Manabush dragged Bear’s body back to his wigwam. He threw it at Nokomis’s feet, saying: “Here, Grandmother, I have killed a bear. Now we shall feast on bear meat.”
“How did you kill him?” asked Nokomis.
“With my arrows,” answered Manabush.
He cut up Bear, roasted the meat, and offered a piece to Nokomis. “No, no!” cried Nokomis, horrified. “That was my husband and lover. I cannot eat it.”
Manabush then picked up a clot of Bear’s blood and flung it between Nokomis’s legs, crying: “Take this!”
Nokomis said: “Grandson, on account of what you have just done, from now on, all women will always have trouble every moon, and every moon will bring forth clots of blood like this one.” And so it has been ever since.
WHISKEY JACK WANTS TO FLY
{Cree and Métis}
Wesakaychak, Whiskey Jack, was sitting on a hilltop watching a flock of geese splashing in a lake or flying above it. They soared and dipped, honking loudly, having a good time. Wesakaychak watched their graceful movements and effortless winging across the sky. He said to himself: “Why should these geese have the power to do this, and I do ‘ not have it? I want to be able to fly like those birds. I deserve to have this power.”
Wesakaychak went down to the lake, calling to the geese: “Little brothers, come over here! I have something to discuss with you.”
“Oh, no,” said the geese. “We know you. You’re the one they call Whiskey Jack. You are the one who tricked us before. We’ll keep our distance, because all you want is to knock us dead, pluck us, and eat us.”
“No, no, no!” protested Wesakaychak. “You got me wrong. I’d never do such a thing. I love you as my little brothers. Trust me.”
Finally the biggest, bravest gander went over to Wesakaychak. “All right, what do you want to discuss?”
“My little brother,” said Wesakaychak, “I have put things to rights down here on earth. I killed the harniful animals who ate up all the others, I protected the weak. I brought order into the world down here. So now I have time to attend to the sky and to all who fly in the clouds. I want to do good things for you. If you lend me a pair of wings, I shall fly around and see whether there are any problems to be fixed.”
The geese talked this over among themselves. Then the gander told Wesakaychak: “Elder brother, if you really mean to do good things for us, I guess we can lend you a pair of wings, but you have to be very careful. Flying is dangerous, even for those who are born to it. You must not be foolhardy but fly with caution.”
“I will be careful,” Wesakaychak promised.
The geese gave him an extra-large pair of wings. “Do not use them at once,” they warned him. “Wait four days and nights until the wings have grown solidly to your shoulders. Do not try to fly until four days have passed.”
“I promise,” said Wesakaychak. “I’ll do as you say. These wings are sacred to me. Thanks, little brothers, for lending me a little bit of your power.”
Wesakaychak could not curb his impatience to fly at once. He could not wait. He took off right away. He soared up into the sky, crying loudly like a goose: “Honk, honk!” He flew up and down, delirious with joy, and then one of his wings broke off and he tumbled headfirst into the lake. He almost drowned. He looked very bedraggled as he scrambled out of the water.
“That’s Whiskey Jack for you!” said all who saw it.
The geese were very angry. They scolded Wesakaychak for his rashness. “I will be good from now on,” said Wesakaychak, “I will behave myself. Only give me another pair of wings.” He begged so earnestly that the geese relented and gave him a new pair of wings.
“Well,” said the geese, “we have eaten all the fish, minnows, frogs, and toads around here. We must fly to another lake for food.” The geese flew away in their usual arrow-point-shaped formation, honking loudly and merrily.
Wesakaychak flew at their head, crying, “Honk, honk!” as if he were a gander.
They saw a camp with people in the distance. “Don’t fly near there,” the geese warned him. “These people are dangerous. They are hunters. They would like nothing better than having roast goose for dinner.” Wesakaychak paid no attention to them. He wanted to show off. He swooped down low over the camp, honking mightily. The people came running out of their wigwams, crying: “Geese, geese, enough to feed the whole village!” They shot their arrows at Wesakaychak and at the flock of geese.
