Illawarra and the five islands - Australian told by Barry Moore The story I'm about to tell you now is about Illawarra and the five islands. The story starts off with three of our warriors that used to live way out from the mainland on a little island. They lived out there for quite a while and their food started to run out on the island and there was only one canoe between the three of them. These three men we'll call Whale, Koala and Starfish. As the food started to die off, Koala and Starfish said to Whale (because he was the only one who had a canoe), 'Can we borrow your canoe and we'll paddle into the mainland and go and fill the canoe up with food and we'll bring it back and share it out with you.' Whale thought to himself for a minute, 'If I give them my canoe, they're going to go in there and leave me here and I'll starve to death and they'll keep my canoe.' So he said to them 'No, you're not getting my canoe.' So Koala and Starfish had a little meeting between themselves and they made up a plan to steal the canoe. Koala said to Starfish, 'I know a way to get this canoe off this fella. He's got mullars in his head. Lice. He likes me to look in his head and kill those lice. When I do that, there's a big log over there. I'm going to take him down onto the beach and sit down. I'll put his head on my lap and while I'm looking in his head he'll doze off. Then you pinch his canoe and roll that big log over.' Whale had a stick and when Koala was looking in his head, he'd start to doze off, he'd tap with his stick against the canoe. Koala had a big long stick, sharpened on the end to part Whale's hair and kill these lice in his head. And as he was parting his hair, Whale started to go off into a really deep sleep and started snoring. So Starfish dragged the canoe away and rolled the log over. The plan was for Starfish to get in the canoe and start paddling out and Koala was going to dive in the water and swim out after him. Starfish got the canoe down into the water and hopped in and started paddling out. Koala lifted Whale's head off his lap and put it on the sand. By this time Whale was sound asleep, snoring. Koala ran down to the edge of the water and he was just about to dive in when Whale woke up. Whale ran down to the edge of the water and caught Koala before he could dive in the water and they had big fight at the water's edge. Whale started to get the better of Koala, punching him, and Koala reached around behind him and stabbed him in the back of the neck with this big sharp stick. Then Koala dived in the water and he swam out and got in the canoe with Starfish and they paddled away. They had almost reached the land up near Wollongong and by this time Whale had reached around the back of his neck and pulled out the sharp stick. He dived in the water and he was a really strong swimmer, so he swam after the other two and caught them just before they reached Port Kembla. Whale rose up out of the water and he came down on the canoe and smashed it into five pieces. Then he looked around and he spotted Koala swimming towards the shore. So he caught up with Koala and punched him in the face, flattened his face and stretched his ears out. Koala got away and swam into shore, ran up a big gum tree and sat shaking in the fork of the tree. Then Whale looked around for Starfish and he caught him sneaking into a little rockpool in the corner of the beach. He caught Starfish and he pounded him flat and stretched him this way and that way and that way. Just about that time, they started to take the shapes they're in now. Koala stayed as the little koala up in the tree. Starfish turned into the little starfish over in the rockpool and Whale turned into the big whale. That wound in the back of his neck is his breathing hole. So as he came up for air he was able to breathe that way. That's the story about Illawarra and five islands. Every year you see the whales going up the coast and coming back down and lots of people think they're going up there for a special reason, but that's Whale going up there looking for Koala and Starfish to give them another flogging. Australian http://www.dreamtime.net.au/illawarra/text.htm

Reading of Blue Panther's stories/legends reminds me to ask the significance, if any, of giving the gift of a turtle, a beautifully carved turtle that looks very real. I met a Cherokee male on his way to perform in Pow-Wow. We struck up a conversation and we we parted he gave me two gifts one of them the described turtle. He told me to "hold onto it". Never since have I seen this man, but somehow it seemed the gifts held significance and I wonder if anyone knows if there is a Cherokee meaning to such a gift. For my part, I know I was supposed to give him a gift in return,but he left very quickly and, besides, not expecting such an encounter I had no gift for him. Thanks for any insight. Fran Chinkapin

