by C. J. Taylor
Old Man arrived at the lodge to find Sun preparing for the hunt.
“There is nothing left in my cooking skin. Would you care to join me in the hunt? Then we shall both feast,” said Sun, reaching up for a bundle hanging above his sleeping skins.
Old Man always enjoyed hunting. “I would be delighted to join you,” he said, curious about the bundle Sun was unrolling. In it was the most splendid pair of leggings Old Man had ever seen. They were made of the softest white hide. Fine quillwork, each quill dyed to match Sun’s hair in bright yellows, reds, and oranges traced the side seams. Old Man watched Sun pull on the leggings. “Those are very fine,” he said.
“Thank you, my friend. They are indeed very beautiful and they hold much magic.”
“What magic can leggings hold?” asked Old Man.
“You will see,” said Sun. He picked up his arrows and led the way into the forest. “You will see.”
They soon came upon a herd of deer grazing in an open meadow. Old Man watched as Sun silently raised his bow and took careful aim. “Work your magic, leggings, for I am hungry.” Sun’s voice was no more than a whisper.
Suddenly flames shot from the bright quillwork that ran down the sides of the leggings. The flames burned a path through the grass, surrounding the herd of deer and sending them directly into Sun’s flying arrow. As suddenly as the flames appeared they were gone, leaving the grass untouched. Sun’s arrow had met its mark. Old Man and Sun would feast.
Old Man was amazed. The leggings were indeed magic.
That evening, after both had eaten their fill, Sun said, “Old Man, you are welcome to share my lodge for the night before you continue your travels tomorrow.”
“Your invitation is very gracious. I accept.” All the while Old Man was thinking, I must have these magic leggings.
Sun was very tired so he prepared for bed. Carefully he rolled up the magic leggings and hung them above his sleeping skins. It was not long before he was fast asleep. When Old Man heard Sun’s loud snores, he crept over and unhooked the rolled-up bundle that contained the magic leggings. All through the dark night he ran, clutching the bundle. As the sky began to grow light, Old Man finally stopped to rest. He placed the magic leggings under his head. I will close my eyes, just for a moment. But he fell into a deep sleep. Old Man was wakened by a loud voice. “Why are my leggings under your head?”
Old Man had run all night across the world, only to find himself back in Sun’s lodge. He did not want to admit the theft, so Old Man said, “Oh, in the middle of the night I needed a pillow. I didn’t want to disturb you. In the dark, I found this bundle.” He handed the magic leggings to Sun. “Because half my night was spent without a pillow, I did not sleep well. I need another day’s rest before I continue my travels.”
Sun was a good host. He could not refuse.
That night, Old Man waited again to hear Sun’s loud snoring. In the darkness he snatched the bundle hanging over Sun’s sleeping skins and ran into the night. He ran over tall mountains, through dense forests, along the shores of long, winding rivers. When the sky grew light, Old Man sat down. “Surely I am far enough away that I may rest for awhile.” And once more he fell into a deep sleep.
“Old Man, why are my magic leggings under your head?” Sun’s voice startled Old Man awake. Just like before, he was back where he had started. Not waiting for an answer, Sun said, “Old Man, you have forgotten. The whole earth is my lodge. You cannot possibly run from me. If you wish to have my leggings so badly, I give them to you. But be careful. They are very powerful.”
Old Man was so excited, he didn’t hear Sun’s words of caution. He grabbed the bundle of magic leggings and left, not even remembering to thank Sun for his hospitality or his gift.
Old Man continued on his journey across the earth, the magic leggings tucked away in his travel bundle. He thought about them all day as he worked, making things. By day’s end, Old Man was finishing up his work on a river that ran from the high mountains into a huge lake. Standing at the top, he poured great amounts of water into the dry river bed. “Just one more thing,” he said. He bent down and placed a small island in the center of the lake. Old Man stood up and looked over his creation.
“Perfect, but all this work has made me very hungry.” He remembered having seen a herd of deer in a thicket not far from the lake. I will use my new magic leggings, he thought. He unrolled the bundle and pulled on the magnificent leggings. He found the deer just where he had remembered. Taking careful aim with his bow, he said softly, “Work your magic, leggings, for I am hungry.”
