THE SONG OF THE PASQUE FLOWER
By Rev. Ignatius Forster, O. S. B.
Mount Marty, Yankton, South Dakota.
February 1, 1921.
Lovely Pasque Flower,
Herald of Spring,
Proclaiming the hour,
Gladly to sing.
Gently thou greetest
The wintry sun;
Boldly thou peepest
If snow is gone.
Callest thy playmates
Who still do sleep:
“Arise, lo, spring waits!
No longer weep.”
Slowly they waken,
Lowly they sigh:
“Wasn’t that beckon
Pasque Flower’s cry?”
They rise in raiments
Of colors bright;
Pasque Flower’s garments
Are hoary white.
Noble thy preaching,
Pasque flower brave;
“Work,” is thy teaching,
“Unto the grave.”
Lovely Pasque Flower,
Herald of Spring
Proclaiming the hour
To work and sing.
Father Forster was moved to write this delightful little song upon reading one evening, (February 1, 1921), the foregoing prose account of the Dakota (Sioux) Song of the Pasque Flower or Hoksi-Cekpa Wahca.
THE PRAIRIE ROSE
The prairie was gray and drab, no beautiful flowers brightened it, it had only dull greenish-gray herbs and grasses, and Mother Earth’s heart was sad because her robe was lacking in beauty and brightness. Then the Holy Earth, our mother, sighed and said, “Ah, my robe is not beautiful, it is sombre and dull. I wish it might be bright and beautiful with flowers and splendid with color. I have many beautiful, sweet and dainty flowers in my heart. I wish to have them upon my robe. I wish to have upon my robe flowers blue like the clear sky in fair weather. I wish also to have flowers white like the pure snow of winter and like the high white cloudlets of a quiet summer day. I wish also to have brilliant yellow flowers like the splendor of the sun at noon of a summer day. And I wish to have delicate pink flowers like the color of the dawn light of a joyous day in springtime. I would also have flowers red like the clouds at evening when the sun is going down below the western edge of the world. All these beautiful flowers are in my heart, but I am sad when I look upon my old dull, gray and brown robe.”
Then a sweet little pink flower said, “Do not grieve mother, I will go up upon your robe and beautify it.” So the little pink flower came up from the heart of Mother Earth to be upon the sad prairie of her mother’s robe.
Now when the Wind Demon saw the pink flower there he said, “Indeed she is pretty, but I will not have her trespassing in my playground.” So the Wind Demon rushed at her shouting and roaring and blew out her life, but her spirit returned to the heart of Mother Earth.
And when the other flowers ventured, one after another to come out upon the prairie which was Mother Earth’s robe, the Wind Demon destroyed them also and their spirits returned to the heart of Holy Mother Earth.
At last Prairie Rose offered to go and brighten the appearance of Mother Earth’s robe, the prairie. Mother Earth said fondly, “Yes, dear, sweet child, I will let you go. You are so lovely and your breath is so sweet, it may be that the Wind Demon will be charmed by you, and that he will let you remain on his ground.” And Prairie Rose said, “Yes, dear mother, I will go, for I desire that my mother’s robe shall be beautiful. But if the Wind Demon should blow out my life my spirit shall return home to the heart of my mother.”
So Prairie Rose made the toilsome journey up through the dark ground and came out upon the sad gray prairie. And as she was going Mother Earth said in her heart, “Oh, I hope the Wind Demon will allow her to live for I wish my robe to be beautiful!”
Now when the Wind Demon saw Prairie Rose he rushed at her shouting and said, “Indeed, though she is pretty I shall not allow her to be upon my ground. I will blow out her life.” So he came on roaring and drawing his breath in strong gusts. Just then he caught the fragrance of the breath of Prairie Rose. “Ah,” he said, “how sweet her breath is! Why, I do not have it in my heart to blow out the life of such a beautiful little maiden whose breath is so sweet! I love her. She shall stay here with me. And I must make my voice gentle and sing a melodious song, for I wish not to frighten her with my awful noise.”
So he became quiet and breathed gentle breezes which passed over the prairie grasses whispering and humming little songs of gladness.
Then the other flowers also came up through the dark ground and out upon the dull, gray prairie and made it bright and joyous with their presence. And the wind came to love all the flowers and the grasses.
And so the robe of our Mother Earth became beautiful because of the loveliness and the sweet breath of the Prairie Rose.
Sometimes the Wind forgets his gentle songs and becomes loud and boisterous, but he does not harm a person whose robe is ornamented with the color of Prairie Rose.
THE SONG OF THE WILD ROSE
The following is a translation into English out of the Dakota language by Dr. A. McG. Beede, of an old Dakota song. The people of the Dakota nation, and other tribes also, think of the various plant and animal species as having each their own songs. With these people music, song, is an expression of the soul and not a mere artistic or artful exercise.
Where the word “Mother” appears in the following song it refers to “Mother Earth,” a living, conscious, holy being in Indian thought. The earth was truly venerated and loved by these people, who considered themselves not as owners or potential owners of any part of the land, but as being owned by the land which gave them birth and which supplied their physical needs from her bounty and satisfied their love of the beautiful by the beauty of her face in the landscape.
The trilled musical syllables at the close of the last two stanzas express the spontaneous joy which comes to a person who has “life-appreciation of Holy Earth.”
The first stanza is an introduction by the narrator; not a part of the “Song of the Wild Rose.” The remaining stanzas are the song itself, of the Wild Rose.
I will tell you of something I know,
And you can’t half imagine how good;
It’s the song of wild roses that grow
In the land the Dakota-folk love.
From the heart of the Mother we come,
The kind Mother of Life and of All;
And if ever you think she is dumb,
You should know that flowers are her songs.
And all creatures that live are her songs,
And all creatures that die are her songs,
And the winds blowing by are her songs,
And she wants you to sing all her songs.
Like the purple in Daydawn we come,
And our hearts are so brimful of joy
That whene’er we’re not singing we hum
Ti-li-li-li-i, ta-la-la-loo, ta-la-la-loo!
When a maiden is ready to wed
Pin wild roses all over her dress,
And a rose in the hair of her head;
Put new moccasins onto her feet.
Then the heart of the Mother will give
Her the songs of her own heart to sing;
And she’ll sing all the moons she may live,
Ti-li-li-li-i, ta-la-la-loo, ta-la-la-loo!
USE OF THE GROUND BEAN BY INDIANS
There is a native wild bean found growing over an area of wide distribution in North America. The botanical name of this bean is Falcata comosa. In the Dakota language it is called maka ta omnicha, which means “bean of the earth;” in the Pawnee language it is called ati-kuraru, which means “earth bean.” The plant grows in dense masses over shrubbery and other vegetation in some places, especially along banks and at the edge of timber.
It forms two kinds of branches, bearing two forms of flower, producing two forms of fruits. Leafy branches climb up over the shrubbery, but under these, in the shade, prostrate on the earth, starting out from the base of the main stem, are leafless, colorless branches, forming a network on the surface of the ground. The tiny inconspicuous blossoms borne on these prostrate branches are self-pollinated and push into the leaf mold and soft soil, and there each produces a single large bean closely clothed by a thin filmy pod or husk. These beans which are formed in the earth are about the size of Lima beans. Upon the upper, leafy branches are borne showy, purplish flowers appearing like small bean blossoms. From these blossoms are produced small bean pods about a half inch to an inch in length. These pods contain each from three to four or five small, hard, mottled beans about an eighth of an inch long.
The large beans produced in the ground are desirable for food. They are of good flavor when cooked. The small beans of the upper branches are also good for food, but they are so small and difficult to harvest that not much use is made of them by the people. The large beans formed in the earth would also be hard to gather but for the help of certain little animals called voles, or wood mice, or bean mice. The voles dig the large beans and store them in considerable quantities in storage places which they hollow out in the ground and which they cover over with sticks and leaves and earth. In these places the little animals put away sometimes a peck or a half bushel of beans.
Through all the extensive range of Falcata comosa, the ground-bean, it was sought by the people of the various Indian tribes to add to their food supply. The people said they did not take away all the beans from the voles as it would be wicked to loot the animals’ food stores and leave the animals to starve after they had worked to gather them. But they would take a part of the store, in a manner making themselves beggars to the little animals. The Omahas have a saying that “The bean mouse is a very industrious fellow, he even helps human beings.”
But in all accounts I have had from the people of the Dakota nation the women have always said that they never took away any beans from the voles without making some payment in kind. They said it would be wicked and unjust to take the beans from the animals and give nothing in return. So they said they always put back some corn, some suet, or some other food material in exchange for the beans they took out. In that way they said both they and the little animals obtained a variety in their food supply. They said they thought it very wrong to deprive the animals of their store without such payment, but that it was fair if they gave a fair exchange.
