by Jon C. Scott
“He sure is lazy,” grumbled Brer Fox.
“Greedy too,” grumbled Brer Bear.
The two friends stood quietly in the middle of the road, scowls on their faces. Then Brer Fox spoke up: “Maybe we can think of a plan to get him. But it’s too hot to think in the middle of the road. Let’s go and sit under the shade of that catalpa tree and see what we can come up with.”
Just before noon the next day, Brer Rabbit came hopping down the same trail, singing about beautiful days. He looked over at the shade underneath the catalpa tree. He thought he saw something; so, being curious, he hopped closer. Someone was sleeping in the shade, a hat pulled down over his eyes. “Good morning, my friend,” Brer Rabbit said politely as he bowed toward the sleeper. “It sure is a wonderful day.”
When the sleeper didn’t reply, he hopped a little closer and noticed a jug of water. It looked deliciously cool. Beads of moisture ran down the sides.
I sure would like some of that water, he thought to himself. But it would be rude to wake him up just to ask for a drink.
So he picked up the bottle, pulled the cork out with his teeth and took a big, big swig…and another…and another. In fact, he emptied the jug.
Then Brer Rabbit noticed a big bowl of stewed collard greens on the other side of the sleeper. His nose twitched. He could smell the bacon fat that the collard leaves had been cooked in. His mouth watered.
I worked pretty hard this morning. I’m sure hungry. Maybe I’ll just have a bit of those greens. I’m sure he won’t mind. He’d probably be mad if I woke him up.
Now the only thing Brer Rabbit ever worked hard at was thinking about how to get out of working hard. And the lunches he liked best were the ones he didn’t have to work at making for himself.
So he pushed both paws into the bowl, grabbed an enormous bunch of the greens, shoved them into his mouth, began chewing…and then spit them out and gave a loud yell.
“My mouth’s on fire!” he cried. “Those greens are loaded with hot pepper.”
His mouth was burning. He grabbed the water jug and tipped it to his mouth. But, of course, it was empty.
Then he started to get angry. “Somebody’s going to get into big trouble for this,” he muttered. Then he looked at the sleeping person.
“You, wake up. Why did you put all that pepper in the food? Why didn’t you tell me that it was so hot? You’re in big trouble.”
There was no answer. Brer Rabbit got angrier. His mouth was on fire, and he was really hot under the collar.
“I’m going to teach you a lesson,” Brer Rabbit growled. He hopped forward and kicked at the sleeper’s leg, but his foot got stuck. The sleeper’s hat fell off. The sleeper wasn’t a person at all, but a big doll covered with sticky tar.
Brer Rabbit tried to pull his foot away. It wouldn’t move. He put his hands on the doll’s shoulders and pushed hard. Now his hands were struck.
“Let me go this minute. If you don’t, I’m really going to kick you.” He was so angry that he didn’t stop to think that it was foolish to kick at a doll. When he kicked again, he was really stuck.
Just then, Brer Bear and Brer Fox came out from the bush where they’d been hiding.
“Well,” said Brer Fox. “It looks like our plan worked. That rabbit’s in big trouble.” Then he turned toward Brer Rabbit. “Certainly is a beautiful day, isn’t it, Brer Rabbit? I’m glad to see you have a new friend. Won’t you introduce us?”
Brer Rabbit tugged and pulled, trying to get free.
“Better stick around,” Brer Fox told him. “We’ve got plans for you.”
Then he turned to Brer Bear. “Now that we’ve finally caught him, we’ve got to think up the best punishment we can.
“I have an idea,” he continued. “He wouldn’t help us with the well, but he helped himself to the well water. Maybe we should throw him in the well and let him drown.”
When he heard what Brer Fox had said, Brer Rabbit began to sob. “I know my end is near,” he blubbered, tears running down his cheeks. “I deserve to be punished for being so greedy and lazy. If I have to go, drowning would be the best way to die. It wouldn’t hurt. So why don’t you throw me into the well, and we’ll get it over with?”
