The question arose a few weeks ago about whether the young folks among the Willow Creek Free Trappers have mountain names.  I’m here to say in typical Utah language—“You Bet”!

I reckon it’s rather common for everyone to get a nickname attached to them as they grow up—often times the nickname will get modified and eventually the person passes on to the great rendezvous in the sky forever in eternity to be stuck with whatever name they left earth with.  (Perhaps the Gods have a sense of humor and they get new names at their first rendezvous up there?)

(By the way—if anyone REALLY knows about that, let me know—otherwise I’m libel to have some wild concocted story to make up about it).

Well mountain life ain’t no differ’nt.  The young folks get their names as they do their best to “act big”.  Many moons ago at a council fire we had a “big name’n” party.  All of us older folks pow-wowed for days until we conjured up most likely names for all the young’uns.  At the fire that night the Boshway called each one of them up by their Christian name and dubbed them with their mountain handle.  Each in his or her turn was proud as punch—it was a real treat.

Now names is names and most can change either legally or otherwise and my youngest son had his changed just last year.  We was up on the Beaver Crick shoot’en and pass’in the jug with some fine mountain folks from the Cache.  We hand’nt been there too long when it started pour’in rain.  We had hitched the horses and put the last stake in the ground when she hit.  Sherry had busied herself inside making grub whilst my oldest “Many Steps” and my youngest “Little Knife” and me tied up the loose stuff.  We hurried inside our lodge and wolfed down Sherry’s vittles.  The rain poured on as darkness came.

It weren’t long an we noticed folks were gatherin in “Old Muskrats” lodge.  So being neighborly we joined ‘em.  Cause of the rain the traditional council fire was not to be—so folks being folks do the next best thing.  We was greeted and entered the lodge, but beings how this was our first invite to the Beaver Crick there was folks we didn’t know.  Muskrat did the intro and we met new mountain folks.  When “Little Knife” was introduced he was shook some cuz of the excitement and in that split second pause between both parties names being said and the general handshake young “Little Knife” broke wind.

Now there is a time when a guy is grow’in up he passes between being a youngster and being a kid.  “Little Knife” was well into being a kid and he got down right embarrassed.  Muskrat did me proud when he broke the silence with “Ho DEE Doe—I think we just got ourselves a new mountain man and with him comes a new name—what do you think about that “WINDY”?

Rather red faced he came out from under the table grinning—said he was sorry and we all laughed.

This guy just turned 10 years old and I ain’t saying there aren’t other names he’ll be tagged with, but the next night at council fire he was called up by “Slow Bear” and with the touch of the talk’en stick dubbed “Windy”.  He is proud of the name and let’s keep it his and our secret as to how it came to be.

Bears Butt

Mar-Apr. 1988