ADVENTURES OF NANEBOJO
Ojibwa
Nanebojo and his grandmother journeyed about for a long time. At last they came again to Lake St. Clair. In the lake were many geese. Nanebojo thought, “How am I going to get some of those ducks?” He thought for a long while. Then he remembered.
Nanebojo took a birch-bark pail, and began to drum on it and to sing. He sang,
I am bringing new songs,
I am bringing new songs.
When the geese heard that, they drew near to him. At once he said to his grandmother, “Go farther on, and build a lodge where we may live.” And at once she did so. Then he went down to the water where the geese were floating around. He pulled out his sack, got into it, and dived into the water. The ducks and geese were quite surprised to see what a good diver he was. They came closer and closer.
Nanebojo said, “I can dive better than you can.” The geese said, “Oh, no!” Then they all began diving, and Nanebojo did beat them. So he spent a long time diving and floating about in the water. Suddenly he dived, came up softly among the geese, caught the feet of many, and tied them together with a string of basswood bark. At once the geese started to fly. They rose very slowly at first, because Nanebojo was pulling back, but at last they rose high in the air, carrying with them Nanebojo, who held on to the basswood string. Higher and higher they rose, until the earth was far beneath them. Then the string broke, and Nanebojo fell to the earth. He fell into a tall hollow tree.
Nanebojo spent a long while in that hollow tree. At last he heard the sound of chopping wood. Then he called for help, and the Indian women let him out of the tree. At once he went in search of his grandmother.
Grandmother asked, “Why didn’t you get the geese?”
“You know you never eat goose, even when you do get it,” answered Nanebojo.
Nanebojo killed a deer. He at once skinned and dressed it, and then he lighted a fire and roasted it. When he sat down to eat, the branch of a tree near by began to screech. Two branches were rubbing together. Nanebojo did not like that. He said to the tree, “Don’t bother me just now when I want to eat, I am hungry!” But every time he took a bite the branch began to screech.
Nanebojo climbed into the tree, broke off a branch, and just then caught his hand between two branches as they rubbed together. He could not free himself.
Just then a pack of wolves came running along the river. Nanebojo heard them at a distance. He called to them, “Run right along. Don’t look this way.” The wolves said among themselves, “He must have something to eat over there, else he wouldn’t tell us to run straight ahead.” So they went right under his tree. They ate that entire deer.
When they had finished, Nanebojo said, “Now go straight ahead and don’t look at that tree near-by.” In the tree he had hung the deer’s head for his grandmother. So the wolves looked at the tree and at once ate the head. Then they went on.
At once the tree released Nanebojo’s arm, and he climbed down. He could only pick the bare bones of the deer. He went to the head. He turned it round and round. It was entirely bare. He went on and joined his grandmother.
One day when Nanebojo went for a drink, he saw some whitefish in the river. He said to them, “Can’t I go along with you?”
“Oh, no,” said the whitefish. “You wouldn’t last long if you did.”
“Why not?” asked Nanebojo.
“Because the Indians are always looking for us. You would be the first one caught,” they answered.
“I am very timid,” said Nanebojo. “If I go with you, I shall never be caught.” So he turned himself into a whitefish.
Soon after some Indians came along fishing. Nanebojo said, “Now I am going over there to tease them. You all stay here and I will go over there alone. Just before they try to spear me, I will dive to the bottom of the river and rise again a long way off.”
So Nanebojo began teasing the Indians. He kept it up for some time until one of the Indians speared him. The Indian kept his spear in the water until he got to the shore, and then dragged Nanebojo out. The other whitefish remarked, “That is just what he said—that after he dived he would not come up for a long time, and then at some distance.”
The Indians took Nanebojo home with them. He was a very large fish. After a while he began to jump about a little, so the Indians were afraid. They did not cook him at once.
Just about dawn the next morning, Nanebojo came to life again and remembered he was a fish and that the Indians had speared him. So he got up and found everyone sleeping.
“If they wanted to eat me, they should have done so while they had a chance,” he said as he walked away. He was going back to his grandmother.
