The Mink and the Fish

Mink found a live pike on the lake shore. He told the pike, "Pike, the Muskie is calling you all kinds of names." "What is he calling me?" asked Pike. Mink answered, "He says you're wall-eyed." Pike did not like to be called names and said, "Well, he's got teeth like a saw blade and a long plated face. He's not pretty either."
There was a muskie nearby, and Mink told him what Pike had said about him. Mink went back and forth, back and forth, getting Muskie and Pike mad at one another. Finally, Pike and Muskie had a big fight and Mink acted as referee. Muskie and Pike ended up killing each other in the fight, so Mink had the last laugh on them.
Mink got a big kettle and boiled and dried the meat. Then he lay down to rest. He was taking life easy. He had the fish eggs, which were his favorite, all together next to him and all he had to do was open his eyes and stick out his tongue out to eat them. Finally, he dozed off.
Some Indians came by in their canoes and saw Mink lying there with all those fish. They came ashore and picked up all the fish and put them in their canoes. Where Mink had all the fish eggs right next to him, they put rocks there. Then they went away.
When Mink woke up, he reached with his tongue for the fish eggs, but instead there were only rocks and stones which broke his teeth. He realized they'd played a trick on him and he just walked away.
(Adapted from Victor Barnouw, 1977, Wisconsin Chippewa Myths and Tales and Their Relation to Chippewa Life, Madison: The University of Wisconsin Press.)

