“Yes! Let’s try!”
Coyote tied Iktinike’s hands tightly to the horse’s tail. “Now pull!” cried Coyote. “Pull real hard, honored elder brother!”
Iktinike did and the horse jumped up. It wasn’t dead, after all. It stampeded. Galloping away at a dead run, the horse dragged Iktinike through thornbushes and shrubs wuth long, sharp spikes. Iktinike was all scratched up. He was bleeding. Still the horse ran on, kicking furiously with its hind legs in order to free itself, kicking Iktinike with his hooves so that he was badly bruised. Finally the length of rope that tied Iktinike’s hands to the horse’s tail broke, leaving Iktinike lying on the ground, hurt and panting. Coyote laughed, fit to burst, wiping tears of merriment from his eyes. Shaking with laughter, he walked off. He had succeeded in something he had wanted to do for a long time—playing a trick on Iktinike.
Limping away, Iktinike was thinking of revenge. He bided his time. Summer turned into fall, fall into winter. Iktinike was placing himself along a path often taken by Coyote. Iktinike was sitting there with a big fish by his side. Coyote was coming along. He saw Iktinike and took particular notice of the big fish. “Honored elder brother,” said Coyote, “where did you get such a fine, big fish?”
“My friend,” answered Iktinike, “come with me and I’ll show you.” Iktinike led Coyote to a nearby lake that was entirely covered with ice. “Here is where I get my fine big fish in the wintertime.”
“How, honored elder brother, how do you get them?”
With his tomahawk Iktinike chopped a hole in the ice. “Here, friend,” said Iktinike. “Drop your tail through this hole and the fish will come and bite,” said Iktinike. Coyote dipped his tail through the hole in the ice that Iktinike had made. “Just sit still and be patient,” Iktinike advised Coyote.
After a while, Coyote said: “Honored elder brother, I think a fish is biting.”
“It’s too early,” said Iktinike.
The ice was closing in on the hole. Coyote felt it pinching his tail. “Elder brother,” he cried, “I really feel them biting now!”
“Patience, friend,” Iktinike told him. “The big one is still to come. You don’t want to go home to your wife with a measly, small-sized fish.”
“Well, all right, I’ll wait a little longer,” said Coyote. The hole froze completely over. The ice pinched Coyote’s tail badly. It held him in its grip. “Oh! Oh!” cried Coyote. “A big fish is biting my tail. It is biting on it hard. It has sharp teeth.”
“Well, friend,” said Iktinike, “I think this time you got the big one. Pull him out! Pull hard!”
Coyote pulled and pulled, but he was stuck in the ice. He could not extricate his tail. “Help! Help, elder brother!” Coyote wailed. “The fish clamped its teeth so hard on my tail that I cannot get it out. Help!”
“Here, take hold of my hands,” said Iktinike. “We’ll both pull.” They pulled so hard, they tore Coyote’s tail off. It remained stuck in the ice. Only a short, bleeding little stump was left.
“Oh, it hurts!” Cried Coyote, rubbing his sore backside.
“Maybe you should have gone for a smaller fish,” said Iktinike.
“Oh, my beautiful tall Elder brother, you have done me wrong. You played an evil trick on me!”
“I’ve only done to you, friend, as you did to me,” said Iktinike, walking off laughing.
IKTOMI TAKES BACK A GIFT
{Rosebud Sioux}
Tunka, Inyan, the Rock, is the oldest
divinity in the Lakota cosmology. Everything
dies; only the Rock is forever.
Iktomi, the tricky Spider-Man, was starving. There had been no game for a long time. Iktomi was just skin and bones. His empty stomach growled. He was desperate. Then it occurred-to him to go for help to Inyan, the Rock, who has great powers, and who might answer his prayers.
Iktomi wrapped himself in his blanket, because it was late in the year and cold. Then he went to a place where a large upright rock was standing. This rock was lila wakan, very sacred. Sometimes people came to pray to it.
When Iktomi arrived at that place he lifted up his hands to Inyan: “Tunkashila, onshimalaye, grandfather, have pity on me. I am hungry. If you do not help me, I will starve to death. I need meat, grandfather.”
Iktomi took his blanket from his shoulder and draped it around Inyan. “Here, grandfather, tunkashila, accept this gift. It is the only thing I have to give. It will keep you warm. Please let me find something good to eat.”
