A timeless tale of Aschimenahoe

Long ago, in a land named Aschinemahone, a youth on the eve of adulthood set out alone to obtain some meat for his family.

His father had taught him much about the ways of nature. On this late spring day, the heat was oppressive as he traveled upstream through the junglelike surroundings. Along the way he passed ancient trees of enormous proportions.

Game was scarce in the immediate vicinity, but within an hour's walk was a productive hunting location. As a child he had been born there, but his tribe had been forced from the land.

Now the site was a grownup thicket of elderberry, choke cherry, hawthorns, dogwoods, blackberry, sumac and other small trees and shrubs. This thicket was nearly impenetrable, save for a few game trails that crisscrossed their way through it, from the upland forests leading down to the stream. Deer and wapiti frequented the land to feed upon the lush browse.

The youth skirted the valley's edge and remained downwind to remain undetected. He then moved in to station himself along the main deer travel corridor. He was perfectly concealed so that any animals traveling down the trail would not detect him. He notched his arrow and waited. Perhaps in the early evening hours as temperatures began to cool a deer would pass by on its way to drink from the stream's water.

The hunting was good, but what he liked most about this location was that it provided a connection to the past. He thought much about the life of his people at this site, when his father was growing up in the village. He could almost see the women and children tending to the fields of corn, hear the bark of the dogs and smell the smoke from the cooking fires.

Due to the valley width and the fertility of the soil in the valley, it seemed inevitable to him that another town would someday rise.

A movement caught his eye. A deer was coming toward the thicket. It was a young buck with about four inches'velvet growth. He drew back and took aim. As the deer stepped into an opening five steps away, he released. The arrow found its mark and the animal bolted.

The youth waited a few minutes and then followed the blood trail. About 150 yards into the thicket he found the deer. A bit of sadness crept over him, but he knew this was part of the cycle of life. Deer must give their lives so that wolves, panthers, and humans may live.

Before he left the site, in an act of thankfulness towards the Creator, the youth dug a hole with his hands in the loamy soil and buried the choice meat, the heart and kidneys, along with the front half of the broken arrow shaft. He then began the trek home carrying the meat and skin.

Many seasons passed in Aschinemahone. A new paleskinned people inhabited the land and perverted its name to Sinnemahone, and later, Sinnemahoning.

One late spring day in the year AD 2007 one of their descendants, 13-year-old Kayla Zoschg, was working in her father's sweet corn field along the Driftwood Branch of the Sinnemahoning. As she covered corn seed, she was unaware that on this same site, girls her age had similarly worked in cornfields centuries ago.

Something caught her eye. It was a flint arrowhead. She bent down and picked it up, seemingly unaware that she held in her hand a connection to an ancient land known as Aschinemahone and people that lived in this same land centuries ago.