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STORIES
THE IROQUOIS
TELL THEIR
CHILDREN
[Illustration]
MABEL POWERS
(YEH SEN NOH WEHS)
AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY
NEW YORK CINCINNATI CHICAGO
Copyright, 1917, by
MABEL POWERS.
_All rights reserved._
W. P. 9
[Illustration]
TO ALL THE CHILDREN WHO ASK
HOW AND WHY,
ESPECIALLY THOSE RED CHILDREN
WHO SEE WITH WONDER EYES,
AND THOSE PALEFACE CHILDREN
WHO YET BELIEVE IN FAIRIES,
THESE STORIES ARE LOVINGLY DEDICATED
[Illustration]
CONTENTS
PAGE
ACKNOWLEDGMENT 8
FOREWORD BY THE CHIEFS 9
INTRODUCTORY
HOW THE STORIES CAME TO BE 11
WHY I WAS CALLED THE STORY-TELLER 13
THE LITTLE PEOPLE 18
STORY-TELLING TIME 23
HOW THE IROQUOIS GIVE THANKS 27
A FIREMAKER AND A PEACEMAKER 34
IROQUOIS WONDER STORIES
HOW THE WHITE MAN CAME 45
WHY THE EAGLE DEFENDS AMERICANS 49
HOW THE TURKEY BUZZARD GOT HIS SUIT 60
WHY THE PARTRIDGE DRUMS 66
HOW THE INDIANS LEARNED TO HEAL 69
WHY DOGS CHASE FOXES 75
WHY HERMIT THRUSH IS SO SHY 79
HOW GOOD AND EVIL CAME TO BE 85
HOW A BOY WAS CURED OF BOASTING 90
WHY THE CUCKOO IS SO LAZY 95
HOW THE COON OUTWITTED THE FOX 99
WHY THE GOLDFINCHES LOOK LIKE THE SUN 103
WHAT THE ASH AND THE MAPLE LEARNED 107
HOW THE WOMAN OVERCAME THE BEAR 112
WHY THE WOODPECKER BORES FOR ITS FOOD 115
WHY THE ICE ROOF FELL 119
WHY THE CHIPMUNK HAS BLACK STRIPES 122
HOW TWO INDIAN BOYS SETTLED A QUARREL 125
HOW MICE OVERCAME THE WARRIORS 130
WHY CROWS ARE POOR 135
WHY THE INDIAN LOVES HIS DOG 139
GREEDY FAWN AND THE PORRIDGE 145
WHY HOUNDS OUTRUN OTHER ANIMALS 152
WHY INDIANS NEVER SHOOT PIGEONS 155
HOW OLD MAN WINTER WAS DRIVEN BACK 159
WHY LIGHTNING SOMETIMES STRIKES 168
WHY THE HARE HAS A SPLIT LIP AND SHORT TAIL 176
CORN PLUME AND BEAN MAIDEN 180
HOW THE ROBIN BURNED HIS BREAST 187
IROQUOIS FAIRY STORIES
HOW MORNING STAR LOST HER FISH 195
HOW LITTLE SHOOTER LOST HIS LUCK 201
HOW AN INDIAN BOY WON HIS NAME 205
HOW THE FAIRIES WORKED MAGIC 211
ACKNOWLEDGMENT
If the Red Children had not welcomed the writer to their lodge fires,
these stories the Iroquois tell their children could not have been
retold. With one or two exceptions, the ideas found in the stories have
been had from the lips of the Indians themselves. To ARTHUR C.
PARKER--_Ga wa so wa neh_--for his careful review of the stories and
assistance in securing authentic Iroquois illustrations; and to the
following story-tellers who so kindly welcomed her to their lodges, and
told her stories, the writer is most grateful.
EDWARD CORNPLANTER (_So son do wah_--"Great Night") Seneca Wolf
WILLIAM PATTERSON (_Ga reh hwonts_--"Power has come down") Tuscarora Deer
MOSES SHONGO (_Ho non da a suh_--"Keeper of the hills") Seneca Wolf
CLIFFORD SHONGO (_Ouhn yah dah goh_--"Very dark blue sky") Seneca Wolf
CHARLES DOXON (_Hoh squa sa ga dah_--"Woodsman") Onondaga Turtle
DANIEL GEORGE (_Jo ha a ga dah_--"Roadscraper") Onondaga Eel
MARY PRINTUP (_Wah le sa loh_) Mohawk Snipe
DAN WILLIAMS
(_Oh geh rah u reh ru ha neh_--"Running Bear") Tuscarora Bear
ELI HENRY Tuscarora Deer
HARRIETT PEMBLETON (_Gah do rehn tah_--"Dropping Husks") Tuscarora Turtle
AMOS KILLBUCK
(_Har wen do dyoh_--"He has forsaken early dawn") Seneca Wolf
ALFRED JIMESON (_Har neh a oh_--"Hatchet in his hands") Seneca Heron
WILLIAM HOAG (_O no nah_--"Very cold") Seneca Wolf
ELLEN PIERCE SHONGO (_Yea wen noh aih_--"The high word") Seneca Wolf
BAPTIST THOMAS (_Sa ha whe_--"Long feather") Onondaga Turtle
ALBERT CUSICK (_Sha go na qua da_--"Made them mad") Onondaga Eel
THEODORE JIMESON (_Jah o yah_) Seneca Snipe
DAVID WARRIOR (_Dwen o gwah_) Cayuga White Heron
WILLETT JIMESON (_So i as ah_--"Owner of fine cornstalks") Seneca Wolf
NANCY GREYSQUIRREL (_Gah gwah tah_--"One who lifts") Seneca Bear
EMILY TALLCHIEF (_Gi das was_--"Wind blowing through corn") Seneca Turtle
LOUISE PIERCE LOGAN (_Ga yah was_--"The quivering heaven") Seneca Wolf
THOMAS JONES (_Gah ne yehs_--"The dropping snow") Seneca Wolf
FOREWORD
Once our fathers own these lands of New York State. Once the Iroquois
were great people. Their council fires burn from Hudson on east to Lake
Erie on west, from rising to setting sun. Then White man come. He ask
for small seat size buffalo skin. He take larger and larger one, till
Indian have but small place to sit.
