Fran, Almost everyone in this part of the country planted by the signs. I am in southeast Tennessee. I would venture to say that the practive likely began with the ancient astronomers of Europe or Great Britian. BUT that is not to say that the Cherokee of the last few hundred years didn't exercise the practice. The Cherokee's and whites lived together here for a few hundred years. Joyce Gaston Reece -----Original Message----- From: Fran West-Powe Sent: Wednesday, March 12, 2014 6:51 AM To: cherokee@rootsweb.com Subject: Re: [Cherokee Circle] Granddaddy's crops Joyce, enjoyed your note. Do you object to telling me if your family is Cherokee/Cherokee descent? As I am writing my life story for my children, grands, grgrands, etc., I like to name the source of info: where I found it. So, minus the given name, I would say something like: "planted by the moon is/was a Cherokee/Native practice". If you do not care to answer my question, that's okay and I am grateful you did write. It is noted that, for me, once I left my roots of S GA, N FL back country, locating a source of okra, was impossible in those days. Nor would okra grow up north to where I had re-located. Cooking without okra was difficult. Nowadays, one walks into the local market and there it is, frozen, but some of it seems to cook up well although just plain boiled as we used to do, does not taste the same so I don't do that anymore. BTW: tell your Mom to "keep on goin' '" and pretty soon she will catch up to me/my years. Again, thanks for writing and maybe you have answered the question for William and me. Fran Chinquapin On Sun, Mar 9, 2014 at 5:31 PM, Joyce Gaston Reece <bjreece@bellsouth.net>wrote: > Planting by the moon referred to the moons phases and the body parts each > phase represented. IE, my mom still says, at 86, that you needn't go > fishing when the signs were in the feet. Crops were planted by the > 'signs'. > The old Cardui Ladies Almanac was highly sought after in this part of the > country until the 1950's and 60's and we still see copies of it today. > > Mom would never allow us to chop the cabbage for kraut or churn the milk > when we had our 'monthlies'. Always said it would go bad. > > It's a funny thing about Okra. Seldom is it seen north of Tennessee. My > husband was born and raised in Bell Co, KY and Union Co., Indiana. He had > never seen Okra planted until he moved to McMinn, TN in the mid 1970's. I > can't recall never having it in our gardens. > > I also recall the first motorized push lawn mower we got. I'd mowed the > yard with a rotary until then. My older brother and sister weren't known > for helping out around the house a whole lot. > > We had white half runner beans, pink peanut beans and others that were > heirloom seeds so we planted them year after year. Field Corn or Silver > Queen Corn, occasionally some sweet golden queen corn. Planted the beans > to > climb the corn stalks. Cucumbers and yellow crookneck squash. > > Then there was the canning.......which I still do now > > > -----Original Message----- > From: wthreerivers@aol.com > Sent: Sunday, March 09, 2014 4:59 PM > To: cherokee@rootsweb.com > Subject: Re: [Cherokee Circle] Granddaddy's crops > > > I have to admit Fran that I am very curious and would know that as well > > William Threerivers > > > -----Original Message----- > From: Fran West-Powe <fwestpowe@gmail.com> > To: CHEROKEE <CHEROKEE@rootsweb.com> > Sent: Fri, Mar 7, 2014 3:54 pm > Subject: [Cherokee Circle] Granddaddy's crops > > > My Daddy who told us we are Cheery-kee, left the farm early on, picked > strawberries in FL and fished for folks for a living so I never knew him > to > farm. Daddy did teach me how to live alone in our environment so that I > did > not need planted food. > > Granddaddy was another matter. With a wife and seventeen kids to feed, he > planted literally from daylight to dark with his mule and plow. I remember > our gourds were always removed first off, then re-planted elsewhere. Corn > was next, sweet potatoes. Beans and squash were planted by Granny, as > was okra . As best as I can recall all these years later, they were > planted pretty much in that order. Granny planted her peppers, the little > round ones that my people fancied. Today, Burpee has something that looks > similar called birdseye. > > Granny took her "digging stick", dug holes with it, and we eleven > grandchildren filled each hole with the number of seeds Granny > wanted/needed. Granny made us all flour sack bags, filled them with the > seeds she wanted each to plant and we followed her around dropping our > seeds where, and as, she told us. The biggest one of us always followed > with water bucket. > > Granddaddy was crazy about his sweet potatoes. He said he kept moving his > vines up closer to the house due to the 'gators also liking sweet potatoes > and the closer Granddaddy went to the house, the closer went the 