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How Rabbit Lost His Tail

When Glooskap first created the animals in Canada, he took good care that they should all be friendly to himself and to his people. They could all talk like men, and like them they had one common speech. Each had a special duty to do for Glooskap, and each did his best to help him in his work. Of all the animals, the gentlest and most faithful was Bunny the Rabbit. Now, in those first days of his life, Rabbit was a very beautiful animal, more beautiful than he is to-day. He had a very long bushy tail like a fox; he always wore a thick brown coat; his body was large and round and sleek; his legs were straight and strong; he walked and ran like other animals and did not hop and jump about as he does now. He was always very polite and kind of heart. Because of his beauty and his good qualities, Glooskap chose him as his forest guide, his Scout of the Woods. He gave him power that enabled him to know well all the land, so that he could lead people and all the other animals wherever they wished to go without losing their way.
One day in the springtime it chanced that Bunny sat alone on a log in the forest, his long bushy tail trailing far behind him. He had just come back from a long scouting tour and he was very tired. As he sat resting in the sun, an Indian came along. The Indian was weary and stained with much travel, and he looked like a wayfarer who had come far. He threw himself on the ground close to the log on which Rabbit sat and began to weep bitterly. Bunny with his usual kindness asked, "Why do you weep?" And the man answered, "I have lost my way in the forest. I am on my way to marry this afternoon a beautiful girl whom her father pledged to me long ago. She is loved by a wicked forest Fairy and I have heard that perhaps she loves him. And I know that if I am late she will refuse to wait for me and that she will marry him instead." But Rabbit said: "Have no fear. I am Bunny, Glooskap's forest guide. I will show you the way and bring you to the wedding in good time." The man was comforted and his spirits rose, and they talked some time together and became good friends.
When the man had somewhat got back his strength, they began their journey to the wedding. But Rabbit, being nimble-footed, ran fast and was soon so far in advance of his companion that he was lost to view. The man followed slowly, catching here and there through the green trees a glimpse of his guide's brown coat. As he stumbled along, thinking of his troubles, he fell into a deep pit that lay close to the forest path. He was too weak to climb out, and he called loudly for help. Bunny soon missed his follower, but he heard the man's yells, and turning about, he ran back to the pit. "Have no fear," said Rabbit as he looked over the edge, "I will get you out without mishap." Then, turning his back to the pit, he let his long bushy tail hang to the bottom. "Catch hold of my tail," he ordered, "hold on tight and I will pull you out." The man did as he was told. Rabbit sprang forward, but as he jumped, the weight of the man, who was very heavy, was more than he could bear, and poor Bunny's tail broke off within an inch of the root. The man fell back into the pit with a thud, holding in his hand poor Rabbit's tail. But Bunny in all his work as a guide had never known defeat, and he determined not to know it now. Holding to a strong tree with his front feet, he put his hind legs into the pit and said to the man, "Take hold of my legs and hang on tight." The man did as he was told. Then Rabbit pulled and pulled until his hind legs stretched and he feared that they too would break off; but although the weight on them was great, he finally pulled the man out after great difficulty. He found to his dismay that his hind legs had lengthened greatly because of their heavy load. He was no longer able to walk straight, but he now had to hop along with a strange jumping gait. Even his body was much stretched, and his waist had become very slender because of his long heavy pull. The two travellers then went on their way, Bunny hopping along, and the man moving more cautiously.
Finally, they reached the end of their journey. The people were all gathered for the wedding, and eagerly awaiting the coming of the bridegroom. Sure enough, the forest Fairy was there, trying by his tricks to win the girl for himself. But the man was in good time, and he married the maiden as he had hoped. As he was very thankful to Bunny, he asked him to the marriage dance and told him he might dance with the bride. So Rabbit put rings on his heels and a bangle around his neck, after his usual custom at weddings, and joined the merry-makers. Through the forest green where they danced many tiny streams were flowing, and to the soft music of these the dance went on. As the bride jumped across one of these streams during her dance with Bunny, she accidentally let the end of her dress drop into the water so that it got very wet. When she moved again into the sun, her dress, because of its wetting, shrank and shrank until it reached her knees and made her much ashamed. But Rabbit's heart was touched as usual by her plight; he ran quickly and got a deer skin that he knew to be hidden in the trees not far away, and he wrapped the pretty skin around the bride. Then he twisted a cord with which to tie it on. He held one end of the cord in his teeth and twisted the other end with his front paws. But in his haste, he held it so tight and twisted it so hard that when a couple waltzing past carelessly bumped into him the cord split his upper lip right up to the nose. But Rabbit was not dismayed by his split lip. He fastened on the bride's new deer-skin gown, and then he danced all the evening until the moon was far up in the sky. Before he went away, the man and his bride wanted to pay him for his work, but he would not take payment. Then the bride gave him a new white fur coat and said, "In winter wear this white coat; it is the colour of snow; your enemies cannot then see you so plainly against the white ground, and they cannot so easily do you harm; but in summer wear your old brown coat, the colour of the leaves and grass." And Bunny gratefully took the coat and went his way.
He lingered many days in the new country, for he was ashamed to go back to his own people with his changed appearance. His lip was split; his tail was gone, and his hind legs were stretched and crooked. Finally, he mustered up his courage and returned home. His old friends wondered much at his changed looks, and some of them were cruel enough to laugh at him. But Bunny deceived them all. When they asked him where he had been so long, he answered, "I guided a man to a far-off land which you have never seen and of which you have never heard." Then he told them many strange tales of its beauty and its good people.
"How did you lose your fine tail?" they asked. And he answered, "In the land to which I have been, the animals wear no tails. It is an aristocratic country, and wishing to be in the fashion, I cut mine off."
"And why is your waist so slender?" they asked. "Oh," replied Bunny, "in that country it is not the fashion to be fat, and I took great trouble to make my waist slight and willowy." "Why do you hop about," they asked, "when you once walked so straight?" "In that land," answered Bunny, "it is not genteel to walk straight; only the vulgar and untrained do that. The best people have a walk of their own, and it took me many days under a good walking-teacher to learn it."
"But how did you split your upper lip?" they asked finally. "In the land to which I have been," said Bunny, "the people do not eat as we do. There they eat with knives and forks and not with their paws. I found it hard to get used to their new ways. One day I put food into my mouth with my knife—a very vulgar act in that land—and my knife slipped and cut my lip, and the wound has never healed."
And being deceived and envying Bunny because of the wonders he had seen, they asked him no more questions. But the descendants of Rabbit to this day wear a white coat in winter and a brown one in summer. They have also a split upper lip; their waist is still very slender; they have no tail; their hind legs are longer than their front ones; they hop and jump nimbly about, but they are unable to walk straight. And all these strange things are a result of old Bunny's accident at the man's wedding long ago.

How Rabbit Lost His Tail

Transcribed by Cyrus MacMillan, 1917.
The writer's deepest thanks are expressed to the nameless Indians and "habitants," the fisherman and sailors, "the spinners and the knitters in the sun," from whose lips he heard these stories.

Source: http://ancientcanadianmyths.com/rabbit.html

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Did you know?

According to their oral histories, the Pueblo Indians of New Mexico and Arizona all share a common ancestry, descending from the ancient Anasazi civilization.