After praying to Inyan for a long time, Iktomi went off to search for food. He had a feeling Inyan would answer his prayers, and he was right. Iktomi had not gone very far when he came upon a freshly killed deer. It had an arrow piercing its neck, the feathered nock sticking out on one side of the neck and the arrowhead on the other.
“Ohan, said Iktomi, ”the deer has been able to run for a distance after being hit and the hunter has lost it. Inyan has arranged it that way. Well, that is only fair. Did I not give him my blanket? Well, anyhow, pilamaya, tunkashila—thank you, grandfather!“
Iktomi took his sharp knife out of its beaded knife sheath and began to skin and dress the deer. Then he gathered wood and, with his strike-a-light and tinder, made a fire. There was not much wood and it was wet. It wasn’t much of a fire. And it had grown very cold. Iktomi was shivering. His teeth were chattering. He was saying to himself: “What good is my blanket to Inyan? He is just a rock. He does not feel either cold or heat. He does not need it. And, anyway, I don’t think Inyan had anything to do with my finding this deer. I am smart. I saw certain tracks. I smelled the deer. So there, I did it all by myself. I did not have to give Inyan anything. I shall take my blanket back!”
Iktomi went back to the sacred rock. He took the blanket off him. “Tunkashila,” he said, “this blanket is mine. I am freezing. You don’t need this blanket; I do.”
Iktomi wrapped the blanket tightly around his body. “Ah, that feels good,” he said. “Imagine, giving a blanket to a rock!”
When Iktomi came back to the place where he had left the deer, he discovered that it had disappeared—vanished, gone! Only a heap of dry bones was left. There were no tracks or any signs that somebody had dragged the deer away. It had been transformed into dry bones by a powerful magic.
“How mean of Inyan,” said Iktomi, “and how stupid of me. I should have eaten first and then taken the blanket back.”
IKTOMI AND THE WILD DUCKS
{Minneconjou Sioux}
One day, Iktomi, the spider fellow, was talking a walk to see what he could see. Tiptoeing through the woods, he saw water sparkling through the leaves. “I am coming to a lake,” Iktomi said to himself. “There might be some fat ducks there. I shall creep up to this lake very carefully so that I cannot be seen. Maybe I shall catch something.”
Iktomi crept up to the water’s edge on all fours, hiding himself behind some bushes. Sure enough, the lake was full of nice, plump ducks. At the sight of them Iktomi’s mouth began to water. But how was he to catch the birds? He had neither a net nor his bow and arrows. But he had a stick. He suddenly popped up from behind the bushes, capering and dancing.
“Ho, cousins, come here and learn to dance. I have eight legs and I am the best dancer in the world.”
All the ducks swam to the shore and lined up in a row, spellbound by Iktomi’s fancy dancing. After a while Iktomi stopped. “Cousins, come closer still,” he cried. “I am the gentle, generous Spider-Man, the friend of all the birds, cousin to all fliers, and I shall teach you the duck song. Now, when I start singing, you must all close your eyes in order to concentrate better. Do not peek while I sing, or you will be turned into ugly mud hens with red eyes. You don’t want this to happen, do you? You have, no doubt, noticed my stick. It is a drumstick with which I will beat out the rhythm. Are you ready? then close your eyes.”
Iktomi started to sing and the foolish ducks crowded around him, doing as he had told them, flapping their wings delightedly and swaying to and fro. And with hi
s stick Iktomi began to club them dead—one after another.
Among the ducks was one young, smart one. “I better check on what’s happening,” this duck said to himself. “I don’t quite trust that fellow with the eight legs. I’ll risk one eye. One red eye isn’t so bad.” He opened his left eye and in a flash saw what Iktomi was up to. “Take off! Take off!” he cried to the other ducks. “Or we’ll all wind up in this man’s cooking pot!”
The ducks opened their eyes and flew away, quacking loudly.
Still, Iktomi had a fine breakfast of roast duck. The Spider-Man’s power turned the smart young duck into a mud hen.
This is why, to this day, mud hens swim alone, away from other ducks, always on the lookout, diving beneath the water as soon as they see or hear anyone approaching, thinking it might be wicked Iktomi with a new bag of tricks. Better a live, ugly mud hen than a pretty, dead duck.