The people of the Dakota nation speak of the wood-mice or voles by the designation of “Hintunka people.” In the Dakota theory of the universe they personify the maternal power and spirit by the name Hunka. Hunka is the mystic All-Mother in nature, the mother of all living beings, plant or animal, which of course includes mankind. For they do not think of mankind as being apart from nature and the community of life in the world.
The Dakotas have a moral story which is told as follows:
A certain woman went and plundered the store-house of some Hintunka people. She robbed them of their entire food supply without even giving them anything at all in return. The next night this woman who had robbed the Hintunka people of all their food supply heard a woman down in the woods crying and saying “Oh, what will my poor children do?” It was the voice of one of the Hintunka women crying over her hungry children.
The same night the woman who had done the wrong had a dream. In her dreams Hunka appeared to her and said “You should not have taken the food from the Hintunka people. Take back the food to them, or else your own children shall cry for food.”
The next morning the woman told her husband what Hunka had said to her. Her husband said “You would better do as Hunka tells you to do.” But the woman was hard-hearted and perverse and would not restore to the Hintunka people the food of which she had robbed them, neither would she give them anything in exchange.
A short time after this a great prairie fire came, driven by a strong wind, and swept over the place where this unjust woman and her family were camping. The fire burned up her tipi and everything it contained, and they barely escaped with their lives. They had no food nor shelter and they had to wander on the prairie destitute.
The bean-mouse and its works are regarded with respect, admiration and reverence by the people of the various Indian tribes which benefit by its labor. They feel very resentful towards any seeming tendency to meddle unwarrantedly with its winter store-houses. Upon hearing of the desire of a white man to make a photograph of such a store-house an old man of the Teton-Dakota on the Standing Rock Reservation expressed bitter resentment and declared himself ready to fight to prevent such a thing from being done. He said “We have enough misfortune already, counting the war and the epidemic of influenza, without inviting further disaster by such sacrilege.”
In the month of November, after the bean mice have harvested their beans and laid them up in their store-houses for the winter, the people often go out alone and sit near some such store-house in silent meditation on the ways of Providence. At that time of the year the missionaries and priests are often pained and puzzled because of the absence of some of their church members from Sunday service or from mass on Sunday morning. They do not know, and likely would not appreciate or understand the feeling which has caused these people to go out at such a time, not to the church but out to the quiet place under the open heaven where they sit upon the lap of Mother Earth to reverently and thankfully meditate upon the mysteries of nature and the wonderful provisions of God in nature.
At such times they like to bring in to their homes or to their churches some object connected with the bean mouse and his marvelous ways and work. If they find some beans which the bean mouse has spilled in transportation to his store-house, or a tree-leaf which they suppose he has used as his sled for carrying his beans from field to store-house, they will bring in such objects and lay them up reverently in the home or in the church with devout regard for prayerful meditation. Indians say that the bean mouse uses a leaf of the boxelder tree, or sometimes another kind of leaf of suitable shape, as a sled for gathering his stores.
At one time an old blind man of the Teton-Dakota on the Standing Rock Reservation on the upper Missouri River went out to the vicinity of a vole’s store-house to meditate and pray. A man saw him and quietly approached within hearing distance. As the old man was blind he did not perceive the approach of the observer. Thinking himself alone in the presence of the powers of nature, this devout old man, gave expression to his religious feeling in the following prayer:
“Thou who art holy, pity me and help me I pray. Thou art small, but thou art sufficiently large for thy place in the world. And thou art sufficiently strong also for thy work, for Holy Wakantanka constantly strengthens thee. Thou art wise, for the wisdom of holiness is with Thee constantly.
“May I be wise in all my heart continually, for if an attitude of holy wisdom leads me on, then this shadow-troubled life shall come into constant light.”
TIPSIN: AN IMPORTANT NATIVE FOOD PLANT
Over all the dry prairies of the Great Plains region there grows a plant (Psoralea esculenta), which was an important item of the food supplies of all the tribes of the region. It is a species which belongs botanically to the Bean Family. The part used for food is the large root, which is stored with proteid and starchy matter. The root is about the size of a hen’s egg. The stem of the plant is bushy and branched; the leaves are trifoliate. The leaves and stems of the plant are hairy, giving it a grayish-green appearance. The flowers are set in close racemes at the ends of the branches, and are bluish in color and of bean blossom shape.
In the journals of the early travellers mention of this plant is often found under the name of “pomme blanche” or “pomme de prairie,” the name by which the French traders and trappers called it, for they learned to live upon the native products of the land. English speaking people coming later, and depending not so much on native products, did not supply names for them, not considering them of enough importance. The name which I have given it for a common English name is an approximation to, and an adaptation of the name of this plant in the Dakota language.
Tipsin roots are gathered in June or early July. They were used fresh when gathered, and they were also gathered in quantity and peeled and dried for future use. The women gathered them by the use of digging sticks. They had their children with them to look for the plants while they dug them. Because of the branching habit of the plant the mother would say to her children, “See, they point to each other. Now here is one, notice the directions in which its arms point and you will find others.” So the children would start, each in the direction of one of the branches, and of course, if they followed in any direction and kept close watch they would find another. The idea of the plants pointing to each other kept the children’s attention fixed.
HOW THE PEOPLE OBTAINED THE PRECIOUS GIFT OF CORN
All the tribes which cultivated corn had legends accounting for its acquisition. Many of these are very interesting and beautiful. In the Sacred Legends of the Omaha, of which account is given in “The Omaha Tribe,” Twenty-seventh Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology, by Alice Fletcher and Francis La Flesche, occurs the following legend of the finding of corn:
“Then a man in wandering about found some kernels, blue, and red, and white. He thought he had secured something of great value, so he concealed them in a mound. One day he thought he would go to see if they were safe. When he came to the mound he found it covered with stalks having ears bearing kernels of these colours. He took an ear of each kind and gave the rest to the people to experiment with. They tried it for food, found it good, and ever since have called it their life. As soon as the people found the corn good, they thought to make mounds like that in which the kernels had been hid. So they took the shoulder blade of an elk and built mounds like the first and buried the corn in them. So the corn grew and the people had abundant food.”
While the legend does not designate what tribe it was which first obtained corn, it is probably to be identified with the following fuller account which is also told in the Omaha Sacred Legends, and which recites that they first learned of corn and obtained seed of it from the Arikara. The story tells how the Arikara first obtained corn by divine favour, and then how they gave it to other tribes, among these fortunate ones being the Omaha. It should be remembered that at the time the Omaha came to where they now reside and have resided for some centuries, the Arikara were in the region of what is now northern Nebraska, so they were then neighbors of the Omaha. No doubt the declaration of the legend that the Omahas did first obtain corn from the Arikara is based on fact, in that corn culture among the Omaha had been borrowed from the Arikara, who later migrated farther north along the upper Missouri River.
The story runs thus:
“The Arikara were the first to obtain the maize. A young man went out hunting. He came to a high hill, and, looking down upon a valley, he saw a buffalo bull standing in the middle of a bottom land lying between two rivers at their confluence. As the young man searched the surroundings to find how he might approach the buffalo he was impressed with the beauty of the landscape. The banks of the two rivers were low and well timbered. He observed that the buffalo stood facing north; he saw also that he could not approach from any side within bowshot. He thought that the only way to get a chance to shoot the buffalo would be to wait until the animal moved close to the banks of one of the rivers, or to the hills where there were ravines and shrubs. So the young man waited. The sun went down and the buffalo had not moved; the young man went home disappointed. He lay awake nearly all night brooding over his disappointment, for food had become scarce and the buffalo would have afforded a good supply. Before dawn the young man arose and hastened to the place where he had discovered the buffalo to see whether the animal might be somewhere near, if it had moved. Just as he reached the summit of the hill, where he was the day before, the sun arose, and he saw that the buffalo was in the same spot. But he noticed that it was now facing toward the east. Again the young man waited for the animal to move, but again the sun went down while the buffalo remained standing in the same spot. The hunter went home and passed another restless night. He started out again before dawn and came to the top of the hill just as the sun arose, and saw the buffalo in the same place still, but it had now turned to face the south. The young man waited and watched all day, but when darkness came he once more had to go away disappointed. He passed another sleepless night. His desire to secure game was mixed with curiosity to know why the buffalo should so persistently remain in that one spot without eating or drinking or lying down to rest. He rose upon the fourth morning before dawn, his mind occupied with this curiosity, and made haste to reach the hill to see if the buffalo still stood in the same place. Morning light had come when he arrived at the hill, and he saw that the buffalo was standing in exactly the same place, but had turned around to face the west. He was determined now to know what the animal would do, so he settled down to watch as he had throughout the three previous days. He now began to think that the animal was acting in this manner under the influence of some unseen power for some mysterious purpose, and that he, as well as the buffalo, was controlled by the same influence. Darkness again came upon him and the animal was still standing in the same position. The young man returned home, but he was kept awake all night by his thoughts and wondering what would come of this strange experience. He rose before dawn and hastened again to the mysterious scene. As he reached the summit of the hill dawn spread across all the land. Eagerly he looked. The buffalo was gone! But just where the buffalo had been standing there appeared something like a small bush. The young man now approached the spot with a feeling of curiosity and of awe, but also something of disappointment. As soon as he came near he saw that what had appeared from a distance like a small bush was a strange unknown plant. He looked upon the ground and saw the tracks of the buffalo; he observed that they turned from the north to the east, and to the south, and to the west; and in the centre there was but one buffalo track, and out of it had sprung this strange plant. He examined the ground all around the plant to find where the buffalo had left the place, but there were no other footprints except those he had already seen near the plant. He made haste to reach his home village. There he notified the chiefs and elders of his people concerning the strange experience which he had had. Led by the young man they proceeded to the place of the buffalo and examined the ground with care, and found that what he had told them was true. They found the tracks of the buffalo where he had stood and where he had turned, but could find no trace of his coming to the place nor of his going from it. Now while all these men believed that this plant had been given to the people in this mysterious manner by Wakanda for their use, still they were not sure what that use might be nor in what manner it should be used. The people knew of other plants that were useful for food, and the season for their ripening, and, believing that the fruit of this strange plant would ripen in its proper time, they arranged to guard and protect it carefully, awaiting with patience the time of its ripening and further revelation of its purpose.