WISKE-DJAK[7] AND THE GEESE
Algonquin
Wiske-djak was always hungry. One time, in the autumn of the year, he stood on the shores of a lake, when clouds of ducks were flying by overhead. Wiske-djak wanted some of those ducks. He thought for a long time. Then he made a small clearing right there on the lake shore, and built quite a large tepee, with a fire in the center. The grassy floor of the tepee was very smooth, so one could dance well there. Wiske-djak made a birch-bark door, with a long center stick to keep the bark spread, and to prevent the door from opening inward. Now everything was ready.
Wiske-djak went out walking and soon met Duck. “I suppose you will soon be going south,” he said. “Yes,” said Duck, “and we’ll be gone all winter. It’s a bit cold up here for us.”
“It would be pleasant,” said Wiske-djak, “if we all had a dance before you went. Invite your friends, all of them, and Geese and any of the others who go south for the winter. We’ll have a dance in my tepee.” Duck thought that would be very pleasant.
Wiske-djak went back to his tepee, and sat down in the sunshine outside. He got his drum and rattle and began to sing a song of invitation. He sang:
You will all be gone for a long time.
You will all be gone until it is warm again.
Let us have a dance before you go.
Thus he sang.
Soon ducks and geese came flying by overhead, and they heard his singing. They alighted on the ground very near the tepee.
Wiske-djak called, “Let us go inside and have a good dance,” and he opened the door. In went all the ducks. Wiske-djak mended the fire so it would give very little light.
“Now,” he said, when he had finished that, “you must all follow the rules of the dance. You must do whatever I call out.” So they all began to dance. Geese were there and ducks and a few loons, and Cyngabis was there also. They danced hard, around and around the tepee.
Then Wiske-djak said, “Now close your eyes. Don’t open them until I give the order. That is one of the rules of the dance.”
The birds all closed their eyes tightly, and as they danced and sang, they made a great deal of noise. Anyone who has seen Indians dance knows that they make much noise. So Wiske-djak caught one fat bird after another, and wrung his neck as he passed him in the dance. No one heard anything at all because of the noise of the dancing.
But after a while Cyngabis thought Wiske-djak was moving around in the dance, so he slipped into a dark corner and opened one eye just a little. At once he saw that Wiske-djak was wringing the neck of the dancers. He called out, “Wiske-djak is killing you! Fly!”
At once the birds all opened their eyes and took wing. They flew very rapidly indeed. But Cyngabis was way over in one corner and he was the very last man to get out. Wiske-djak tried to catch him, but he got away.
Now Wiske-djak began to cook the birds for a feast. He built the fire outside the tepee, after poking the earth loose with a stick. Then he buried his birds in the hot earth, with the hot coals above them. Then he went to sleep.
Now some Indians came around the point in a canoe. They saw the smoke of the fire, and they saw something strange lying beside the fire. Therefore they went nearer.
Indian Pipes
From “Memoirs, American Museum of Natural History”
One Indian said, “Look out, it might be Wiske-djak up to more of his mischief!” But another Indian went ashore, saying, “I’ll see who it is and what he is doing.” When he came close to the fire, there lay Wiske-djak, sure enough, and sound asleep. But the Indian couldn’t see why he should have a big fire on a warm day until he saw ducks’ legs sticking out of the earth under the hot coals. At once he went back to his friends and told them all about it.
The Indians all jumped out of the canoe. They said, “Ha! We will take Wiske-djak’s ducks and geese and eat them ourselves.” With their paddles they dug up all the birds, twisted the legs off, and put the leg bones back in the earth. They looked just as Wiske-djak had placed them. Then the Indians paddled off.
Soon Wiske-djak waked up. He got up and looked all around. No one was there. Everything looked just as it had when he went to sleep. He looked at the dying coals, and said, “I guess those birds are pretty well cooked by this time.” He went all around the coals, pulling out the ducks’ legs. They came out very easily. He was surprised. “They must be very tender,” he thought. He dug around in the earth, but not one thing did he find. Wiske-djak was disgusted.