ILHATAINA – Yana PERSONAGES After each name is given that of the creature or thing into which the personage was changed subsequently. Ahalamila, gray wolf; Demauna, pine marten; Gowila, lizard; Ilhataina, lightning; Jul Kurula, woodgrub; Jupka, butterfly of the wild silkworm; Tsoré Jowá, a kind of eagle. Near Jigulmatu lived Tsore Jowa, a very old woman. Once in the spring she went west to dig roots, and found a great clump of them. "I'll come to-morrow and dig these," thought she, and went home. Next morning she went to get the roots. She dug around the whole clump, but could not pull it up. She dug deeper, pulled and tugged; at last the roots came, and on them a little boy with eyes staring out of his head. She pushed the eyes back, cured him, put him in a rabbit-skin blanket which she wore, and went home. She washed the boy all day, and did not sleep at night. She washed him all the time. When five days old, he had grown a good deal. On the sixth day he crept; on the ninth he walked. When fifteen days old, he was a strong but very small boy. "I want a bow and arrows," said he. "You must not go out," said the old woman, "you must not leave my sight." He teased till at last she gave him a bow and said, "You must stay on the housetop, and not go away." While he was on the house a bird flew up, perched on a tree-top, and asked, "Why doesn't your mother nurse you?" The bird repeated this and flew away. The boy cried; came down and told his grandmother. "Where are our people? Tell me," said he. "Our people were many," said she, "but Gowila killed them all. We have no people now." "Who is Gowila?" "Oh, he is strong and terrible; you must not see Gowila." The boy walked around the house then, looked at the walls, and asked, "May I have that bow hanging there?" "You may if you like," said she, "but you are too weak to use it. You are very small, a little fellow." He started at the east side of the sweat-house and went northward, tried the first bow, broke it; went on, took another, broke that. Then he went around the whole house, breaking every bow that he came to, till on the south side he reached the last bow. It was made of deer sinew. He bent that, tried his best, tried again and again, could not break it. "What kind of a bow is this?" thought he. "It is the ugliest, the oldest, but I cannot break it." He took the bow and a big stone to crush it. The bow flew out of his hand, and the stone fell. "How did the man die who used this bow?" asked the boy. "Gowila killed him, and those who had the other bows," answered the old woman. "I will go for wood now and sweat." "Do not go far," said Tsore Jowa. The boy ran off to the east, seized a big pine-tree, tore it up with one pull, and took it home in one hand. He made a big fire and put stones on it. "Bring water, my grandmother," said he; "then I will tell you what to do." The old woman filled a great basket with water. The stones were dropped in when red-hot, and the water boiled quickly. "Grandmother, put me into the boiling water." The old woman was frightened, but did what he told her. "Cover me closely," said the boy. She covered him with another tight basket. He lay in the water till the cover flew from the basket, and he was thrown through the opening in the top of the sweat-house and dropped on the roof outside. He ran down, swam in the river close by, and then went back and talked with the old woman. "You will be very strong," said she. "You will be called Ilhataina." He ran east a second time; brought sugar-pines. He did not sleep, he sang without stopping. Rocks were made hot as before, and dropped into a bigger basket. The old woman put in Ilhataina, and covered him with four closely woven baskets. He was in the boiling water till the four covers burst off, and he flew up through the opening in the top of the sweat-house. He ran down again to the river, and while swimming talked to himself, saying.-- "I will meet Gowila to-day, I will meet Gowila to-day." At sunrise he went home. "Grandmother, I am going out a short way," said he, taking down his old bow and one arrow. "Oh, grandson, you must not go far; you must not leave my sight," said the old woman. He counted twenty otter-skin quivers filled with arrows, and said, "I will take these." She cooked roots for his breakfast, and brought a small basket full for him to take with him. He went west to a grove of trees, made a fire there, and caused salmon to hang all around on the tree branches. Crowds of men and women were heard talking and laughing near by. He made it so. There were no people in the place. He made the noise to entice Gowila. He began to dig roots then. He dug without raising his head, dug and worked on, singing songs as he worked. Soon a big ugly old man from the north came. This was Gowila. He had a great dog, and a deer head was hanging at his back, with long horns on each side of it. "You sing a nice song," said he. Ilhataina never looked up. "Come to the fire," said Gowila. The boy said nothing; dug all the time. "Come to the fire; I am hungry," said Gowila. After a time Ilhataina went to the fire. "You sing well," said Gowila. "Where did you come from?" "From Jigulmatu. People sing well at Jigulmatu, and they dance well." Gowila sat down near the fire. "Put roots in my mouth. Put in more," said he, when the boy gave him some. The boy fed Gowila until he had eaten all the roots in the basket. "How many people are digging roots around here?" asked he. "I do not know; a great many," said Ilhataina. A loud noise of people was heard a short distance away,--a noise of men and women laughing and talking. Gowila saw blankets and baskets near the fire. Ilhataina, made the appearance of them. There was nothing there but the twenty otter-skin quivers and the ugly old bow and one arrow in his hand. "Give me your bow," said Gowila; "let me look at it." He asked again and again till the boy gave the bow. Gowila threw it into the fire. "Why do that?" asked Ilhataina, snatching his bow from the fire. "Let me see your bow." Gowila handed the bow to him. Ilhataina broke it with his left hand, and then sprang toward the east. Gowila was very angry, and said "Teh!" to his dog. The dog rushed at the boy. Ilhataina shot and hit the dog. He shot all the arrows but one from ten quivers. Every arrow hit but did no harm to the dog. Just then one of the seven stars (the Pleiades) called to Ilhataina,-- "Shoot him in the little toe and he will die." The boy hit the dog's little toe. He fell dead. Ilhataina ran to the fire where Gowila was standing. "You cannot kill me," said he to Gowila "you are big and strong, but you cannot hurt me." "I will kill you," said Gowila; and he sent an arrow at him. It missed. Ilhataina shot his arrow and it struck. Every arrow that he sent went into Gowila, but no arrow struck Ilhataina. All the arrows but one were gone from the second ten quivers. That moment one of the seven stars called to Ilhataina,-- "Shoot at his little toe. If you hit him there, he will die." Ilhataina struck Gowila's little toe, and he dropped dead. Ilhataina skinned Gowila, stripped him from head to foot, put the skin on himself, and became just like his enemy. Next he struck the dog with a red rose switch, and the dog jumped up alive and glad to see his master. Ilhataina hung the deer head behind his shoulders, took his quivers, and went home. Gowila's dog followed him. When near the house, he made heavy steps, and the old woman looked out. "Oh, Gowila is coming! Gowila is coming!" cried she, terribly frightened. "Grandmother, don't be afraid; it is I. Gowila is dead. I have killed him. I am wearing his skin. I am as big and as ugly as he was. I will go to his house to-night, I think. I have brought his liver and lights with me." "Go, grandson, go. I fear nobody now." Ilhataina went away, saying, "I will be here about sunrise to-morrow." He went north to Gowila's sweat-house, went a long way, went quickly, walked up to the house, was just like Gowila. A great many people lived in that house. All kinds of snake people were there,--rattlesnakes, bull-snakes, water-snakes, striped snakes, all kinds of snakes. He hung Gowila's liver and lights outside, went in, and sat down between Gowila's two wives. The dog lay down in his own place. The wives were Pupila women, two sisters. "Bring in the meat which I hung up outside and cook it," said Ilhataina to the elder wife. He cut the liver and lights into small bits, and the two women boiled them. There was a great steam and a strong smell from these pieces. All in the house were blind except the two wives, and only one of the blind people spoke, Gowila's younger brother. "I smell Gowila's flesh," said he. "How could you smell Gowila's flesh when I am Gowila?" Ilhataina was very angry, and dashed live coals through the house. All were terrified. All ate of the meat except Gowila's younger brother. He was very wise and wouldn't touch it. Ilhataina went out and found a great many legs around the house. Gowila had eaten the bodies of thousands of people and thrown the legs away. Ilhataina gathered these into one place and went back to the house. "Blind people," said he, "I wish you would sing, and you, my wives, dance for me. I'll go to sleep then." "We will sing," said they, "and dance." The blind people sang, and the two women danced. Soon the men and the two women stopped. Ilhataina made them all drowsy, and they fell asleep. Then he went out, fastened the door, and said,-- "I want the walls of this house to be covered with pitch." The whole house was covered with pitch, and then he set fire to it. Soon he heard terrible screaming inside and crowds running around in the sweat-house. None could get out, and all were burned to death quickly. Ilhataina tied the legs together with a long grapevine and carried them home. He was there about daylight. He placed them all in the river and went to the sweat-house. "Hide me, and then lie on your face with your arms under your head," said he to his grandmother. The old woman put him in one basket and covered him with another, then lay herself as he had directed. In the middle of the forenoon there was a great noise of people rising out of the river. They came in through the top of the sweat-house. When all were inside, the old woman stood up. All her people were alive there before her,--Demauna,. Jupka, and others; all had come back. "Who brought us to life again?" asked Demauna. "Show me the person." The old woman took Ilhataina out of the basket and carried him to them. Demauna caught him in his arms. "Well done, my brother!" said he. All the rest called him brother. "Let me have him," said Ahalamila. "No," answered Demauna; "I will keep him myself" They asked the old woman where she had found Ilhataina. She would not tell. "Will you sweat?" asked Ilhataina. "Yes," said all the people. "I will bring wood," said he. When he ran out, the sweat-house danced in its place. All thought he was too small to carry wood, but when he snatched a tall fir the earth trembled. When he touched a big sugar-pine, he crushed it. He brought great trees in a moment, and when he put them down the place shivered. All were in terror. When Ilhataina talked the whole world was afraid, and when he moved the ground which he walked on was quivering. All sweated, swam in the river, and went back to the old woman's. Ilhataina walked across the house, and his heart shook as if it would jump from his body. "I am not going to stay here," said he. When Demauna heard this, he cried, and the old woman cried. "My brother," said Demauna, "I should like to know where you are going. I wish you would stay with us." Ilhataina made no answer. "My brother," said Jupka, "if you will not stay here, I wish you would go to the sky. Now," said Jupka, "will you take beads as a gift from me? "No." "Shells?" "No." "Wolf robes?" "No." "Wildcat robes?" "No." "Foxskin robes?" "No." Jupka wore an old ragged rabbit-skin robe. He had worn it a long time. "I think you like this," said he. "Yes," answered Ilhataina, "that's what I want." He took the old robe and tied it with weeds around his waist. "Now I am ready to leave you. Come out and see me go." There was a black cloud in the sky. Ilhataina had brought it there. "I will go up to that place," said he. "Whenever rain comes in future, it will be water falling from my rabbit robe." All hurried out. Jupka's son, Jul Kurula, who was wrapped in a black bearskin, came down into the sweat-house and cried; he didn't wish to lose Ilhataina. "Now, my friends," said Ilhataina, "I leave you; hereafter when you see me travel I shall go like this;" and he went with a flash to the black cloud. He was taken into it. and now he stays there. Notes: ILHATAINA In this myth lightning is "dug up," as in the preceding one. Electricity is one of the earth's children. The putting on of Gowila's skin by Ilhataina is one of the curious acts frequent in Indian mythology. In the Aztec worship of Mexico, in Montezuma's time, the sacrificing priest put on the skin of the victim as far as the waist. The wish of Ilhataina to get the old rabbit-skin robe is worthy of attention. Creation Myths of Primitive America, by Jeremiah Curtin; Boston; Little, Brown [1898] and is now in the public domain.

IKTOMI'S BLANKET - Lakota ALONE within his teepee sat Iktomi. The sun was but a handsbreadth from the western edge of land. "Those, bad, bad gray wolves! They ate up all my nice fat ducks!" muttered he, rocking his body to and fro. He was cuddling the evil memory he bore those hungry wolves. At last he ceased to sway his body backward and forward, but sat still and stiff as a stone image. "Oh! I'll go to Inyan, the great-grandfather, and pray for food!" he exclaimed. At once he hurried forth from his teepee and, with his blanket over one shoulder, drew nigh to a huge rock on a hillside. With half-crouching, half-running strides, he fell upon Inyan with outspread hands. "Grandfather! pity me. I am hungry. I am starving. Give me food. Great-grandfather, give me meat to eat!" he cried. All the while he stroked and caressed the face of the great stone god. The all-powerful Great Spirit, who makes the trees and grass, can hear the voice of those who pray in many varied ways. The hearing of Inyan, the large hard stone, was the one most sought after. He was the great-grandfather, for he had sat upon the hillside many, many seasons. He had seen the prairie put on a snow-white blanket and then change it for a bright green robe more than a thousand times. Still unaffected by the myriad moons he rested on the everlasting hill, listening to the prayers of Indian warriors. Before the finding of the magic arrow he had sat there. Now, as Iktomi prayed and wept before the great-grandfather, the sky in the west was red like a glowing face. The sunset poured a soft mellow light upon the huge gray stone and the solitary figure beside it. It was the smile of the Great Spirit upon the grandfather and the wayward child. The prayer was heard. Iktomi knew it. "Now, grandfather, accept my offering; 'tis all I have," said Iktomi as he spread his half-worn blanket upon Inyan's cold shoulders. Then Iktomi, happy with the smile of the sunset sky, followed a footpath leading toward a thicketed ravine. He had not gone many paces into the shrubbery when before him lay a freshly wounded deer! "This is the answer from the red western sky!" cried Iktomi with hands uplifted. Slipping a long thin blade from out his belt, he cut large chunks of choice meat. Sharpening some willow sticks, he planted them around a wood-pile he had ready to kindle. On these stakes he meant to roast the venison. While he was rubbing briskly two long sticks to start a fire, the sun in the west fell out of the sky below the edge of land. Twilight was over all. Iktomi felt the cold night air upon his bare neck and shoulders. "Ough!" he shivered as he wiped his knife on the grass. Tucking it in a beaded case hanging from his belt, Iktomi stood erect, looking about. He shivered again. "Ough! Ah! I am cold. I wish I had my blanket!" whispered he, hovering over the pile of dry sticks and the sharp stakes round about it. Suddenly he paused and dropped his hands at his sides. "The old great-grandfather does not feel the cold as I do. He does not need my old blanket as I do. I wish I had not given it to him. Oh! I think I'll run up there and take it back!" said he, pointing his long chin toward the large gray stone. Iktomi, in the warm sunshine, had no need of his blanket, and it had been very easy to part with a thing which he could not miss. But the chilly night wind quite froze his ardent thank-offering. Thus running up the hillside, his teeth chattering all the way, he drew near to Inyan, the sacred symbol. Seizing one corner of the half-worn blanket, Iktomi pulled it off with a jerk. "Give my blanket back, old grandfather! You do not need it. I do!" This was very wrong, yet Iktomi did it, for his wit was not wisdom. Drawing the blanket tight over his shoulders, he descended the hill with hurrying feet. He was soon upon the edge of the ravine. A young moon, like a bright bent bow, climbed up from the southwest horizon a little way into the sky. In this pale light Iktomi stood motionless as a ghost amid the thicket. His woodpile was not yet kindled. His pointed stakes were still bare as he had left them. But where was the deer--the venison he had felt warm in his hands a moment ago? It was gone. Only the dry rib bones lay on the ground like giant fingers from an open grave. Iktomi was troubled. At length, stooping over the white dried bones, he took hold of one and shook it. The bones, loose in their sockets, rattled together at his touch. Iktomi let go his hold. He sprang back amazed. And though he wore a blanket his teeth chattered more than ever. Then his blunted sense will surprise you, little reader; for instead of being grieved that he had taken back his blanket, he cried aloud, "Hin-hin-hin! If only I had eaten the venison before going for my blanket!" Those tears no longer moved the hand of the Generous Giver. They were selfish tears. The Great Spirit does not heed them ever. Old Indian Legends by Zitkala-Sa [1901] and is now in the public domain. [Lakota]