Now we have little left but stories of our fathers. They, too, will soon
be lost and forgotten, but a voice has come to speak for us. _Yeh sen
noh wehs_--the one who tells the stories--will carry these stories of
our fathers to Paleface. She will help White man to understand Indian,
Indian to be understood. She will have all men brothers.
Indian's heart is glad that _Yeh sen noh wehs_, our white friend, has
come to us. She have good eyes. She see right. She like things Indian.
She try to preserve them. Our old men and women tell her the stories
told them, many, many moons ago, when little children.
_Yeh sen noh wehs_ write down these stories so our children and our
children's children may read and know them; and so Paleface Children may
learn them also. Indian tell these stories to his children to make them
good and brave and kind and unselfish. May they teach Paleface Children
how they should do.
Again we say, Indian is glad to have some one speak for him. He is glad
to have some one write down the great and beautiful thoughts in Indian's
mind and heart. We have spoken. _Na ho._
Chief of Seneca Nation,
[Illustration: handwritten signature]
Chief of Onondagas,
[Illustration: handwritten signature]
Chief of Tuscaroras,
[Illustration: handwritten signature]
Chief of Oneidas,
[Illustration: handwritten signature]
Chief of Cayugas,
[Illustration: handwritten signature]
Chief of Mohawks,
[Illustration: handwritten signature]
HOW THE STORIES CAME TO BE
Out of the moons of long ago, these stories have come. Then every tribe
of the Iroquois had its story-teller.
When the Old Man of the North came out of his lodge, and the forests and
rivers of the Red Children grew white with his breath, these
story-tellers wandered from wigwam to wigwam.
Seated on warm skins by the fire, the story-teller would exclaim,
"_Hanio_!" This meant, "Come, gather round, and I will tell a story."
Then all the Red Children would cry, "_Heh_," and draw close to the
fire. This meant that they were glad to hear the story. And as the
flames leaped and chased one another along the fire trail, they would
listen to these wonder stories of the Little People, of the trees and
flowers, of birds, of animals, and men. When the story-teller had
finished, he said, "_Na ho_." This meant, "It is the end."
The earth was very young, when the Red Children first learned how
everything came to be, and just why it is that things are as they are.
They told these wonderful things to their children, and their children
in turn told them to their children; and those children again in turn
told them to theirs, that these things might not be forgotten.
Now, but few of the Red Children know these stories that the
grandmothers and old men of the tribe used to tell. The story-teller is
no longer seen wandering from wigwam to wigwam.
[Illustration]
WHY I WAS CALLED THE STORY-TELLER
Some time ago the writer of these stories was asked to speak for an
Indian Society. She accepted the invitation, and that night made her
first Indian friends.
Her new friends told her many beautiful things about the Red Children.
The more the writer learned about the Iroquois people, and things
Indian, the more interested she became. After a time she began to tell
the Paleface the things she had learned.
Soon, one of the tribes, the Senecas--the tribe to which her new friends
belonged--heard that she was speaking for them. They wished to honor
her, so they asked her to be present at their Green-Corn Feast, and
become one of them.
So when the Green-Corn moon hung her horn in the night sky, the writer
found the trail to the Land of the Senecas. There the Senecas adopted
her into the Snipe clan of their nation. She was called _Yeh sen noh
wehs_--"One who carries and tells the stories."
Thus it was that the writer became one of the Red Children, _Yeh sen noh
wehs_--the Daughter of the Senecas.
The more _Yeh sen noh wehs_ learned of the Red Children, and their
simple stories, the more she loved them. One day, _Yeh sen noh wehs_
said she would be the story-teller not only of the Senecas, but of all
the tribes of the Iroquois. There are six great families of this people.
Each family is called a tribe or nation.
Once, the council fires of these six nations burned from the Hudson on
the east, to Lake Erie on the west, and they were a great and powerful
people.
It was at the time of the Berry Moon that _Yeh sen noh wehs_ hit the
story trail. Since then she has journeyed through all the lands of the
Senecas, the Onondagas, the Cayugas, the Oneidas, the Mohawks, and the
Tuscaroras.
Like the story-teller of old, _Yeh sen noh wehs_ wandered from lodge to
lodge of the Iroquois. "_Hanio_," she would call, and as the Indians
gathered round, she would tell them one of the stories that other Indian
friends had told to her.
Sometimes this would remind the Red Children of another story, which
_Yeh sen noh wehs_ did not know, and they would tell it to her. It was
in this way that these stories have been gathered.
There were many days when _Yeh sen noh wehs_ told her stories, but none
were told in return. Few members of the tribes--these usually the
oldest--could remember the stories "they used to tell."
Sometimes _Yeh sen noh wehs_ heard a story as she trudged along a
furrow, beside a ragged Indian who was plowing with a more
ragged-looking team. Or she would listen as she helped an Indian woman
prepare the evening meal, pick berries, or gather nuts.
[Illustration]
Sometimes, as _Yeh sen noh wehs_ sat by a fire down in the depths of a
beautiful wood, and watched the smoke of the sacred medicine rise, a
medicine man would tell her a story; or an Indian woman would drop a
word, as she sat at her door weaving baskets or making beadwork.