'gators. > Granddaddy started loosing his dogs, he called them Cherokee bulldogs, in > the back yard when his potato vines were moved the last time. Do y'all > believe those bulldogs attacked 'gators? I didn't see it, but then > Granddaddy said it was so and the 'gators quit coming up near the house, > so > something worked. > > We still lived a lot off the land: wild greens, green plums, berries of > many kinds, roots that grew down near the water, turtle, fish and > squirrel; > but the vegetables/peppers named above were planted using the methods > described. > > One other item of possible interest: Granddaddy planted by the "moon". > Now, > being a child, I don't know what that meant. Maybe a reader knows and will > explain. > > Fran > Chinkapin > ======*====== > 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 > > ======*====== > 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

Joyce, enjoyed your note. Do you object to telling me if your family is Cherokee/Cherokee descent? As I am writing my life story for my children, grands, grgrands, etc., I like to name the source of info: where I found it. So, minus the given name, I would say something like: "planted by the moon is/was a Cherokee/Native practice". If you do not care to answer my question, that's okay and I am grateful you did write. It is noted that, for me, once I left my roots of S GA, N FL back country, locating a source of okra, was impossible in those days. Nor would okra grow up north to where I had re-located. Cooking without okra was difficult. Nowadays, one walks into the local market and there it is, frozen, but some of it seems to cook up well although just plain boiled as we used to do, does not taste the same so I don't do that anymore. BTW: tell your Mom to "keep on goin' '" and pretty soon she will catch up to me/my years. Again, thanks for writing and maybe you have answered the question for William and me. Fran Chinquapin On Sun, Mar 9, 2014 at 5:31 PM, Joyce Gaston Reece <bjreece@bellsouth.net>wrote: > Planting by the moon referred to the moons phases and the body parts each > phase represented. IE, my mom still says, at 86, that you needn't go > fishing when the signs were in the feet. Crops were planted by the > 'signs'. > The old Cardui Ladies Almanac was highly sought after in this part of the > country until the 1950's and 60's and we still see copies of it today. > > Mom would never allow us to chop the cabbage for kraut or churn the milk > when we had our 'monthlies'. Always said it would go bad. > > It's a funny thing about Okra. Seldom is it seen north of Tennessee. My > husband was born and raised in Bell Co, KY and Union Co., Indiana. He had > never seen Okra planted until he moved to McMinn, TN in the mid 1970's. I > can't recall never having it in our gardens. > > I also recall the first motorized push lawn mower we got. I'd mowed the > yard with a rotary until then. My older brother and sister weren't known > for helping out around the house a whole lot. > > We had white half runner beans, pink peanut beans and others that were > heirloom seeds so we planted them year after year. Field Corn or Silver > Queen Corn, occasionally some sweet golden queen corn. Planted the beans > to > climb the corn stalks. Cucumbers and yellow crookneck squash. > > Then there was the canning.......which I still do now > > > -----Original Message----- > From: wthreerivers@aol.com > Sent: Sunday, March 09, 2014 4:59 PM > To: cherokee@rootsweb.com > Subject: Re: [Cherokee Circle] Granddaddy's crops > > > I have to admit Fran that I am very curious and would know that as well > > William Threerivers > > > -----Original Message----- > From: Fran West-Powe <fwestpowe@gmail.com> > To: CHEROKEE <CHEROKEE@rootsweb.com> > Sent: Fri, Mar 7, 2014 3:54 pm > Subject: [Cherokee Circle] Granddaddy's crops > > > My Daddy who told us we are Cheery-kee, left the farm early on, picked > strawberries in FL and fished for folks for a living so I never knew him to > farm. Daddy did teach me how to live alone in our environment so that I did > not need planted food. > > Granddaddy was another matter. With a wife and seventeen kids to feed, he > planted literally from daylight to dark with his mule and plow. I remember > our gourds were always removed first off, then re-planted elsewhere. Corn > was next, sweet potatoes. Beans and squash were planted by Granny, as > was okra . As best as I can recall all these years later, they were > planted pretty much in that order. Granny planted her peppers, the little > round ones that my people fancied. Today, Burpee has something that looks > similar called birdseye. > > Granny took her "digging stick", dug holes with it, and we eleven > grandchildren filled each hole with the number of seeds Granny > wanted/needed. Granny made us all flour sack bags, filled them with the > seeds she wanted each to plant and we followed her around