Iktomi and the Young Man - Lakota There was a young man who had many horses and plenty of adornments. He had four sisters who made many ornaments of quillwork, painted robes for him, and made plenty of clothing so that he was always well- dressed and finely painted and had plenty of everything. A great chief had a young and beautiful daughter. She was industrious and could make beautiful quillwork and paint robes, and she could tan skins and make good clothing. This chief sent word to this young man that he would give him his daughter for a wife. The young man dressed in his finest clothing, putting on quilled moccasins and quilled leggings and beaded breech cloth. He took with him a fine pipe and a beaded tobacco sack. He wrapped about him a fine buffalo robe of a young cow taken when the hair was the best which his sisters had tanned, soft and white, and upon which his adopted mother had painted her dream. He took with him a love medicine that was made by the oldest Shaman among all the people and a flute upon which he had learned to play love songs. When he started for the chief's house, his oldest sister said to him, "Watch for Iktomi. Do not let him fool you." The young man replied, "I am too wise, Iktomi can't fool me. He went on his way, thinking about the beautiful young girl he was to have for his wife. When he came to a spring of water he sat down in the shade and played a love song on his flute. While he was playing, another young man appeared before him, but he was very poor and had only the poorest kind of clothing. All he had was a breech cloth and an old ragged robe, but he was good looking and strong. He said to the young man, "You play a love song very well. If you should play that way to a young woman she would take you for her man." This pleased the young man, for lie thought that he would play that way for the chief's daughter. He lighted his pipe and gave the other young man a smoke. Then the other young man said, "I would like to hear you play again." So he played another song and the second young man said, "Oh that is more pleasing than the other; no young woman could hear you play that and resist you." This pleased the young man so that he said, "I will teach you to play that way so that you may also get a woman." He taught the other young man to play like he did. Then the other young man said, "I think you are very strong. Let us wrestle to see who is the stronger." They wrestled and the young man threw the second young man. Then the poor young man said, "I think you are a great hunter, let us shoot the arrow and see who can make the best shot." They shot arrows at a target and the young man made the best shot. Then the other young man said, "Let us run a race and see who can run the faster." They ran a hundred paces and the young man won the race. Then the other young man said, "Let us run around this spring and know who can run the greatest distance. But the young man said, "No, let us run to that high hill, a long way off and back." The other young man agreed to this. The young man stripped himself of all his clothing except his breech cloth. He piled all his fine clothing, his pipe, his robe, and the flute near the spring. The other young man said, "Let us hide our clothing, someone may come and take everything while we are running." They hid their clothing, the young man putting his clothing in a pile and other young man putting his robe at another place. The way they had to run was very hilly and the other young man said, "I run very slowdown a hill but I run very fast up a hill." The young man said, "I run very fast down a hill, but I cannot run so fast up a hill." Then the other young man said, "You had better run as fast as you can down the hills, because I will run by you up the hills, if you don't." They started from the spring up a hill. The other young man ran as fast as he could up the hill and reached the top first; but when they ran down hill, the other young man ran very slowly and the young man ran as fast as he could and passed him very quickly so that he was at the top of the next hill before the other young man was at the bottom of the first hill. Then the young man looked back at the other young man and laughed and cried out to him, "I will beat you badly for I will be at the top of the next hill before you will come in sight on top of this hill." Then the other young man said, "Yes that is so. Do not wait for me." So the young man ran on easily for he knew he could beat the other young man. Before the other young man got to the bottom of the first hill, he turned round and ran quickly back to the spring and took all the young man's clothing, his robe, the pipe and the elk teeth and the flute and ran on the trail to the chief's tipi. When the young man got to the high hill he sat down to rest, for he thought he could beat the other young man easily now. He waited, but the other young man did not come. Then he thought be was lost so he went slowly back over the way he had run to look for him. When he got to the spring he looked about but did not find him, so he said, "I will put on my clothing and take my things and then I will hunt for him." But when he went for his things he found them all gone. Then he knew that the other young man was Iktomi. He started to run as fast as he could on the trail to the chief's tipi. But he had run so much that he was tired, and could not run very fast. It was very late at night when he got to the chief's tipi. He found that Iktomi had gotten there very early in the day and had given the chief a smoke of cansasa, so that the chief was pleased. Iktomi had given the chief's daughter all the elk teeth so that she was pleased. He had played to her on the flute the love songs he had taught him so that she could not resist him and she had taken Iktomi for her man. When the young man came dressed in his breech cloth and the old ragged robe that Iktomi had left, they would not believe him when he said he was the young man to whom the chief had promised his daughter. They let him eat at the feast and then told him to go away. He went home and told his sisters. His oldest sister said, "I told you to watch for Iktomi."

Iktomi And The Turtle – Lakota THE huntsman Patkasa (turtle) stood bent over a newly slain deer. The red-tipped arrow he drew from the wounded deer was unlike the arrows in his own quiver. Another's stray shot had killed the deer. Patkasa had hunted all the morning without so much as spying an ordinary blackbird. At last returning homeward, tired and heavy-hearted that he had no meat for the hungry mouths in his wigwam, he walked slowly with downcast eyes. Kind ghosts pitied the unhappy hunter and led him to the newly slain deer, that his children should not cry for food. When Patkasa stumbled upon the deer in his path, he exclaimed: "Good spirits have pushed me hither!" Thus he leaned long over the gift of the friendly ghosts. "How, my friend!" said a voice behind his ear, and a hand fell on his shoulder. It was not a spirit this time. It was old Iktomi. "How, Iktomi!" answered Patkasa, still stooping over the deer. "My friend, you are a skilled hunter," began Iktomi, smiling a thin smile which spread from one ear to the other. Suddenly raising up his head Patkasa's black eyes twinkled as he asked: "Oh, you really say so?" "Yes, my friend, you are a skillful fellow. Now let us have a little contest. Let us see who can jump over the deer without touching a hair on his hide," suggested Iktomi. "Oh, I fear I cannot do it!" cried Patkasa, rubbing his funny, thick palms together. "Have no coward's doubt, Patkasa. I say you are a skillful fellow who finds nothing hard to do." With these words Iktomi led Patkasa a short distance away. In little puffs Patkasa laughed uneasily. "Now, you may jump first," said Iktomi. Patkasa, with doubled fists, swung his fat arms to and fro, all the while biting hard his under lip. Just before the run and leap Iktomi put in: "Let the winner have the deer to eat!" It was too late now to say no. Patkasa was more afraid of being called a coward than of losing the deer. "Ho-wo," he replied, still working his short arms. At length he started off on the run. So quick and small were his steps that he seemed to be kicking the ground only. Then the leap! But Patkasa tripped upon a stick and fell hard against the side of the deer. "He-he-he!" exclaimed Iktomi, pretending disappointment that his friend had fallen. Lifting him to his feet, he said: "Now it is my turn to try the high jump!" Hardly was the last word spoken than Iktomi gave a leap high above the deer. "The game is mine!" laughed he, patting the sullen Patkasa on the back. "My friend, watch the deer while I go to bring my children," said Iktomi, darting lightly through the tall grass. Patkasa was always ready to believe the words of scheming people and to do the little favors any one asked of him. However, on this occasion, he did not answer "Yes, my friend." He realized that Iktomi's flattering tongue had made him foolish. He turned up his nose at Iktomi, now almost out of sight, as much as to say: "Oh, no, Ikto; I do not hear your words!" Soon there came a murmur of voices. The sound of laughter grew louder and louder. All of a sudden it became hushed. Old Iktomi led his young Iktomi brood to the place where he had left the turtle, but it was vacant. Nowhere was there any sign of Patkasa or the deer. Then the babes did howl! "Be still!" said father Iktomi to his children. "I know where Patkasa lives. Follow me. I shall take you to the turtle's dwelling." He ran along a narrow footpath toward the creek near by. Close upon his heels came his children with tear-streaked faces. "There!" said Iktomi in a loud whisper as he gathered his little ones on the bank. "There is Patkasa broiling venison! There is his teepee, and the savory fire is in his front yard!" The young Iktomis stretched their necks and rolled their round black eyes like newly hatched birds. They peered into the water. "Now, I will cool Patkasa's fire. I shall bring you the broiled venison. Watch closely. When you see the black coals rise to the surface of the water, clap your hands and shout aloud, for soon after that sign I shall return to you with some tender meat." Thus saying Iktomi plunged into the creek. Splash! splash! the water leaped upward into spray. Scarcely had it become leveled and smooth than there bubbled up many black spots. The creek was seething with the dancing of round black things. "The cooled fire! The coals!" laughed the brood of Iktomis. Clapping together their little hands, they chased one another along the edge of the creek. They shouted and hooted with great glee. "Ahas!" said a gruff voice across the water. It was Patkasa. In a large willow tree leaning far over the water he sat upon a large limb. On the very same branch was a bright burning fire over which Patkasa broiled the venison. By this time the water was calm again. No more danced those black spots on its surface, for they were the toes of old Iktomi. He was drowned. The Iktomi children hurried away from the creek, crying and calling for their water-dead father. Old Indian Legends by Zitkala-Sa [1901] and is now in the public domain.