Brer Fox walked over to pick Brer Rabbit up. Then he stopped and started to think. If he wanted to punish Brer Rabbit, he shouldn’t do what the rabbit wanted. That would be too easy.
“No,” he said. “We’ve got to think of a better punishment. Do you have any ideas, Brer Bear?”
“He stole my food. So I think we should make food out of him. We could build a fire and roast him. He’s kind of scrawny, but he’d be okay as a snack.”
Brer Rabbit quickly spoke up. “That would be more painful than being drowned. But justice is justice. Throw me into the fire, and let’s get it over with.”
The bear paused. He didn’t want to use a punishment that Brer Rabbit had agreed to. “No,” he said. “We’ll think of a better punishment. What do you think would be the worst thing we could do to you, Brer Rabbit?”
“Do whatever terrible thing you have to, but, whatever you do, don’t throw me into that big briar patch over there,” Brer Rabbit said in a trembling voice. “It will hurt dreadfully. My fur will be torn and bleeding. I might die, and even if I don’t, I’d look so terrible that everyone would laugh when I walked by them.”
The other two animals smiled. Seeing everyone laugh at Brer Rabbit would be better than killing him. They grabbed him, pulled his hands and feet off the tar doll and began to swing him back and forth. Then they let him go. As he sailed through the air toward the briar patch, they laughed and called out, “It’s a great day, Brer Rabbit.”
Brer Rabbit landed with a crash in the briar patch. The two friends smiled and shook hands with each other. “I guess we’ve punished him pretty good,” each of them said at the same time.
But from the briar patch came a laughing voice. “You threw me into my old home. This is where I was born. The briars don’t hurt me, and nobody can catch me when I’m in here.” And then he began to sing about what a great day it was.
“He tricked us,” said Brer Bear.
“Yes, he sure did. But I don’t think he’ll be bothering us too soon,” Brer Fox remarked.
Brer Bear and Brer Fox didn’t see much of Brer Rabbit after that. But a few weeks later, when the two friends met again along the trail near the catalpa tree, they didn’t look very happy.
“This morning, there were footprints all around my well, and the water was all muddied up,” growled Brer Fox.
“Last night, a row of collard greens had been eaten right to the ground,” replied Brer Bear.
“And do you know what I heard in the distance?” asked the fox.
“Yes, I do,” replied the bear. “Somebody singing about what a beautiful day it was.”
“I’m really hot under the collar,” grumbled Brer Fox.
“And I’m steaming,” replied Brer Bear.
How NANABOZHO Lost His Big Feast
CANADA and UNITED STATES :: The Ojibway people living in the areas around Lake Superior often told stories about how Nanabozho used his wits to help others. However, because he was sometimes very greedy, he often played tricks for selfish reasons. These old stories were first written down more than 150 years ago by Henry Rowe Schoolcraft, a white trader.
Even though it was early in May, the month of budding, Nanabozho felt very hot. He’d been walking all morning, and because there were no leaves on the birches and maples, the sun shone right down on him.
I think that the lake is just ahead. I could sure use a good drink of water, he thought.
Soon, he saw the sunlight sparkling off the water, and as he got closer, he saw several flocks of ducks swimming around, more than usual. In the springtime, many flocks of ducks would rest at the lake before heading farther north.
Nanabozho realized that he wasn’t just thirsty. He was also extremely hungry. He always liked to eat, and when he could, he’d eat
more than he needed. In fact, if he hadn’t gotten so much exercise looking for feasts, he probably would have developed an enormous belly.
There were enough mallards, mergansers, buffleheads and coots on the lake for him to have a bigger feast than he’d ever had before.
But there was a problem. How could he catch as many as he wanted? If he used his bow and arrow, he’d probably be able to shoot only two or three before the rest flew off. And two or three certainly wouldn’t be enough for Nanabozho. If he tried to swim underwater into the middle of a flock to grab some by the legs, he wouldn’t be any more successful. And besides, the lake was still too cold to swim in.
So he sat down on a log and thought. After a few minutes he stood up, took the sack that he always carried with him and started putting dead branches in it. Then he started walking back and forth along the bank, near where a large group of mallards was swimming.