The geese were honking: “Oh, my, oh, my, Wesakaychak, what have you done? You put all our lives in danger!”
“Don’t make a fuss over nothing!” Wesakaychak shouted back. Just then an arrow hit one of his wings and broke it off. Wesakaychak fell to the ground. He fell hard. He was all shook up. The people came running, yelling: “Let’s get that goose. Let’s have a feast!” But then they saw who it was. “It’s only that fool, Whiskey Jack,” they told each other, “playing another one of his silly pranks. Will he never learn?”
This time the geese gave Wesakaychak a tremendous tongue-lashing. “You are not worthy to fly,” they told him. “No more wings for the likes of you!”
Wesakaychak fell to his knees. “Have pity, little brothers,” he wailed. “I’ll never disobey you again! Give me another chance. Let me have another pair of wings.” Wesakaychak wept a flood of tears.
The good-natured geese felt pity for him. They gave him a new pair of wings. “Use them wisely this time,” they admonished him.
“I will. I will,” promised Wesakaychak.
The geese had eaten up everything edible in their new location. “We must fly on to find more food,” they said. They flew on, Wesakaychak in the lead, crying: “Honk, honk!” They were flying over some woods. There was a big forest fire.
“Don’t fly near it,” cried the geese, “or you’ll be burned!”
“It’s cold up here,” Wesakaychak shouted back. “I’ll just fly down to warm myself a little.” He swooped down. He got too close to the fire. His wings burned up and he fell down all the way amid the burning trees. He almost burned to death. He was badly singed. He barely escaped the flames. There were some people living near that place. They hurried to see the big bird that had fallen from the sky. They saw that it was Wesakaychak. They were disappointed. “It’s only that half-wit, Whiskey Jack,” they said, “up to his old foolish tricks again. This dunderhead plays at being a bird. What will it be next?”
Wesakaychak hurt all over. His skin was blistered and hanging in shreds where the flames had reached it. “One more chance, little brothers!” he cried, before the geese had a chance to say anything. “Just one more chance. I’ll be good from now on.” He carried on so much, weeping and wailing, that the geese gave him a fourth pair of wings.
“But this is the last time,” they told him. “If you mess up again, there will be no more wings!”
“I won’t mess up. I won’t mess up!” cried Wesakaychak.
The geese had eaten up all the fingerlings, pollywogs, worms, grubs, and caterpillars they could find in their new place. “We must fly to another lake to find food,” they said.
They flew on with Wesakaychak in the lead. He was crying: “Honk, honk!”
They came to an inlet of the sea. There was a giant clam lying on the beach. The geese warned Wesakaychak: “Don’t fly close to that clam. It is big and wicked. It could swallow you up.”
“I’ll be careful,” Wesakaychak answered. But he was curious and flew down to the clam to look it over. “What can that clam do to me?” He thought. “It can’t move, but I can fly.” He flew too close to the giant clam and it snapped him up. Luckily, Wesakaychak had his strike-a-light, his steel, flint, and tinderbox. He lit a fire inside the clam, which got burned and opened up so that Wesakaychak could jump out. His hair was singed, his clothes burned.
When the people saw him like that they laughed at him, saying: “There goes that fool Whiskey Jack, who got himself snapped up by a clam!”
“I guess I was not meant to fly,” said Wesak
aychak as he staggered off. “From now on I walk.”
WESAKAYCHAK, THE WINDIGO, AND THE ERMINE
{Cree and Métis}
There lives a fearful creature in the northern woods called Windigo. Some of the Métis call him the Loup-Garou. He lives on human flesh. He devours people. The Windigo’s scream is so fearful that it paralyzes and renders helpless all who hear it. Nobody knows exactly what the Windigo looks like because those who have the misfortune to encounter him are instantly killed and eaten.
