See, I smoke! Fly birds, fly and bring me a light.” The birds flew from
his hat with chirps of joy. They fluttered up and down and flew through
the council house from end to end. They went into the fire, pulled out a
brand and placed it in his pipe. They brushed against his face again and
again singing. Two Feathers caught them in his hands and placed them
back on his feather cap. He spoke to his pouch, “Dance, pouch, dance,—be
my spotted fawn.” The pouch leaped from his side and danced better than
it had before. It danced in a circle around him as he stood on the
floor, it jumped over his head, rolled and tumbled, rubbed against his
legs, leaped and gave every sign of life. “Enough!” exclaimed Two
Feathers, and reluctantly it ran back to his belt, nothing but a limp
skin pouch. “Now brothers, bring a skin.” Someone brought him the pelt
which Woodchuck Leggings had used. “What, spoiled by worms? See, I
smoke.” A puff of smoke purified the skin. “See, I breathe. Now look.”
Wampum dropped from the frost of his breath and piled up in a heap on
the skin.
The sachems and head men now began to speak. Never did a man receive a
better welcome. The people were glad, the women sang a welcome song and
then all rushed to put friendly hands on him,—all but two. These slunk
from the room, one with eyes brimming with angry tears and the other
with a face drawn into a horrible frown. This one ground her teeth in
rage, she ran her claw fingers down her cheeks until the blood flowed in
streams. She tore her hair, and with shrieks ran into the darkness.
The council was over and there was a commotion in the lodge of Drooping
Flower. The mother lay on her couch screeching as she tore her clothing
into shreds, chewed the flesh from her fingers and bit them off at the
joints. Then she suddenly sprang up and shook her hands before her face.
The sinews dangled over the white bones and blood spurted from the meat.
Suddenly the lodge became darkened,—a rush of air was felt and a yelp
was heard, like that of a dog pierced with an arrow. When a torch was
lighted the mother had gone. She could not be found though the people
searched in forest and in open. Only tracks of a big dog could be seen
leading from the lodge. They were traced to a pond which had neither
inlet nor outlet, and there they stopped. It was found out she had been
a witch.
GENERAL NOTES.—The story of Two Feathers and his jealous uncle,
Woodchuck Leggings is one of the favorite tales of the Seneca. It is
related in several forms but always has the same general plot. The
version here given was secured during the summer of 1903 during my
stay on the Silverheels’ farm, and was related by George D.
Jimerson, comments being made by Fred Kennedy, a half-blood, and
Peter Snyder. As auditors who nodded their approval we had Gahweh
Seneca and Fred Pierce.
As here recorded this bit of Seneca fiction is an example of a folk
tale taken down in note form and rewritten in the language of the
transcriber. It is not an exact translation by any means. It does
give, however, all the essential ideas conveyed by the narrators.
The plot is followed exactly in all the peculiar turns and in some
cases we have used the same expressions of the story tellers who
gave the tale.
The plot is a love theme in which a hero is thwarted by a jealous
uncle. Magic plays its usual part but magic is employed by the hero
to bring about his own recovery in due time. The heroine’s mother
turns out to be in league with the villain, and after the villain’s
exposure the hero is compelled to perform certain tasks thought to
be impossible. He succeeds and the evil woman stands revealed an
odious witch.
When I had written out this tale substantially as here presented I
read it to Edward Cornplanter. He criticized it by saying that I had
received it from Christian Indians who had given locations not in
the original tale and that my informants had tried to explain too
much. “It is all right, though,” he said. “I do not object at all
because white folks will understand it better the way you have it.
Only one big mistake you have made. Now, when Two Feathers went away
from that big bark house where the girl lived he made up his mind to
take the girl with him to his own village. So, he grabbed her and
jumped up through the smoke hole. He had his snowshoes hidden on the
roof. He put on his snowshoes, grabbed the girl around the waist and
then slid down the slippery roof. He was magic and sailed away right
in the air for a mile and then came down on the snow as nice as you
please. It was great to see it.
“Now, soon, Woodchuck Leggings missed the girl. All the time he
still wants her, which makes his own woman mad. So Woodchuck
Leggings tried to jump up through the roof hole but fell back in the
fire and burned himself. So he climbed up on the roof with his
snowshoes to sail away after Two Feathers. He started down the
slippery, icy roof and went fine,—until he came to the edge of the
roof. Then he fell head first in a big drift and the only thing
anyone could see was a pair of snowshoes on the level with the top
of the drift. This made the whole village laugh with a big roar. His
wife was madder than ever for she had to dig him out, and I hate to
tell you what she did to him when she got him alone. This is the
best of the story.”