“After a time a spike of flowers appeared at the top of the plant, but from their knowledge of other plants they knew that the blossom was but the flower and not the fruit. But while they watched this blossom, expecting it to develop into fruit, as they expected it would, a new growth appeared from the joints of the plant. They now gave special attention to the new growth. It grew larger, and finally something appeared at the top which looked like hair. This, in the course of time, turned from pale green to dark brown, and after much discussion the people concluded that this growth at the side of the plant was its fruit, and that it had ripened. Until this time no one had dared to approach within touch of the plant. Although they were anxious to know the uses to which the plant could be put, or for which it was intended, no one dared to touch it. While the people were assembled around the plant uncertain and undetermined how to approach the examination of it to learn its possible use, a youth stepped forward and spoke:
“‘Every one knows how my life from childhood has been worse than useless, that my life among you has been more evil than good. Therefore since no one would regret, should any evil befall me, let me be the first to touch this plant and taste of its fruit, so that you may not suffer any harm and that you may learn if the plant possesses qualities which may be for our good.’ When the people gave their assent the youth stepped forward and placed his hands over the top of the plant and brought them down by the sides of the plant to the roots in the manner of giving thanks and blessing. He then grasped the fruit, and, turning to the people, said, ‘It is solid; it is ripe.’ Very gently then he parted the husks at the top, and again turning to the people, he said, ‘The fruit is red.’ Then he took a few of the grains, showed them to the people, then ate them, and replaced the husks. The youth suffered no ill effects, and the people were convinced that this plant was given them for food. In the autumn, when the prairie grass had turned brown, the stalks and leaves of this plant turned brown also. The fruit was plucked and put away with carefulness. The next spring the kernels were divided among the people, four to each family. The people removed to the place where the strange plant had appeared, and there they built their huts along the banks of the two rivers. When the hills began to be green from the new prairie grass, the people planted the kernels of this strange plant, having first built mounds like the one out of which the first plant grew. To the great joy of the people the kernels sprouted and grew into strong healthy plants. Through the summer they grew and developed, and the fruit ripened as did that of the original plant. The fruit was gathered and some was eaten, and was found to be good. In gathering the fruit the people discovered that there were various colours—some ears were white and others were blue, some were red, others were yellow.
“The next season the people gathered a rich harvest of this new plant. In the autumn these people, the Arikara, sent invitations to a number of different tribes to come and visit them. Six tribes came; one of these was the Omaha. The Arikara were very generous in the distribution of the fruit of this new plant among their guests, and in this manner a knowledge of the plant came to the Omaha.”
A GROUP OF PAWNEE HYMNS TO CORN
The Pawnee had migrated from the distant southwest into the Plains region, finally arriving at the region drained by the Republican, the Platte, and the Niobrara rivers. Corn was native in Mexico, and had been introduced into the Plains by gradual adaptation in cultivation along the line of migration of the Pawnee nation. These hymns express something of the high value which the people placed upon corn as an item of their daily sustenance. They also reflect something of the scenery of the Plains landscape. These hymns are from an ancient Pawnee ritual which is given entire in the Twenty-second Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology, Part 2.
MOTHER CORN
I
Mother with the life-giving power now comes,
Stepping out of far-distant days she comes,
Days wherein to our fathers gave she food;
As to them, so now unto us she gives,
Thus she will to our children faithful be.
Mother with the life-giving power now comes!
Mother with the life-giving power is here.
Stepping out of far distant days she comes.
Now she forward moves, leading as we walk
Toward the future, where blessings she will give,
Gifts for which we have prayed granting to us.
Mother with the life-giving power is here!
LEADERSHIP OF MOTHER CORN
I
The Mother leads and we follow on,
Her devious pathway before us lies.
She leads us as were our fathers led
Down through the ages.
II
The Mother leads and we follow on,
Her pathway straight, where a stage each day
We forward walk, as our fathers walked
Down through the ages.
The two preceding hymns reflect the fact that corn was introduced by the Pawnee from their more ancient homeland in the faraway southwest in remotely past time into the region of their later residence in the plains. They also reflect the importance which corn had in the everyday life of this people.
The following hymn to Mother Corn as Guide is expressive of the sense of vastness and awesomeness of the great extent of the Plains, and something of its grimness.
GUIDANCE OF MOTHER CORN
I
Looking o’er the prairie, naught our eyes discern there,
Wide the land stretches out before us;
Then we cry aloud to Mother Corn: “Doth thy pathway lie here?”
II
Heeding now our crying, while our eyes she opens,
Mother Corn moveth out before us
On the lonely prairie, where we see straight the pathway lies there!
The following hymn of thanks for the corn shows something of the religious feeling of the Pawnee and their gratitude to Providence for the gift of corn.
A HYMN OF THANKS TO MOTHER CORN
I
See! The Mother Corn comes hither, making all hearts glad!
Making all hearts glad!
Give her thanks, she brings a blessing; now, behold! she is here!
II
Yonder Mother Corn is coming, coming unto us!
Coming unto us!
Peace and plenty she is bringing; now, behold! she is here!
THE FORGOTTEN EAR OF CORN
A woman of the Arikara tribe was harvesting her crop of corn, making ready to store it away in a safe place where she might be able to get it for use during the long cold winter. She went along gathering the ears and placing them in convenient heaps so that she could gather them up to carry to the storage place she had prepared. When she had finished her work she started to go, but she heard a voice like the voice of a little child, crying and calling pitifully: “Oh, do not leave me! Do not go away without me.”
The woman was astonished at what she supposed was the voice of a lost child. She said to herself: “What is this? Can it be some child has wandered and has been lost in my cornfield? I must go and look for it.”
So she laid down her burden of gathered corn, and went back into the field to make search. But she found no child anywhere in the field.
Then she started once more to take up her burden and leave the field. But again she heard the plaintive little voice crying: “Oh, do not leave me! Do not go away without me.”
Then she went back into the field and searched again for a long time. After diligent search she found one little ear of corn which had been covered by stalks and leaves. It was the little ear of corn which had been crying, fearing to be left to die in the field. So all Indian women are very careful in gathering their crops so that nothing shall be lost or wasted of the good gifts of the Great Mystery, for they are accounted sacred and holy, and it would be wicked to treat them with neglect or indifference.
HOW THE USEFULNESS OF WILD RICE WAS DISCOVERED
A Chippewa Myth
Wenibozho and his grandmother, Nokomis, lived together in a lodge by themselves. When he approached manhood his grandmother exhorted him to exert himself, to learn to endure hardship, loneliness, cold and hunger and thirst, for such experience is the proper training for a young man. A young man needs such training so that when overtaken by misfortune he shall be brave and resourceful; so that he may be able to take care of himself and of any who may be dependent upon him.
So, one day Wenibozho told his grandmother he was going away into the wilderness where he had never been before, so that he could be cast upon his own resources to try his strength and courage and wit.
He was gone many days and nights, wandering through the forest and beside streams and lakes. He subsisted upon such fruits, seeds, roots and tubers as he was able to find, and upon the flesh of animals he was able to shoot with his bow and arrow which he had brought with him. One day he came to a lake in which was growing a great quantity of beautiful, feathery wild rice, swaying over the water in the gentle breeze. From the bark of a birch tree he fashioned a canoe in which he rowed out upon the lake and gathered a quantity of the wild rice. He did not know the wild rice was useful for food, for he had never seen it before, but he admired its beauty. He took the wild rice which he had gathered to his grandmother. He told her of the beautiful plant which he had found in the lake and that he had brought to her some of the seed of the plant. This seed they sowed in another lake near the place where he lived with his grandmother, for he hoped to have the beautiful plant growing where he might often enjoy its beauty.
