Columnists need a break sometimes. Let’s face it - coming up with erudite observations about weighty matters just ain’t gonna happen every week.

And probably, even when we columnists think we are being that way, some readers probably sigh and say, “There she goes again, picking on folks.” So, this week I write about something more refreshing and much more fun: the propensity of Indian people to give one another nicknames, a wonderful expression of the lively sense of humor among our people.

Such nicknames also serve a very useful social purpose, reminding us not to be so “full” of ourselves, no matter what our station in life is.

Not too long ago, a cousin and I were talking about one of our brother-in-laws “Dopey,” actually a very successful man and highly regarded elder. “He doesn’t like to be called that in front of white people,” she remarked, “Says it’s not dignified.”

“Really? I’ll try to remember that. But what is his real name?” After 30 years of knowing him. “I found out. It’s Richard,” she informed me. I put that to the test not long ago when I next saw him with some other Cheyenne men. “Hello Richard,” I said. He didn’t respond until I said, “Dopey, I’m talking to you.”

“Suh-voff” (oh geez) he laughed and so did his companions. See? He is “Dopey” to us and happy to be so.

That got me thinking about other nicknames. Many have heard of Chief Dull Knife, one of the legendary Chiefs who led the Northern Cheyenne from Oklahoma back to Montana. His likeness, along with Little Wolf even graces our tribal stationary and Chief Dull Knife College is one of his namesakes. Yet, Dull Knife was a nickname given by his brother-in-laws in a teasing way during a hunting trip because his knife was literally dull. His true Cheyenne name is Vooheheve, Morning Star û one reason the Cheyenne are called “The Morning Star People.” Yet, Dull Knife stuck and that is how most know him.

Many Cheyenne people I’ve known over the years have had distinctive nicknames - their legal English names largely unknown to other tribal members. These included people such as “Turkey,” “Chicken,” “Jimmy Lips,” “Cold Wieners” or “Baby Wieners” (the son of Cold Wieners). These names all derived from the Cheyenne language. “Cold Wieners” for example is rough slang for a real Cheyenne name sounding somewhat like that and after some wag (most likely a brother-in-law) came up with that, it stuck to him over the years like glue. “Chicken” was an elder lady, the nickname short for her Cheyenne name, Prairie Chicken (maybe Sage Grouse) Woman. Her English name was Gladys Bird, but that was coincidence.

And of course, we might be the only Indian tribe in America to be led by a “Cowboy,” (he is) President Llevando Fisher’s nickname. During the past election, judges ruled that write-in votes cast for “Cowboy” would count. “Everybody knows who that is and most people can’t spell Llevando, if they even know that’s his name” they determined. Earlier, we were led by a “Turkey,” esteemed tribal vice-president Wendell Shoulderblade for whom the elderly complex is named. He may have been named after Turkey Leg a well-known Cheyenne flute maker and ceremonial man. And his son, “Porkchops” (can’t remember his real name) has also served in political office, was a Sacred Hat Keeper and is now one of our “criers” having the right to speak in public, announcing important matters. When calling him for a public event, they will say “Calling Porkchops to the arbor. Porkchops you are needed here.” Non-Indian visitors sometimes think that is a joke.

And of course, we have a plethora of common English nicknames: Smiley (he does all the time); Bullrider (he had a short-lived career as one); Bull Matt (very stubborn); Shorty (he isn’t); Tuffy (he dang sure is); Skinny (surely not); Muggs (that’s a lady, a cowgirl, not sure where that came from); Stir-the-Blur (Sterling a track star); a number of woman are still “Sis” even though now white-headed; others are “Sugar,” “Doll-Girl” or “Babes” (that’s a guy and he is) and of course we have our “Docs” and “Whiteys” (who are not) and once even a “Buckshot” (he might have been). And in my own family I remember Uncle “Pie” and a hired man called “Peaches” because they’d rather have Grandma’s homemade variety of those delicious treats than even a jug of whiskey, though they liked that too. And since my cousins will read this, I must mention “The General,” my favorite relative, the late Hank Hiwalker who served in the military for years.

I have nicknames myself. Thank goodness I outgrew “Punky or Punks” (though sometimes an irritating relative will remember it) unlike good friends still stuck with that moniker in their sixties. During my rodeo days, I found myself christened “Buns” (as in Buns of Steel, mostly likely because I didn’t have them). But, mostly I have been “Clem” bestowed by my father because just like the old Clem Cadiddlehopper character made famous by Red Skelton I am incredibly clumsy, quite likely to trip over my two large left feet. I’ll probably never outgrow that one and it’s also a handy handle when I play “Hold-Em” with non-Indians. Poker players too, are fond of nicknames.

So, when someone calls me “Clem” I intuitively respond: that person knows me very well; it’s funny in an affectionate way and makes me feel good. On the other hand, when my real name “Clara Lee” is invoked, it is invariably unpleasant, used in an unsavory manner by a telemarketer, a mad mother, judge or bill collector.

That’s why I’m glad to be Clem, a Northern Cheyenne and hang around with Turkeys, Dopes, Chickens, Wieners or Cowboys. It’s more fun.

Clara Caufield can be reached at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.

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