23. HOW TURKEY BOY SQUEEZED THE HEARTS OF A SORCERER AND HIS SEVEN
SISTERS.
There was an old woman who lived with her grandson, Osoon (Turkey), in a
lonely lodge a long ways from a settlement. The lodge was old and very
large, but only the two lived in it, for all others had been killed by
sorcerers.
Winter was coming on and the old woman was busily engaged each day in
gathering firewood for the winter’s store. Every day she would cry as
she started on her journey and when she returned she would cry again,
for she was old and weak.
After a time the boy, Turkey, asked his grandmother why she wept
continually. “Oh my grandson,” she answered, “all our people are dead
and I am getting old. I have a hard time getting roots and bark for
winter food and gathering wood makes me very tired.”
Then she took Turkey to the end of the long house and pushed aside a
piece of bark. Beyond was another room which Turkey had never seen
before. As they entered it Turkey saw that it was filled with all kinds
of clothing and weapons and many strange things. “This is where I have
placed all the things that belonged to our family when it lived here,”
said the grandmother. “I will show you this place but you must never
enter it or touch anything.”
The next day when the grandmother left the lodge to gather wood Turkey
pushed aside the bark and entered the room. It was dark but after a time
he could see. He found a large drum which pleased him very much. He fell
to beating it and it made a sound that he thought delightful. Then he
went out and closed the bark over the opening.
When the grandmother returned with her load of wood she wept again. “Why
do you always weep?” asked Turkey. And she replied, “All of our people
are dead. They have been destroyed by a monster wizard who eats human
flesh. His lodge is to the east and near it is a great bed of
strawberries. Oh, they are as large as hearts. Once there was a good
village of our tribe there, but the people were killed and the houses
have now fallen down.” Then she fell into a fit of weeping again.
Turkey now said, “My grandmother, now is the time for me to go. I shall
shortly go.”
The next day when the grandmother was away, Turkey entered the forbidden
room and found a net bat and a ball. He removed them and went out and
played ball (lacrosse). Then he returned and found the drum, which he
beat with great vigor. So loudly did he beat it that his grandmother
heard it and returned in great fright. “Do you want the monster to find
out where we live and come here and eat us?” she scolded, but Turkey
only replied. “Oh my grandmother, don’t scold me. Tell me more about the
monster.”
“His name is Deadoeñdjadase^n,” replied the grandmother, “and he has
seven sisters who wait upon him. Oh never go east.”
“Make me some moccasins,” commanded the boy. “I am going east.”
Still forbidding him to go, the grandmother, nevertheless, made the
moccasins. In a short time he was ready to start.
Now Turkey was cautious and crept along through the underbrush until he
came to a clearing where he saw a dried human skin fastened by a cord to
a tall pole. It swung around in the wind and watched the clearing.
Turkey noticed that there was a large strawberry patch there with
berries as big as hearts. He was very crafty and knew that he could not
approach the Hadjoqda (dried skin), without being seen and reported to
its masters. Looking about he saw a mole and made a bargain with it to
borrow its coat. Shrinking himself by magic he entered the mole skin and
then burrowed underground until he was directly under the skin, when he
broke a little root into beads and stained them with berry juice. He
called to the skin and offered to give it wampum if it would talk for a
while. This the skin agreed to do, and told him all the mysteries of the
clearing. Turkey learned that the master sorcerer was Deadoeñdjadse^n,
and that the seven sisters cooked human flesh for him, grinding it in a
corn mortar with white corn meal. Only this would he eat. When the
sisters were not cooking they guarded the strawberries from the deer
that came into the clearing to graze.
“What more should I learn to be safe?” asked Turkey.
“What will you give to know?” replied Skin Man.
“I will rub my hands on you and make you free,” answered Turkey.
Then he learned that the lives of the sorcerer and his sister were
secure, for they could not be killed, their hearts being concealed under
the wing of a loon that swam in a pool under a bed in the lodge. A dog
guarded the hearts and they could only be surrendered upon order of
Deadoeñdjadse^n, himself.