Photo: 1200 BCE: Earliest evidence of the Anasazi is found in the four corners region.

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The Yaqui Curandero

Artist:

Mario Gonzalez Chavajay

http://www.artemaya.com/galmro.html

As told by
Mrs. Carmen Garcia

A poor, old Yaqui man had twelve sons. When the thirteenth son came along no one wanted to take him as a god-son. Yaquis believe that the god-parents are obligated to christen three children in a row from that family, and thirteen sons was just one too many.
The father became very angry. "I go now," he said, "and the first person I meet shall be my compadre."
He went toward the mountains and saw a man coming toward him. He was a tall and distinguished-looking person, muy simpatico.
"Where do you go?" the stranger asked the father of the thirteen sons.
"Anywhere."
"You go in search of someone to serve as your compadre?"
"Yes, how did you know?"
"I am the devil, and I will serve as your compadre."
"I am but a poor man," said the father. "You are for the rich who can make deals with you. Vete." And the devil went off in a whirlwind, which is how he travels, in those dust devils.
The father of the thirteen sons went on traveling and met a second man. This man was tall, slender, and dressed all in black. In his hand he held a sword. This one said to the father of the thirteen sons, "And where do you go, my good man?"
"I go in search of someone who would be my compadre."
"I will serve you, if you give me your son when I ask. He will grow up to a very good healer, the best curandero of all."
The father asked him, "And who are you?"
"I am Death."
"Well, as you take from the rich as well as from the poor, and make all equal, you shall be my compadre." This the father said, "Be at the church this coming Sunday for the christening."
Thus it was that Death appeared at the thirteenth christening.
When the boy reached his thirteenth birthday, his god-father appeared and said to the father, "I told you I would make this boy into a great healer. Leave him to me for instruction, as you promised."
Since that was the agreement, the father had to let his son go. The boy and his god-father entered into a hill in the forest, and into a large room. There were other rooms, all as big, and in each room, there were flowers and rows upon rows of candles burning.
These candles were the lives of all people, the boy's godfather said to him. If the candle was tall, and just beginning to burn, that person had a long life to live. If the candle had burned half-way, that person had only half his life left, and if the candle was nearly gone, that person was going to die soon.
Death showed his god-father a herb. "This herb is used for curing." Death taught the boy: "Each time you visit a sick person, I will be there. When you see my form at the head of the sick one, you will use this herb to cure him. But when you see me at the foot of the sick one, then you know he must die. Give him no medicine."
So the boy went out to cure, and in a short time he was a good curandero, the best. Word of his skill went out and since he always asked a great deal of money, he was rich by the time he was thirty years.
Finally, it happened that a very rich man who was very sick called the curandero and said that if he could cure him, the curandero could marry his daughter.
When the curandero saw Death standing at the rich man's feet, he knew what he must do. But then he looked at the young daughter and, infatuated by her beauty and the thought of being her husband, he quickly turned the rich man about so that Death now stood at his head. The curandero administered the medicine, while his godfather looked on -black and angry.
The rich man got well, and the young girl was very happy. "Now, let us go to the church," she said to the curandero.
The wedding was held, complete with Pascolas, but before the fiesta could start, Death appeared at the door of the church. To his godson he said, "Well, I see that you got yourself married."
"Yes," replied the godson, and he thought within himself, "What can he do to me? After all, I am his godson."
"Come with me," said Death and he held his godson so firmly that the young man could not resist. They went back to the cave of the candles. Some of them were just beginning to burn, others were half-gone;. still others flickered weakly or lay about, extinguished on the ground.
"See, these are the Yaqui men's lives," Death said. His godson begged to be shown his own candle.
"This is your candle," said Death, pointing to one burned not even halfway down.
And Death blew it out.
As printed in Larry Evers, ed. The South Corner of Time. Tucson, Ariz.: The University of Arizona Press, ©1980, p. 209-210.
Go to the South Corner of Time homepage

Artist:

Mario Gonzalez Chavajay

http://www.artemaya.com/galmro.html

   

Artist:

Mario Gonzalez Chavajay

http://www.artemaya.com/galmro.html

Artist:

Mario Gonzalez Chavajay

http://www.artemaya.com/galmro.html

Artist:

Mario Gonzalez Chavajay

http://www.artemaya.com/galmro.html

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