These stories _Yeh sen noh wehs_ has made into a story book, that they
might not be lost and forgotten; that all the Iroquois Red Children and
their children's children might know and tell them, and that Paleface
children might learn them as well.
The American children have no fairies of their own. They must borrow
their fairies from children of other nations. _Yeh sen noh wehs_ thought
it very sad, so she put a magic feather in her cap, and winged moccasins
on her feet. Then she went on the chase for real American wonder
stories, and for real American fairies.
[Illustration]
Had there not been a feather in the magic cap she wore, _Yeh sen noh
wehs_ would not have found them. But the feather pointed the way to the
Nature Wonder Trail, and there she caught a glimpse of the "Little
People,"--the only true American fairies.
THE LITTLE PEOPLE
All children who live close to Mother Earth come to know and to see the
fairies of the flowers, the woods, the rocks, and the waters.
These fairies the Iroquois call the _Jo gah oh_, or "Little People,"
because they are so small. The Little People can do wonderful things.
Whatever they wish, they can do. They can fly through the air. They can
dart under or through the water, into the earth and through the rocks,
as they please, for they wear invisible moccasins and travel in winged
canoes.
Their wee babies are carried on the little mothers' backs,--just like
the Indian's papoose. The little fathers have wonderful winged bows and
arrows, that can shoot any distance they wish.
[Illustration]
The Little People bring good luck to the Indians. Whatever Indian boys
and girls wish for,--if they wish hard enough, the _Jo gah oh_ will
bring to them.
It is said that there are three tribes of these Little People,--those
that live in the rocks beside streams and lakes, those that hover near
the flowers and plants, and those that guard the dark places under the
earth.
The rock Little People are very strong. They can uproot large trees and
can hurl great rocks. Sometimes they dare the Indians to a test of
strength with them. They also like to play ball with stones.
The Red Children fear the Stone Throwers, as they call them. But they
love the little folk that help the flowers to blossom, and the fruit and
grains to grow and ripen.
They remember these Little People in their Feasts of Thanksgiving, for
do the _Jo gah oh_ not help the sweet waters of the maple to flow? Do
they not whisper to the growing seeds and show the way to the light? Do
they not guide the runners of the strawberries, turn the blossoms to the
sun, and paint the berries red? They also tint the grains, and give to
the corn its good taste.
A third tribe of Little People dwell under the earth. They guard the
sacred white buffaloes, and keep the serpent monsters that live in the
darkness below from coming to the surface to the Red Children.
[Illustration]
There are trails that lead out to the sunlight, but the Little People
guard them close, although sometimes a great serpent will find the
trail of a spring, and will follow it and poison the waters.
Often, at night, these elves of the dark come to the upper world to
dance with the other Little People.
Wherever you find a tree in a deep, dark part of the wood, around which
no grass will grow, there you may be sure a dance ring has been formed.
There the Little People have danced till the moon dropped out of the
sky.
[Illustration: DANCE RATTLE]
STORY-TELLING TIME
The old-time Indians say that long, long ago, the Little People made a
law that stories must not be told in summer.
Summer is the time for work. Bees must store their honey. Squirrels must
gather their nuts. Men must grow their corn. Trees and plants must leaf,
and flower, and bear their fruit.
If stories were told, plants, birds, animals, and men would stop their
work to listen. This would mean poor crops and hungry people. Animals
would forget to grow their winter coats and lay by their winter stores.
Birds would fail to start in time for the South.
The old Indians say that the story-teller who disobeys this law of _Jo
gah oh_ will suffer some misfortune. Winter is the time to tell the
stories, for then the work of animals, plants, and men is done,--and the
Little People are fast asleep.
No, it is not safe to tell stories in summer. No one knows when a bird,
or a bee, or a butterfly may be listening, and may tell the chief of the
Little People. Should the chief of the Little People be offended, he
might cause something dreadful to happen to the story-teller.
Last summer, the writer of these stories came very near being changed
into an animal,--or something worse,--just for telling stories. So an
old Indian said. She does not know now how she escaped. She thinks it
must have been because she was a White Indian. This is how it happened.
It was at the time of the Harvest Moon. _Yeh sen noh wehs_ spoke for one
of the tribes at their council house, and she told some of these wonder
stories.
All went well until the middle of the night. Then a very old Indian
came to warn her of her danger. It seems that he had been at the council
in the evening, and had heard the stories told, many of which he knew.
He told _Yeh sen noh wehs_ he had expected to see her change into
something else right then and there. He said he would not dare to tell a
story. "No, no, me 'fraid, evil come!" he said.
Then he wanted to know if _Yeh sen noh wehs_ was a real Indian. He had
been told that she was a White Indian, but when he heard her tell the
stories, he said, he thought she was a real Indian.
When _Yeh sen noh wehs_ told him that she had not a drop of Indian blood
running in her veins, he looked very solemn. At last he spoke. He told
the interpreter to tell her,--for he spoke but a few words of
English,--that the Great Spirit made a snake, a snake; a fox, a fox; a
muskrat, a muskrat; a coon, a coon; a bear, a bear; an Indian, an
Indian; a White Indian, a White Indian. Each must be snake, fox, coon,
bear, Indian or White Indian, as long as he lived. Each must be himself.
Then the old man asked what disease _Yeh sen noh wehs_ had, that made
her go around with a feather in her hair, acting like a real Indian, if
she were a White Indian.
_Yeh sen noh wehs_ had no answer. And she does not know to this day,
what saved her from being changed into a rabbit, a katydid, or something
worse, by the chief of the Little People. She knows, however, that she
is very glad she is telling the stories to you, in the WINTER time.