Iktomi And The Muskrat – Lakota BESIDE a white lake, beneath a large grown willow tree, sat Iktomi on the bare ground. The heap of smouldering ashes told of a recent open fire. With ankles crossed together around a pot of soup, Iktomi bent over some delicious boiled fish. Fast he dipped his black horn spoon into the soup, for he was ravenous. Iktomi had no regular meal times. Often when he was hungry he went without food. Well hid between the lake and the wild rice, he looked nowhere save into the pot of fish. Not knowing when the next meal would be, he meant to eat enough now to last some time. "How, how, my friend!" said a voice out of the wild rice. Iktomi started. He almost choked with his soup. He peered through the long reeds from where he sat with his long horn spoon in mid-air. "How, my friend!" said the voice again, this time close at his side. Iktomi turned and there stood a dripping muskrat who had just come out of the lake. "Oh, it is my friend who startled me. I wondered if among the wild rice some spirit voice was talking. How, how, my friend!" said Iktomi. The muskrat stood smiling. On his lips hung a ready "Yes, my friend," when Iktomi would ask, "My friend, will you sit down beside me and share my food?" That was the custom of the plains people. Yet Iktomi sat silent. He hummed an old dance-song and beat gently on the edge of the pot with his buffalo-horn spoon. The muskrat began to feel awkward before such lack of hospitality and wished himself under water. After many heart throbs Iktomi stopped drumming with his horn ladle, and looking upward into the muskrat's face, he said: "My friend, let us run a race to see who shall win this pot of fish. If I win, I shall not need to share it with you. If you win, you shall have half of it." Springing to his feet, Iktomi began at once to tighten the belt about his waist. "My friend Ikto, I cannot run a race with you! I am not a swift runner, and you are nimble as a deer. We shall not run any race together," answered the hungry muskrat. For a moment Iktomi stood with a hand on his long protruding chin. His eyes were fixed upon something in the air. The muskrat looked out of the corners of his eyes without moving his head. He watched the wily Iktomi concocting a plot. "Yes, yes," said Iktomi, suddenly turning his gaze upon the unwelcome visitor; "I shall carry a large stone on my back. That will slacken my usual speed; and the race will be a fair one." Saying this he laid a firm hand upon the muskrat's shoulder and started off along the edge of the lake. When they reached the opposite side Iktomi pried about in search of a heavy stone. He found one half-buried in the shallow water. Pulling it out upon dry land, he wrapped it in his blanket. "Now, my friend, you shall run on the left side of the lake, I on the other. The race is for the boiled fish in yonder kettle!" said Iktomi. The muskrat helped to lift the heavy stone upon Iktomi's back. Then they parted. Each took a narrow path through the tall reeds fringing the shore. Iktomi found his load a heavy one. Perspiration hung like beads on his brow. His chest heaved hard and fast. He looked across the lake to see how far the muskrat had gone, but nowhere did he see any sign of him. "Well, he is running low under the wild rice!" said he. Yet as he scanned the tall grasses on the lake shore, he saw not one stir as if to make way for the runner. "Ah, has he gone so fast ahead that the disturbed grasses in his trail have quieted again?" exclaimed Iktomi. With that thought he quickly dropped the heavy stone. "No more of this!" said he, patting his chest with both hands. Off with a springing bound, he ran swiftly toward the goal. Tufts of reeds and grass fell flat under his feet. Hardly had they raised their heads when Iktomi was many paces gone. Soon he reached the heap of cold ashes. Iktomi halted stiff as if he had struck an invisible cliff. His black eyes showed a ring of white about them as he stared at the empty ground. There was no pot of boiled fish! There was no water-man in sight! "Oh, if only I had shared my food like a real Dakota, I would not have lost it all! Why did I not know the muskrat would run through the water? He swims faster than I could ever run! That is what he has done. He has laughed at me for carrying a weight on my back while he shot hither like an arrow!" Crying thus to himself, Iktomi stepped to the water's brink. He stooped forward with a hand on each bent knee and peeped far into the deep water. "There!" he exclaimed, "I see you, my friend, sitting with your ankles wound around my little pot of fish! My friend, I am hungry. Give me a bone!" "Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the water-man, the muskrat. The sound did not rise up out of the lake, for it came down from overhead. With his hands still on his knees, Iktomi turned his face upward into the great willow tree. Opening wide his mouth he begged, "My friend, my friend, give me a bone to gnaw!" "Ha! ha!" laughed the muskrat, and leaning over the limb he sat upon, he let fall a small sharp bone which dropped right into Iktomi's throat. Iktomi almost choked to death before he could get it out. In the tree the muskrat sat laughing loud. "Next time, say to a visiting friend, 'Be seated beside me, my friend. Let me share with you my food.'" Old Indian Legends by Zitkala-Sa [1901] and is now in the public domain.

IKTOMI AND THE FAWN – Lakota IN one of his wanderings through the wooded lands, Iktomi saw a rare bird sitting high in a tree-top. Its long fan-like tail feathers had caught all the beautiful colors of the rainbow. Handsome in the glistening summer sun sat the bird of rainbow plumage. Iktomi hurried hither with his eyes fast on the bird. He stood beneath the tree looking long and wistfully at the peacock's bright feathers. At length he heaved a sigh and began: "Oh, I wish I had such pretty feathers! How I wish I were not I! If only I were a handsome feathered creature how happy I would be! I'd be so glad to sit upon a very high tree and bask in the summer sun like you!" said he suddenly, pointing his bony finger up toward the peacock, who was eyeing the stranger below, turning his head from side to side. "I beg of you make me into a bird with green and purple feathers like yours!" implored Iktomi, tired now of playing the brave in beaded buckskins. The peacock then spoke to Iktomi: "I have a magic power. My touch will change you in a moment into the most beautiful peacock if you can keep one condition." "Yes! yes!" shouted Iktomi, jumping up and down, patting his lips with his palm, which caused his voice to vibrate in a peculiar fashion. "Yes! yes! I could keep ten conditions if only you would change me into a bird with long, bright tail feathers. Oh, I am so ugly! I am so tired of being myself! Change me! Do!" Hereupon the peacock spread out both his wings, and scarce moving them, he sailed slowly down upon the ground. Right beside Iktomi he alighted. Very low in Iktomi's ear the peacock whispered, "Are you willing to keep one condition, though hard it be?" "Yes! yes! I've told you ten of them if need be!" exclaimed Iktomi, with some impatience. "Then I pronounce you a handsome feathered bird. No longer are you Iktomi the mischief-maker." Saying this the peacock touched Iktomi with the tips of his wings. Iktomi vanished at the touch. There stood beneath the tree two handsome peacocks. While one of the pair strutted about with a head turned aside as if dazzled by his own bright-tinted tail feathers, the other bird soared slowly upward. He sat quiet and unconscious of his gay plumage. He seemed content to perch there on a large limb in the warm sunshine. After a little while the vain peacock, dizzy with his bright colors, spread out his wings and lit on the same branch with the elder bird. "Oh!" he exclaimed, "how hard to fly! Brightly tinted feathers are handsome, but I wish they were light enough to fly!" Just there the elder bird interrupted him. "That is the one condition. Never try to fly like other birds. Upon the day you try to fly you shall be changed into your former self." "Oh, what a shame that bright feathers cannot fly into the sky!" cried the peacock. Already he grew restless. He longed to soar through space. He yearned to fly above the trees high upward to the sun. "Oh, there I see a flock of birds flying thither! Oh! oh!" said he, flapping his wings, "I must try my wings! I am tired of bright tail feathers. I want to try my wings." "No, no!" clucked the elder bird. The flock of chattering birds flew by with whirring wings. "Oop! oop!" called some to their mates. Possessed by an irrepressible impulse the Iktomi peacock called out, "He! I want to come! Wait for me!" and with that he gave a lunge into the air. The flock of flying feathers wheeled about and lowered over the tree whence came the peacock's cry. Only one rare bird sat on the tree, and beneath, on the ground, stood a brave in brown buckskins. "I am my old self again!" groaned Iktomi in a sad voice. "Make me over, pretty bird. Try me this once again!" he pleaded in vain. "Old Iktomi wants to fly! Ah! We cannot wait for him!" sang the birds as they flew away. Muttering unhappy vows to himself, Iktomi had not gone far when he chanced upon a bunch of long slender arrows. One by one they rose in the air and shot a straight line over the prairie. Others shot up into the blue sky and were soon lost to sight. Only one was left. He was making ready for his flight when Iktomi rushed upon him and wailed, "I want to be an arrow! Make me into an arrow! I want to pierce the blue Blue overhead. I want to strike yonder summer sun in its center. Make me into an arrow!" "Can you keep a condition? One condition, though hard it be?" the arrow turned to ask. "Yes! Yes!" shouted Iktomi, delighted. Hereupon the slender arrow tapped him gently with his sharp flint beak. There was no Iktomi, but two arrows stood ready to fly. "Now, young arrow, this is the one condition. Your flight must always be in a straight line. Never turn a curve nor jump about like a young fawn," said the arrow magician. He spoke slowly and sternly. At once he set about to teach the new arrow how to shoot in a long straight line. "This is the way to pierce the Blue over- head," said he; and off he spun high into the sky. While he was gone a herd of deer came trotting by. Behind them played the young fawns together. They frolicked about like kittens. They bounced on all fours like balls. Then they pitched forward, kicking their heels in the air. The Iktomi arrow watched them so happy on the ground. Looking quickly up into the sky, he said in his heart, "The magician is out of sight. I'll just romp and frolic with these fawns until he returns. Fawns! Friends, do not fear me. I want to jump and leap with you. I long to be happy as you are," said he. The young fawns stopped with stiff legs and stared at the speaking arrow with large brown wondering eyes. "See! I can jump as well as you!" went on Iktomi. He gave one tiny leap like a fawn. All of a sudden the fawns snorted with extended nostrils at what they beheld. There among them stood Iktomi in brown buckskins, and the strange talking arrow was gone. "Oh! I am myself. My old self!" cried Iktomi, pinching himself and plucking imaginary pieces out of his jacket. "Hin-hin-hin! I wanted to fly!" The real arrow now returned to the earth. He alighted very near Iktomi. >From the high sky he had seen the fawns playing on the green. He had seen Iktomi make his one leap, and the charm was broken. Iktomi became his former self. "Arrow, my friend, change me once more!" begged Iktomi. "No, no more," replied the arrow. Then away he shot through the air in the direction his comrades had flown. By this time the fawns gathered close around Iktomi. They poked their noses at him trying to know who he was. Iktomi's tears were like a spring shower. A new desire dried them quickly away. Stepping boldly to the largest fawn, he looked closely at the little brown spots all over the furry face. "Oh, fawn! What beautiful brown spots on your face! Fawn, dear little fawn, can you tell me how those brown spots were made on your face?" "Yes," said the fawn. "When I was very, very small, my mother marked them on my face with a red hot fire. She dug a large hole in the ground and made a soft bed of grass and twigs in it. Then she placed me gently there. She covered me over with dry sweet grass and piled dry cedars on top. From a neighbor's fire she brought hither a red, red ember. This she tucked carefully in at my head. This is how the brown spots were made on my face." "Now, fawn, my friend, will you do the same for me? Won't you mark my face with brown, brown spots just like yours?" asked Iktomi, always eager to be like other people. "Yes. I can dig the ground and fill it with dry grass and sticks. If you will jump into the pit, I'll cover you with sweet smelling grass and cedar wood," answered the fawn. "Say," interrupted Ikto, "will you be sure to cover me with a great deal of dry grass and twigs? You will make sure that the spots will be as brown as those you wear." "Oh, yes. I'll pile up grass and willows once oftener than my mother did." "Now let us dig the hole, pull the grass, and gather sticks," cried Iktomi in glee. Thus with his own hands he aids in making his grave. After the hole was dug and cushioned with grass, Iktomi, muttering something about brown spots, leaped down into it. Lengthwise, flat on his back, he lay. While the fawn covered him over with cedars, a far-away voice came up through them, "Brown, brown spots to wear forever!" A red ember was tucked under the dry grass. Off scampered the fawns after their mothers; and when a great distance away they looked backward. They saw a blue smoke rising, writhing upward till it vanished in the blue ether. "Is that Iktomi's spirit?" asked one fawn of another. "No! I think he would jump out before he could burn into smoke and cinders," answered his comrade. Old Indian Legends by Zitkala-Sa [1901] and is now in the public domain.

