August: The Month Of Water and Forests [The Red Indian Fairy Book]
Legend of Niagara and the Great Lakes
(Chippewa)
IN old, old times, on the highest peak of a great mountain dwelt a hunter and his five sparkling daughters. Their lodge was of bright birch bark, and on clear days they could see the distant sea flashing like a silver band.
"Come out!
Come out!" cried the youngest daughter, the little Er. "Come, Su! Come Mi! Come, Hu! Come, Cla! Let us away to the sea where the foaming breakers
roar!"
So they left their
lodge, and leaped, and sang with happy hearts. Their robes were of blue and
chrysolite green, and floated on the breeze. Their moccasins were of frozen
water-drops, and their wings of painted wind.
And they scampered
and romped across the plain, or floated beneath the sky. They rushed past
valley and hill and field, singing and shouting with glee. At last they came to
a precipice of jagged rocks and moss.
"Alas!"
cried Er, "what a fearful leap! But we have come so far, we must go on; or
our father will laugh at us! So come, Su! Come, Hu! Come, Mi! Come, Cla! and
follow me."
Over the steep they
sprang, and floated down on their painted wings. They leaped and they skipped
and they sang, like happy-hearted birds. Then little Er cried, "Let us up
and down the steep again!"
So up and down, the
five maids skipped and laughed at the sport and foam, and called it Niagara
Falls!
And to-day, through
the rainbow mist, you may see their robes of blue and chrysolite green, and
their painted wings, and their twinkling feet, as the five play in the
waterfall.
How the Hunter Became a Partridge
(Passamaquoddy)
ONE day in late autumn a hunter in the Micmac country travelled through
the woods, and he heard in the distance the sound of footsteps beating on the
ground. He hastened to the spot whence the noise came, and found a man and his
wife dancing around a tree. And on the tree, high among the boughs, was a
Raccoon. The man and his wife had danced so long that they had worn a trench in
the earth; indeed, they were in it up to their waists.
"Why are you
dancing in this strange manner?" asked the hunter.
"We are
hungry," they answered, "and we are trying to dance the tree down to
the ground, so that we may catch the Raccoon."
"If I show you
a better way than that," said the hunter, "will you give me the
Raccoon's skin?"
"We will give
you the skin," answered the others, "if you will catch him for
us."
So the hunter took
his hatchet, and cut down the tree, and caught the Raccoon. After which he took
the skin and went his way.
He had not gone far
along the trail before he met a strange man carrying on his head a large Birch
wigwam of many rooms. The hunter was astonished and frightened at such a sight.
But the stranger stopped, and putting down the wigwam, seated himself on the
ground, and invited the hunter to smoke and talk with him.
They smoked and
talked together for a while. Then the stranger pointed to the Raccoon's skin in
the hunter's belt, and said, "That is a fine skin; where did you get
it?"
"I got it from
the dancing man and his wife," replied the hunter.
"Sell it to
me," said the stranger, "and I will give you my belt in
exchange."
"I will not
have your belt," said the hunter.
"Sell it to
me, and I will give you my bow," said the stranger.
"I will not
have your bow," said the hunter.
"Sell it to
me, and I will give you my Birch wigwam," said the stranger.
"But I cannot
carry your wigwam," replied the hunter.
"Lift it upon
your head, and see," said the stranger.
The hunter lifted
the wigwam, and placed it on his head, and found it as light as an empty
basket. So he gave the stranger the Raccoon's skin, and, carrying the wigwam,
went on his way.
And when night came
he set the wigwam upon a grassy ridge by the side of a stream, and entering he
looked about. Every room was hung with fine blankets and rich furs, and
furnished beautifully. The hunter found one room in which was a bed covered
with a White Bear's skin. Now this was a magic skin, but the hunter did not
know it. As the bed was soft, and he was weary, he lay down and went to sleep.
And when he woke in
the morning he saw to his wonder and delight that above him hung all sorts of
good things to eat—dried Venison and Ducks, strings of Indian Corn, and baskets
of red berries and Maple Sugar.
He stretched out
his arms, and gave a spring toward the food, when, lo! the White Bear's skin
melted away, for it was only a heap of snow. The wigwam was only a Birch Tree,
and the food that hung above were the early buds of the Birch. The hunter's
arms grew spreading like wings, his body was covered with feathers, and he flew
up to the Birch Tree. And he was no longer the hunter, but Pulowech the
Partridge.
And he had been
wintering under the snow, as the Partridge does, and was now come forth to
greet the beautiful Spring and the Summer.
How Partridge Built the Birds' Canoes
(Passamaquoddy)
IN
ancient days Partridge was the canoe-builder for the other birds. And after he
had finished all the canoes, he called the birds together and each got into its
bark and paddled off.
Oh, it was a great
sight! First of all came the Eagle, in his big shell, paddling with the ends of
his wings. Then came the Owl dipping his wings in the water, like the Eagle.