dropping our > seeds where, and as, she told us. The biggest one of us always followed > with water bucket. > > Granddaddy was crazy about his sweet potatoes. He said he kept moving his > vines up closer to the house due to the 'gators also liking sweet potatoes > and the closer Granddaddy went to the house, the closer went the 'gators. > Granddaddy started loosing his dogs, he called them Cherokee bulldogs, in > the back yard when his potato vines were moved the last time. Do y'all > believe those bulldogs attacked 'gators? I didn't see it, but then > Granddaddy said it was so and the 'gators quit coming up near the house, so > something worked. > > We still lived a lot off the land: wild greens, green plums, berries of > many kinds, roots that grew down near the water, turtle, fish and squirrel; > but the vegetables/peppers named above were planted using the methods > described. > > One other item of possible interest: Granddaddy planted by the "moon". Now, > being a child, I don't know what that meant. Maybe a reader knows and will > explain. > > Fran > Chinkapin > ======*====== > 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 > > ======*====== > 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 >

How the Great Holy Being Honored Beloved Meadow Lark - Blackfoot by Long Standing Bear Chief , Herald-Republic Spring is here. In fact, it appears as though it never left. My elders often told stories that foretold the future based upon their long history of observing nature. These warm days in the waning days of winter remind me of the time one elder told me how to predict the coming winter. He said that when the geese fly high going south in the fall, that is a sign that the winter is going to be cold and full of snow. If, however, the geese fly low, it is a sign the winter is going to be warm, the way is has been for this record year of mild temperatures. Last fall, the geese did not go south until early winter. When I saw them, the geese were walking south, carrying a picnic basket. Every elder I knew as a child told stories. One such elder was my mother's father, who often invited me to sit on a block of wood on the shady side of their log home when I was a child. He was especially fond of waking very early to sit outside and listen and watch the world wake up. So my grandfather would wake me up very early, as the Sun Up Man was rising over the horizon, and tell me, "Grand Man, you better wake up and come help me greet the day. The birds and animals are starting to talk and sing for the Great Holy Being. It is a happy and holy time you cannot miss." So I would get up and we both would sit on a block of wood and enjoy the sun as it warmed those spring mornings. On one such occasion, my grandfather told me about the gift of the yellow shirt and the black necklace. This is the story he told me: There was a time when the earth was pure and clean, and all living things spoke the same language. The people, the things that fly, those that crawl, swim and live in the earth could talk to one another. There was peace and harmony because there was respect for everything and everyone. Then evil spirits came among the living beings on the earth. The things we speak of as being evil are those that are against life. They are bad people and things that do not want to see life lived in peace and harmony. Long ago, all living beings gave honor and respect to each other. In that long ago time, there was one nation of people who were good messengers. They were the bird people we now call Meadow Lark. They were people who liked visiting and keeping everyone informed about the good things of life. Whatever good was taking place in the camps, the joyful Meadow Lark sang about it so all beings of the universe would know about it. The song of the Meadow Lark is enjoyed by everyone. Every spring day when the sun is coming up, you can hear the pretty song of our Meadow Lark relatives. It is this time of day one hears all living things talking and singing to the Creator, iits-tsi-pah-tah-pii-op, the Source of Life. This is when Meadow Lark helps to pass the good word of what is going to happen during the coming day. This is the way Meadow Lark has always been. He follows the good road of the summer season, singing about the good things of life. All the relatives of Meadow Lark who lived on earth respected and loved him for the good he brought into their lives. They prayed for him and asked the Creator to bless Meadow Lark in some way. Because of this, the One Maker of All Life came to learn about the good that Meadow Lark was doing for his relatives. As a result of these prayers, asking for an honor to be given to Meadow Lark, The Great Holy Being gave a gift for all to see. The gift was the yellow shirt and black necklace that he proudly shows while he sings his summer song. This beautiful gift matches the pretty song we hear every day when