[Illustration]
HOW THE IROQUOIS GIVE THANKS
The Iroquois Red Children are a grateful people. The true Iroquois never
rises after eating without saying, "_Niaweh_," which means, "I am
thankful." The others reply, "_Niuh_,"--"It is well."
The Red Children never pick a flower without thinking how kind the Great
Spirit has been, to cause the flowers to grow. They like flowers, and no
matter how poor the Indian cabin, flowers are always to be found near.
When the Iroquois pick fruit, they give thanks to the Great Spirit. And
always do they leave some, for the "little brothers of the wood."
They do not try to pick every cherry or berry, or nut or apple, for
themselves. Fruits grow for the birds and animals as well as for men,
and the little brothers of the wood must not be forgotten. Some of
everything that grows is left for them.
[Illustration: SAP BUCKET]
During the spring and summer, the Iroquois give several thanksgiving
feasts. The first is early in the spring, at maple-sugar time. As soon
as the sap begins to flow, the Maple Feast is called.
The Indians gather about a large maple tree. A fire is lighted near,
upon which one of their number sprinkles tobacco. As the smoke rises, a
prayer of thanksgiving is made to the Great Spirit, for causing the
sweet waters of the maple to flow. Then the maple trees are thanked for
their service to men, and protection is asked for the trees during the
coming year.
When "the leaf of the dogwood is the size of a squirrel's ear," it is
planting time. Then an Indian maid goes into the fields and scatters a
few grains of corn, asking the aid of the Great Spirit for the harvest.
The Indian always plants his seed with the growing moon, that it may
grow with the moon.
[Illustration]
The next feast is the Strawberry Feast and Dance.
The strawberry is one of the best gifts of the Great Spirit to his
children. So greatly is it prized that it is thought to grow on the Sky
Road that leads to the Happy Hunting Ground. An Indian who has been very
ill, near death, will say, "I almost ate strawberries."
When the strawberry ripens, the Red Children are happy. They sing their
praises to the Great Spirit and dance with joy. They remember the Little
People who have helped to make the berries beautiful, and they have a
song of praise and dance of thanks for them as well. Without the help of
the Little People, the strawberries would not be so sweet and ripe.
At the time of the Harvest Moon comes the last feast of the summer. This
thanksgiving feast lasts four days. The Indians not only give thanks for
the ripening of the corn, but for every growing thing. Therefore this
feast is longer than the others, since it takes some time to name all
the good gifts of the Great Spirit to the Red Children, and to give
thanks for them all.
There is a story[1] of the corn in which the Spirit of the Corn is a
maiden, not a handsome young chief, as one of the stories claims. This
Corn Maiden was one of three sisters, and was called _Ona tah_.
[Footnote 1: _Myths and Legends of the Iroquois_, by Harriet Maxwell
Converse.]
The three sister vegetables--the corn, the bean, and the squash--were
called the _Di o he ko_, which means "those we live on," since they are
the life-giving vegetables.
These sisters lived together on a hill and were very happy. But one day
_Ona tah_ wandered away in search of dews for her kernels.
The Evil Spirit was watching. He seized _Ona tah_, the Spirit of the
Corn, and sent one of his monsters to blight her fields. The killing
winds swept over the hill, and the spirits of the squash and bean fled
before them.
_Ona tah_ was held for some time a prisoner in the darkness under the
earth, by the Evil Spirit.
[Illustration]
At last a sun ray found her and guided her back to her lost hilltop.
There she found that her sisters had fled. She was alone.
Then _Ona tah_ made a vow to the sun that she would never again leave
her fields. But she sighs for her lost sisters, and mourns the blight
that came upon her beautiful fields. For since the time when _Ona tah_
wandered away and left her fields, the corn has not grown so tall or so
beautiful as once it did.
[Illustration]
A FIREMAKER AND A PEACEMAKER
[Illustration]
In the olden times, tribes of Indians did not always live in one place
as they do now. They sometimes wandered from one valley or woodland to
another. When they came to a sheltered place, where there was pure
running water, and where plenty of game and wood were to be found, they
would build their lodges and light their council fires.
There they might camp for one moon, or for many moons. As long as their
arrows brought game on the hunting trails near, they would not break
camp. But if game grew scarce, or if for any reason they did not like
the camp ground, they would move farther on.
Sometimes they would go several days' journey, before they found a
camping place such as they liked.
The first thing that was done in making a camp was to secure fire and
light the council fire. This fire was always kept burning. It never went
out while they remained.
The Indians loved the fire. It was the gift of the Great Spirit to the
Red Children. It kept them warm and cooked their food by day, and
protected them by night.
A line of fires was kept burning around the camp. This protected the Red
Children from the wild animals, for all animals fear fire, and are
charmed by it. They might prowl and howl all night long outside the fire
ring, but never would they attempt to come within that ring. There the
Indians could sleep in peace, guarded by the spirits of the fire.
[Illustration]
The Indian that could make fire first became a chief and leader. When it
was decided to camp at a certain place, a signal would be given. At this
the young braves would leap into the woods, to see which one first could
bring back fire. Each had his own secret way of making it. Usually a
bowstring was twisted about a fire stick, and the stick was turned
rapidly in a groove. In a few seconds, smoke would rise from the sawdust
that formed. After a little fanning a flame would leap forth.
The Indian whose brain and hand worked swiftest and surest was the
smartest and best man. He became a Firemaker, and was made a chief of
the tribe. He could do something that the rest could not,--at least he
had proved himself to be more skillful. Such a man, it was thought, had
a better understanding of all things, and therefore could tell the rest
of the tribe what ought to be done.
He no longer was just a man who ate and slept, walked and ran. He was a
man with a mind. He could think and could do things. So he became a
Firemaker chief, and he helped the tribe to think and do.
