Flying with the Eagle, Racing the Great Bear Page 5

  “My sons,” she said, “I have been sleeping too long.” Then she embraced both the boys.

  The three of them walked back toward the east where Medicine Person’s lodge stood. When they reached the clearing, they saw that grass and small trees had grown all around the lodge, and there was no sign of life. Although it had seemed that their journey took only a single day, they had been gone for many years. They had been gone so long that their father thought them dead.

  “Father,” the boys called. “We have returned. Our mother is with us.”

  Then Medicine Person came out of his lodge. He looked old and tired, but when he saw his wife and his sons, the weight of the years lifted from him and he stood straight again.

  For many years after, Medicine Person and his wife lived together happily with their sons. But when their parents finally died, Thunder Boy and Lightning Boy wished to stay no longer on the earth. They went up into the sky, and there they remain. And, to this very day, when the two brothers look down from the clouds and see evil beings planning to harm their people, the voice of Thunder Boy may be heard as Lightning Boy’s bolts flash through the sky.

  The Underwater Lodge

  Muskogee (Creek)

  Long ago, the Muskogee people lived in the southern land of many rivers. There were many towns of the Muskogee, and one of the largest was the town of Koweta. One day, the chief of Koweta called his son, Blue Fox, to him. Blue Fox was a slender youth who had not yet been initiated into manhood. He loved and respected his father, but like all boys he also loved to play with his friends. Often when his father looked for him, he would be playing ball or running through the woods or swimming down at the river with his friends. His father hoped that his son would learn the importance of responsibility so that someday he, too, might be chosen to serve the people as their chief.

  “My son,” he said one morning, “you are young, but you are a good runner. I wish you to take a message to the chief of the town of Talladega. Give him this bowl so he will recognize that the message you carry comes from me. This responsibility is great, and I trust you to do this well.”

  Blue Fox listened closely to the message and then took the bowl from his father’s hands. He set out on the trail that ran along the Chattahoochee River. Before he had gone far, he saw some of his friends playing in the water.

  “Blue Fox,” they called, “come join us.”

  It was early in the day and there was plenty of time to deliver his message. Blue Fox went down by the water where his friends were floating boats they had made of sticks tied together. Blue Fox had no boat, but the bowl in his hands was shaped like a boat. He put the bowl in the water, and it floated away from him toward the deep part of the river. It turned in a circle four times, and then sank.

  Blue Fox was frightened. He could not carry his message without the bowl. He knew that the river was dangerous. It was said that there were tie-snakes, bright-colored creatures that would wrap themselves about swimmers who went into the deepest waters. Still, he was more afraid of disappointing his father. He swam to the place where the bowl had sunk.

  “Blue Fox,” his friends called, “be careful. The river is deep and the current is fast.”

  But Blue Fox did not listen. He dived down and he did not come up again. His friends waited for him until the sun was high overhead.

  “Our friend has drowned,” they said, and they went sadly back to Koweta town to tell the people of Blue Fox’s death.

  However, Blue Fox was not dead. As soon as he dived beneath the surface, many tie-snakes wrapped around him and carried the boy down to the very bottom of the river. When they set him free, he saw that he was in a cave.

  “Climb up the s-stairs-s,” the tie-snakes said.

  Blue Fox looked at the stairs in front of him and saw they were made of living snakes all wrapped together. They were many colors: blue, yellow, red, white, and green. At the top of the stairs was a platform made of even more snakes. And on top of that platform sat a great tie-snake. Blue Fox knew immediately that the great snake must be the chief.

  The chief of the tie-snakes wore a feathered headpiece and was black all over except for its throat, which was white. It had a hooked beak like a hawk’s and its eyes glowed red as hot coals. Horns of brilliant blue and yellow grew from its head. Next to the great snake was the message bowl given to Blue Fox by his father.

  Blue Fox tried to climb the steps, but as he lifted his foot, the steps moved and he stopped. It seemed to him that if he placed his foot upon the stairs, the snakes would tangle themselves about him and he would be crushed to death. He tried a second time. The stairs moved again, and he hesitated. He tried a third time and again pulled back as the stairs moved beneath him. Then he reminded himself of his responsibility. He had failed his father once, but he would not do it again. He placed his foot on the stairs and step-by-step climbed up to the place where the chief of the tie-snakes sat.

  “Welcome to my lodge. S-s-sit beside me,” said the Tie-Snake Chief. The seat was made of living snakes too. As Blue Fox approached, the eyes of those snakes followed him. It seemed that if he sat down, he would surely be killed. Blue Fox tried three times to sit. Then on the fourth try, he thought of the trust his father had placed in him. Only if he sat by the great snake would he have a chance to retrieve the message bowl he had been entrusted to carry. Blue Fox took a deep breath and sat down beside the great snake.

  Then the chief pointed with its head toward a corner of the cave. “That feather is yours-s-s-,” said the Tie-Snake Chief.

  Blue Fox went over to the tall feather. It was a heron plume like the ones on the great snake’s headpiece. It seemed that there was so much power in the feather, it would burn him if he tried to touch it. But he reminded himself again of his responsibility. Three times he tried to grasp the feather, and three times its power was too great for his hand. On the fourth try, he said to himself, “I must be a man.” Then he reached out and grasped the heron feather.

