The Igorot often says that a certain thing occurred in La′-tub, or will occur in Ba-li′-lĭng, so these periods of the calendar are held in mind as the civilized man thinks of events in time as occurring in some particular month.
The Igorot have a tradition that formerly the moon was also a sun, and at that time it was always day. Lumawig told the moon to be “moon,” and then there was night. Such a change was necessary, they say, so the people would know when to work—that is, when was the right time, the right moon, to take up a particular kind of labor.
Folk tales
The paucity of the pure mental life of the Igorot is nowhere more clearly shown than in the scarcity of folk tales.
I group here seven tales which are quite commonly known among the people of Bontoc. The second, third, fourth, and fifth are frequently related by the parents to their children, and I heard all of them the first time from boys about a dozen years old. I believe these tales are nearly all the pure fiction the Igorot has created and perpetuated from generation to generation, except the Lumawig stories.
The Igorot story-tellers, with one or two exceptions, present the bare facts in a colorless and lifeless manner. I have, therefore, taken the liberty of adding slightly to the tales by giving them some local coloring, but I have neither added to nor detracted from the facts related.
The sun man and moon woman; or, origin of head-hunting
The Moon, a woman called “Ka-bi-gat′,” was one day making a large copper cooking pot. The copper was soft and plastic like potter’s clay. Ka-bi-gat′ held the heavy sagging pot on her knees and leaned the hardened rim against her naked breasts. As she squatted there—turning, patting, shaping, the huge vessel—a son of the man Chal-chal′, the Sun, came to watch her. This is what he saw: The Moon dipped her paddle, called “pĭp-i′,” in the water, and rubbed it dripping over a smooth, rounded stone, an agate with ribbons of colors wound about in it. Then she stretched one long arm inside the pot as far as she could. “Tub, tub, tub,” said the ribbons of colors as Ka-bi-gat′ pounded up against the molten copper with the stone in her extended hand. “Slip, slip, slip, slip,” quickly answered pĭp-i′, because the Moon was spanking back the many little rounded domes which the stone bulged forth on the outer surface of the vessel. Thus the huge bowl grew larger, more symmetrical, and smooth.