"The Magic of the Snakes"

The air was fresh and cool, the sun was bright, the snow on the ground was clean and crunchy, and the snakes travelled like waxed lightning.

These were the snowsnakes, the slim hardwood spears with steel tips that the Iroquois athletes hurl into a slot on a long low bank of snow. On a good day, when the groove is like ice, they can send the snowsnakes hissing down the track for more than a mile.

[...] members. There are two parts to a snowsnake team. First there are the throwers. Then, in the background, are the older men, retired from competition, who prepare their arsenals of snowsnakes. The snowsnakes are beautiful objects, five or six feet of waxed and endlessly polished wood, kept under wraps in the back of vans and pickups from Ontario and New York State.

Amazingly, some of these slim and supple wands are still in use after 60 or 70 years. This is not, thank goodness, because making snowsnakes is a lost or dying art. One older team leader from Ohsweken, who learned to make snakes from his father, said he was now teaching his grandson the craft.

The snakes are prepared and waxed with different mixtures for different snow conditions, so you see pairs of serious-faced men placing one snake after another on the snow to compare how they'll run. They put the snake on ground that has just the slightest grade and give it a delicate push backward, then watch how quickly the snake glides forward.

The technique varies, but a number of competitors have a common basic style. The thrower goes into a crouch, about 15 feet from the snowbank, his gloved index finger in the notch at the tapered end of the snake. He slowly moves his throwing arm back and forwards, the snake quivering, aiming at the slot. The snake moves forwards and backwards three, four, five times...

Then the thrower explodes forward as his arm whips the snake into the slot with a force that sends the thrower spinning right around.

Sometimes, of course, the thrower doesn't hit the groove just right and the snake goes flying - which is one very good reason why the officials keep warning spectators to stay away from that part of the track.

If it's a good throw, you can follow the progress of the snake not by sight, but by sound. Spectators and non-playing team members shout as the snake whistles past them, and from several hundred yards away you can hear the voices encouraging the snake to keep moving: "Go up! Go up!"

[...] send it along a track to a neighboring longhouse.

Today, the game is a test of strength and speed, said Ms. Springle.