  “You see that ax?” said the Tie-Snake Chief, motioning with its head toward another corner of the cave. “That ax is yours-s-s.”

  Blue Fox walked over to the ax and reached for it. It moved away from his hands and he could feel its power. He wondered if he was strong enough to hold it. Each time he reached, as he felt that uncertainty, the ax lifted itself above his grasp. But on the fourth try, he said to himself, “I am no longer a child; I am tall enough to reach this ax. I am strong enough to hold it.” Then he reached for the ax and took it in his hand.

  “You can return to your father now,” said the Tie-Snake Chief. “Three days-s have passed in the world beneath the s-sky. He will as-s-k you where you have been. Tell him only ‘I know what I know,’ but do not tell him what you have learned. Do not tell him about the powerful things-s you have been given.

  “S-soon you will need my help. You have proven yourself to be a young man who knows-s the meaning of res-spons-s-sibility. S-s-so I will help you. When you need my help, place my feather on your head. Walk to the eas-st and bow three times toward the ris-sing s-s-sun. I will come to help you.”

  Then the tie-snakes wrapped themselves around Blue Fox and carried him up to the surface of the water. As he stood on the bank, the tie-snakes dived back underwater and came up again with his father’s message bowl. Blue Fox carried it to the village of the Talladega, where he placed it in the hands of the chief and delivered his message.

  “We heard that you had drowned,” said the Talladega chief. “Stay and tell us where you have been.”

  “I cannot say,” Blue Fox said. “I must return to my father.” Then he ran back to his village. When he walked into his house, his father welcomed him with joy.

  “My son,” the chief of Koweta said, embracing Blue Fox, “I thought you had drowned. Where have you been?”

  “I have been with the tie-snakes. Their chief has instructed me
to tell you only that I know what I know. I cannot tell you more,” Blue Fox said.

  Blue Fox’s father looked at him. He could see that his son was not the same as he had been before. He seemed taller and straighter. Blue Fox had been touched by some power beyond that of human beings. So the chief accepted the words of his son and asked no further questions.

  It was clear to the people of Koweta town, too, that Blue Fox was no longer the boy he had been. He carried with him the plume and the ax that the Tie-Snake Chief had given him, but would tell no one what they meant. His only answer to their questions was always, “I know what I know.”

  One day Blue Fox’s father spoke to him. “My son, our scouts have brought a message. Our enemies from the lands of the Cherokee are coming to attack our village. There are many of them, and I am afraid they will kill us. Can you use what you know to help us?”

  Blue Fox placed the feather on his head and took the ax in his hand. He walked down to the river, faced the rising sun, and bowed three times. When he raised his head after bowing the third time, the Tie-Snake Chief stood before him.

  “My father needs your help,” Blue Fox Said.

  “Tell him not to fear,” the Tie-Snake Chief said. “Your enemies-s will attack, but all will be well.” Then he was gone.

  Blue Fox returned to Koweta town. By midday, the people heard the sound of many enemies coming. Soon a large band of Cherokee warriors was in sight walking along the bank of the river, ready to attack the town. Blue Fox raised his ax. As he did so, thousands of tie-snakes came crawling out of the water. They wrapped themselves around the feet of the enemy warriors until all of the attacking Cherokees lay on the ground, tangled in the coils of the tie-snakes.

  Blue Fox approached them. “You must promise never to attack us again.”

  For a moment the Cherokee hesitated. But as Blue Fox raised his ax, all of the tie-snakes began to hiss and tighten their coils.

  “We agree,” said the captured warriors.

  Once again, Blue Fox raised his ax. The tie-snakes uncoiled themselves and crawled to the side of the river bank.

  The freed enemies looked at the snakes waiting near their feet and vowed even more strongly that they would always be friends of the Koweta. The power of Blue Fox was too great.

  So it was that the Koweta were saved from their enemies. In time, just as his father had hoped, Blue Fox himself was chosen to be chief of the Koweta. And throughout his lifetime, his people lived in peace because of Blue Fox’s visit to the underwater lodge of the Tie-Snake Chief.

  The Wisdom of the Willow Tree

  Osage

  What is the meaning of life? Why is it that people grow old and die? Although he was young, those questions troubled the mind of Little One. He asked the elders about them, but their answers did not satisfy him. At last he knew there was only one thing to do. He would have to seek the answers in his dreams.

  Little One rose early in the morning and prayed to Wah-Kon-Tah for help. Then he walked away from the village, across the prairie and toward the hills. He took nothing with him, no food or water. He was looking for a place where none of his people would see him, a place where a vision could come to him.

  Little One walked a long way. Each night he camped in a different place, hoping that it would be the right one to give him a dream that could answer his questions. But no such dream came to him.

  At last he came to a hill that rose above the land like the breast of a turkey. A spring burst from the rocks near the base of a great elm tree. It was such a beautiful place that it seemed to be filled with the power of Wah-Kon-Tah. Little One sat down by the base of that elm tree and waited as the sun set. But though he slept, again no sign was given to him.