all the creation sings and talks to the Creator in their own way. This story is to remind us that kindness is remembered for a long, long time. The gift of kindness is always rewarded. Listen to the song of the Meadow Lark Meadow Lark Long Standing Bear Chief, a member of the Blackfoot Nation, is a writer, educator and lecturer. Now living in Xuupinish (Yakama for Toppenish), he can be reached by writing P.O. Box 430, The Blackfoot Nation, Browning, Montana 594l7. E-mail pikanii@hotmail.com Meadowlark Notes: Sturnella neglecta (stir-NEL-ah nee-GLEK-tah) is the name scientists gave the western meadowlark, one of America's most popular birds. In fact, it may well be the most beloved bird on the vast grasslands of the Great Plains. Description: The western meadowlark is best recognized by the broad black "V" on its yellow breast. The upper parts are a mixture of brown and black that blend in well with its grassy habitat. Males and females are similar in appearance. They are also similar to the eastern meadowlark, but are darker. Western meadowlarks are about eight to eleven inches long and weigh about three ounces. Meadowlarks in Action: Eastern and western meadowlark male both defend their territory by singing while perched on tall weeds, posts, or trees and while in flight. The two species have very different songs. Indeed, it is the beauty of the western meadowlark's song that makes it so popular. Home: The home of the western meadowlark begins on the eastern edge of the Great Plains. From there it ranges west to the Pacific Coast and from southern Canada south to Mexico. In the northern part of its range, meadowlarks may move southward in the fall. Meadowlark habitat is primarily grasslands. In the mountains of Arizona and Colorado, meadowlarks range as high as 12,000 feet. Diet: Western meadowlarks are ground-feeding omnivores. About 65-70% of their diet consists of animal food, mostly insects. They will also eat the flesh of other birds found dead on roads. Plant foods include grains and weed seeds. Family Life: Meadowlarks nest on the ground in a small depression, which may be the hoof print of a cow or horse. They line their nests with grasses, pine needles, and horsehair. Sometimes their nests are covered with a dome of grasses with an entrance on the side. They often lay five eggs, though they may number three to seven, between April and August. The eggs are usually pinkish white, spotted and speckled with brown and lavender. The female incubates the eggs for thirteen to fourteen days. Both parents feed the young, which leave the nest when eleven or twelve days old. Meadowlarks usually raise two broods in a season. In the fall, meadowlark families gather in small flocks. Flocks of ten to seventy-five birds may be seen feeding together in fall and winter. At other times, pairs may forage together. Meadowlarks and People: The western meadowlark is one of the most popular birds over much of its range. In fact, it is the state bird of Montana, North Dakota, Wyoming, Nebraska, Kansas, and Oregon. At one time, it appears to have represented South Dakota as well. Only the cardinal has been officially adopted by more states. But the area covered by the "meadowlark states" is much greater than the eastern states represented by the cardinal.

How the great Glooskap fought the Giant Sorcerers at Saco, and turned them into Fish – Wabanaki N'karnayoo, of old times: Woodenit atok hagen Glusgahbe. This is a story of Glooskap (P.). There was a father who had three sons and a daughter: they were m'téoulin, or mighty magicians; they were giants; they ate men, women, and children; they did everything that was wicked and horrible; and the world grew tired of them and of all their abominations. Yet when this family was young, Glooskap had been their friend; he had made the father his adopted father, the brothers his brothers, the sister his sister.[1] Yet as they grew older, and he began to hear on every side of their wickedness, he said: "I will go among them and find if this be true. And if it be so, they shall die. I will not spare one of those who oppress and devour men, I do not care who he may be." This family was at Samgadihawk, or Saco, on the sandy field which is in the Intervale or the summer bed of the Saco River, in the El-now-e-bit, the White Mountains, between Geh-sit-wah-zuch[2] and K'tchee penahbesk,[3] and near Oonahgemessuk weegeet, the Home of the Water Fairies.[4] Now the old man, the father of the evil magicians and his adopted father, had only one eye, and was half gray.