Wesakaychak was wandering through the forest one day when he suddenly found himself face-to-face with the Windigo. He was numb with fear. He was unable to move. He trembled. His teeth chattered. He thought: “This is the end of me.” But he made up his mind to try outwitting the Windigo. He addressed the terrifying creature: “Elder brother, I am glad to see you. I always wanted to meet you.” “Likewise,” said the Windigo, grinning, baring his huge fangs and smacking his lips. “I, too, am glad to meet you. Hurry up, little fellow, and make a fire. I am hungry and I want to cook.”
“There is no food here to be cooked,” said Wesakaychak.
“Don’t worry, there will be,” said the Windigo, with his wolfish grin. “Hurry up, collect wood, make a good, hot fire!”
Wesakaychak gathered wood, very slowly, stick by stick. “How can I escape winding up in this monster’s stomach?” he thought. He was desperate. At this moment he saw an Ermine coming along. Ermine was small. He had dark fur that blended in with the ground. The Windigo did not see him. “Friend, friend, come here,” whispered Wesakaychak. “Save me. The Windigo is going to kill me and gobble me up. If you help me, I’ll make you into the most beautiful animal in the world.”
“How can I help?” asked Ermine.
“When the Windigo opens his mouth,” Wesakaychak told him, “jump into it; jump down his throat. Compared to him, you are so tiny, he won’t even notice it. Little brother, once you are inside, you’ll find a big red round thing pumping away—thud, thud, thud. That is the Windigo’s heart. You have such fine, sharp teeth, little friend, use them. Bite deep into the heart. Tear it to pieces!”
In the meantime the Windigo kept growling fearfully: “Hurry up with that fire! I am hungry!”
“I am working as fast as I can,” said Wesakaychak, gathering wood as slowly as possible.
“You’re stalling,” the Windigo shouted, opening his mouth wide.
Ermine jumped in. Ermine is small, but fierce. He has the sharpest teeth in the world. He gnawed his way into the Windigo’s heart; he bit deeply into it. The Windigo groaned, shuddered, and died. Ermine hopped out of the dead monster’s mouth. He was covered with the Windigo’s blood.
“Little friend,” said Wesakaychak, jumping with joy and relief, “let me clean you up.” He washed the blood out of Ermine’s fur.
“Elder brother,” Ermine reminded Wesakaychak, “you promised to make me beautiful.”
“And so I shall,” answered Wesakaychak. He took some white clay and used it to paint Ermine’s body as white as snow. He left only a tiny bit of black around Ermine’s eyes and at the tip of his tail, just to remind people of how Ermine had looked before Wesakaychak had beautified him. Ermine, his fur glistening like silver, was now the prettiest animal in the world.
“Thank you very much for doing this,” he said to Wesakaychak.
“Oh, it was nothing, don’t even mention it, little brother,” answered Wesakaychak. “It was the reward for the small service you rendered me.” Gracefully, his silvery body moving like a snake, Ermine went home.
Wesakaychak addressed the people: “Friends, behold me! It is entirely due to my courage and wisdom that you no longer have to be afraid of the terrible Windigo.”
PART ELEVEN
OLD MAN NAPI CHOOSES A WIFE
CHOOSING MATES
{Blackfoot}
Having created the world, the animals, grass, trees, all life upon it, Old Man realized that by having men live by themselves, and women by themselves, he had made a mistake. He saw that they should live together. The camps of the two sexes were far apart: The women were living here at the foot of the mountains, in Cutbank Valley, and the men were away down on Two Medicine River. Each camp had a buffalo trap and subsisted wholly upon the buffalo that were decoyed into it.
As I have said, Old Man saw that he had made a mistake by keeping men and women apart. In fact, he found that he himself wanted a woman, so he went to the men and said: “You shall no longer live by yourselves. Come! We will go up to the camp of the women, and each of us get one of them.”
The men were more than glad to do that; it was what they had been hoping to do for a long time. So they hurried to put on their best clothes, and neatly braided their hair, and then started off with Old Man to the women’s camp. When they came in sight of it, Old Man told them to stop right there and he would go ahead and plan with the women just what should be done. They sat down, and he went on to the women’s camp. Himself he had no his old, soiled clothes; his fine clothes he had left behind with the men.