IKTOMI TRYING TO OUTRACE BEAVER
{Santee}
It was winter. It was cold. Iktomi was walking about. “It’s hard to find anything to eat. I have been going on an empty stomach for days.” Of course, that wasn’t true. He had eaten a rabbit only a few hours before, but Iktomi is always ravenous, he is never satisfied. “Oh, my,” he said, “listen to that poor stomach of mine growling.” He was looking around. Not too far away he saw Beaver sitting on the ice of a frozen lake. Beaver was cooking. He was stirring a large pot resting upon two stones with a fire under it. Iktomi’s nose began to twitch. He smelled the food. It smelled wonderful. “How can I get some of it?” he said to himself.
Iktomi went over to Beaver. “Elder brother,” he said, “Toniktuka hwo? How are you this fine morning?”
“I am well, lila washtay. Thank you. I can’t complain.”
“I see you are cooking up a fine meal. It smells very good. I hear you are a fine cook, and a great hunter, too. What’s in the pot?”
“Oh, just some bear meat, cousin Spider.”
“Elder brother, I was told that you are the fastest runner hereabouts. Yes, people are talking about what a great runner you are.”
“People are always exaggerating, cousin Spider. You know how they are always speaking nonsense.”
“No, not at all, elder brother. You are justly famous,” said Iktomi. “But I have an idea. Why don’t we have a race, you and me? I would consider it an honor to race against someone like you.”
“Well, all right, cousin, I am game. In what way should we race?”
“We’ll walk around the lake to the far side and then we’ll race across the ice back to the pot here. And whoever reaches this pot first gets the bear meat.”
“Well, all right, cousin, if that’s what you want.”
Iktomi thought to himself: “That slow, fat old fellow will be easy to beat. I can already taste that delicious bear meat.”
They walked around the lake. They got to the far shore. “Now I’ll count to three, elder brother. When I say ‘three,’ we start running.”
“All right!”
The race began. The ice was very slick. Beaver, with his large, webbed feet, had the better hold on it. To Iktomi’s surprise and dismay, Beaver was getting ahead of him. Then a crack opened in front of Iktomi and he fell into the lake. He swam underneath the ice to where Beaver was already gorging himself on the bear meat.
There was a small hole in the ice right there. Iktomi put his mouth up to this hole. “Elder brother,” he begged, “please give me a little of the food.” Beaver took a small piece and dropped it into Iktomi’s mouth.
“Pilamaya, thank you, elder brother, let me have some more.” Beaver dropped another piece into Iktomi’s mouth. “More, more,” said Iktomi. Beaver grabbed a big chunk of bear dung, which was there within his reach, and dumped it into Iktomi’s mouth.
“Is this a way to treat a relative?” Iktomi complained. He swam under the ice to another crack, big enough to let him climb out. He shook himself. He was frozen stiff. “That evil old fellow has played a trick on me,” Iktomi said to himself, “but this is not the end. Someday I shall have my revenge!” ,
TOO SMART FOR HIS OWN GOOD
{Sioux}
Iktomi, the clever Spider-Man, is smart, sometimes too smart for his own good. Iktomi was sitting on a log, one fine morning, sunning himself, when he saw Cetan, the Hawk, flying about. “Brother,” cried Iktomi, “give me a ride!” The good-natured Hawk let Iktomi climb on his back. Up in the air Iktomi enjoyed the flight and the fine view, but soon he was bored. Iktomi is always bored, unless he can play a joke on someone. He decided to have some fun at the Hawk’s expense.
Whenever they encountered somebody—an eagle, buzzard, or magpie—Iktomi made to them a gesture in sign language indicating that Hawk was a stupid, no-account hlete, good-for-nothing. Thus he played Hawk for a fool. He thought Hawk could not see him doing that. He thought: “Hawks don’t have eyes on the backs of their heads.”
What Iktomi forgot was that Hawk could see their shadow on the ground and could watch Iktomi making fun of him. “I’ll get even with that tricky Spider-Man,” thought Hawk, and all of a sudden turned over, flying upside down. Iktomi lost his grip and fell through the air, landing inside a hollow tree.