Then the Crane, the Bluebird, the Robin, the Blackbird, and the Snipe went
sailing proudly after, uttering shrill cries or whistling and singing. And last
of all came the tiny Hummingbird in a very small canoe; and for him good
Partridge had made a pretty little paddle.
And the Fish-Hawk,
who lives on the wing, skimmed over their heads, crying with amazement, as he
saw the proud little fleet of canoes put out to sea.
"Why, O
Partridge," cried the Fish-Hawk, "have you made no canoe for
yourself?"
But Partridge gave
no answer, only looked mysterious, and drummed; and the noise of his drumming
sounded like an Indian at work on a canoe.
Then the birds
sailed back to land, and all cried out, "Why, O Partridge, have you made
no canoe for yourself?"
But Partridge shook
his head, and said that when he built a canoe for himself, it should be a
wonder such as no bird's eye had ever beheld.
This went on for
some time, until at last every bird knew that Partridge was making a wonderful
canoe for himself.
Now Partridge
thought, "If a boat with two ends sails two ways, why, then, a boat, that
is round, will sail every way." So he built a canoe like a nest, perfectly
round. And when it was finished, he called together all the birds to watch him
put out to sea. And as they looked at the round canoe, they all cried out:
"What a wonderful boat! We were not wise enough to think of such a
thing!"
Then Partridge,
swelling with pride, stepped into the canoe, and dipped his paddle. But the
boat made no headway at all, only spun around and around. And the harder he
worked, dipping his paddle, first on one side and then on the other, the faster
spun the canoe.
And when the birds
saw what was happening, they fell to laughing, and mocking Partridge. And he
left his round canoe, and, flying inland, hid himself for very shame under the
low bushes.
And to this day he
flies close to the ground, and hides under leaves and bushes. And the noise of
his drumming sounds far and near like an Indian making a canoe.
The Noisy Chipmunk
(Yakima)
ONCE there was an Indian village, and in it lived a Chipmunk and his
grandmother. He was a very noisy little Chipmunk, and his grandmother used to
say:—
"My Grandson,
when you are out in the woods, you must not make so much noise, or something
will find and catch you."
But he did not mind
her, and every morning he went to the woods, and ran about until he found some
berries. Then he climbed a tree, and sat on a limb, and while he ate the
berries he made all the noise he could.
In the evening his
grandmother always told him stories, and once she told him about a Giant who
wandered about the woods chasing Chipmunks and other creatures. He had a bag
full of red-hot stones, and whenever he caught a small animal he popped it into
the bag and cooked it.
"I do not
believe that!" said the little Chipmunk, "for I have roamed the woods
for two or three years, and have never heard nor seen the Giant."
"Nevertheless,"
said his grandmother, "if you make too much noise, the Giant will come and
catch you."
Well, one day the
little Chipmunk went out as happy and mischievous as ever. He scurried along
looking for berries, and then he thought, "I'll go as far as I can, for I
wish to see that Giant."
So he went on and
on, till he came to a high bluff, and on it he found a quantity of berries. So
he sat on the top of the bluff, and while he ate, he tried to make as much
noise as he could, for he thought, "Maybe the Giant will hear me and
come."
And
the Giant did hear him and come; for he lived under
the bluff. He heard all the noise that the little Chipmunk made, and he came
creeping quietly, but he was not able to reach the Chipmunk, because the bluff
was too high.
"Come down,
little one," said he, as pleasantly as he could, "and I'll give you a
heap of fine berries."
But the little
Chipmunk said, "No! If I do, you will catch me and make a fine meal for
yourself!" So he stayed up on the bluff.
Well, it got to be
evening, and the little Chipmunk was tired of waiting for the Giant to leave,
and tried to think of a plan to get away. So he broke off some branches from a
bush, and threw them down. The Giant heard them fall, and thought it was the
little Chipmunk, and sprang on top of them. But it was not the Chipmunk at all,
only branches of bushes, and when he looked up to the top of the bluff, the
little scamp was gone!
Then the Giant ran,
and he took such long strides that soon he saw the little Chipmunk leaping home
as fast as he could. And the Giant ran and ran, and just as the little Chipmunk
was about to spring into his grandmother's house, the Giant overtook him and
grabbed his back. But the little Chipmunk slipped away, and jumped into the
house. So he was safe, and the Giant, grumbling with rage, had to go home
without his supper.
That is why
Chipmunks have white stripes on their backs—the marks of the Giant's fingers.
The Wind-Blower
(Micmac)
FAR in the Northern Land, a great bird once sat on a rock at the edge of
the Sky. And whenever he flapped his wings, the stormy wind blew across the
sea, and caused the billows to rise, and roll to and fro.
Now, on the shore,
not far from the rock, dwelt a man and his wife and two sons. It happened one
year the weather was so bad that they could not fish and get food. The wind
blew terribly night and day, and the waves were like dancing hills. Then one of
the sons walked along the shore to see if the tide had cast up any fish. But
there were none.