Fire shot from the fine quillwork that ran down his legs. The earth around his feet burst into flames that quickly encircled him. The fire grew bigger and hotter. Smoke blurred Old Man’s vision. He dropped his bow and arrow and tried to stomp out the spreading flames that surrounded him. It was useless. The fire burned hotter and higher. There was nothing to do but run. Old Man took great loping strides toward the lake, flames shooting from the magic leggings, igniting everything in his path. He thought he would never reach the lake. When he finally reached its shores he made one giant leap into the water, sending great crashing waves over its burning tree-lined banks. The fire was out.
Old Man sat in the cooling waters. Great billows of smoke came from his blackened and burnt leggings and curled around his head. As the waters calmed, Sun appeared over the distant trees. “Be careful what you wish for, Old Man,” he laughed. “Be careful what you wish for.”
SHAMAN VISITS MOON
NETSILIK (INUIT)
Far North
The mid-winter evening air was crisp. Moon shone brightly, surrounded by millions of stars. The blue-white glow lit the snow-covered ice. The snow squeaked under Shaman’s sealskin boots as he prepared his harpoon. The bitter cold made his fingers numb and ate through his heavy skin coat and pants, sending shivers through his body. With difficulty he hooked the rope in place along the length of his harpoon and slipped his frozen hands into his fur-lined mitts. He twisted one end of the rope around his mittened hand and stood before the breathing hole in the ice. Shaman looked up at Moon and the sparkling stars and spoke.
“Thank you, Moon, for your light. You have made my task easier on such a cold night. My family is hungry. Perhaps this breathing hole will provide a nice fat seal. It is good to have your company while I wait.”
As Shaman spoke, Moon began to move. At first slowly, then faster and faster. Closer and closer came Moon. Shaman stood frozen, not from cold, but by what he saw.
Moon approached, growing larger and brighter. The winds came howling across the skies and the vast frozen horizon carrying great sheets of swirling snow. Through the vale of bright white, Shaman saw a huge sled pulled by three enormous dogs, speeding toward him.
The sled team was driven by a giant of a man. His fur coat and pants were as white as the snow. The sled came closer and closer. Shaman heard a voice bellowing through the winds, reining in the fearsome dogs a short distance from the breathing hole and Shaman. As the sled came to a stop, so did the howling winds and driving snow. Shaman saw that the giant man was Moon himself.
Moon called out to Shaman, “Come! Get on my sled.” As Shaman crawled into the gigantic sled, Moon told him, “Keep your eyes shut.”
At once, the dogs shot off skyward. Shaman tried to peek, but the bitter wind, the snow, and great speed, forced his eyes closed tight. He could feel and hear the sounds of the sled runners on the snow beneath him. He heard Moon roar commands to the dogs, and the sled slid to a stop. Shaman opened his eyes. Spread before him stood a huge village, full of the finest white hide tents. He saw people waving to him. Many he recognized. Shaman realized he stood in the Land of the Dead, far off in the sky.
“Come to my home,” said Moon. He strode quickly to the largest igloo Shaman had ever seen. He had to trot to keep up with the giant.
Shaman could see that the igloo was well built. Its surface was smooth and cast a blue-white light, as if a thousand oil lamps burned inside. At the entran
ce slept the biggest of the dogs. As Moon and Shaman approached, the dog sat up. He strained at his harness, growling and showing his long white fangs. Moon motioned to the dog and he returned to his napping.
Moon stooped to crawl through the doorway. As Shaman followed close behind, the passageway began to change. The snow blocks looked like giant teeth. The smooth floor started heaving up and down. It was like walking in a gigantic, chewing mouth.
They came upon another passageway. Its entrance was covered with an enormous white hide. Moon pulled it aside and crawled through, motioning to Shaman to follow.
Shaman looked around and saw there were not a thousand oil lamps lighting the igloo. The walls were not made of smooth snow blocks like the outside. They were covered with beautiful glowing white hides that shimmered with light. At the farthest end of the lodge was another passage. Its hide-covered entry glittered with colors Shaman had never seen. There was a welcoming warmth that seemed to call to him.