The Iroquois Red Children believe that there are three kinds of men:
those that use the body only; those that use body and mind; and those
that use body, mind, and spirit.
Now it happened that sometimes an Indian grew to be so kind and so
great, that he could not only strike the fire we see, but the fire we do
not see,--the fire of love that burns in the hearts of people.
[Illustration]
When an Indian could strike this kind of fire, and warm the hearts not
only of his own tribe but of all tribes, so that they came to love one
another, he was a great chief, a Peacemaker chief. Such a man would go
from tribe to tribe, teaching the people how they should do, so that all
might live in peace and plenty, like brothers.
To be a Peacemaker was the highest seat an Indian could take. Few
Indians became Peacemaker chiefs, and they were the great men of the
tribe.
Indian women also might become Peacemakers. At one time the Iroquois had
a Peace Wigwam, where all disputes and quarrels were settled.
The most beautiful, just, and fair-minded woman of all the tribes was
chosen to sit in this wigwam. It was her duty to tend the Peace fire,
and to see that it never went out. She also kept a pot of hominy always
steaming over the fire.
If two Indians had a dispute, it was the custom for them to run to the
Peacemaker's wigwam. They entered from opposite sides. Inside the
wigwam, a deerskin curtain separated them from each other.
[Illustration]
The Peacemaker would listen to the grievance of the one and then to that
of the other. Then she would draw aside the curtain, get the enemies
together, and settle the dispute with justice.
The two would then eat of the hominy, and depart in peace,--no longer
enemies, but friends.
No nation could fight another nation without the consent of the
Peacemaker. Because the peacewomen were wise, and just, and kind, and
taught men to love, not fight each other, the Iroquois were for many
years at peace.
But one day, it is said, a Peacewoman proved untrue to her trust. She
thought more of her own happiness than that of the nation.
[Illustration]
This woman was very beautiful, and the people loved her. For some time
she sat in the Peace Wigwam, and tended faithfully the Peace fire.
One day an Oneida and a Cayuga chief fell to quarreling. They sought the
Peace Wigwam. As they entered and saw the young Peacewoman tending the
fire, each thought he had never seen a woman so beautiful.
Into the heart of each there leaped the desire that she might tend his
wigwam fire.
The Peacemaker listened to the quarrel of the young chiefs and settled
it justly. Then each tried to persuade her to leave the Peace fire and
return with him to his lodge. But the Peacemaker said, "No, I must tend
the fire, it must be kept burning." The chiefs departed with heavy
hearts.
But the Oneida chief could not forget the beautiful woman. When a moon
had passed, he returned to the Peace Wigwam. This time he persuaded the
Peacemaker to leave her fire and return with him to sit at his wigwam
door.
The Peace fire flickered and went out. The Iroquois again went on the
warpath, and for many, many moons, they fought and suffered and died.
IROQUOIS WONDER STORIES
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
HOW THE WHITE MAN CAME
Long, long before Columbus came to America, the Red Children were here.
They were the first and only real Americans.
From the Big Sea Water on the east to the Big Sea Water on the west,
ranged these Children of the Sun, as they called themselves.
Happy and free as the sunlight and air about them, they ran through wide
forests all their own, or plied their bark canoes up and down the
streams.
Then the Indian had a dream. This was long before Columbus dreamed his
dream of the Western World.
In his dream the Indian saw a great White Bird coming out of the east.
Its wings were stretched wide to the north and south. With great
strength and speed, it swept toward the setting sun.
In fear and wonder the Indian watched this giant White Bird appear and
disappear. He knew its meaning, and the Indian's heart was sad.
Then the White man came. From the Big Sea Water on the east he came, in
his great white-winged canoe. With one hand pointing to the Great
Spirit, and with the other extended to the Red man he came. He asked for
a small seat. A seat the size of a buffalo skin would be quite large
enough for him, he said.
In the name of the Great Spirit, the Red Children greeted the White man,
and called him "brother." They gave him the seat he asked. They gave him
a large buffalo skin also, and showed him where he could spread it by
their council fire.
The White man took the buffalo skin. He thanked his Red brother in the
name of the Great Spirit. Then he began to cut the skin into many, many
small strips.
[Illustration]
When the whole buffalo skin had been cut into narrow strips, he tied the
strips together. They made a long cord that would reach over a long
trail.
In amazement the Indians watched the White man while he measured off a
seat as long and as broad as this cord would reach around. The "small
seat," the size of a buffalo skin, became a tract of land.
Soon the White man asked for another seat. This time his seat took in
the Indians' lodges and camp fire. He asked the Indians if they would
move on a few arrow flights. This they did.
Then the White man wanted another seat. Each time it took a larger skin
for him to sit upon. This time the skin stretched so far that it covered
a part of the Indians' hunting and fishing grounds.
Again the Indians moved on. Again the White man followed. Each time his
seat grew larger, until the Indian had a place but the size of a buffalo
skin on which to sit.
Thus it was that the White man came. Like a great White Bird that swept
from the Big Sea Water on the east to the Big Sea Water on the west, the
White man came; and he drove the Indian from the rising to the setting
sun.
[Illustration]
WHY THE EAGLE DEFENDS AMERICANS
Many, many moons before the White man came, a little Indian boy was left
in the woods. It was in the days when animals and men understood each
other better than they do now.
An old mother bear found the little Indian boy.
She felt very sorry for him. She told the little boy not to cry, for she
would take him home with her; she had a nice wigwam in the hollow of a
big tree.
Old Mother Bear had two cubs of her own, but she had a place between her
great paws for a third. She took the little papoose, and she hugged him
warm and close. She fed him as she did her own little cubs.