Again he went away into the forest so that he might become accustomed to endure hardships and also that he might learn wisdom from the living creatures, not only from the moving creatures, but also from those other living creatures, the plants of all kinds. While walking he thought he heard a voice saying, “Sometimes they eat us.” He stopped and listened and again he heard the words “Sometimes they eat us.” This time he perceived that the words came from some bushes near which he was passing. Finally he spoke, saying, “To whom are you talking?” He was told that he was the one to whom the bush was speaking, so he dug up the plant and found that it had a long root. He tasted the root and it was pleasant to the taste, so he dug more, and ate a great many, so many that he was made ill. He was too ill to travel, so he lay there three days. Finally he was able to rise and move on, but he was hungry and weak. As he passed along other plants spoke to him, but he was now afraid to eat of them. Then, as he was walking along a stream he saw some bunches of grass growing up out of the water which beckoned to him and said, “Sometimes they eat us.” He was so hungry, and the graceful grass was so tempting, that he was constrained to gather some seeds of it and eat. The taste was pleasing, and its effect upon his hunger was so gratifying that he said, “O, you are indeed good! What are you called?” The Grass replied, “We are called manomin,” which is the name which the Chippewa people call this plant. Wenibozho waded out into the water and gathered the grains by handfuls and ate it, and so continued till his hunger was fully satisfied. From eating the manomin he suffered no ill effects whatever, but was strengthened wonderfully. Finally he remembered the grain which he had discovered on his former journey and which he and his grandmother, Nokomis, had sown in the lake near their home. When he returned and found it growing and compared it with this grain which he had now found to be so good, he perceived that it was the same sort. So he found that this beautiful grass which he had growing in the lake near home was really manomin, as pleasant to the taste and as satisfying to hunger as it was beautiful to the eyes. Ever since that time the Chippewas have known how to value the good gift of manomin.
A STORY OF THE SUNFLOWER
A Story from the Dakota Nation
Once on a time, long ago, a company of men were going upon a war expedition. And now as they were within the country of the enemy they were proceeding very cautiously. One morning very early they heard what seemed to be the sound of someone singing in a tremulous voice, coming from the direction toward which they were marching. They stopped and stood still to listen.
As they stood thus listening it seemed to them that the singer, whoever he might be, must be a clown, for he was singing a clown song. There was not light enough to see the singer. But they waited silently and anxiously peering ahead in the direction from which came the sound of the singing. At the first glimmer of the dawn light they were able to make out the appearance of a man walking with an awkward shuffling gait. His robe was ragged and his leggings drooped down slouchingly in wrinkles about his ankles as he walked. He had great circles about his eyes painted a bright yellow and he was singing a clown song in a husky wheezy voice.
So they stood in wonder regarding the clown who was coming toward them. He was coming toward the sun rising and as the daylight grew brighter they were astonished to see the man suddenly changed to a sunflower.
And ever since that time, it is said, the sunflower is inclined to face toward the sun.
DAKOTA FOLKLORE OF THE SPIDERWORT
The spiderwort (Tradescantia bracteata) and (Tradescantia occidentalis) is a beautiful native prairie flower which is known under numerous popular names. It is called spiderwort, spider lily, ink flower, king’s crown, and various other names. It has been proposed to add to the list another name, “flower-of-romance.” This name is proposed from the circumstance of a bit of pleasing sentiment connected with this flower in the folklore of the Dakota nation of Indians.
It is a charmingly beautiful and delicate flower, deep blue in color, with a tender-bodied plant of graceful lines. There is no more appealingly beautiful flower on the western prairies than this one when it is sparkling with dewdrops in the first beams of the rising sun. There is about it a suggestion of purity, freshness and daintiness.
When a young man of the Dakota nation is in love, and walking alone on the prairie finds this flower blooming, he stops and sings to it a song in which he personifies it with the qualities of his sweetheart’s personality as they are called to his mind by the appearance of the flower before him, its characteristics figuratively suggesting the characteristics of her whose image he carries romantically in his mind and heart. In his mind the beauties of the flower and the charms of the girl are mutually transmuted and flow together into one image.
The words of his song, translated from the Dakota language into the English, are something like this:
“Tiny, gladsome flower,
So winsome and modest,
Thou art dainty and sweet,
For love of thee I’d die.”
Stories of the Four-Footed People
THE FAITHFUL DOG
The dog was the companion and servant of the people over all parts of North America, and previous to the introduction of the horse into the western hemisphere by the Spaniards, the dog was the only domestic animal which the Indians had. After horses were introduced by the Spaniards, they soon came into use by the Indians, and in a comparatively short time they were widely spread over the continent.
But in former days the dog was the only beast of burden which the Indians had. They served as watchers at night, as companions and helpers in the chase, and as bearers of burdens in transportation service.
Once on a time a hunting party of men of the Dakota nation were in the buffalo grazing country in the time of the winter hunt. Scouts were sent out each day to look for a herd and to bring back report to the officers. One day one of the scouts discovered a herd near a certain lake. He came into camp in the evening, as soon as he could after he found the herd. At once he went according to the law and rendered his report to the proper officers. After reporting he went to his lodge and had his evening meal and then lay down to rest from the weariness of the day’s scouting.
The officers held council and made the plans for the next day’s activities of the hunting field. Then they sent the herald around the camp to announce the orders for the next day.
At the earliest light next morning every one in camp was up and making preparations for the day’s work. It was yet early in the day when the hunters reached the lake where the scout had discovered the buffalo herd the previous day. Here they found the buffaloes still feeding. At the command of the officers the hunters and their dogs were deployed to surround the herd for the slaughter, for the meat supply of the people had become low, and at this opportunity they must replenish their provision.
The herd was feeding upon a strip of land which was surrounded on three sides by a lake. The plan was to advance upon the herd from the base of this strip of land and force them out into the lake where the huge animals would be at a disadvantage upon the slippery ice.
The men and dogs charged upon the herd and soon the great mass of shaggy beasts were forced out upon the treacherous ice where they were struggling in great confusion. Many were killed before the herd finally reached the shore of the lake and scrambled up the steep bank and fled away over the plain.
The sun was already past the middle of the sky and the hunters were busy with the work of skinning the carcasses and dressing the beef, making ready to carry back to camp their prize of meat, hides, and other useful products, when suddenly they saw and felt a great change in the sky and in the air. The threatening signs were evident of the swift approach of a blizzard, the dreadful and terrific winter storm of fierce, roaring wind and driving snow and frightful cold which frequently sweeps over the northern plains.
The hunters made haste to reach camp which had been made in the shelter of the woods not far away. Here a certain number had been detailed by the officers to make camp and to gather firewood, while the others had been taking care of the meat. Now as the fearful storm threatened, they gathered in the camp bringing in what they could carry of the meat supply. Soon the hunters were refreshing themselves with freshly broiled steaks which were much relished by the hungry men, who had eaten nothing since the early morning just before they had broken camp. The dogs too were given their share.
The storm was now upon them in its fury; and all about was a smothering, dizzying swirl of whiteness as impenetrable as the blackness of night. The gale of wind roared unceasingly; the myriad millions of tiny snow particles ground upon each other in the swirl of the storm, each infinitesimal impact adding to the aggregate of reverberation of sound, while the skin tents hummed like enormous drums.
From time to time those who were already in camp shouted to guide the later comers who gave answering shouts and came one after another staggering into camp exhausted by the buffeting of the storm. At last only one was missing. The herd scout, who had found and reported the herd the day before; he and his faithful dog had not yet come in. The fury of the storm throughout the night and the next day prevented the possibility of going to look for the missing man.
Toward morning following the second night of the storm its fury abated. As is usual, at the end of a blizzard, it was followed by an extraordinary calm. The drifted plain lay as still and white as marble. The stars glistened coldly like ice crystals in the sky. The air was so clear that the least sound made by any moving creature was magnified in the stillness.
The hunting camp awoke. Suddenly the game call of the great gray wolf was heard. And soon the hunters saw a great number of these gaunt gray creatures out upon the ice of the lake and on the plain, digging out the white mounds which were the snowdrifts about the carcasses of the buffaloes which the hunters had been obliged to leave when the storm came upon them.
And now among the wolf cries another sound was heard,—the defiant barking of a dog! It was the scout’s dog. The men hurried toward the slaughter field to kill or drive away the wolves. Some wolves were dragging away a buffalo carcass, and from among the snarling howling pack about this carcass the hunters could distinctly hear the hoarse barking of their missing friend’s dog, and occasionally they could hear a strangely muffled shout of a man sounding as though it came from under the ice.