Moon pulled aside the glowing hide. “I share my lodge with my sister, Sun.” Behind the hide sat a beautiful young woman holding a small child. Beside her there burned an oil lamp, the flame so high and hot, it scorched Shaman’s sealskin coat and burned his eyes. Yet he could not look away.
“Welcome to our home, Shaman,” she said, smiling. “Come sit here by my lamp. I will fill a bowl with the best seal meat for you. You will never be cold or hungry again.”
Shaman thought about his family; his beautiful wife, and the two small children who depended on him. They would starve. There would be no oil to heat their snow lodge. The children would not have warm coats or boots made from the furs of the animals he hunted. They would wait forever for his return, not knowing what had happened. Shaman knew that if he stayed any longer and ate of the Sun’s seal meat, he would forget about his family.
Quickly he turned from Sun, and ran through the hanging hides, past Moon, into the giant chewing maw of a passage, and past the fearsome sleeping dog. Following the path past the white hide tents and waving relatives and friends he had lost, but longed to see again, Shaman came to the place where the trail turned from ice to snow. He shut his eyes tight and jumped. He fell down, down, down.
Shaman awoke to find himself back at the breathing hole. Something was tugging at him. The harpoon rope twisted around his hand and tugged again. Quickly Shaman drew in his harpoon line. On its end was a fat seal.
But he did not forget his visit with Moon. Shaman looked skyward. “Thank you Moon for your company. My family waits. This seal will feed them. It will heat our lodge. And as my wife sews the children’s new coats, I will tell them stories of our visit.”
COYOTE CREATES THE BIG DIPPER
WASCO
Western Rockies
It was Coyote who placed the stars in the night sky. He was very proud of his work. “I am a fine artist,” he would brag to anyone who would listen, his nose pointing to the heavens.
One evening, Coyote was taking a leisurely stroll and admiring the sparkling points of light overhead when he noticed an empty black space near the Bear Star. When he got to the top of his favorite mountain, a spot where he could see the whole universe, he sat down for a moment. He turned his head from side to side. “I shall have to think about this,” he said. Coyote continued his evening stroll, deep in thought.
Soon he came upon a pack of wolves and their dog. They were sitting on a cliff, their noses pointing skyward. They were discussing the Bear Star. Now, sometimes Coyote is very sneaky. He hid behind a tree to watch and listen.
“It is impossible to hunt a bear so far away,” said one of the wolves. “Let us be on our way.”
Suddenly Coyote had an idea. As the wolves and their dog turned to leave, he jumped out from his hiding place. “Hello cousins. I noticed you admiring the Bear Star. He is indeed a fine bear.”
“Yes, it is true, cousin.” The largest of the wolves stepped forward. “But he is too far away, and there is no trail for us to follow. We will take our hunt elsewhere.”
“I can help you,” Coyote boasted, sitting down in front of the wolf, his bushy tail curled around his skinny front legs. “Sometimes, cousin, your assistance is more trouble than it’s worth,” replied the wolf. Everyone knew how much Coyote liked to play tricks.
“I only wish to help my relatives.” Coyote moved aside as the wolves and their dog made their way down the trail. “It is such a fine bear and you are such good hunters. What a shame!” The pack stopped and gazed skyward. It was indeed a fine bear.
“What do you propose, Coyote?” asked the leader. “We want none of your tricks, mind you,” he warned, baring his long white fangs.
“Of course not,” said Coyote.
They all gathered around to hear Coyote’s plan. “As you know, cousins, it was I who placed the stars in the skyworld. So, does it not make sense that I would know the trail?”
The wolves and dog agreed. “All right, we will follow your trail,” said the leader, not quite trusting his crafty cousin.
“First I must fetch my travel bundle,” said Coyote. He dashed off into the woods. Just as quickly, he returned with a tattered bundle. He unrolled the old hide. Before them lay a bent and badly strung bow and several crooked arrows. Coyote proudly announced, “This is our trail. These are magic arrows. I will shoot them into the sky and we will climb up to the Bear.”
The pack leader showed his teeth. “You take us for fools, Coyote. Such bent and twisted arrows are useless.” The other wolves and the dog began to growl and snap their teeth. The hair stood up on their backs.