One of the mallards looked up and swam to the shore. “What are you carrying in your sack?” he asked.
“Oh,” Nanabozho answered, “I have a very special dance in here. It’s called the shut-eye dance. I would like to perform it in the village, but I will need many dancers to help me.” He paused and then continued, “Perhaps you could help me, little brother. You and all your brothers and sisters could help. I would be very honoured if you would dance with me. It’s going to be a very important dance.”
The mallard was pleased. Mallards were never asked to take part in anything important. They were usually ignored or ridiculed because they didn’t seem very smart. So the mallard swam out to the other mallards, the mergansers, the buffleheads and the coots to tell them about Nanabozho’s invitation.
Soon, there were 50 ducks standing on the sand. More wanted to join the group, but Nanabozho said that for the dance to be well done, there couldn’t be too many. And, he thought to himself, 50 would be enough for the biggest feast I’ve ever had.
His mouth began to water.
“I want you to listen carefully to my instructions,” he told them. “If you don’t do exactly as I say, the dance will be a failure. First, you are to follow me along this trail through the woods until we get to a big clearing. Then, you are to get into four circles. The coots will be on the inner circle, because they’re the smallest, then the buffleheads and mergansers.”
To the mallards, he said, “It is very important that all of you be in the outside circle. Do you understand?” Nanabozho loved roasted mallards.
The ducks nodded their heads and quacked excitedly. “Now comes the most important part. If you don’t do exactly as I tell you, the dance will be ruined, and I’ll have to find another group to join me at the festival. When I start beating on my drum, you must all close your eyes and begin to dance and to sing as loudly as you can. If you open your eyes, I’ll punish you. Your eyes will turn red.”
“We’ll do as you say, Nanabozho,” said the birds. Nobody wanted to be left out.
When they reached the clearing, Nanabozho pulled a little drum out of his bag and started to beat it slowly. The ducks closed their eyes, began stepping slowly to the beat and chanting. Gradually, he beat the drum louder and faster. The ducks moved their feet more quickly and began chanting louder and louder. Soon there was such a noise of quacking and chanting that they could hardly hear the drum.
Nanabozho moved closer to the outer circle, the one with the mallards in it. He put his drum down, stepped up to one of them, grabbed it, and wrung its neck. Then he grabbed another and wrung its neck, and another, and another.
He’d gone almost all the way around the circle, when one of the coots in the inside circle opened its eyes. “Help,” he screamed. “Nanabozho is killing us. Fly, brothers and sisters, fly.”
The ducks began to flap their wings and to run along the ground.
Nanabozho ran after the coot that had shouted the warning and grabbed its feet just as it began to fly. “Your eyes will be red for the rest of your life,” he said angrily. “I’m not going to kill you. I’m going to let you go so you can tell everyone what happens when you disobey Nanabozho. And because you seem to be having trouble getting into the air, I’m going to give you some help.” Then he kicked the coot into the air.
And that’s why, even to this day, coots have red eyes and waddle as if someone has kicked them in the behind.
Nanabozho looked at the pile of mallards on the ground. There were enough to feed five or six ordinary people. “I guess this will have to do,” he sighed as he emptied the sticks out of his sack and built a fire. He began to pluck the feathers of the birds and to clean them. Soon there was a pile of embers at just the right heat for roasting mallards. He carefully arranged the carcasses at the outer edge of the fire and raked the coals around them.
As he sat gazing into the embers and inhaling the delicious aromas of the roasting mallards, he was startled by a voice from the edge of the clearing. “Hello, brother. Do you mind if I sit for a few minutes and rest beside your fire?”
It was Coyote. Nanabozho knew he should invite her to join him and share his meal. But he wasn’t very happy about it, because he thought there was barely enough for himself.
When he noticed that Coyote was limping as she came toward the fire, he had an idea. “These ducks won’t be cooked for some time,” he told her. “While we’re waiting, why don’t we amuse ourselves with a race around the lake? The exercise will be good for us; it will give us a good appetite.”
“But my leg is very sore; I can hardly walk. You’ll beat me easily.”
