Eli Guardipee v.1

Eli Guardipee aka Isinamakan "Takes Gun Ahead"

B. 1856 D. July 1942.

My Great-great Grandfather. Eli was a trapper, hunter and guide from the Blackfeet (Pikuni) tribe of Montana. Eli befriended many historians while living in, on, around Montana plains and Glacier Park area. Because of this quite a lot has been written about Eli by such noted historical authors as James Willard Schultz and founder of the first Audubon Society George Bird Grinnell.

A passage describing Eli that has always inspired me was written by Schultz in his 1907 book My Life As An Indian.

"The Pikunis and a few lodges of Bloods arrived soon after we completed the post, and came, too, one who was to become and always remain a close friend of mine, Eli Guardipee, named by the Pikunis Isinamakan, "Takes Gun Ahead." He was of that family for which so many places in the north are named, as, for instance, the Guardipee Crossing of Bow River. He was but a year older than I; tall, slender, very intelligent, kind of heart, brave to a fault; and the most successful hunter, the surest shot that I have ever known."

Wow, you can see how this could inspire somebody. Another piece by Schultz from his book Blackfeet and Buffalo delves a bit into the shooting skills of Eli as well as offer a little insight into Eli's and what I believe to be the Indian sense of humor in general. This one is a bit long but the payoff is classic.

"In the summer of 1881... we set out one day to hunt deer in the big grove below our traditional post and were following a dusty game trail when we glimpsed three deer speeding through the brush, heading to cross the trail ahead of us. They came on in single file, and as each one leaped into the open of the trail, Eli fired at it with his '73 model Winchester repeater. He fired three shots about as fast as I could count them, with the result of three dead bucks lying within a yard or two of one another. Some shooting.

Of fat cow buffalo meat and buffalo tongues we always had plenty. Deciding that we would like to have some fat antelope ribs for a change, we set out to hunt on the plain to the south of our post - Eli riding a small, slow mare, and I on my fast buffalo horse. We ascended parallel ridges of the long, steep badlands of the valley, planning to get together up on the rim of the plain. I arrived on top just in time to see Eli riding out from the head of a pine-timbered coulee, going as fast as his little mare could carry him, and pursued by a huge grizzly bear. He was shooting back at it, apparently without effect, and with long, swift leaps it was gaining on him. I was too far away to be of any help - all would be over in one way or another before I could reach him - but anyhow I set out to try to do the impossible, my heart aflutter with anxiety for him. Oh, why, why hadn't he ridden a good horse? I groaned as I saw the huge bear, regardless of his shooting, fast overtaking him, and he always such an accurate shot. Never having experience it, I did not realize that to shoot straight back with sure, killing effect from a swiftrunning horse was something that could not be done. Watching the bear gain upon him sickened me. I realized that with, at most, three more leaps it would be upon his horse's back and mauling him. And then, just as the bear was making that last leap, he fired again, and what was my relief as I saw the huge creature flatten down upon the grass and lie still.

When I rode up to Eli, he was down off his horse, looking at his kill, and calmly chewing gum. "Well! What a narrow escape you had. I thought it was to be the end of you, " I managed to stutter. "Sa! Matsikiwa (No, it was nothing)," he said. "

I love it!

My family lived on the Blackfeet Indian Reservation in and around Browning, Montana until the late 1950's when my grandmother moved to State Line, Idaho with my father, my uncle, my aunt and our cousin. Except for our cousin Carol-Marie, who lives back on the Reservation, my dad, aunt, uncle and grandmother have all passed away. Their kids have spread ourselves around Idaho and Washington and most of us try to get to the Reservation when we can, usually for me its the Indian Days Pow Wow in July or on side trips from Glacier National Park.

To Eli and his son and grandson Thomas and Coleman, to Coleman's son Ron, my dad, thank you.