  When he woke the next morning, he was weak with hunger. I must go back home, he thought. He was filled with despair, but his thoughts were of his parents. He had been gone a long time. Even though it was expected that a young man would seek guidance alone in this fashion, Little One knew they would be worried.

  “If I do not return while I still have the strength to walk,” he said, “I will die here and my family may never find my body.”

  So Little One began to follow the small stream that was fed by the spring. It flowed out of the hills in the direction of his village, and he trusted it to lead him home. He walked and walked until he was not far from his village. But as he walked along that stream, he stumbled and fell among the roots of an old willow tree.

  Little One clung to the roots of the willow tree. Although he tried to rise, his legs were too weak.

  “Grandfather,” he said to the willow tree, “it is not possible for me to go on.”

  Then the ancient willow spoke to him.

  “Little One,” it said, “all the Little Ones always cling to me for support as they walk along the great path of life. See the base of my trunk, which sends forth those roots that hold me firm in the earth. They are the sign of my old age. They are darkened and wrinkled with age, but they are still strong. Their strength comes from relying on the earth. When the Little Ones use me as a symbol, they will not fail to see old age as they travel along the path of life.”

  Those words gave strength to Little One’s spirit. He stood again and began to walk. Soon his own village was in sight, and as he sat down to rest for a moment in the grass of the prairie, looking at his village, another vision came to him. He saw before him the figure of an old man. The old man was strangely familiar, even though Little One had never seen him before.

  “Look upon me,” the old man said. “What do you see?”

  “I see an old man whose face is wrinkled with age,” Little One said.

  “Look upon me again,” the old man said.

  Then Little One looked, and as he looked, the lesson shown him by the willow tree filled his heart.

  “I see an aged man in sacred clothing,” Little One said. “The fluttering down of the eagle adorns his head. I see you, my grandfather. I see an aged man with the stem of the pipe between his lips. I see you, my grandfather. You are firm and rooted to the earth like the ancient willow. I see you standing among the days that are peaceful and beautiful. I see you, my grandfather. I see you standing as you will stand in your lodge, my grandfather.”

  The ancient man smiled. Little One had seen truly.

  “My young brother,” the old man said, “your mind is fixed upon the days that are peaceful and beautiful.” And then he was gone.

  Now Little One’s heart was filled with peace, and as he walked into the village, his mind was troubled no longer with those questions about the meaning of life. For he knew that the old man he had seen was himself. The ancient man was Little One as he would be when he became an elder, filled with that great peace and wisdom which would give strength to all of the people. From that day on, Little One began to spend more time listening to the words his elders spoke, and of all the young men in the village, he was the happiest and the most content.

  The Southwest

  The people of the Southwest live in one of the most varied and beautiful places on the continent. The dry desert areas and the high mountains and mesas of the lands of the Navajo, Pueblo, and Apache peoples contrast with the seacoast and the river valleys that are home to the Yuki.

  The Apache lived in the harsh deserts of what is now Arizona, moving seasonally to follow game and living in wickiups—portable dwellings that they covered with brush. Self-reliance was stressed as part of an Apache boy’s coming to manhood. The Navajo, before the introduction of sheepherding, were much like their Apache cousins. They moved from one part of their territory to another and lived either in isolated hogans made of logs or in small family communities.

  Both the Navajo and Apache gained a reputation for fierceness because of their defense of their homelands against those who sought to enslave or remove them. That warrior tradition can be seen i
n such stories as the Apache tale “The Owl-Man Giant and the Monster Elk” and the Navajo story “How the Hero Twins Found Their Father.”

  The Pueblo story “The Bear Boy” is one that conveys a dual message. In a culture where people rely on one another and children are to be cherished, the neglectful father has as much to learn as the boy who wishes to become a man. And animals are seen not as mindless beings, but as wise creatures that can offer much knowledge to human beings who pay attention. In fact, the bear as a nurturing mother is a concept found almost everywhere in Native American culture. The turns of this particular story are ones that have always delighted me since I was first told the tale many years ago.

  In California, things were not as hard as in the deserts of the Southwest. There, the Native people found that the climate was so mild and many kinds of food so plentiful, there was time for the development of complex family and community relationships. That complexity shows in their stories and rituals, as in the Yuki tale of one boy’s initiation, “The Ghost Society.”

  The Owl-Man Giant and the Monster Elk

  Apache

  Long ago, White-Painted Woman and her brother, Slayer of Enemies, lived on the earth. There were many monsters in those days, and one of the worst was Owl-Man Giant. Whenever Slayer of Enemies went hunting and shot a deer with his bow and arrows, Owl-Man Giant would come and take that deer. Owl-Man Giant was taller than the trees. He was hungry and fierce, and he wore a coat made of four layers of flint so that arrows could not kill him. Owl-Man Giant would come to the wickiup of White-Painted Woman and Slayer of Enemies and order them to give him food or he would eat them. White-Painted Woman prayed each morning that someone would help them.

  One day, as she prayed, the Sun, who is the Giver of Life, came to her. “You are a brave woman,” the Sun said, “so I wish you to be my wife.”