The boy grew strong. He was very happy with his adopted mother and
brothers. They had a warm lodge in the hollow of the great tree. As
they grew older, Mother Bear found for them all the honey and nuts that
they could eat.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
From sunrise to sunset, the little Indian boy played with his cub
brothers. He did not know that he was different from them. He thought he
was a little bear, too. All day long, the boy and the little bears
played and had a good time. They rolled, and tumbled, and wrestled in
the forest leaves. They chased one another up and down the bear tree.
Sometimes they had a matched game of hug, for every little bear must
learn to hug. The one who could hug the longest and the tightest won the
game.
Old Mother Bear watched her three dear children at their play. She would
have been content and happy, but for one thing. She was afraid some harm
would come to the boy. Never could she quite forget the bear hunters.
Several times they had scented her tree, but the wind had thrown them
off the trail.
Once, from her bear-tree window, she had thrown out rabbit hairs as she
saw them coming. The wind had blown the rabbit hairs toward the hunters.
As they fell near the hunters, they had suddenly changed into rabbits
and the hunters had given chase.
At another time, Mother Bear tossed some partridge feathers to the wind
as the hunters drew near her tree. A flock of partridges went whirring
into the woods with a great noise, and the hunters ran after them.
[Illustration]
But on this day, Mother Bear's heart was heavy. She knew that now the
big bear hunters were coming. No rabbits or partridges could lead these
hunters from the bear trail, for they had dogs with four eyes.
(Foxhounds have a yellow spot over each eye which makes them seem
double-eyed.) These dogs were never known to miss a bear tree. Sooner or
later they would scent it.
Mother Bear thought she might be able to save herself and her cubs. But
what would become of the boy? She loved him too well to let the bear
hunters kill him.
[Illustration]
Just then the porcupine, the Chief of the animals, passed by the bear
tree. Mother Bear saw him. She put her head out the bear-tree window and
called to him. He came and sat under the bear-tree window, and listened
to Mother Bear's story of her fears for the boy.
When she had finished, Chief Porcupine said he would call a council of
the animals, and see if they could not save the boy.
Now the Chief had a big voice. As soon as he raised his voice, even the
animals away on the longest trails heard. They ran at once and gathered
under the council tree. There was a loud roar, and a great flapping of
wings, for the birds came, too.
Chief Porcupine told them about the fears of Mother Bear, and of the
danger to the boy.
"Now," said the Chief, "which one of you will take the boy, and save him
from the bear hunters?"
It happened that some animals were present that were jealous of man.
These animals had held more than one secret council, to plan how they
could do away with him. They said he was becoming too powerful. He knew
all they knew,--and more.
The beaver did not like man, because men could build better houses than
he.
The fox said that man had stolen his cunning, and could now outwit him.
The wolf and the panther objected to man, because he could conceal
himself and spring with greater surety than they.
[Illustration]
The raccoon said that man was more daring, and could climb higher than
he.
The deer complained that man could outrun him.
So when Chief Porcupine asked who would take the boy and care for him,
each of these animals in turn said that he would gladly do so.
Mother Bear sat by and listened as each offered to care for the boy. She
did not say anything, but she was thinking hard,--for a bear. At last
she spoke.
To the beaver she said, "You cannot take the boy; you will drown him on
the way to your lodge."
To the fox she said, "You cannot take him; you would teach him to cheat
and steal, while pretending to be a friend; neither can the wolf or the
panther have him, for they are counting on having something good to eat.
"You, deer, lost your upper teeth for eating human flesh. And, too, you
have no home, you are a tramp.
"And you, raccoon, I cannot trust, for you would coax him to climb so
high that he would fall and die.
"No, none of you can have the boy."
Now a great bird that lives in the sky had flown into the council tree,
while the animals were speaking. But they had not seen him.
When Mother Bear had spoken, this wise old eagle flew down, and said,
"Give the boy to me, Mother Bear. No bird is so swift and strong as the
eagle. I will protect him. On my great wings I will bear him far away
from the bear hunters.
"I will take him to the wigwam of an Indian friend, where a little
Indian boy is wanted."
Mother Bear looked into the eagle's keen eyes. She saw that he could see
far.
Then she said, "Take him, eagle, I trust him to you. I know you will
protect the boy."
The eagle spread wide his great wings. Mother Bear placed the boy on his
back, and away they soared, far from the council woods.
The eagle left the boy, as he had promised, at the door of a wigwam
where a little Indian boy was wanted.
This was the first young American to be saved by an American eagle.
The boy grew to be a noble chief and a great hunter. No hunter could hit
a bear trail so soon as he, for he knew just where and how to find the
bear trees. But never was he known to cut down a bear tree, or to kill a
bear.
However, many were the wolf, panther, and deerskins that hung in his
lodge. The hunter's wife sat and made warm coats from the fox and beaver
skins which the hunter father brought in from the chase. But never was
the hunter, his wife, or his children seen to wear a bear-skin coat.
[Illustration]
HOW THE TURKEY BUZZARD GOT HIS SUIT
[Illustration]
It was a long, long time ago, when the earth was very young. Trees and
flowers were growing everywhere, but there were no birds. One morning
the Great Spirit drew back the blanket from the door of his wigwam in
the sky. He looked upon the earth and smiled, for he saw that his work
was good.
"Today," thought he, "I will make big butterflies, to fly in and out
among the beautiful trees and flowers of the earth. They shall sing as
they fly."
Then the Great Spirit spoke, and the tree tops were full of birds,--but
they had no feathers.
All day he watched them fly and listened to their songs. But their naked
bodies and long legs did not please him. Before the sun had set he had
made feathered suits, of every size and color, to cover them.