Sometimes Coyote can think fast. “It is the same trail Bear used. The bow and arrows may seem bent and crooked but they are shaped to fit my arms.”
The wolves and dog gave that some thought. They growled amongst themselves.
“Well, if you are not interested, no harm done. I will be on my way.” Coyote started to bundle up the crooked arrows and the bent bow. As if speaking to himself, he muttered, “It is such a shame. Such a fine bear. A nice fat bear like that would feed a family for a long time.”
Holding the bundle he paused to gaze skyward. “Yes, a shame. Oh, well. Good hunting to you, cousins.” As he turned to leave, Coyote heard more growling. This time it was their stomachs.
“Hold on, Coyote. We did not mean to doubt you. Being hungry makes us short-tempered. Please show us the trail,” said the leader.
“Very well,” replied Coyote. “But you must listen to my instructions. We may be in for danger.”
Once more, he unrolled the tattered bundle. He reached for the bent bow and one of the crooked arrows. He took careful aim. The arrow twisted and turned toward the sky and held fast in a cloud that misted over the mountain tops. One after another the arrows whizzed from Coyote’s bow. Each was planted firmly in the clouds until a ladder had formed right up to Bear Star. In great amazement the wolves and dog shouted, “This time Coyote’s magic works!” They climbed the ladder trail skyward.
Coyote led the way. When he reached the last arrow near the Bear Star, he stopped. “This is where you must follow my instructions carefully,” he told the leader, the largest of the wolves. “Step into the sky. Dog, you follow, then the rest.” All took their places, waiting for further instructions, as Coyote pranced up and down the shaft of the top arrow. “No, No. That’s not right.” He pointed to each. “You, go over there. You, go there.” The wolves and dog ran every which way, becoming more and more confused. By the time Coyote shouted, “That’s it. Perfect!” they were worn out.
The leader called out, “Let us sit awhile and watch Bear while we rest.” But soon the wolves and the dog fell asleep. Coyote quickly descended the trail, pulling out each arrow as he ran, dropping a few along the way. When he reached the earth he returned to his favorite mountaintop from where he could see the whole universe. His tail curled around the bent arrows. When he looked up into the night sky at the Bear Star, there sat the wolves and their dog, and there they would hunt Bear forever. Turning his head f
rom side to side Coyote said, “I am a wonderful artist, and clever too!”
GRANDMOTHER SPIDER BRINGS LIGHT
CHEROKEE
East Tennessee, North Carolina, Northern Georgia
In the beginning, only half the world had light. The other half lived in darkness. The people, animals and birds who lived without light were not happy. They could not see anything. There were many accidents, many bumpings into trees and bushes, and even into each other.
Everyone came together — the people, the animals, and the birds — to discuss what might be done.
The people were the first to speak. “We need light. Does anyone know where we might find some?”
Fox came forward. “I have heard of a place on the other side of the world that has plenty of light. But the people there are greedy. They will not give any away.”
The discussion went on and on, nobody knows for how long. It was difficult to measure time without day and night.
Finally Possum came up with a plan. “As everyone knows, I have a very beautiful bushy tail. I will steal a tiny piece of light and hide it in my fur. I will return with it before the people even realize that some of their light is missing.”
All agreed. Possum’s tail was, indeed, a fine bushy one. “It could work,” they said.
Possum set out for the other side of the world. He traveled a great distance until he came upon the tallest of all trees. At the very top hung a huge ball of light, glowing brighter than anything Possum had ever seen. Quickly, he climbed the tree. The closer he came to the brilliant ball of light, the hotter it became, until it burned his tiny toes. He dashed forward, grabbed a scrap of light, and stuffed it into the fur of his bushy tail. As he climbed down the tall tree, he noticed gray, smelly smoke, curling and swirling behind him. He turned to see that his beautiful bushy tail was on fire. On burning toes, with tail aflame, he quickened his pace down the tree. There was a stream nearby and Possum sat in the cool running waters. He had lost the light. And worse, his splendid tail was pink and bare, never to grow thick and bushy again. An embarrassed Possum returned home. He had failed to bring light.