Meanwhile the sisters had been calling the skin, and louder and louder
did they call. Turkey said, “Tell them that you have been making wampum
for them, and that Deadoeñdjadse^n is about to return spitting blood.
Then I will stir up the deer and enter the lodge. Then you will report
the deer and the sisters will rush out to save their strawberries. I
will find their hearts and kill them. Then I will make you free.”
Hadjoqda, the skin man, returned to the lodge, saying that he had been
making wampum, and was delayed. He said moreover that he saw their
brother returning, being sick. The youngest sister was suspicious of the
wampum, but it appeared to be good, and the sisters divided it. Skin Man
then returned to his station.
In a short time Turkey had gone back to the mole and returned its coat
with a gift in payment. Then he used magic to make himself appear
exactly like Deadoeñdjadse^n, and strode boldly into the clearing,
chewing a strawberry and spitting the juice. This gave him great power.
He drew near the lodge and called for food, but one sister was
suspicious and offered him corn, then meat, then fish, but Turkey
refused them all and roared that he was Oñgwe Iās and wanted his
accustomed dinner. This they put before him and he ate it all,
satisfying the women that he was indeed their brother.
Suddenly Skin Man began to call and the women all ran out of the lodge,
for Skin Man was crying that the deer were in the strawberries.
When the sisters were out of sight, Turkey noticed a small dog watching
one of the beds. He threw a piece of meat to the dog and then lifted up
the bed. Beneath was a pool of water and a loon swimming about. “Give me
the hearts,” commanded Turkey. The loon lifted up a wing but there were
no hearts under it. “You give me those hearts!” commanded Turkey, once
more. This time the loon lifted its right wing and beneath were the
eight hearts. Turkey grabbed them and ran out crying, “I am Turkey, and
I’ve got your hearts.”
When the sisters saw Turkey with the hearts they began to chase him with
the clubs which they used on the deer, but as each assailant approached
Turkey squeezed her heart, causing her to faint. One by one he squeezed
until they all cried out and fainted but the rest arose as he released
his pressure and ran after him, when by giving a hard squeeze they all
fell down. By this time the women were at the flat rock where their
brother killed his victims. Turkey now threw their hearts one by one on
the stone and each cracked open like a flint stone.
Deadoeñdjadse^n, suspecting mischief, now ran to the clearing where he
met the Skin Man. Of him he made inquiries as to what the noise was all
about. Skin Man was very insolent and called Deadoeñdjadse^n bad names,
enraging him greatly. “Turkey has your heart, Turkey has your heart,”
sang the Skin Man in derision. The monster sorcerer then rushed into the
clearing where he saw Turkey dancing about the flat stone. He rushed
upon him, but Turkey threw the heart upon the rock and broke both heart
and rock. Then he patted Skin Man all over the body and restored him to
his normal form. To his surprise he found him to be his own brother, who
had been held by sorcery to obey the commands of the wizard and his
sisters.
Together they gathered many bones that were strewn about the flat rock.
When all were piled up Turkey kicked over a pig-nut tree and called out,
“Disjointed bones, arise before this tree falls upon you!” The tree fell
and before it hit the ground a great host of people arose and all were
quarreling, for all had portions of the others’ bodies. Turkey pacified
them and told them to wait. From the throng he picked out his own
relatives and with them returned to his grandmother’s lodge.
The grandmother was very happy when she saw her relatives,—her children
and grandchildren. By her suggestion they all returned to the clearing
where the strawberries grew and there they built a new village, and
there they live to this day.
24. CORN RAINS INTO EMPTY BARRELS.
At one time there was nothing to eat on all the earth. Nearly all the
people had starved to death, and a few that remained gathered together
on a high hill. They lived on boiled bark.
There was a certain young man who kept saying all the time, “It will be
better after a while.” Nobody believed him because things were getting
worse each day. His brother used to torture him with sharp stones and
say harsh things to him. The young man, however, kept thinking that
something would happen soon. After a while he heard footsteps, as if on
a clean path. He listened for the span of a moon and then heard them
running. He told the people but nobody believed him.
One morning while he sat in the doorway of his lodge with his head down
on his knees, a young woman stood before him. He heard her breathe and
looked up. She smiled and handed him a basket of bread. “My mother sent
me to this lodge to find a young man,” she said. “My mother wants me to
marry him.”