He wandered on and
on, and the farther he went the worse the wind blew. At last he beheld a high
and great rock, surrounded by water, and on it sat the Wind Bird himself,
flapping his wings.
Then the young man,
who was brave, waded out to the rock, and offered to carry the bird to the
mainland where he might rest in the soft sand. The bird was willing, so the
young man carried him on his back, stepping from slippery stone to stone, or
wading through pools.
At the last rock
the young man stumbled and fell, and broke one of the wings of the bird. He
laid the hurt creature upon the sand, and set his wing. Then he bade him keep
quiet and not move for many days.
So the bird sat
still, and a calm fell upon the sea, for there was no wind in all the
Northland. The Indians in their canoes glided smoothly over the glassy water,
and no breeze blew. No wave rose, and no billow appeared. The Indians caught
Fish by the thousand, and gazed through the clear water to the bottom of the
sea, and saw the Eels twisting and wriggling about. And the Wind Bird sat still
and nursed his broken wing.
But after many days
the water slept. Thick slime grew on its surface. The Fish sickened and died.
The Indians could eat Fish no longer, and no more could they see the Eels on
the bottom of the sea. They had no food and were starving.
Then the young man
went to the Wind Bird and begged him to try his broken wing, and see if it was
well. So the bird gave it a little flap, and, lo, a slight ripple passed over
the surface of the sleeping water. Then the bird struck his two wings lightly
together, and straightway a wind moved over the sea. The slime was blown away.
The waves rose and tossed, and the Fish grew well. Then the Indians in their
canoes paddled out on the water and caught many Fish. And so they were happy
and had plenty to eat.
As for the Wind
Bird, they had him for a friend, and he blew smooth or stormy weather, just as
he willed.
The Silver Brooches
(Attributed to the Mohawk)
ONCE in the Iroquois land, there was a blue lake fed with the rich streams
from the mountains. The grass grew green and soft on its margin, and the
stately reeds stood in its shallows. Water-Lilies floated on its surface, and
the birds skimmed over its waves.
Here at sunset each
day came Gidanoneh the beautiful Iroquois maid. She walked on the shore and
listened to the sweet strains of a mysterious song that arose from the water.
Magical strains they were, amazing her with their sweetness. And they filled
her sad heart with a strange joy.
For Gidanoneh was
sad. Her father was poor, and had promised her to an old man. He was rich and
laid before her door many gifts of furs and bright feathers. But his feet were
too slow for the hunt, and his spirit too still for war. And Gidanoneh was
young, and life lay bright before her; therefore, she dreaded the hard work
waiting for her to do in the old man's lodge. So at sunset she walked by the
lake, and wept with sorrow. Then the sweet strains of the mysterious song arose
from the water, and comforted her heart.
And the sweet
singer was Gayewas, the Spirit of the Lake and the Guardian of the Mountain
Streams. One day, when floating on the water, he had seen the beautiful
Gidanoneh, graceful and sad-eyed, walking on the shore. Unseen by her he had
approached and softly sung his magic song, which had comforted her heart. So
evening after evening at the sunset hour, he had sung to the maid.
The days passed,
and the old man came to take Gidanoneh to his lodge. But weeping she hastened
to the lake. There on the shore she found lying in her path two beautiful fish.
And, lo, around them were sewn rows of shining silver brooches that dazzled her
eyes with their light.
Forgetting her
sorrow in wonder and delight, she stooped and, gathering the glistening
brooches, fastened them upon her faded doeskin dress. Then she built a fire,
and was roasting and eating the fish when her father found her.
He stopped in
amazement as he looked at the silver brooches, for he had never seen such rich
ones. "Surely," thought he, "an evil Spirit is tempting my
daughter!" So in fear and rage he tore the brooches from her dress, and
threw them down on the shore. Then he led the weeping maid back to his lodge.
But the fish she had
tasted, had given her a thirst for the water of the blue lake, that she could
not resist. And heedless of her father's cries, she ran from him, nor stopped
until she reached the shore.
Falling upon her
knees, she touched her lips to the water, and, as she eagerly drank, strong
arms were thrown about her. She was drawn beneath the waves, and carried
downward to the shining bottom of the lake. Then she heard a voice, as musical
as the running brooks, calling her name. "Fear not, Gidanoneh," said
the voice; "fear not, for I am Gayewas, the Spirit of the Lake."
And beside her she
saw a warrior clad in glistening silver brooches. He gently led her to a lodge
built of scarlet shells, and there she was happy with Gayewas.
As for her father, he
wandered the night through on the shore, calling his daughter. At sunrise the
waves parted, and from the water came her voice, and he saw Gidanoneh, and by
her side was a handsome glistening warrior.
"My
father," she said, "I shall return no more to my land, for I am the
bride of Gayewas, the Spirit of the Lake. You will never behold me more.
Farewell! Farewell!"
And as she finished
speaking, the water slowly closed again, and the sweet strains of the
mysterious song were borne to the shore, as the sad father slowly wended his
way to his lodge.
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