The hunters finally reached the place to which the carcass had been dragged by the wolves. As the men came near the wolves ran away and the men saw the dog standing by the carcass for a moment before he fell dead as they reached the place. The men with their knives cut open the abdominal cavity of the carcass and found the missing scout inside wrapped in his robe in a bed of grass and buffalo hair.
When the storm had come upon him at his work he had seen that he could not reach the camp so he had opened two of the carcasses and removed the internal organs. In one he had made a bed for his dog, and in the other for himself for protection from the fury of the storm. The dog had kept an opening to his shelter, but the man had closed the entrance of his own after he was in, and the hide had frozen solid, making him a prisoner. When the wolves came the dog was able to free himself and tried to defend his imprisoned master, regardless of his own safety. He had been mortally wounded before the hunters could save him.
As soon as the scout was released he inquired for the dog, his friend and defender. When he saw that his loyal friend was dead, having given up his life in defense of his master, the scout was deeply moved with grief. He knelt down and stroked the head of the dead dog, and said, “Ah, my friend; you were courageous and faithful unto death. And you died like a brave warrior. You shall have the funeral of a dead warrior.”
So with all due ceremony the scout carried the body of the dog to the top of a hill overlooking the lake where he had given up his life in doing his duty. There the scout laid the body. Over it he built up a tomb of boulders which he gathered from the hills. Then he laid upon it offerings of red paint and of food according to the funeral custom of his people, and they sang the farewell song for the dead.
Ever since that time this hill has been known to the Dakotas as the Grave of the Dog.
HOW COYOTE CHIEF WAS PUNISHED
A Mandan Story
Coyote Chief was out hunting one day, and he came upon a buffalo bull grazing. “Brother,” he said, “you have nothing to do just now. Let us run a race to see which of us is the swifter.” “All right,” said the buffalo, “let us run.”
“I shall first go and prepare a place for the race,” Coyote Chief said, “then I shall come back for you.”
So Coyote Chief found a high steep bank and placed on the very edge of it a small heap of stones. Then he returned to the buffalo and said, “Everything is now ready. Let us race over to yonder heap of stones which I have set up for a goal. When we are almost to the goal let us shut our eyes and run as hard as we can.” And so they ran toward the heap of stones and the buffalo ran over the bank and was killed by falling, just as Coyote Chief had planned.
But Coyote Chief had nothing with which to skin the buffalo and cut up and prepare the meat. So he walked along a little way and came to a small clump of timber. As he approached the timber he called out, “Brothers, give me a knife.” And they gave him a knife. Then he went on to another clump of timber. Here he called out, “Brothers, give me an earthen pot.” And they gave him an earthen pot. He went on again to another clump of timber, where he called out, “Brothers, give me a horn spoon.” And they gave him a horn spoon.
Then Coyote Chief went back to the place where the buffalo had fallen, and there he built a hunter’s lodge of leafy branches of trees. Then he skinned the buffalo and pegged out the skin upon the ground and scraped it. Next he cut up the meat, and some of it he cut into strips and hung it up to dry.
Coyote Chief had Fox for a servant, to run errands and to work about the house. And he treated Fox badly and did not give him enough to eat. Fox was hungry, as usual, and tried to help himself to some of the buffalo meat, but Coyote Chief saw him and was angry. He seized a brand from the fire and thrust it into Fox’s face, burning him thereby. Fox was hurt so badly that he decided to run away, but he wished first to be revenged upon Coyote Chief. So he went around to all the other animals and told them how badly he had been used by Coyote Chief. The animals were sorry for him and seemed willing to help him to punish Coyote Chief. So they held a meeting and talked over the matter to decide upon the best way to do this. The decision of the council was that they should all go over to his house that night and eat up all his meat while he was asleep.
Coyote Chief had worked hard all day to take care of his meat, and had not taken time to eat much. Being tired after his day’s work he went to bed early. But he was anxious lest some one might come and take his meat while he slept, so before going to sleep he said, “Now my members, you must watch for me while I sleep. My eyes, if anyone peeps in you must stare hard at him. My ears, if you hear a sound, you must wiggle. My arms, if anyone comes in you must thrash around. My legs, if any one comes near, you must kick.” Then he went to sleep.
That night all the animals gathered at Coyote Chief’s house, but they were afraid to touch anything till they were sure he was sound asleep. So they sent Magpie first to peep in at the door. Magpie went and peeped in and saw Coyote Chief’s eyes staring hard at him, and he went back and said, “He is not asleep, for his eyes stared at me.”
After a time Crow was sent to find if Coyote Chief was not asleep. Crow flew up and perched by the smoke-hole. When he looked in Coyote Chief’s ears began to wiggle. Crow went back and told the animals that Coyote Chief could not be asleep, for as soon as he looked in Coyote Chief’s ears began to wiggle.
A little later Jack Rabbit was sent to look. Jack Rabbit pushed in a little at the door, and Coyote Chief’s arms began to move up and down. So Jack Rabbit went back and reported that Coyote Chief must still be awake.
The animals again waited, and then sent Fox. Fox went inside, and then Coyote Chief’s legs began to kick, so he ran out and told the others that Coyote Chief was still awake.
Now, after waiting quite a long time, the animals sent Mouse. Mouse went in and saw that Coyote Chief seemed to be sound asleep. He went up and ran over his legs and there was no motion; then he ran over his chest and still Coyote Chief was not disturbed. At last he ran over his face, and Coyote Chief did not stir. So Mouse went and told the others that Coyote Chief was surely asleep. Then they came in and ate up all the meat except a few scraps which dropped while they were eating. When they had finished eating they went away without having wakened Coyote Chief.
The next morning when Coyote Chief awoke, he was very hungry because he had eaten little the day before, and had worked hard; but he found his meat was all gone, and he said to himself, “Oh, why did I not eat the meat yesterday instead of waiting!” Then, because he was so hungry, he searched about on the ground and found some scraps of meat and some small bits of fat. All these he gathered up on a robe. He put fresh wood upon the fire, and then sat down by the fireplace with the robe over his knees to eat the little he had. But just then a spark shot out from the fire and lighted on his hand, which hurt him so that he jumped up suddenly, spilling into the fire all the shreds of meat and fat which he had so carefully gathered.
So Coyote Chief got none of his meat, and was punished for the bad way he had treated Fox.
THE SKUNK AND THE BEAR
A Mandan Story
One day a skunk was going somewhere, travelling quietly along a trail, thinking of his own affairs. He did not know it, but a bear was coming along the same trail towards him. Neither the bear nor the skunk knew that the other was on the trail until suddenly they met. They both stopped. Then the skunk said to the bear, “You are on my road. Turn out and let me pass!” The bear replied, “Not so. It is you who are on my road. Get out of my way!” But the skunk said, “You, yourself must turn aside.” The bear then said, “Unless you do as I tell you I shall eat you at once. I tell you that you are on my road and must stand aside. I wonder how skunk meat would taste if I should eat some.”
The skunk said, “I wonder how bear flesh would taste if I should eat some.” Then suddenly the skunk threw up his brush and sprinkled the bear full in the face with his dreadful scent. The bear tumbled out of the path, howling in misery, and clawing at his nose and eyes. He could not see, and was almost suffocated.
As for the skunk, he passed on his way as if nothing had happened.
THE SONG OF THE OLD WOLF
There is a story told among the people of the Dakota nation that once on a time an old man went out, to be alone upon a high hill above the Missouri River to give himself to meditation and prayer. He chose this situation because of the grandeur and majesty of the view, of the great sweep of the prairie plains and hills, one hill beyond another away and away to the far horizon. Below flowed the wonderful and mysterious river, whose waters came down from the mighty mountains at the west and rolled on and on past the villages of many different nations, finally reaching the great salt water.
As the old man thus sat meditating and considering all the manifestations of life and power and mystery of earth and sky, he espied out upon the prairie a group of wolves trotting toward the river. When they reached the river they plunged in and swam across to the other side; all but one old one who was now too enfeebled by age to dare try his strength against the swift and powerful current of the river.
This old wolf sat down upon the bank of the river and watched his companions as they swam across and trotted away out of sight on the other side. When they had disappeared from sight he raised his muzzle towards the sky and mournfully sang in a man’s voice the following song:
All o’er the earth I’ve roamed,
I’ve journeyed far and wide;
My spirit haste and go,
I’m nothing, nothing now,
I’m nothing, nothing now.
Missouri River, flow,
Thou sacred water flow;
My spirit haste and go,
I’m nothing, nothing now,
I’m nothing, nothing now.
After the old wolf had sung this song he wearily made his way to the top of a hill and lay down in the warm sunshine, in the shelter of a rock and there waited until his spirit went away.
And so now, when old men of the Dakota nation feel the infirmities of age creeping upon them, and as though they had been left behind in life’s march, when they feel the depression of loneliness, will often go out alone to the summit of some high hill overlooking the Missouri River, and sitting there in solitude will muse upon their activities and noteworthy deeds in the past, of their companions of former days now long gone from them, and contrast all this with their present inactivity and loneliness. Then they will sadly and quaveringly sing this “Song of the Old Wolf.”