The people came out of the lodge and looked at the young woman and the
young man’s mother asked from whence she had come. “I have come from the
far south,” answered the girl. “There is plenty of food there.”
So the young man ate the bread and was married to the young woman from
the south.
Then the young wife said, “My mother sent me to bring food to you. Let
everybody take off the tops of their corn barrels and then enter the
lodge and cover their faces.”
The sun had now come up and it was hot. The people did not like their
faces covered, but soon they heard a sound like corn falling into their
barrels. After a time the noise ceased and the young wife said, “It is
finished now.”
Out into the shed went the people of the lodge and found the barrels
full of shelled corn. Everybody ate and all were satisfied, except the
younger brother, who threw his food into the fire and said he wanted
game. Now the young wife had cooked the corn the young man threw away,
and she was made sad by his action. So she said, “My husband, go to the
river and get fish enough for the people.” But the younger brother said,
“It is foolish to go to the river, for fish have deserted the river.
There are none.” Nevertheless, the young husband went to the river and
drew out enough fish for all the people. The younger brother was very
angry.
The next day the husband went hunting and while he was absent the
younger brother began to torment the young wife. “Your food is not
good,” he said. “I cast your food away,” and again he threw food into
the fire.
When the husband returned he found his wife crying and when he asked her
what was troubling her she said, “Your younger brother has spoiled
everything. He has rejected my food (speaking thereby the
dissatisfaction of all the people). I shall now return to my home.”
The husband was very sad and begged her not to go, but his wife told him
that her mother instructed her to return if she were abused. During the
following night there was a sound of scraping in the corn barrels and in
the morning when the women went for their corn it was all gone, and with
it the bride had vanished.
After consultation the husband determined to search for his wife, and
thus he set out on a long journey. At length he came to a region of
great corn fields and after a while saw a high mound covered with corn
plants. On this mound he found his wife and her mother. His wife showed
him her body and it was burned and scarred. “This is what your brother
did to me,” she said, “when he threw the corn into the fire. He would
have killed me had I remained.”
After living in the south for several months the couple returned and
found the people again starving. The young wife ordered them to open
their corn barrels and hide their faces once again. They did so and
shelled corn fell like rain into the barrels filling them to the top.
Then the young wife told the people that corn must never be wasted or
thrown away for it is food and if destroyed will cause the crops to be
poor and the corn to cease to yield.
25. TWENTGOWA AND THE MISCHIEF MAKER.[34]
There was once a very lazy man named Twentgowa. He had a wife and
several children. Twentgowa was always giving excuses to his wife as to
why he did not hunt game more often like other men.
Twentgowa often went into the deep woods and had a mossy rock near a
river where he would lie and dream of the things he would like to do and
how he would kill big game animals if he only had a chance. More and
more often he repaired to his favorite spot as his wife scolded him for
not bringing home game.
One evening a man came to the lodge where Twentgowa lived. He stood in
the doorway and said: “I am your friend. I have visited you before but
this is the first time you have seen me. I have known your name for a
long time. Now you must come often and see me. I have good things in my
place of abode and there is plenty to eat and much game hanging on my
rafters.” Then he walked away.
Twentgowa did not know where his friend lived but thought he might find
him some day. Now on the next day there was nothing to eat in the house,
save a few pieces of corn bread, and the wife scolded Twentgowa saying:
“Oh you who are always squatting like a duck on a nest, you shall not
eat but this food shall be for our children. Begone, and if you have a
friend perhaps he will receive you.” So that is what she said.
The lazy man arose from his bed and went out of the house. “I will now
go and seek my friend,” he thought to himself. He went directly to the
mossy spot on the rock where he customarily sought refuge and when he
arrived there he found his bed very thick with moss, making it a fine
spot upon which to recline. When he had lain there a short time he
looked up and saw a large bark house, with very fine poles as supports
and over the door a head of some animal he could not identify.
He arose and with caution walked toward the door of the house and when
he stood before it he saw his friend.
“My friend,” said he, “I did not know this house was here. I never saw
it before.”
“Come in,” said his friend, “This is where I live. Oh this house has
here stood for many years and I am greatly surprised that you have not
seen it. Now it is time to eat. Be seated here on a mat and let us eat
together. The first thing we must eat is os‘howä, a pudding.”