Iktomi and the Ducks - Lakota IKTOMI is a spider fairy. He wears brown deerskin leggins with long soft fringes on either side, and tiny beaded moccasins on his feet. His long black hair is parted in the middle and wrapped with red, red bands. Each round braid hangs over a small brown ear and falls forward over his shoulders. He even paints his funny face with red and yellow, and draws big black rings around his eyes. He wears a deerskin jacket, with bright colored beads sewed tightly on it. Iktomi dresses like a real Dakota brave. In truth, his paint and deerskins are the best part of him -- if ever dress is part of man or fairy. Iktomi is a wily fellow. His hands are always kept in mischief. He prefers to spread a snare rather than to earn the smallest thing with honest hunting. Why! he laughs outright with wide open mouth when some simple folk are caught in a trap, sure and fast. He never dreams another lives so bright as he. Often his own conceit leads him hard against the common sense of simpler people. Poor Iktomi cannot help being a little imp. And so long as he is a naughty fairy, he cannot find a single friend. No one helps him when he is in trouble. No one really loves him. Those who come to admire his handsome beaded jacket and long fringed leggins soon go away sick and tired of his vain, vain words and heartless laughter. Thus Iktomi lives alone in a cone-shaped wigwam upon the plain. One day he sat hungry within his teepee. Suddenly he rushed out, dragging after him his blanket. Quickly spreading it on the ground, he tore up dry tall grass with both his hands and tossed it fast into the blanket. Tying all the four corners together in a knot, he threw the light bundle of grass over his shoulder. Snatching up a slender willow stick with his free left hand, he started off with a hop and a leap. From side to side bounced the bundle on his back, as he ran light- footed over the uneven ground. Soon he came to the edge of the great level land. On the hilltop he paused for breath. With wicked smacks of his dry parched lips, as if tasting some tender meat, he looked straight into space toward the marshy river bottom. With a thin palm shading his eyes from the western sun, he peered far away into the lowlands, munching his own cheeks all the while. "Ah-ha!" grunted he, satisfied with what he saw. A group of wild ducks were dancing and feasting in the marshes. With wings out- spread, tip to tip, they moved up and down in a large circle. Within the ring, around a small drum, sat the chosen singers, nodding their heads and blinking their eyes. They sang in unison a merry dance-song, and beat a lively tattoo on the drum. Following a winding footpath near by, came a bent figure of a Dakota brave. He bore on his back a very large bundle. With a willow cane he propped himself up as he staggered along beneath his burden. "Ho! who is there?" called out a curious old duck, still bobbing up and down in the circular dance. Hereupon the drummers stretched their necks till they strangled their song for a look at the stranger passing by. "Ho, Iktomi! Old fellow, pray tell us what you carry in your blanket. Do not hurry off! Stop! halt!" urged one of the singers. "Stop! stay! Show us what is in your blanket!" cried out other voices. "My friends, I must not spoil your dance. Oh, you would not care to see if you only knew what is in my blanket. Sing on! dance on! I must not show you what I carry on my back," answered Iktomi, nudging his own sides with his elbows. This reply broke up the ring entirely. Now all the ducks crowded about Iktomi. "We must see what you carry! We must know what is in your blanket!" they shouted in both his ears. Some even brushed their wings against the mysterious bundle. Nudging himself again, wily Iktomi said, "My friends, 't is only a pack of songs I carry in my blanket." "Oh, then let us hear your songs!" cried the curious ducks. At length Iktomi consented to sing his songs. With delight all the ducks flapped their wings and cried together, "Hoye! hoye!" Iktomi, with great care, laid down his bundle on the ground. "I will build first a round straw house, for I never sing my songs in the open air," said he. Quickly he bent green willow sticks, planting both ends of each pole into the earth. These he covered thick with reeds and grasses. Soon the straw hut was ready. One by one the fat ducks waddled in through a small opening, which was the only entrance way. Beside the door Iktomi stood smiling, as the ducks, eyeing his bundle of songs, strutted into the hut. In a strange low voice Iktomi began his queer old tunes. All the ducks sat round-eyed in a circle about the mysterious singer. It was dim in that straw hut, for Iktomi had not forgot to cover up the small entrance way. All of a sudden his song burst into full voice. As the startled ducks sat uneasily on the ground, Iktomi changed his tune into a minor strain. These were the words he sang: "Istokmus wacipo, tuwayatunwanpi kinhan ista nisasapi kta," which is, "With eyes closed you must dance. He who dares to open his eyes, forever red eyes shall have." Up rose the circle of seated ducks and holding their wings close against their sides began to dance to the rhythm of Iktomi's song and drum. With eyes closed they did dance! Iktomi ceased to beat his drum. He began to sing louder and faster. He seemed to be moving about in the center of the ring. No duck dared blink a wink. Each one shut his eyes very tight and danced even harder. Up and down! Shifting to the right of them they hopped round and round in that blind dance. It was a difficult dance for the curious folk. At length one of the dancers could close his eyes no longer! It was a Skiska who peeped the least tiny blink at Iktomi within the center of the circle. "Oh! oh!" squawked he in awful terror! "Run! fly! Iktomi is twisting your heads and breaking your necks! Run out and fly! fly!" he cried. Hereupon the ducks opened their eyes. There beside Iktomi's bundle of songs lay half of their crowd -- flat on their backs. Out they flew through the opening Skiska had made as he rushed forth with his alarm. But as they soared high into the blue sky they cried to one another: "Oh! your eyes are red-red!" "And yours are red-red!" For the warning words of the magic minor strain had proven true. "Ah-ha!" laughed Iktomi, untying the four corners of his blanket, "I shall sit no more hungry within my dwelling." Homeward he trudged along with nice fat ducks in his blanket. He left the little straw hut for the rains and winds to pull down. Having reached his own teepee on the high level lands, Iktomi kindled a large fire out of doors. He planted sharp-pointed sticks around the leaping flames. On each stake he fastened a duck to roast. A few he buried under the ashes to bake. Disappearing within his teepee, he came out again with some huge seashells. These were his dishes. Placing one under each roasting duck, he muttered, "The sweet fat oozing out will taste well with the hard-cooked breasts." Heaping more willows upon the fire, Iktomi sat down on the ground with crossed shins. A long chin between his knees pointed toward the red flames, while his eyes were on the browning ducks. Just above his ankles he clasped and unclasped his long bony fingers. Now and then he sniffed impatiently the savory odor. The brisk wind which stirred the fire also played with a squeaky old tree beside Iktomi's wigwam. >From side to side the tree was swaying and crying in an old man's voice, "Help! I'll break! I'll fall!" Iktomi shrugged his great shoulders, but did not once take his eyes from the ducks. The dripping of amber oil into pearly dishes, drop by drop, pleased his hungry eyes. Still the old tree man called for help. "He! What sound is it that makes my ear ache!" exclaimed Iktomi, holding a hand on his ear. He rose and looked around. The squeaking came from the tree. Then he began climbing the tree to find the disagreeable sound. He placed his foot right on a cracked limb without seeing it. Just then a whiff of wind came rushing by and pressed together the broken edges. There in a strong wooden hand Iktomi's foot was caught. "Oh! my foot is crushed!" he howled like a coward. In vain he pulled and puffed to free himself. While sitting a prisoner on the tree he spied, through his tears, a pack of gray wolves roaming over the level lands. Waving his hands toward them, he called in his loudest voice, "He! Gray wolves! Don't you come here! I'm caught fast in the tree so that my duck feast is getting cold. Don't you come to eat up my meal." The leader of the pack upon hearing Iktomi's words turned to his comrades and said: "Ah! hear the foolish fellow! He says he has a duck feast to be eaten! Let us hurry there for our share!" Away bounded the wolves toward Iktomi's lodge. >From the tree Iktomi watched the hungry wolves eat up his nicely browned fat ducks. His foot pained him more and more. He heard them crack the small round bones with their strong long teeth and eat out the oily marrow. Now severe pains shot up from his foot through his whole body. "Hin-hin-hin!" sobbed Iktomi. Real tears washed brown streaks across his red-painted cheeks. Smacking their lips, the wolves began to leave the place, when Iktomi cried out like a pouting child, "At least you have left my baking under the ashes!" "Ho! Po!" shouted the mischievous wolves; "he says more ducks are to be found under the ashes! Come! Let us have our fill this once!" Running back to the dead fire, they pawed out the ducks with such rude haste that a cloud of ashes rose like gray smoke over them. "Hin-hin-hin!" moaned Iktomi, when the wolves had scampered off. All too late, the sturdy breeze returned, and, passing by, pulled apart the broken edges of the tree. Iktomi was released. But alas! he had no duck feast. As told by Zitkala-Sa (Gertrude Simmons Bonnin, 1876-1938)