Note.—The English translation and rendering into verse is the work of Dr. A. McG. Beede, of Fort Yates, North Dakota. The original song in the Dakota language is as follows:
Maka takomni
Tehan omawani;
Minagi yayayo,
Wana matakuni,
Mni-shoshe yayo
Mni wakan yayo;
Minagi yayayo,
Wana matakuni,
Wana matakuni,
O he-he-he!
Stories of the People of the Air
FOLK SAYINGS ABOUT THE MEADOWLARK
The cheerful animation and lively manner of the meadowlark have made it a favourite with all people who are acquainted with it, both whites and Indians. And both whites and Indians attach words of their several languages to the notes of the bird. Among sayings in the English language attributed to the notes of the meadowlark are some expressions of banter and raillery. Farmers say that early in springtime the meadowlark perches jauntily upon the top of a fence-post and calls mockingly to them “You sowed your wheat too soon! You sowed your wheat too soon!” Another taunting expression fitted to the meadowlark’s notes is addressed to girls and young women; it is “You think you’re pretty, don’t you?”
These locutions in English are in accord with the tone of many sayings ascribed to the notes of the meadowlark by the Hidatsa tribe of North Dakota, and with their name of the bird, wia-akumakihishe, which means “scolding or shrewish woman,” for they say that the meadowlark says such taunting, tormenting and aggravating things. One of these taunting expressions is “Kitho karishtiditore,” which is a most exasperating saying. Kitho means “that insignificant one,” and karishtiditore means “good-for-nothing fellow.”
The Omahas also put words of their language to the notes of the meadowlark. One of these is Snite thingthi tegaze, which means “winter will not come back.” A little mixed-blood girl in the Omaha tribe was named Marguerite. Now the Omaha language does not contain the sound of the letter “r,” so in trying to pronounce the foreign name of Marguerite they make it Magathiche. One day a friend of this little girl’s father was at their house, and he was playfully teasing her because he was very fond of her. He said, of course speaking in the Omaha language, “Listen! do you hear that bird telling about you? He says: ‘Magathiche hthitugthe!’” The word hthitugthe in the Omaha language means “of a bad disposition,” so her old friend was teasing her by putting words to the bird notes which meant “Marguerite is of a bad disposition,” or “Marguerite is naughty!”
One of the sayings which the Pawnees fit to the notes of the meadowlark in their language is “Kichikakikuridu!” which means “I am not afraid!”
The meadowlark is a great favourite with the people of the Dakota nation. An old man of that nation was asked if his people ever used the meadowlark for food. He said they did not. When it was said that white men sometimes eat them, he said he knew that. Then, when asked why Dakotas would not eat the meadowlark, he said, “We think too much of them. They are our friends.” They call the meadowlark “the bird of promise,” and “the bird of many gifts,” for they say it promises good things to its friends, the Dakotas. They apply words of the Dakota language to the songs of the bird. They say it calls to the people with promises and with words of encouragement and good cheer, and that it gives counsel and advice on all manner of subjects. One of the things which it used to sing out to the people was “Koda, pte kizhozho,” i. e., “Friends, I whistle for the buffalo,” that is to say, it would whistle to call the buffalo in order that its friends, the Dakotas, might supply their needs of meat and clothing.
A touch of Dakota humour is shown in one saying attributed to the meadowlark’s notes in these later times since the government has established schools on the reservations to teach the Dakota children in the ways of the white men. They say that ofter now the meadowlark is to be seen flitting about the school grounds and singing, “One, two, three, epedo! One, two, three, epedo!” The Dakota word epedo means “You shall say.”
The white people speak of the United States government as “Uncle Sam,” but the people of the Dakota nation call the government “Tunkashila,” which means “Grandfather,” a title of the highest respect. In the summer of 1918, while the United States was at war with Germany, many of the Dakotas said they heard “the bird of promise” singing “Tunkashila ohiyelo!” The Dakota word “ohiyelo” means “will be victorious” or “will have the victory;” so the meadowlark, “the bird of promise,” was singing to them “The United States will have the victory!”
HOW THE MEADOWLARK WON THE RACE
A young man named Piya had a beautiful and lovely young wife and she was carried away by an evil monster who kept her hidden in his dwelling. The young man’s grandmother was a very wise old woman. She had great knowledge of the birds and beasts and of the trees and other plants, and she had mysterious powers and could do many wonderful things. Also she had taught her grandson many things, so that he too had uncommon knowledge and powers.
Now when the monster stole his wife away he came to his grandmother to ask her to help him recover his wife. Before he came to her his grandmother knew he was in trouble, so when he came he found her waiting for him. She said “I will prepare you for this quest; but first bring to me a wolf, a turtle and a meadowlark.” Then she brought him food; and after he had eaten and rested he set out to find the wolf, the turtle and the meadowlark. As he journeyed he found all of them, one after another, and invited them to eat with him. Then he told of his grandmother’s wish to have them to aid him in his quest. They each consented to help him provided the old woman would give him the thing most desired. The wolf said he wished to have a better fur coat so that the cold breath of old Waziya, the Old Man Winter, would not chill him. The turtle said, “Insects bite me, but I will help you if I shall be given protection from insects which suck my blood.” The meadowlark said “My voice is harsh and I can sing but one note and the magpie laughs at me. I will help you if I may be given a pleasing voice so that I can make the magpie ashamed.” So the young man Piya, the wizard, together with his three friends, the wolf, the turtle and the meadowlark came back to the tipi of his grandmother.
She was waiting and expecting him, and said, “Grandson I knew you would come and bring with you those whom I want.” She invited them into her tipi and prepared food and set it before them. The next morning Piya told his grandmother that these friends he had brought had promised to help him if they should each be given what he most desired. Then she told them if they would help her grandson she would give each one what he most wished. So they were all agreed. She told the wolf she wished him to give her grandson the cunning by which he could follow a hidden trail and find hidden things; she asked the turtle to give him the sense by which he could locate water, so that he should be able to avoid perishing of thirst in a desert land; and the lark was to give him power to hide himself without covering in the open prairie. In return for these gifts the wolf was to have for himself and all his people warm fur clothing so that they could laugh at Waziya when he would blow his cold breath upon them. The turtle was promised that he should have the hard tough covering which he asked, so that insects could not bite him. The meadowlark was given a pleasing voice so that his songs would make the magpie ashamed.
After the agreement was made the Old Woman told them that the quest on which they had to go would take them into a country where there would be no trees, nor much grass nor open trail, and but little water in the hidden springs.
So the wizard, Piya, and his companions, the wolf, the turtle and the meadowlark set out upon the quest after the Old Woman had instructed them. The wolf taught him how to find hidden trails; the meadowlark taught him how to be hidden without covering, and the turtle taught him how to find hidden watersprings.
So the help of these friends, together with the powers he already possessed, enabled Piya finally to discover where his wife was hidden by the monster, and to rescue her.
So they all came back to the tipi of the Old Woman. They all rejoiced; the young woman because she had been rescued from the power of the monster; the young man Piya because he had found his wife; and the wolf, the turtle and the meadowlark because they were to have the gifts which they had most desired. The Old Woman prepared a feast and they feasted until far into the night.
Next morning the Old Woman gave to the wolf, the turtle and the meadowlark each the gift for which he had asked as a reward for helping the young man, and they set out together on the trail to return to their homes. As they journeyed they talked about the gifts which they had received. As they talked they fell into argument, each claiming that his gift was the best, and soon they were quarreling and were about to fight. But just then a young man came along the trail and he asked them why they were quarreling. They told him. He said that quarreling was foolish and would decide nothing, but that the only way to determine whose gift was the best was to find out which would help most in a trial of skill. The wolf proposed a trial in hunting, but the meadowlark and the turtle said they could not hunt. The turtle proposed a swimming contest, but the wolf and the meadowlark said they could not swim. Then the meadowlark in his turn proposed a contest in singing, for he was very proud of his gift, but the wolf and the turtle protested that they could not sing.
The young man suggested that they run a race. To this they all agreed. The young man told them they must run past a plum thicket, across a marsh and up to the top of a certain hill. There they would find white clay and colored clay. The winner of the race would be the one that first brought back to him some of the white clay. They set out upon the race. The wolf and turtle were running side by side; but the meadowlark fell far behind.
