feel the heat from the Sun in the cauldron radiating on my back as the Medicine Toad stirred and tasted the brew.
“‘It’s good, but something is missing,’ said the Toad.
“‘What you seek can only be found in the World Beyond your World,’ the Star Swan told the Medicine Toad. ‘If you ride on my back, I can take you there.’
“The Medicine Toad thanked the Star Swan. I landed on the back of the much larger bird and crouched low so that the little amphibian could hop down with the cauldron. The last I saw of the Medicine Toad, ki was hidden in the dark feathers of the Star Swan.”
“Has the Star Swan reached the World Beyond the Horizon?” asks The Old Woman.
“In the deepest night,” replies Spirit, “the Star Swan peeks down below the horizon, but has not yet made the full descent to deliver the Medicine Toad.”
“Ah, so we shall have to wait to hear more of the Medicine Toad’s journey,” says The Old Woman. “I have much gratitude for all the birds who have helped make and bear the medicine to heal the world. That wee Toad could not brew it alone.”
After the Ravens have roosted for the night, The Old Woman slips from the cave and ascends above the cliff to see what she can of the stars and the waning moon twinkling through the patchy clouds. She looks up and greets Danu,4 from whose breasts flows the river of star milk. She turns to the east and greets the Hunter just emerging from the World Beyond the Horizon. She turns to the west and greets the Three Birds of Rhiannon.
“Take care of the Medicine Toad,” she calls up to the Star Swan. “The world desperately needs the tonic brewing in that cauldron.”
S’ikshaldeen (TSIK shal deen) is the Tlingit name of the plant known in English as Labrador Tea or Hudson Bay Tea.
Robin Wall Kimmerer’s animate pronoun for non-human, non-gendered beings. Please see my stories, “Feathers” and “Glacier Wilds” for more thorough explanations of why I use this pronoun in my work.
X’eishx’w Jays are the black-headed, blue-bodied Jays commonly known as “Stellar Jays.” The Tlingit “X” is a guttural sound made at the back of the throat.
For more on Danu and the Celtic stories of the constellations, check out Yuri Leitch’s video, The Great Mother Goddess of the Celts and Laura Murphy’s poetic tale, Danu: Rise of the Mother.