That night, as the birds hid their heads under their wings, the Great
Spirit spoke to them. He told about the feathered suits he had made for
them, and where these suits could be found.
A council was called next day by the birds. They chose _Gah gah go wah_,
the Turkey Buzzard, to get the suits. He could fly over a long trail and
not be tired.
The birds told him that if he would go, he might have the first choice
of the suits of feathers, but he must try on no suit more than once.
Turkey Buzzard promised and set out toward the setting sun. Twice the
sun set, and three times it rose, before he found the feathered suits.
There were many of them, and they were very beautiful. He could not make
up his mind which one he would like best to wear.
Then he remembered that he could try on each suit of feathers once. So
he began to put them on.
The feathers of the first suit were too long. They trailed on the ground
as he walked. Neither could he fly well in them. Turkey Buzzard laid
that suit aside.
The next suit shone like gold. The feathers were a beautiful yellow.
Turkey Buzzard put it on and strutted up and down the forest.
"Oh, how handsome I am!" he said. "But I must not keep this, for if I
did, I should shine so like the face of the Great Spirit, that all the
other birds would see me."
And he slipped off the suit of yellow feathers as quickly as possible.
A third suit was of pure white feathers. Turkey Buzzard thought it
looked very beautiful. It was a perfect fit.
"But it will get dirty too soon," he said. "I will not choose this."
And this, too, was laid aside.
There were not enough feathers in the fourth suit. Turkey Buzzard
shivered with cold. It was not warm enough. He would not have it.
There were too many feathers, and too many pieces, in the fifth suit. It
took too much time to put it on. Turkey Buzzard did not want that.
So he went from one suit to another, trying on and taking off. Always he
had some new fault to find. Something was wrong with each one. Nothing
quite pleased him. No suit was just right.
At last there was but one suit left. It was not pretty. It was a plain,
dull color,--and very short of feathers at the neck and head. Turkey
Buzzard put it on. He did not like it. It did not fit him well: it was
cut too low in the neck. Turkey Buzzard thought it was the homeliest
suit of all. But it was the last suit, so he kept it on.
Then _Gah gah go wah_, the Turkey Buzzard, gathered up the suits and
flew back to the bird lodge. He still wore the plain, dull-colored suit.
The birds again called a council. Each was told to select a suit from
those that _Gah gah go wah_ had brought, and put it on. This they did.
Then the birds in their beautiful feathered suits began to walk and fly
about the Turkey Buzzard, and to make fun of his plain, dull dress.
But _Gah gah go wah_ held his head high. He walked proudly about among
the birds. He looked with scorn on their beautiful suits. After a time
he spoke.
He said, "_Gah gah go wah_, the Turkey Buzzard, does not want your
suits. He had the pick of them all. He likes his own suit best."
Adapted from Erminie Smith's _Myths of the Iroquois_.
[Illustration]
WHY THE PARTRIDGE DRUMS
[Illustration]
It was after the Great Spirit had made all the beautiful birds, that the
Evil Spirit came along. He saw the beautiful birds and heard their
beautiful songs. He saw that the earth people liked the birds and liked
to hear them sing.
Now the Evil Spirit did not wish people to be happy, so he said, "I will
make a bird that will make people afraid. I will make a big bird that
will not sing, but will make a great noise."
So the Evil Spirit went to work. In a short time he had made a big bird,
that could not sing, but could drum.
The big bird flew away into the wood. That night a drumming noise was
heard in the wood. The people were afraid. They could not sleep, because
of the noise.
In the morning, they went into the woods to search for the noise. Deep
in the forest could still be heard that strange drumming. They followed
it, until they came to a deep, dark place in the woods. There was a loud
fluttering and whirring of wings, and a great bird flew out from among
them, along the ground and over the trees.
The people were afraid. They called to the Great Spirit to help them.
The Great Spirit was near. He heard their cry, and went after the bird,
for he was very angry.
The Great Spirit said, "I will not have my people frightened by this
great bird; it shall die."
The big bird gave the Great Spirit a long chase. At last the Great
Spirit came upon it. He seized it, and threw it against a large tree.
As the big bird struck the tree, drops of blood flew in all directions.
They changed into smaller birds that went whirring into the woods, just
as the big bird had done. There they began to drum.
Like the big bird, these smaller birds like to startle people. They
flutter out from under the leaves, and with a whirring noise they fly
far into the wood. There they perch on an old log, or a rock, and drum
with their wings.
Some of the earth people say they are drumming for their mates. But
others still think that the birds drum to make people afraid.
So this is how the Indians say the partridges came to be. This is why
they drum, and why some of the earth children still love to hunt
partridges.
HOW THE INDIANS LEARNED TO HEAL
A long, long time ago, some Indians were running along a trail that led
to an Indian settlement. As they ran, a rabbit jumped from the bushes
and sat before them.
[Illustration: MEDICINE RATTLE]
The Indians stopped, for the rabbit still sat up before them and did not
move from the trail. They shot their arrows at him, but the arrows came
back unstained with blood.
A second time they drew their arrows. Now no rabbit was to be seen.
Instead, an old man stood on the trail. He seemed to be weak and sick.
[Illustration]
The old man asked them for food and a place to rest. They would not
listen but went on to the settlement.
Slowly the old man followed them, down the trail to the wigwam village.
In front of each wigwam, he saw a skin placed on a pole. This he knew
was the sign of the clan to which the dwellers in that wigwam belonged.
First he stopped at a wigwam where a wolf skin hung. He asked to enter,
but they would not let him. They said, "We want no sick men here."
On he went toward another wigwam. Here a turtle's shell was hanging. But
this family would not let him in.
He tried a wigwam where he saw a beaver skin. He was told to move on.