Iktomi and the Coyote - Lakota AFAR off upon a large level land, a summer sun was shining bright. Here and there over the rolling green were tall bunches of coarse gray weeds. Iktomi in his fringed buckskins walked alone across the prairie with a black bare head glossy in the sunlight. He walked through the grass without following any well-worn footpath. >From one large bunch of coarse weeds to another he wound his way about the great plain. He lifted his foot lightly and placed it gently forward like a wildcat prowling noiselessly through the thick grass. He stopped a few steps away from a very large bunch of wild sage. From shoulder to shoulder he tilted his head. Still farther he bent from side to side, first low over one hip and then over the other. Far forward he stooped, stretching his long thin neck like a duck, to see what lay under a fur coat beyond the bunch of coarse grass. A sleek gray-faced prairie wolf! his pointed black nose tucked in between his four feet drawn snugly together; his handsome bushy tail wound over his nose and feet; a coyote fast asleep in the shadow of a bunch of grass! -- this is what Iktomi spied. Carefully he raised one foot and cautiously reached out with his toes. Gently, gently he lifted the foot behind and placed it before the other. Thus he came nearer and nearer to the round fur ball lying motionless under the sage grass. Now Iktomi stood beside it, looking at the closed eyelids that did not quiver the least bit. Pressing his lips into straight lines and nodding his head slowly, he bent over the wolf. He held his ear close to the coyote's nose, but not a breath of air stirred from it. "Dead!" said he at last. "Dead, but not long since he ran over these plains! See! there in his paw is caught a fresh feather. He is nice fat meat!" Taking hold of the paw with the bird feather fast on it, he exclaimed, "Why, he is still warm! I'll carry him to my dwelling and have a roast for my evening meal. Ah-ha!" he laughed, as he seized the coyote by its two fore paws and its two hind feet and swung him over head across his shoulders. The wolf was large and the teepee was far across the prairie. Iktomi trudged along with his burden, smacking his hungry lips together. He blinked his eyes hard to keep out the salty perspiration streaming down his face. All the while the coyote on his back lay gazing into the sky with wide open eyes. His long white teeth fairly gleamed as he smiled and smiled. "To ride on one's own feet is tiresome, but to be carried like a warrior from a brave fight is great fun!" said the coyote in his heart. He had never been borne on any one's back before and the new experience delighted him. He lay there lazily on Iktomi's shoulders, now and then blinking blue winks. Did you never see a birdie blink a blue wink? This is how it first became a saying among the plains people. When a bird stands aloof watching your strange ways, a thin bluish white tissue slips quickly over his eyes and as quickly off again; so quick that you think it was only a mysterious blue wink. Sometimes when children grow drowsy they blink blue winks, while others who are too proud to look with friendly eyes upon people blink in this cold bird-manner. The coyote was affected by both sleepiness and pride. His winks were almost as blue as the sky. In the midst of his new pleasure the swaying motion ceased. Iktomi had reached his dwelling place. The coyote felt drowsy no longer, for in the next instant he was slipping out of Iktomi's hands. He was falling, falling through space, and then he struck the ground with such a bump he did not wish to breathe for a while. He wondered what Iktomi would do, thus he lay still where he fell. Humming a dance-song, one from his bundle of mystery songs, Iktomi hopped and darted about at an imaginary dance and feast. He gathered dry willow sticks and broke them in two against his knee. He built a large fire out of doors. The flames leaped up high in red and yellow streaks. Now Iktomi returned to the coyote who had been looking on through his eyelashes. Taking him again by his paws and hind feet, he swung him to and fro. Then as the wolf swung toward the red flames, Iktomi let him go. Once again the coyote fell through space. Hot air smote his nostrils. He saw red dancing fire, and now he struck a bed of cracking embers. With a quick turn he leaped out of the flames. From his heels were scattered a shower of red coals upon Iktomi's bare arms and shoulders. Dumfounded, Iktomi thought he saw a spirit walk out of his fire. His jaws fell apart. He thrust a palm to his face, hard over his mouth! He could scarce keep from shrieking. Rolling over and over on the grass and rubbing the sides of his head against the ground, the coyote soon put out the fire on his fur. Iktomi's eyes were almost ready to jump out of his head as he stood cooling a burn on his brown arm with his breath. Sitting on his haunches, on the opposite side of the fire from where Iktomi stood, the coyote began to laugh at him. "Another day, my friend, do not take too much for granted. Make sure the enemy is stone dead before you make a fire!" Then off he ran so swiftly that his long bushy tail hung out in a straight line with his back. Taken from Old Indian Legends - As told by Zitkala-Sa (Gertrude Simmons Bonnin, 1876-1938)

Íkardlítuarssuk – Inuit ÍKARDLÍTUARSSUK, men say, had a little brother; they lived at a place where there were many other houses. One autumn the sea was frozen right out from the coast, without a speck of open water for a long way out. After this, there was great dearth and famine; at last their fellow-villagers began to offer a new kayak paddle as a reward for the one who should magic it away, but there was no wizard among the people of that village. Then it came about that Íkardlítuarssuk's little brother began to speak to  him thus: "Íkardlítuarssuk, how very nice it would be to win that new paddle!"  And then it was revealed that Íkardlítuarssuk had formerly sat on the knee  of one of those present when the wizards called up their helping spirits. Then it came about that Íkardlítuarssuk one evening began to call upon his  helping spirits. He called them up, and having called them up, went out, and having gone out, went down to the water's edge, crept in through a crack between the land and the ice, and started off, walking along the bottom of the sea. He walked along, and when he came to seaweed, it seemed as if there lay dogs  in among the weed. But these were sharks. Then on his way he saw a little house, and went towards it. When he came up to the entrance, it was narrow as the edge of a woman's knife. But he got in all the same, following that way which was narrow as the edge of a woman's knife. And when he came in, there sat the mother of Tôrnârssuk, the spirit who lived down there; she was sitting by her lamp and weeping. And picking behind her ears, she threw down many strange things. Inside her lamp were many birds that dived down, and inside the house were many seals that bobbed up. And now he began tickling the weeping woman as hard as he could, to  encourage her; and at last she was encouraged, and after this, p. 76 she freed a number of the birds, and then made a sign to many of the seals to swim out of the house. And when they swam out, there was one of the fjord seals which she liked so much that she plucked a few of the hairs from its back, that she might have it to make breeches of when it was caught. And when all this had been done, she went home, and went to rest without  saying a word. When they awoke next morning, the sea was quite dark ahead, and all the ice  had gone. But when the villagers came out, she said to them: "Do not kill more than one; if any of you should kill two, he will never  kill again." And furthermore she said:  "If any of you should catch a young fjord seal with a bare patch on its  back, you must give it to me to make breeches." When they came back, each of the hunters had made a catch; only one of them  had caught two. And the man who had caught two seals that day never after caught any seal at all when he rowed out, but all the others always made a catch when they rowed out, and some of them even caught several at a time. Thus it came about that Íkardlítuarssuk with the little brother won the new  paddle as a reward. Eskimo Folk-Tales, collected by Knud Rasmussen, translated and edited by W. Worster; London [1921] and is now in the public domain.