Iktomi was still trying to find his way out when it began to rain. It rained very hard. The tree was very dry. It soaked up the water like a sponge and swelled up. Poor Iktomi was being crushed to death.
Poor Iktomi! In his pain and fear he began to pray. “Great Spirit, why did you make me so smart that I always try to fool everybody? In the end I am only fooling myself. Please save me! Have pity on me!” Thus Iktomi humbled himself. His former pride and wickedness made him feel very small, so small that he was able to crawl out of that tree. A little humility and prayer can be a good thing sometimes.
PART SIX
SPIDER-MAN INLOVE
OH, IT’S YOU!
{Lakota}
Iktomi is always horny. He only thinks about copulating. There was a beautiful young girl in the village, with sparkling come-hither eyes, shining long raven hair, heaving bosoms, and the graceful, undulating movements of a cat. From the first moment he saw her, Iktomi thought only about how he could induce her to sleep with him.
He waited at the brook where the women went to fetch water, and when the beautiful girl came there with her water bag, Iktomi played love tunes on his siyotanka, the flute used for courting, and tried to beguile her with his tunes. But Iktomi was not at all good-looking, his figure was not in the least imposing, and his manners were deplorable. So the girl showed in the many ways that women have, without saying it in so many words, that she had not the slightest intention of letting him get close to her. The expression on her face made it obvious that Iktomi was repulsive to her.
Still Iktomi was after her, following her wherever she went, whispering suggestive words, saying what a great lover he was and what pleasures she was missing by rejecting his advances.
The beautiful girl was annoyed. She thought it was an insult that such a low, unappealing, unmannered fellow like Iktomi wanted to make love to her. So she went to Iktomi’s wife. “Auntie,” she said, “that lustful husband of yours wants to do tawiton, have sex, with me.”
“Is that the only news you can give me? There is not a girl or woman in the village he doesn’t want to do tawiton with.”
“Well, what do you want to do about this?”
“That louse-ridden, lying hlete, good-for-nothing fellow. He no longer cares to make love to me. He says I am too old for him, he with his gray hair and potbelly! Too old, hah! I’m younger than he is. I wish I could catch him in the act and give him the beating he deserves.”
“Auntie, what will you give me if I arrange it so that you can play a trick on him and, at the same time, catch him trying to commit wawičihahahapi, adultery?”
“I would gladly give you my best horse and my best beaded and quilled dance outfit.”
“That sounds good to me, auntie. Here is what we will do. I’ll invite that wawičihaha o
f yours to come to spend the night with me. Tomorrow there will be no moon. It will be very dark. You will take my place. When he comes, you’ll pretend you are me.”
“I can hardly wait,” said Mrs. Iktomi.
So next morning the beautiful girl went to the brook, as always, to fetch water. And, naturally, Iktomi was already there with his love flute. “I’m beginning to warm up to you,” the beautiful girl said to Iktomi.
“Come to think, you are rather cute. My tipi is over there, the one with the sun design painted on it. I live alone, except for my grandmother, who is blind and deaf. She won’t notice anything. But you must come after it is dark. I don’t want people to see you. I don’t like them gossiping about me.”
“Why, well, of course, my beautiful winčinčala. You won’t regret it. I am the greatest lover of them all! Oh, what a yasinsin, orgasm, I’ll give you! It will leave you limp and panting with delight.”
“I can hardly wait,” said the beautiful girl.
That night Mrs. Iktomi took the place of the beautiful girl in the girl’s tipi. “Don’t mind unci,grandmother,” the girl told Mrs. Iktomi. “She is blind and deaf and sleeps all the time. Thunder could not wake her. She won’t notice anything.”
“Washtay, good, let’s get on with it.”
Mrs. Iktomi was lying in the place where the beautiful girl used to sleep, waiting for her cheating husband. She did not have long to wait. As soon as it was dark Iktomi crept into the tipi. He went to where his wife was stretched out. He embraced her. “Imaputake, ” he said, “kiss me!” And “Washte chilake, I love you. How sweet your breath is compared to my old woman.” He felt her all over. “Oh, what a beautiful, firm little body you have, not lumpy and saggy like that of my wife. What a joy to make love to a young, beautiful girl instead of to an old, ugly hag!”
American Indian Trickster Tales (Myths and Legends) Page 12