[5] And Glooskap made himself like him,--there was not between them the difference of a hair; and having this form, he entered the wigwam and sat down by the old man. And the brothers, who killed everybody, not sparing one living soul, bearing a talking, looked in slyly, and seeing the new-comer, so like their father that they knew not which was which, said, "This is a great magician. But he shall be tried ere he goes, and that bitterly." Then the sister took the tail of a whale, and cooked it for the stranger to eat. But as it lay before him, on the platter and on his knees, the elder brother entered, and saying rudely, "This is too good for a beggar like you," took it away to his own wigwam. Then Glooskap spoke: "That which was given to me was mine; therefore I take it again." And sitting still he simply wished for it, and it came flying into the platter where it was before. So he ate it. Then the brothers said, "Indeed, he is a great magician. But he shall be tried ere he goes, and that bitterly." When he had eaten, they brought in a mighty bone, the jaw of a whale, and the eldest brother, with great ado, and using both his arms and all his strength, bent it a little. Then he handed it to Glooskap, who with his thumb and fingers snapped it like a pipe-stem. And the brothers said again, "Truly, this is a great magician. But he shall for all that be tried ere he goes, and that bitterly." Then they brought a great pipe full of the strongest tobacco; no man not a magician could have smoked it. And it was passed round: every one smoked; the brothers blew the smoke through their nostrils. But Glooskap filled it full, and, lighting it, burnt all the tobacco to ashes at one pull, and blew all the smoke through his nostrils at one puff. Then the brothers said again in anger, "This is indeed a great magician. Yet he shall be tried again ere he goes, and that bitterly." But they never said it again. And they still tried to smoke with him, and the wigwam was closed; they hoped to smother him in smoke, but he sat and puffed away as if he had been on a mountain-top, till they could bear it no longer. And one said, "This is idle; let us go and play at ball." The place where they were to play was on the sandy plain of Samgadihawk, or Saco, on the bend of the river.[6] And the game begun; but Glooskap found that the ball with which they played was a hideous skull; it was alive and snapped at his heels, and had he been as other men and it had bitten him, it would have taken his foot off. Then Glooskap laughed, and said, "So this is the game you play. Good, but let us all play with our own balls." So he stepped up to a tree on the edge of the river-bed and broke off the end of a bough, and it turned into a skull ten times more terrible than the other. And the magicians ran before it as it chased them as a lynx chases rabbits; they were entirely beaten. Then Glooskap stamped on the sand, and the waters rose and came rushing fearfully from the mountains adown the river-bed; the whole land rang with their roar. Now Glooskap sang a magic song, which changes all beings, and the three brothers and their father became the chinahmess, a fish which is as long and large as a man, and they went headlong down on the flood, to the deep sea, to dwell there forever. And the magicians had on, each of them, a wampum collar; wherefore the chinahmess has beneath its head, as one may say, round its neck, the wampum collar, as may be seen to this day. And they were mighty m'téoulin in their time; but they were tried before they went, and that bitterly. Yes, seewass, my brother, this is a true story. For Glus-gah-be was a great man in his day, and the day will come when I shall go to him and see him.[7] Footnotes: [1] The Indians make formal adoptions of relatives of every grade, and in addition to this use all the terms of relationship as friendly greetings. This is in fact made apparent in all the stories in this collection. [2] Geh-sit-wah-zuch, "many mountains" (Pen.). Mount Kearsarge, so called from the several lesser peaks around it. [3] K'tchee penabesk, "the great rock," a much more sensible and appropriate name than that of "Cathedral Rocks," which has been bestowed upon it; also chee penabsk. [4] Also called from a legend, Oonahgemessuk k'tubbee, the Water Fairies' Spring. This appropriate and beautiful name has been p. 124 rejected in favor of the ridiculously rococo term "Diana's Bath." As there is a "Diana's Bath "at almost every summer watering place in America, North Conway must of course have one. The absolute antipathy which the majority of Americans manifest for the aboriginal names, even in a translation, is really remarkable. [5] This would directly connect him with the beings which are half stone, like the Oonahgemessuk, or water-goblins, the dwellers in Katahdin, and the Eskimo elves. This will be referred to again. [6] I have an Indian stone pestle, or hominy pounder, which I picked up on the site of this ball-play. [7] This legend is from a single authority, Maria Saksis. Algonquin Legends of New England, or Myths and Folk Lore of the Micmac, Passamaquoddy, and Penobscot Tribes; by Charles G. Leland; Boston and New York; Houghton, Mifflin and Company, [1884] and is now in the public domain.