Thereupon the friend went to an upper shelf and took down a bowl into
which he placed a loathly mess of substance that had the odor of a fish
a long time dead. “Djiskwengo,” exclaimed the friend, and the bowl
filled up with steaming pudding of most enticing odor.
So the two friends ate the food and relished it greatly. Oh, it was far
better than any food that Twentgowa had ever eaten. “It is so
delicious,” said he, “that I would like to take some home to my family.
I would like to borrow a cooking pot to contain it.”
“My friend, there is no need of that,” said the householder. “I will
give you power to do as I have done. You have only to follow my
directions and you will have great power to produce delicious food for
your family.”
So Twentgowa stood at the back of the lodge and his friend threw the pot
of food into him right through the wall of his abdomen. It vanished
through magic and power was within Twentgowa.
Twentgowa now said he was about to return to his home and he started out
on his journey which seemed very much longer than ever before, as if the
path had stretched. He kept thinking of his newly acquired power and
thought it might be well to test it. So he sat down on a log and used
his magical word, “Odjiskwagoh.” As he did this a great pile of steaming
pumpkin pudding formed on the ground. “Oh my!” exclaimed Twentgowa.
“Power within me is; now I shall eat forever.” He was now satisfied that
he had a great friend.
Running home he entered his lodge and told his story. He told of his
feasting on pumpkin pudding and of the power he had to make it by magic.
So he took a jar from the top platform of his lodge and in the manner
directed filled it. He placed in it the loathly substance like unto a
dead fish and then conjured it until it overflowed into the large bark
dish in which the jar was placed. “Ah now,” said Twentgowa, “we shall
have a feast. Oh, it is so appetizing!”
His wife was very angry and would not touch the food but scolded him,
for instead of real food all that was produced was a terrible mess that
drove her and the children out of the house. She threw stones into the
lodge and called him out, for he was dancing inside.
So the people saw that Twentgowa had lied and could not make food by
unnatural means, but made that which was evil. And his wife scolded him
and said: “Do not go to the lodge of that man any longer. He is none
other than S‘hodie´o^nsko^n’, whom we know as a mischief maker. He will
make your mind abnormal and what is bad he will make you think is good.
If you persist in visiting him you will suffer and great calamity will
befall us all.”
Twentgowa was greatly downcast and wondered why he had failed before the
people. He determined to go and see his friend again and seek an
explanation. So he went as before. “My friend, I was just thinking of
you,” said his friend when he entered the lodge. “Come we will now eat
together. This time we will have the whole pumpkin. Oh it is most
delicious.”
So when he had said this he sat down on a long bench and laid his war
club against his thighs and it became as if alive. It lay upon the bench
and it had a round head which was very large. Then the friend said:
“Pumpkin come forth. Thou art concealed within the head of my warclub.
Burst forth!”
So saying he struck the head of his war club with a long handled maul.
Immediately a pumpkin rolled forth from the head of his war club. So
they cooked it and ate it. Twentgowa found it most delicious and was
continually saying, “Oga’´o^n’! Oga’´o^n! This is so delicious,” said
he, “that I would be most happy to have the power to do the same as you
have done, for in this manner I could feed my family.”
“I will give you power to so produce twice,” said the friend, “but
further you must not try for it is not good to always eat pumpkins
alone. Now I am ready. Stand, swing your war club until it comes ‘whack’
against the head of my club. If you can hit mine there will be power
within you.”
So Twentgowa swung his war club about, spinning on his heel until he
came, “sqŭŭh” against his friend’s club and it made a great whack that
nearly broke Twentgowa in twain.
“Now,” said Twentgowa, “I will try my power,” so he hit his club with a
maul and a pumpkin rolled forth. “Now I must go home and make pumpkins,”
he said. “Now I go.”
On his way through the forest he began to wonder if indeed he had power.
He thought that by some chance power was within him only so long as he
was in the presence of his friend and that his friend had fooled him by
magic to make mischief after the fashion of S‘hodie^nsko^n’. Thereupon
he sat astride a log and laid his war club before him, its round head
being at the further end of the log. Then he grasped a stick and reached
over and struck the head of the war club. It was as his friend had said,
for a pumpkin rolled forth. He did not want to carry the pumpkin home so
he made a fire and cooked it. Oh it was a delicious pumpkin and he kept
continually saying “Oga’´o^n’.” Then he went home.