Igimarasugsuk - Inuit [This somewhat trifling but still curious story is well known to every child in Greenland; and one tale has also been got from Labrador, and is undoubtedly another reading of the same original, though much abridged and altered.] IT was said of Igimarasugsuk that he always lost his wives in a very short time, and always as quickly married again; but nobody knew that he always killed and ate his wives, as well as his little children. At last he married a girl who had a younger brother, and many relatives besides. Entering the house on his return from a reindeer- hunt, he one day said to his brother-in-law: "Pray go and fetch me my axe-thou wilt find it lying underneath the boat-pillars" (viz., pillars upon which the boat is laid during the winter); and at the same time Igimarasugsuk got up and followed him. On hearing the shrieks of her brother, the wife of Igimarasugsuk peeped out, and beheld him pursuing the former, and shortly after striking him on the head, so that he fell down dead on the spot. After this he ordered his wife to dress and boil some parts of the body of her brother. Igimarasugsuk now commenced eating, and offered a piece of an arm to his wife, insisting upon her eating with him; but she only feigned to do so, and concealed her portion under the ashes of the fire. Then the husband exclaimed, "I actually think thou art crying!" "No," she said; "I am only a little shy." After having devoured his brother-in- law, the husband now began to fatten his wife; and to this end ordered her to eat nothing but reindeer-tallow, and only drink as much as a small shell would hold. At last she grew so fat that she was not able to move about at all. One day he went away, after having securely shut the entrance to the summer-tent, fastening it with strong cords. When he had been gone a considerable time she took her knife, let herself fall down from the bench, and rolled herself as far as to the entry. By great efforts she crossed the threshold, and was now in the fore-room, where she cut the strings fastening the outer curtain. She then rolled herself down to a muddy pool and drank a great deal of water; after which she felt less heavy, and was able to get up and walk back. She re-entered the tent, stuffed out her jacket, put it on the bench with its back turned outward; and fastening the entrance well, she went away. But being convinced that her husband would shortly pursue her, she took her way down to a very large piece of drift-wood that had been hauled ashore, and she then worked a spell upon it, singing thus: "?issugssua? pingerssua?, ia-ha- ha, arape, ?upe, sipe, sipe sisaria." And forthwith the timber opened midways, and she entered it, again singing, "?issugssuak . . . . . . arape, mame, mamesisaria." Then it closed around her, leaving her in darkness. In the meantime she heard her husband coming on towards the spot. He had entered the tent, and seeing the stuffed jacket, he thrust his lance into it; but on discovering what it really was, he ran out, and following the footprints of his wife all the way to the timber, he stopped there, and she plainly heard him say: "Oh what a pity I waited so long in killing her! oh poor miserable me!" Then she heard him turn away and return several times; but every trace ending at the large timber, he at last went away, and she again sang ? issugssua?, arape, mame, mamesisaria., and instantly the drift-wood opening, she crept out and ran farther on. But lest he should overtake and discover her, she hid herself in a fox-hole. Every trace again ending here, she heard him digging the very earth with his hands; but he soon grew tired, and went away, returning and again going away as before, bemoaning himself in the same manner: "Oh what a pity, poor miserable man that I am!" Perceiving him to be gone, she again set off on her journey. Still, however, fearing him, she next took refuge behind some bushes. Again she heard him come and repeat his old lament: "What a pity I put off eating her so long!" and again going away, he immediately returned, saying, "Here every trace of her ends." Proceeding on her way, she now had a faint hope of reaching some inhabited place ere he could get up with her again. At length she caught sight of some people gathering berries in the country; but on perceiving her they were on the point of taking fright, when she cried out, "I am the wife of Igimarasugsuk." They now approached her, and taking hold of her hands, brought her to their home. Having arrived there she said: "Igimarasugsuk, who has the habit of eating his wives, has also eaten his brother-in-law; and if he really wants to get hold of me too, he will be sure to come and fetch me; and as he is very fond of entertainment, ye had better treat him civilly and politely." Soon after, he arrived; but she hid herself behind a skin curtain. The rest rose up and went out to welcome him, saying: "We trust thy people at home are quite well." "Yes, they are very well indeed," he answered. When he had entered they served a meal before him, and afterwards offered him a drum, saying, "Now let us have a little of thy performance." He took hold of the drum, but soon returned it to one of the others, saying, "Ye ought rather to entertain me;" and the other man, seizing the drum, began to sing: "Igimarasugsuk-the cruel man-who ate his wives." . . . At these words Igimarasugsuk blushed all over his face and down his throat; but when the singer continued, "and she was forced to eat of her own brother's arm," the wife came forward, saying, "No, indeed, I did not; I concealed my share beneath the ashes." They now caught hold of him, and the wife killed him with a lance, saying, "Dost thou remember thrusting thy lance into my stuffed jacket?" Taken from: The Eskimo of Siberia by Waldemar Bogoras;[Leiden & New York, 1913]

Igimarasugsuk – Inuit [This somewhat trifling but still curious story is well known to every child in Greenland; and one tale has also been got from Labrador, and is undoubtedly another reading of the same original, though much abridged and altered.] IT was said of Igimarasugsuk that he always lost his wives in a very short time, and always as quickly married again; but nobody knew that he always killed and ate his wives, as well as his little children. At last he married a girl who had a younger brother, and many relatives besides. Entering the house on his return from a reindeer-hunt, he one day said to his brother-in-law: "Pray go and fetch me my axe—thou wilt find it lying underneath the boat-pillars" (viz., pillars upon which the boat is laid during the winter); and at the same time Igimarasugsuk got up and followed him. On hearing the shrieks of her brother, the wife of Igimarasugsuk peeped out, and beheld him pursuing the former, and shortly after striking him on the head, so that he fell down dead on the spot. After this he ordered his wife to dress and boil some parts of the body of her brother. Igimarasugsuk now commenced eating, and offered a piece of an arm to his wife, insisting upon her eating with him; but she only feigned to do so, and concealed her portion under the ashes of the fire. Then the husband exclaimed, "I actually think thou art crying!" "No," she said; "I am only a little shy." After having devoured his brother-in-law, the husband now began to fatten his wife; and to this end ordered her to eat nothing but reindeer-tallow, and only drink as much as a small shell would hold. At last she grew so fat that she was not able to move about at all. One day he went away, after having securely shut the entrance to the summer-tent, p. 107 fastening it with strong cords. When he had been gone a considerable time she took her knife, let herself fall down from the bench, and rolled herself as far as to the entry. By great efforts she crossed the threshold, and was now in the fore-room, where she cut the strings fastening the outer curtain. She then rolled herself down to a muddy pool and drank a great deal of water; after which she felt less heavy, and was able to get up and walk back. She re-entered the tent, stuffed out her jacket, put it on the bench with its back turned outward; and fastening the entrance well, she went away. But being convinced that her husband would shortly pursue her, she took her way down to a very large piece of drift-wood that had been hauled ashore, and she then worked a spell upon it, singing thus: "ĸissugssuaĸ pingerssuaĸ, ia-ha-ha, arape, ĸupe, sipe, sipe sisaria." And forthwith the timber opened midways, and she entered it, again singing, "ĸissugssuak . . . . . . arape, mame, mamesisaria." Then it closed around her, leaving her in darkness. In the meantime she heard her husband coming on towards the spot. He had entered the tent, and seeing the stuffed jacket, he thrust his lance into it; but on discovering what it really was, he ran out, and following the footprints of his wife all the way to the timber, he stopped there, and she plainly heard him say: "Oh what a pity I waited so long in killing her! oh poor miserable me!" Then she heard him turn away and return several times; but every trace ending at the large timber, he at last went away, and she again sang ĸissugssuaĸ, &c. &c., and instantly the drift-wood opening, she crept out and ran farther on. But lest he should overtake and discover her, she hid herself in a fox-hole. Every trace again ending here, she heard him digging the very earth with his hands; but he soon grew tired, and went away, returning and again going away as before, bemoaning himself in the same manner: "Oh what a pity, poor miserable man that I am!" &c. &c. p. 108 Perceiving him to be gone, she again set off on her journey. Still, however, fearing him, she next took refuge behind some bushes. Again she heard him come and repeat his old lament: "What a pity I put off eating her so long!" and again going away, he immediately returned, saying, "Here every trace of her ends." Proceeding on her way, she now had a faint hope of reaching some inhabited place ere he could get up with her again. At length she caught sight of some people gathering berries in the country; but on perceiving her they were on the point of taking fright, when she cried out, "I am the wife of Igimarasugsuk." They now approached her, and taking hold of her hands, brought her to their home. Having arrived there she said: "Igimarasugsuk, who has the habit of eating his wives, has also eaten his brother-in-law; and if he really wants to get hold of me too, he will be sure to come and fetch me; and as he is very fond of entertainment, ye had better treat him civilly and politely." Soon after, he arrived; but she hid herself behind a skin curtain. The rest rose up and went out to welcome him, saying: "We trust thy people at home are quite well." "Yes, they are very well indeed," he answered. When he had entered they served a meal before him, and afterwards offered him a drum, saying, "Now let us have a little of thy performance." He took hold of the drum, but soon returned it to one of the others, saying, "Ye ought rather to entertain me;" and the other man, seizing the drum, began to sing: "Igimarasugsuk—the cruel man—who ate his wives." . . . At these words Igimarasugsuk blushed all over his face and down his throat; but when the singer continued, "and she was forced to eat of her own brother's arm," the wife came forward, saying, "No, indeed, I did not; I concealed my share beneath the ashes." They now caught hold of him, and the wife killed him with a lance, saying, "Dost thou remember thrusting thy lance into my stuffed jacket?" Tales and Traditions of the Eskimo, by Henry Rink; London [1875] and is now in the public domain. [Greenland]