When he came near the plum thicket he saw a bundle laid up in the forks of a plum bush. He paused and sniffed toward it and the scent of it was strange to him, and he became curious about it, and wanted to find out what was in the bundle. He asked the turtle to wait. The turtle said he would wait for him at the marsh. The wolf walked all round the bush and looked carefully at the bundle. Then he rose up against the bush and sniffed at the bundle, but still he could not make out what was in it. He could not quite reach the bundle, so he leaped to try to pull it down. But as he did so the thorns pricked him. He jumped again and missed the bundle, but was pricked again by the thorns. Now he became angry and determined he would get the bundle. After jumping many times and being always pricked by the thorns so that he had many wounds on his sides and back he finally pulled down the bundle. He was so angry that in his vexation he energetically shook it about so that it was shaken open and its contents smeared his wounds. This made his wounds itch so severely that he had to scratch himself, but this made him itch the more. He was in such torment that he scratched madly and tore his fur coat and was bleeding, so he forgot the race.
The turtle ran on to the marsh and waited there as he had promised. After he had waited a long time he concluded the wolf had deceived him and had gone on to the hill. Then he saw a small white puffball. It looked like a lump of white clay, so the thought came to him that he could deceive the young man with it and get even with the wolf for the trick he supposed the wolf had played upon him. So he took the puffball back and showed it to the young man. Neither the meadowlark nor the wolf had returned yet, so the young man told the turtle he was the first to return bringing something to show that he had been to the top of the hill.
Now when the meadowlark ran by the plum thicket he saw the wolf jumping about one of the bushes trying to reach something which was there, so the meadowlark was encouraged to think he might still have some chance in the race. He ran on to the marsh, and there he saw the turtle waiting, so he was still more encouraged. He then ran on all the way to the top of the hill. He was so anxious and flustered when he reached there that instead of the white clay which the young man had specified as the token of having been to the goal, he made a mistake and picked up a lump of the yellow clay and turned to carry it back to the young man. As he was crossing back over the marsh again he stumbled and dropped the lump of clay into the black mud. He picked it up and hurried on, not stopping to clean off the black mud. When he came near to the young man he saw the turtle sitting there and smiling and looking very satisfied. The meadowlark then thought he had lost the race. He was so disappointed and discouraged that he wept. His tears washed the black mud off from the lump of clay and made a black stripe, while the yellow clay itself was washed down over the whole front of his clothes.
At last the wolf came back scratching and howling in his misery. Great patches of fur were torn from his clothes and his skin was raw and sore. The turtle taunted the wolf for his crying. He swaggered about and boasted that nothing could make him whimper and cry. The young man said that the turtle was the first to return, but that he must make good his boast that nothing could make him whimper if he should lose. The turtle declared that he would prove all he said in any way the young man should require. The young man then placed the puffball upon the turtle’s back. The puffball very quickly increased in size and weight so that it was all the turtle could bear. It continued to increase in size until the turtle was borne down by it to the ground and his legs were bent. Still the puffball continued to grow until the turtle’s body was pressed flat by it, and his breath was pressed out of his body and he lay as if he were dead. Then the puffball became as light as a feather and turned black. The turtle recovered his breath a little, but he was unable to straighten his legs or to regain the form of his body, so he was ashamed and drew in his head under his thick skin.
Then the young man laughed loud and long at the plight of the wolf, the turtle and the meadowlark, and told them now who he really was. He told them that he was Iktomi, the Trickster. He told them that because they had foolishly quarreled about the good gifts which the Old Woman had given to them, instead of making good use of them, they had given him the opportunity to play this trick upon them, the marks of which would be upon them, and upon their people forever. He said that because the wolf had meddled with something which was none of his affair he had brought upon himself the torments of the mange, and so it would always be with his people whenever they should do as he had done. He said that because the turtle had attempted to win by cheating, his legs and the legs of all his people should always be short and bent and their bodies should be flattened, so they could never run in a race. And because he had lied in saying the puffball was white clay, therefore he and his people should never again be able to speak, and they should always hide their heads for shame. As for the meadowlark, the young man said he had won the race, but because he had brought back the yellow clay instead of the white, therefore his clothes and the clothes of his people should always be yellow in front and there should be a black stripe over the yellow.
INDIAN FOLKLORE OF THE HORNED LARK
The name of this little bird in the Dakota language is ishtaniche-tanka (big eye-tufts) from the tuft of feathers which it has over each eye. It is for the same reason that we call it “horned” lark.
The Dakotas say that this little bird foretells the weather. They say that when a hot dry time is coming in the summer the bird sounds a single sharp little note; but when rain is coming the bird is glad and continuously sings loudly and joyously, “magazhu, magazhu, magazhu!” In the Dakota language the word for rain is magazhu. Thus the bird is singing its joy for the rain which is coming.
The name of this bird is hupa-hishe in the Hidatsa language. In that language the word for moccasin is hupa, and the word hishe means wrinkled. This bird is called “wrinkled moccasin” because of its appearance in its characteristic habit of crouching upon the ground, where, by its grayish-brown color and its black markings it is made inconspicuous and hardly distinguishable, suggesting the appearance of a ragged, useless old moccasin.
The Hidatsas have a story of this bird that it was once acting as a spy in enemy country. So while it sat in its characteristic attitude of inconspicuousness, two of the enemy were coming along, when one thought he saw something. He stopped and said to his companion, “Wait, what is that over there?” His companion glanced over and saw what appeared to him like nothing but a ragged, rotten old fragment of a worn out moccasin, and answered, “O, that is just an old wrinkled moccasin.” So the bird escaped his enemies, and it is from that that the people call him “hupa-hishe.”
HOW IT CAME ABOUT THAT GEESE MIGRATE
The Teton-Dakota have a story which says that “Long, long time ago” (lila ehanna) the goose nation did not migrate to the south in the autumn, but remained here throughout the winter time. Because of the rigor of the winter most of the people of the goose nation perished so that they were always a small and weak nation. At last one goose had a dream of the south-land, that it was pleasant even in winter, that the winter there was mild and that there was plenty of food there. So she began teaching the other geese that they should practice flying more and thus make their wings strong so they could fly to the south-land before winter time. Some people of the goose nation believed the vision and began to practice flying to make their wings strong for the autumn journey. This caused discussion and dissension in the nation, and a law was made which banished the goose which had the vision. So they drove her out from among them. She practiced flying all summer and made her wings strong so that in the autumn she was able to fly to the pleasant south-land of which she had dreamed. The Mysterious Power which had given her the vision guided her on the long journey and she lived pleasantly through the winter time. After the first thunder in the springtime she flew back north to her nation. As always before, many of them had died during the cold winter-time from the fury of the storms and the scarcity of food. But she told them how pleasantly she had passed the time in the south-land, and they saw in what good health she was, so many more of them now believed her vision and her teaching. It was in this way that the geese learned to fly away to the south-land in the autumn to escape the storms and cold of winter in this land.
THE CAPTIVE BIRD: A TRUE STORY OF CHILDHOOD IN THE OMAHA TRIBE OF NEBRASKA
Indians in general have a close sympathy with nature and with all living creatures and aspects of nature. And the term living creatures includes plants as well as animals, all are living children of Mother Earth and have their rights to life according to Indian thought. They do not think of humankind as being above and separate from all other creatures, but as fellow creatures in a world of life.
The following incident, which took place about fifty years ago on the prairies of Nebraska among a group of children of the Omaha tribe, will serve to show the attitude quite commonly held by Indians toward other forms of life. It might be well, also to mention in this connection that Indian children were taught by their parents to be not wasteful and destructive of wild flowers, that they should not wantonly pluck them, for, they were told, if they did so they would thus destroy the flower babies and the flower nations would then be exterminated. Indians feel a fearful dread of the consequences of interfering with the nice balance and adjustment of nature.
It was a bright, warm summer afternoon in northern Nebraska. The wild grass, waving in the summer breeze, was like a shimmering emerald sea, flecked with varied colour of the many different tribes of wild flowers. Overhead was a brilliantly blue sky with here and there slow-sailing white clouds whose soft shadows came and passed, silent and entrancing, over the greenth of the prairie. And in all this scene the living creatures were moving, intent upon affairs of their own; the crickets and grasshoppers, and the small mammals among the grass, the butterfly flitting from flower to flower, the antelope grazing in groups, and now and then a hawk might be seen circling high overhead.
Across the prairie came a caravan of people with their camp equipage. A band of Omahas was on the summer buffalo hunt. The men were widely deployed in front and over a wide extent on both sides far in advance of the moving column. They were on the lookout for signs of the herd. When a herd should be sighted, the scouts who had found them would at once report to the officers. When the camp was made the officers would confer and make plans for the surround and kill.
The boys were employed in looking after the herd of extra horses; some of the women were with the train of pack animals looking after the baggage and camp equipment, others were scattered over the prairie along the line of march, carrying digging sticks and bags to gather tipsin roots for food.