“Here’s what I’ll do,” Nanabozho replied. “To make it fair, I’ll tie this branch to my leg to slow me down, and I’ll give you a head start.”
He planned to wait until Coyote was out of sight, untie the branch and then take a shorter path around the lake. He’d get back to the fire first, and then he’d have time to eat most of the ducks before Coyote returned.
Coyote limped off into the woods. But as soon as she was out of sight, she crept slowly back to the edge of the clearing and hid behind a very large white pine. She saw Nanabozho untie the branch and start running as fast as he could.
When he’d disappeared into the trees, Coyote walked back into the clearing, not limping at all, pulled all the ducks out of the fire, let them cool for a few minutes and ate every one of them. Then, she took the leg bones and carefully placed them into the ashes beside the fire. It looked like all of the ducks were still roasting.
Coyote licked her lips, stood up and walked into the woods. She hid behind the white pine and waited for Nanabozho to finish the race.
When Nanabozho ran into the clearing, he was gasping for breath. “I’m really hungry now,” he said to himself as he sat down beside the fire. “I’m sure glad that I won’t have to share all my feast with that old coyote.”
He reached for the first pair of duck legs and pulled them out of the fire. A surprised look spread across his face. There was no meat on the bones. Maybe they were too close to the heat, and all the meat fell off and burned, he thought. He reached for another pair of legs, and then another, and then another, without finding any meat. By the time he’d reached the end of the circle of legs, Nanabozho was very angry. If he’d been wearing a shirt, he’d have been hot under the collar.
“You tricked me, Coyote,” he yelled. “You are the greediest person I know, and selfish, too. You should have left some of the food for me. I’m going to get you.”
Just then, Coyote stepped out from behind the tree. “Catch me if you can,” she called out and then laughed. “My leg is all better!”
Nanabozho started after her, but Coyote ran very fast and soon disappeared into the forest.
Nanabozho walked to the lake and sat down. He gasped for breath, and his legs ached. He hadn’t had a drink of water all day. He was thirsty, as thirsty as he’d ever been. As he waded into the water, the ducks saw him and, quacking with alarm, flew off over the trees.
Nanabozho filled his stomach with water and started walking.
&nbs
p; “I’m afraid that I’m going to starve to death,” he muttered to himself.
His stomach rumbled.
How KANCIL Built a Crocodile Bridge
INDONESIA :: In real life, the mouse deer, or kancil, which weighs just over two kilograms, is in constant danger from large predators. However, the people of Indonesia tell many stories in which it defeats its enemies by tricking them.
Kancil, the mouse deer, woke up before the sun rose. Because he had eaten all of the green grass, buds and cat’s eye fruit, he had only been able find dried grass and leaves yesterday. Now he was very thirsty.
He walked along the jungle trail to the river in the darkness. He stepped down the bank, put his front legs into the mud and was about to drink when Buaya, the crocodile, who’d swum very quietly to the shore, grabbed one of his legs in his strong jaws. Kancil realized that he couldn’t struggle. He was too small, and the crocodile was too big.
He saw a broken branch lying in the mud. He grabbed it in his mouth, and started waving it over the head of the crocodile.
“Don’t you know what a leg looks and feels like?” he said to Buaya. “You’ve grabbed a stick. Look, here’s my leg.” And he waved the stick until the crocodile opened his jaws and started to lift his head up. Kancil pulled his leg away, dropped the stick into the crocodile’s mouth and hopped into the jungle. He could hear the crocodile spitting out splinters of dry wood and muttering angrily.
“You are really stupid, Buaya. You don’t know the difference between a leg and a stick,” the mouse deer called out in a mocking voice.
Kancil knew that he wouldn’t be able to drink safely at this part of the river, so he walked upstream looking for a less dangerous spot. As he did, he began to sing very loudly:
You’re so big, and I’m not.
I’m so smart, and you’re not.
A few days later, Kancil woke up feeling very thirsty again. He still only had dried grass and leaves to eat, and there wasn’t much left. He waited until it was light before heading to the river. He didn’t want the crocodile sneaking up on him.