Ice Man and the Messenger of Springtime - Ojibwa Ice Man was sitting in his birch-bark wigwam by the side of a frozen stream. His fire was almost out. He had grown very old and melancholy, and his hair was long and white. He was lonely, and day after day he heard nothing but the howling of winter storms sweeping snow across the land. One day as his fire was dying to its last orange ember, Ice Man saw a young man approaching his wigwam. The boy's cheeks were red, his eyes shone with pleasure, and he was smiling. He walked with a light and quick step. Around his forehead was a wreath of sweet grass, and he carried a bunch of flowers in one hand. "Come in, come in," Ice Man greeted him. "I am happy to see you. Tell me why you come here." "I am a messenger," replied the young man. "Ah, then I will tell you of my powers," said Ice Man. "Of the wonders I can perform. Then you shall do the same." From his medicine- bundle, the old man drew out a wonderfully carved pipe and filled it with aromatic leaves. He lighted it with one of the last coals from his dying fire, blew smoke to the four directions, and then handed the pipe to the young stranger. After the pipe ceremony was concluded, Ice Man said: "When I blow my breath, the streams stand still and the water becomes hard and clear as crystal." "When I breathe," replied the young man, "flowers spring up all over the land." "When I shake my long white hair," Ice Man declared, "snow covers the earth. At my command, leaves turn brown and fall from the trees, and my breath blows them away. The water birds rise from the lakes and fly to distant lands. The animals hide themselves from my breath, and the very ground turns as hard as flint." The young man smiled. "When I shake my hair," he said, "warm showers of soft rain fall upon the earth. The plants lift themselves with delight. My breath unlocks the frozen streams. With my voice I call back the birds, and wherever I walk in the forests their music fills the air." As he spoke, the sun rose higher in the sky and a gentle warmth came over the place. Ice Man sat silent, listening to a robin and a bluebird singing on top of his wigwam. Outside, the streams began to trickle, and the fragrance of flowers drifted on the soft spring breeze. The young man looked at Ice Man and saw tears flooding from his eyes. As the sun warmed the wigwam, the old man became smaller and smaller, and gradually melted completely away. Nothing remained of his fire. In its place was a small white flower with a pink border, the wild portulaca. People would call it Spring Beauty because it is among the first plants to signal the end of winter and the beginning of springtime.

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Love this! Sent from my iPhone (please excuse any typos) > On Jul 23, 2014, at 7:35 PM, Blue Panther via <cherokee@rootsweb.com> wrote: > > I'm free... Napi was standing up on this hillside and he was kind of leaning against the tree. All of sudden Napi noticed this centipede come by where he was standing. The centipede with its many legs were in full stride as he passed Napi. About that time Napi looked down at him and said, " Oh my, you've got so many legs. How in the world do you know which one to move next?" The little centipede just froze up. He got to thinking about that... what leg to move next and suddenly he just could not move any. So the centipede was stuck in that very spot. Just about that time, there was a cloud cover over this meadow down off the hillside. Through this cloud cover there was a sliver of light coming down and it covered this meadow. This centipede gazed on that and then he felt released. He saw the beauty and the presence of that light. His little legs were free and they started to move as he headed on his way > > unknown > ======*====== > List archives > http://archiver.rootsweb.ancestry.com/th/index?list=cherokee > ------------------------------- > To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to CHEROKEE-request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes in the subject and the body of the message

:} It's time for me to call it a day - Massachusetts. nn Take good care Barbara On 7/23/2014 10:10 PM, Alli :) via wrote: > Awe........well, at least the mystery got solved :) > > -----Original Message----- > From: cherokee-bounces@rootsweb.com [mailto:cherokee-bounces@rootsweb.com] > On Behalf Of Barbara Young via > Sent: Wednesday, July 23, 2014 7:57 PM > To: cherokee@rootsweb.com > Subject: Re: [Cherokee Circle] I'm free > > Sorry- that was for my daughter.:{ > > > ======*====== > List archives > http://archiver.rootsweb.ancestry.com/th/index?list=cherokee > ------------------------------- > To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to CHEROKEE-request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes in the subject and the body of the message >

Sorry- that was for my daughter.:{ On 7/23/2014 9:55 PM, Barbara Young via wrote: > This is cute>:} > > Did you just send me an email? I am not used to these popup messages > telling me I have new mail and I think I double clicked on it and it > disappeared - if it was yours - would you resend it. please? > On 7/23/2014 9:37 PM, Alli :) via wrote: >> Very interesting connection...... >> I've let things build up in my room so much so I didn't know where to start >> (let alone what to do with anything)......frozen. >> >> I've been working slowly on it today & have finally broke down the "wall" >> between my computer desk & my bed......now its more of a bump >> (tote)......slowly moving forward.......finally :) >> >> But now I have to go in a different direction & work on my dishes & laundry >> & dinner. Then tomorrow......I go to work :) >> >> Its nice to see the "light" & be able to move again :) >> >> Alli :) >> >> -----Original Message----- >> From: cherokee-bounces@rootsweb.com [mailto:cherokee-bounces@rootsweb.com] >> On Behalf Of Barbara Young via >> Sent: Wednesday, July 23, 2014 6:16 PM >> To: Blue Panther; cherokee@rootsweb.com >> Subject: Re: [Cherokee Circle] I'm free >> >> Hi Blue Panther, >> >> I have heard this story before but not the last part where he is set free. >> >> I complain when I have to do something and there are about a dozen things >> that have to be done before I can do it - decide to paint the walls and >> first have to pick out the paint, wash the wall, move the furniture, put >> down the paint cloth... and the time all of that is done you are too >> exhausted to paint. For years I have called that my "centipede syndrome". >> The two daughters tease me about it.:} Now I will look for that "sliver of >> light" and get on to the chore.:} >> >> Thank you :} >> Barbara >> >> >> ======*====== >> List archives >> http://archiver.rootsweb.ancestry.com/th/index?list=cherokee >> ------------------------------- >> To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to CHEROKEE-request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes in the subject and the body of the message >> > ======*====== > List archives > http://archiver.rootsweb.ancestry.com/th/index?list=cherokee > ------------------------------- > To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to CHEROKEE-request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes in the subject and the body of the message >

This is cute>:} Did you just send me an email? I am not used to these popup messages telling me I have new mail and I think I double clicked on it and it disappeared - if it was yours - would you resend it. please? On 7/23/2014 9:37 PM, Alli :) via wrote: > Very interesting connection...... > I've let things build up in my room so much so I didn't know where to start > (let alone what to do with anything)......frozen. > > I've been working slowly on it today & have finally broke down the "wall" > between my computer desk & my bed......now its more of a bump > (tote)......slowly moving forward.......finally :) > > But now I have to go in a different direction & work on my dishes & laundry > & dinner. Then tomorrow......I go to work :) > > Its nice to see the "light" & be able to move again :) > > Alli :) > > -----Original Message----- > From: cherokee-bounces@rootsweb.com [mailto:cherokee-bounces@rootsweb.com] > On Behalf Of Barbara Young via > Sent: Wednesday, July 23, 2014 6:16 PM > To: Blue Panther; cherokee@rootsweb.com > Subject: Re: [Cherokee Circle] I'm free > > Hi Blue Panther, > > I have heard this story before but not the last part where he is set free. > > I complain when I have to do something and there are about a dozen things > that have to be done before I can do it - decide to paint the walls and > first have to pick out the paint, wash the wall, move the furniture, put > down the paint cloth... and the time all of that is done you are too > exhausted to paint. For years I have called that my "centipede syndrome". > The two daughters tease me about it.:} Now I will look for that "sliver of > light" and get on to the chore.:} > > Thank you :} > Barbara > > > ======*====== > List archives > http://archiver.rootsweb.ancestry.com/th/index?list=cherokee > ------------------------------- > To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to CHEROKEE-request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes in the subject and the body of the message >

Hi Alli, I know exactly how you feel:}! Good luck:} I sent the story to one of my daughters and she wrote back that she enjoed it and that I should look for that "sliver of light". I told her I had already thanked Blue Panther for posting it and I was going to look for that light:}:} Just after that, I found my keys - I have been looking everywhere for them today - I finally found them wedged in a corner of my pocketbook.:}lol Take good care. Barbara On 7/23/2014 9:37 PM, Alli :) via wrote: > Very interesting connection...... > I've let things build up in my room so much so I didn't know where to start > (let alone what to do with anything)......frozen. > > I've been working slowly on it today & have finally broke down the "wall" > between my computer desk & my bed......now its more of a bump > (tote)......slowly moving forward.......finally :) > > But now I have to go in a different direction & work on my dishes & laundry > & dinner. Then tomorrow......I go to work :) > > Its nice to see the "light" & be able to move again :) > > Alli :) > > -----Original Message----- > From: cherokee-bounces@rootsweb.com [mailto:cherokee-bounces@rootsweb.com] > On Behalf Of Barbara Young via > Sent: Wednesday, July 23, 2014 6:16 PM > To: Blue Panther; cherokee@rootsweb.com > Subject: Re: [Cherokee Circle] I'm free > > Hi Blue Panther, > > I have heard this story before but not the last part where he is set free. > > I complain when I have to do something and there are about a dozen things > that have to be done before I can do it - decide to paint the walls and > first have to pick out the paint, wash the wall, move the furniture, put > down the paint cloth... and the time all of that is done you are too > exhausted to paint. For years I have called that my "centipede syndrome". > The two daughters tease me about it.:} Now I will look for that "sliver of > light" and get on to the chore.:} > > Thank you :} > Barbara > > > ======*====== > List archives > http://archiver.rootsweb.ancestry.com/th/index?list=cherokee > ------------------------------- > To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to CHEROKEE-request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes in the subject and the body of the message >