Arrived in the camp, he found only two or three women there; the women’s chief and all the others were down at the buffalo trap, butchering the animals that they had that morning decoyed into it. When he told the few women that he found why he had come, he greatly excited and pleased them, and they started at once to run and tell the others to hurry up from the trap and meet the men.
“But wait. Not so fast. I want a word with you,” Old Man called out; and when they came back to him, he asked: “What kind of a woman is your chief?”
“Everything that is good and kind and brave, that is our chief,” one answered. And another said: “Ai! She is all that, and more; and she is the most beautiful woman of us all!”
This pleased Old Man. He said to himself: “That is the woman for me. I must have her.” And to the waiting women he said: “It is right that chief woman should mate with chief man. You women are to come to us, and each select the man you want. Now tell your chief woman that the chief man is brave and kind and handsome, and that she shall select him for her man. She will know him by the way he is dressed. He wears a buckskin shirt and leggings, embroidered with porcupine quills, and a cow-leather robe with a big porcupine-quill-embroidered sun in the center of it. You tell her to take him for her man!”
“We will do so!” the women cried, and started off for the buffalo trap as fast as they could run.
Old man hurried back to the waiting men and hurriedly put on his fine clothes, the ones he had described to the women.
Trembling with excitement, and out of breath from their long, swift run, Old Man’s messengers arrived at the buffalo trap and told their wonderful news—that men had come to marry them; that each woman was to choose the man that she thought would best suit her. The butchering of the animals ceased at once, and the women started for their camp to put on their good clothes and recomb their hair. They wanted to appear as neat and clean and well dressed as possible before the men. Yes, all ran for their camp, all except the chief woman. Said she: “I cannot leave here until I finish skinning this spotted medicine calf. Go, all of you, and I will join you as soon as I can.”
The work took more time than she thought would be required, and when she arrived in camp with the valuable skin, she found all the other women dressed and impatient to go and choose their men. “Oh, well, it doesn’t matter how I look,” she said. “I am a chief, I have a name; I can choose my man dressed just as I am. How did you say the man chief is dressed?”
They told her again what he wore, according to what Old Man had told them, and she said: “I’ll choose him. Chief, I suppose, must mate with chief.”
And so she went right with the others, wearing her butchering dress, all stiff with blood and grease from the neck down to the bottom of the skirt; and her moccasins were even more foul than the skirt. Her hands were caked with dry blood, and her hair was not even braided.
Their chief leading, the women approached the waiting men, all standi
ng in a line and singing a song of greeting. Old Man stood at the head of the line, very straight and proud, and of fine appearance in his new, porcupine-embroidered clothes. By these the chief woman recognized him from afar, and said to herself: “He is a fine-looking man. I hope that he will prove to be as good of heart as he is good to look at.” And, leading her women, she walked straight up to him and laid a hand on his arm: “I will take you for my man,” she told him.
But Old Man shrank back, his face plainly showing his loathing of such a bloody and greasy, wild-haired woman.
“I take you for my man,” the woman chief repeated.
Then he broke away from her hold and ran behind his men: “No! No! I do not want you, bloody, greasy woman,” he cried, and went still farther off behind his men.
The woman chief turned to her followers: “Go back! Go back to that little hill and there wait for me,” she told them. And to the men she said: “Remain where you are until I return. I shall not be gone long.” And with that she turned and hurried to her camp. Her women went to the hill. The men remained where they were.
Down at her camp the chief woman took off her old clothes and bathed in the river. Then she put on her fine clothes, a pair of new moccasins, braided her hair, scented herself with sweet grass, and returned to her women. She was now better dressed than any of them, and they told Old Man the truth when they said that she was beautiful of face and form; she was the most beautiful of them all.
American Indian Trickster Tales (Myths and Legends) Page 19