Groups of small children, too small to have any particular tasks assigned to them were playing along the way, observing the ways of beast and bird and of insects, and admiring the brilliant wild flowers. One such group found a fledgling meadowlark, not yet able to fly. They captured it and brought it along with them when the band went into camp for the night. As the families sat about their tents waiting the preparation of the evening meal, the children showed their father the captive bird and told him how they caught it. He listened to their account and then told them something of the life and habits of the bird, its nesting and home life, of its love of life and freedom, and of its place in the world under the wise plans of the Master of Life. He brought the children to see the unhappiness and the terror which they had unwittingly brought upon the captive and the anxiety the mother bird would feel over its loss.
Then he said to them, “Now children, take the little bird back to the place where you found it and set it down in the grass, and say ‘O Master of Life, here is thy little bird which we have set free again. We are sorry that we took it away from its home and its people. We did not think of the sorrow we should cause. We wish to restore it and have it happy again with its people. May we be forgiven for our thoughtlessness and we will not do such wrong again.’”
The children carried out their father’s instructions and placed the little bird again as near as they could to the place where they had captured it and recited the prayer to the Master of Life which their father had admonished them to say. As they returned to the camp the quiet of the summer evening lay over all the land, the after-glow of the sunset was in the western sky, the white tents stood in a great circle upon the prairie, now dusky-green in the twilight which lay upon the land, a twinkling camp-fire before each tent. The children were thoughtful. They had had a glimpse of the unity of the universe. They never forgot the lesson. Years passed, great changes came. The white people were coming into the land. Old activities and industries of the Indians were destroyed by the changes. The children of that little group went away from their people to attend the white men’s schools, to learn the white men’s ways and adapt themselves to those ways. But this did not cause them to forget altogether the wisdom and grace of their parental teaching. Long afterward they told this little story to the writer, who now gives it to you, reader, and wishes that you, also may know that there be those in all lands and among all peoples who “do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God.”
THE CHICKADEE
The chickadee is a very popular bird among all the Indian tribes where it is known. They all have many stories and sayings about it. They say of it that, though small, it is a very wise bird. It is like the wise men, the doctors and teachers among the people, who are learned in mysteries and the wonderful things of nature, who keep a calendar of the cycle of the days, months and seasons through the year by cutting marks upon a piece of wood which they have prepared for that purpose.
This wise little bird is said also to keep account of the months. It is said that “in the beginning” the task of keeping account of the months was assigned to the chickadee. But instead of making notches in a piece of wood as the wise men do this wise bird’s method is to make notches in its tongue; thus in September its tongue is single-pointed, in October it has two points, in November three, and so on until February, when it is said that its tongue has six points. Then in March its tongue is again single-pointed and the count is begun again. So, it is said, the chickadee has been keeping the count of the months since the long ago, in the dim past, when the task was assigned to it in the time of beginnings, in the time when evil powers and monsters struggled mightily to overcome the good, and to destroy mankind by sending fierce storms and heavy snowfalls and shuddering cold winds upon the face of the earth. It was thus the evil powers sought to discourage and to overcome mankind.
And so it is said that at one time the evil powers supposed that by stress of a long siege of cold and storms they had reduced mankind to famine. At this time they chose to send the chickadee as a messenger to find out the conditions and to bring back word to them.
Now when the chickadee came on his mission and appeared at the dwellings of men he was invited to enter. He was courteously given a place by the fireside to rest and warm himself. Then food was brought to him. After he had eaten and refreshed himself he was anointed with fat, which was a symbol of plenty; then he was painted with red paint, which was for a symbol of the power and mystery of life. After these ceremonies and marks of respect his hosts quietly composed themselves to give attention to whatever their visitor should have to say as to the purpose of his visit. When he had stated his mission his hosts held counsel and formulated a reply for the messenger to take back to those who had sent him. He was bidden to say to them that mankind was still living and hopeful, and they ever would be; that they could not be daunted by discouragement, nor defeated by storms and stress, nor vanquished by hunger, nor overcome by any hardships; and that there never would be a time when there should not be men upon the earth. So this is the message which the chickadee brought to the evil powers which had sought to overcome mankind.
THE SONG OF THE WREN
A Pawnee Story
The incident of this story occurred in the long ago in the country of the Pawnee nation, in the broad expanse of the Platte River country in what is now the State of Nebraska. The event was in the distant past before the Pawnees had ever seen a white man, or any of his works or strange devices. The people of the Pawnee nation lived in villages of houses built in the manner that the houses of Pawnees had been built for generations. Near their villages lay their fields of corn and other crops which they cultivated to supply themselves with food.
It was a beautiful morning in early summer. The sky was clear and bright, the dawn-light was showing in the eastern sky. All the landscape lay as though still sleeping. There was no movement anywhere. A thoughtful priest had risen and had walked out upon the prairie away from the village so that he might view and meditate upon the beauty and mystery of the firmament of the heavens and of the plane of earth, and of the living creatures thereon, both animal creatures and plant creatures, for in his mind both were equally wonderful and equally interesting, as showing the power and the wisdom of the Great Mystery. So he walked and pondered upon all the beauty and mystery which lay about him, while the face of Mother Earth was still moist with the dew of sleep. In a moment the first rays of the sun shone across the land touching into sparkling brilliance the myriads of dewdrops, while a gentle movement ran through all the grasses and the wild flowers as they swayed to the rippling of the gentle morning breeze which pulsed over the prairie at the first touch of the morning gleam.
Where a moment before all had been so still and so silent now there was movement and sound. Birds of many kinds raised their tuneful voices, showing their joy in life and in the beauty of the morning. The priest, whose mind and heart were open to all this beauty and melody, stood still and listened. In a moment, among all the other bird-songs, he heard one which was clearer and more remarkable than any of the others. This song was a most joyous cheerful sound, like happy laughter. As he approached he found that the joyous, laughing song came from a very tiny brown bird, no larger than his thumb. It was a wren, so small, so insignificant in comparison to the size and brilliant plumage of many of the other birds, yet it appeared to be the most whole hearted in joy and praise and delight in life, as the sweet stream of music welled from its little throat.
The priest looked at the tiny bird, and wisely considered. He said to himself: “The Great Mystery has shown me here a wise teaching for my people. This bird is small and weak, but it has its proper place in the world of life and it rejoices in it and gives thanks with gladness. Everyone can be happy, for happiness is not from without, but from within, in properly fitting and fulfilling each his own place. The humblest can have a song of thanks in his own heart.”
So he made a song and a story to be sung in a great religious ritual of his people, which was to them like our Bible and prayer-book are to us. And the song and story which that thoughtful priest put into the ritual, was the story of the wren. And ever since that time so long ago, the song has been sung by the Pawnees and has been handed down from generation to generation until this time.
THE WAR EAGLE AND THE JACK-RABBIT
A Mandan Story
One time a party of men went into a lonely place among the hills far away from the village, to enter their eagle pits for the purpose of catching eagles to obtain their plumes. One of the men had made his pit far out at some distance from any of the others. Another day, as he was coming away from his eagle pit, returning to the village, he stopped and sat down upon the top of a high hill from which he could enjoy a grand view of the landscape. Thus he sat looking about over the quiet hills and valleys, beyond the bright gleam which showed the course of the river winding in and out among the green trees along its borders, far away to the dim sky line. Far away on one side he saw a number of elks feeding; on the other side he saw a band of graceful antelopes. A doe and her fawn were browsing upon some bushes down near the river.
Aloft he saw the white clouds sailing in the bright blue sky; below he saw their shadows moving over the earth, now up a hillside and over its crest and then swiftly across a little valley and up the next hillside. While he sat enjoying the beauty of the scene he observed a war eagle chasing a jack-rabbit. The jack-rabbit continually dodged and circled, trying to escape as the eagle swooped toward him. The eagle had several times swooped and just missed striking the rabbit.
Gradually the chase came near to the place where the man was seated. The eagle was closely pursuing the rabbit and made a tremendous swoop towards him. But the rabbit escaped by leaping into the man’s robe as he sat with it loosely draped about his shoulders and knees.
Then the eagle said “Put that rabbit away from you! He is my prey. I intend to eat him.”
But now the rabbit appealed to the man and said, “I have thrown myself upon your kindness. Do not turn me away. I beg of you. If you save me you shall hereafter have success in your undertakings and you shall become a great man.”
Then the eagle spoke again, saying, “His words are not true. Turn him away. He can do nothing for you. I, myself will make you great if you will do as I request. It is I who speak the truth. My feet are not held to the earth and I can also fly in the air far above the earth. I am successful in all the things I attempt.”
Once more the jack-rabbit made his plea. “Believe him not, and do not turn me away! Even though I must remain upon the ground, and cannot fly like the eagle, still I have knowledge proper to my conditions of life, and I know how to do many things suitably and successfully.”
The man made his decision in favor of the jack-rabbit and saved him from the eagle. And the jack-rabbit kept his promise to the man, for he gave him of his own powers and made him successful in his undertakings and helped him with good and wise counsel in times of trouble and doubt and perplexity. So the man gained great renown and honor and influence among his people.