[Illustration]
The Indians who lived in a wigwam where a deer skin was seen, were just
as unkind. Nor was he permitted to enter wigwams where hung hawk, snipe,
and heron skins.
At last he came to a wigwam where a bear skin hung.
"I will ask once more for a place to rest," he thought.
And here a kind old woman lived. She brought food for him to eat, and
spread soft skins for him to lie upon.
The old man thanked her. He said that he was very sick. He told the
woman what plants to gather in the wood, to make him well again.
This she did, and soon he was healed.
A few days later the old man was again taken sick. Again he told the
woman what roots and leaves to gather. She did as she was told, and
soon he was well.
[Illustration]
Many times the old man fell sick. Each time he had a different sickness.
Each time he told the woman what plants and herbs to find to cure him.
Each time she remembered what she had been told.
Soon this woman of the Bear clan knew more about healing than all the
other people.
One day, the old man told her that the Great Spirit had sent him to
earth, to teach the Indian people the secrets of healing.
"I came, sick and hungry, to many a wigwam door. No blanket was drawn
aside for me to pass in. You alone lifted the blanket from your wigwam
door and bade me enter.
"You are of the Bear clan, therefore all other clans shall come to the
Bear clan for help in sickness.
"You shall teach all the clans what plants, and roots, and leaves to
gather, that the sick may be healed.
"And the Bear shall be the greatest and strongest of the clans."
The Indian woman lifted her face to the Great Spirit to thank him for
this great gift and knowledge of healing. When she turned again to the
man, he had disappeared.
No one was there, but a rabbit was running swiftly down the trail.
[Illustration: MEDICINE MASK]
[Illustration]
WHY DOGS CHASE FOXES
A fox was running through the wood near a river. He had a fish in his
mouth.
The fish had been stolen from an Indian who lived down the stream. The
fox had been passing near the Indian's wigwam. He saw the fish hanging
by the fire. It was cleaned and ready to cook.
"What a tasty breakfast!" thought the fox. "I think I will watch the man
eat."
Soon the Indian went into the wigwam. The fox slipped up to the fire. He
seized the fish, and ran away with it.
When the Indian came back, he had no breakfast. The fish was gone. No
fox was to be seen.
The fox ran along, feeling much pleased with himself.
"What a cunning fox I am," he chuckled. "I will play another foxy trick.
This time it shall be on the bear I see coming."
He ran up a tree that had been bent half way to earth by the West Wind.
There he began to eat his fish. He smacked his lips so loudly that the
bear heard him.
The bear stopped under the tree, and asked, "What are you eating that
tastes so good?"
For answer the fox threw down a bit of the fish. The bear smacked his
lips and cried, "More! More!"
"Go to the river, swim out to the big log, and catch your own fish,"
called the fox. "It's very easy! Just drop your tail into the water.
Hold it there till a fish comes along and bites, then pull it up. That
is the way I catch my fish. You can catch all the fish you want with
your own tail."
The bear hurried on to the river. He swam to the log and dropped his
tail into the water, as the fox had advised.
All day he sat and fished with his tail,--for bears then had very long
tails.
The sun set, but no fish had pulled his tail. All night the bear sat on
the log and fished. Cold North Wind blew his breath over the water. The
river grew still and white.
Towards morning, the bear felt that his tail was getting very heavy. Now
at last he was sure he had a fish. He tried to pull it up. But alas! his
tail was frozen fast in the ice.
Then the fox came along. He laughed long and loudly at the bear, and
asked if the fishing was good.
Some dogs heard the fox, and came tearing through the thick underbrush.
They saw the fox and started after him.
The fox slyly led them on to the frozen river toward the bear. The bear
saw them coming, and called to the fox to go around some other way. The
fox made believe he did not hear, and came straight on to the bear to
ask him what he had said.
The dogs leaped upon the bear. The bear struggled. He gave one great
pull, and freed himself from the ice. He struck at the dogs so fiercely
with his great paws, that they soon left him, and went on after the fox.
Dogs have been running after foxes ever since.
When the bear got his breath, he stood up and looked around at his tail.
He found he had only a small piece left. Most of his tail had been left
in the ice.
This is why bears have short tails, and why dogs still love to chase the
fox.
WHY HERMIT THRUSH IS SO SHY
[Illustration]
Some moons after the council when the birds chose their feathered suits,
a second council was called. The purpose of this council was to see
which bird could fly to heaven, and bring a song to earth.
When all the birds had arrived and were perched upon the council tree,
the wise old owl spoke.
"Friends and brothers, listen," said the owl. "Many of you have strong
wings, but your voices are not beautiful. High, high up in the sky, a
long trail beyond the clouds, is the Happy Hunting Ground.
"There live all our brothers of the wood, whom the Great Spirit has
called. They sing songs more beautiful than any heard on earth.
"The bird that can fly beyond the clouds will hear that singing. He
shall bring a song to earth. Who will fly the Great Sky Trail, and bring
a song to earth? Who-whoo! Who-whoo! Who-whoo!"
At this, all the birds that were swift of wing flew high in the air.
They circled round and round to show their skill. Then they disappeared
in the clouds.
But one by one they dropped to earth; for when they had reached the
Great Sky Trail beyond the clouds, they were too tired to take it.
At last the eagle arose and stretched his great wings.
"Listen," he said, "for the Chief of Birds speaks. No other bird is so
swift and so strong as the eagle. He has circled the earth. He has flown
to the rim of the world. The eagle will fly the Great Sky Trail and
bring the song to earth."
A little brown thrush sat near the eagle.
"Oh," he thought, "how I would like to bring that song to earth!"
But he was so small, and his wings were so tired!