HI William and Fran, I am not Indian, but my father used to plant certain things at certain phases of the moon. He also would get his hair cut at certain phases - he felt it would grow slower if it were cut on a certain phase - it was either new or old moon but I can't remember which it was.:} He was from old yankee stock and the Indians taught them how to garden in their new very cold environment. Planting by the moon could have been one of things learned that carried on through the years. All the best Barbara in MA ----- Original Message ----- From: wthreerivers@aol.com To: cherokee@rootsweb.com Sent: Sunday, March 9, 2014 4:59:44 PM Subject: Re: [Cherokee Circle] Granddaddy's crops I have to admit Fran that I am very curious and would know that as well William Threerivers -----Original Message----- From: Fran West-Powe <fwestpowe@gmail.com> To: CHEROKEE <CHEROKEE@rootsweb.com> Sent: Fri, Mar 7, 2014 3:54 pm Subject: [Cherokee Circle] Granddaddy's crops My Daddy who told us we are Cheery-kee, left the farm early on, picked strawberries in FL and fished for folks for a living so I never knew him to farm. Daddy did teach me how to live alone in our environment so that I did not need planted food. Granddaddy was another matter. With a wife and seventeen kids to feed, he planted literally from daylight to dark with his mule and plow. I remember our gourds were always removed first off, then re-planted elsewhere. Corn was next, sweet potatoes. Beans and squash were planted by Granny, as was okra . As best as I can recall all these years later, they were planted pretty much in that order. Granny planted her peppers, the little round ones that my people fancied. Today, Burpee has something that looks similar called birdseye. Granny took her "digging stick", dug holes with it, and we eleven grandchildren filled each hole with the number of seeds Granny wanted/needed. Granny made us all flour sack bags, filled them with the seeds she wanted each to plant and we followed her around dropping our seeds where, and as, she told us. The biggest one of us always followed with water bucket. Granddaddy was crazy about his sweet potatoes. He said he kept moving his vines up closer to the house due to the 'gators also liking sweet potatoes and the closer Granddaddy went to the house, the closer went the 'gators. Granddaddy started loosing his dogs, he called them Cherokee bulldogs, in the back yard when his potato vines were moved the last time. Do y'all believe those bulldogs attacked 'gators? I didn't see it, but then Granddaddy said it was so and the 'gators quit coming up near the house, so something worked. We still lived a lot off the land: wild greens, green plums, berries of many kinds, roots that grew down near the water, turtle, fish and squirrel; but the vegetables/peppers named above were planted using the methods described. One other item of possible interest: Granddaddy planted by the "moon". Now, being a child, I don't know what that meant. Maybe a reader knows and will explain. Fran Chinkapin ======*====== 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

Planting by the moon referred to the moons phases and the body parts each phase represented. IE, my mom still says, at 86, that you needn't go fishing when the signs were in the feet. Crops were planted by the 'signs'. The old Cardui Ladies Almanac was highly sought after in this part of the country until the 1950's and 60's and we still see copies of it today. Mom would never allow us to chop the cabbage for kraut or churn the milk when we had our 'monthlies'. Always said it would go bad. It's a funny thing about Okra. Seldom is it seen north of Tennessee. My husband was born and raised in Bell Co, KY and Union Co., Indiana. He had never seen Okra planted until he moved to McMinn, TN in the mid 1970's. I can't recall never having it in our gardens. I also recall the first motorized push lawn mower we got. I'd mowed the yard with a rotary until then. My older brother and sister weren't known for helping out around the house a whole lot. We had white half runner beans, pink peanut beans and others that were heirloom seeds so we planted them year after year. Field Corn or Silver Queen Corn, occasionally some sweet golden queen corn. Planted the beans to climb the corn stalks. Cucumbers and yellow crookneck squash. Then there was the canning.......which I still do now -----Original Message----- From: wthreerivers@aol.com Sent: Sunday, March 09, 2014 4:59 PM To: cherokee@rootsweb.com Subject: Re: [Cherokee Circle] Granddaddy's crops I have to admit Fran that I am very curious and would know that as well William Threerivers -----Original Message----- From: Fran West-Powe <fwestpowe@gmail.com> To: CHEROKEE <CHEROKEE@rootsweb.com> Sent: Fri, Mar 7, 2014 3:54 pm Subject: [Cherokee Circle] Granddaddy's crops My Daddy who told us we are Cheery-kee, left the farm early on, picked strawberries in FL and fished for folks for a living so I never knew him to farm. Daddy did teach me how to live alone in our environment so that I did not need planted food. Granddaddy was another matter. With a wife and seventeen kids to feed, he planted literally from daylight to dark with his mule and plow. I remember our gourds were always removed first off, then re-planted elsewhere. Corn was next, sweet potatoes. Beans and squash were planted by Granny, as was okra . As best as I can recall all these years later, they were planted pretty much in that order. Granny planted her peppers, the little round ones that my people fancied. Today, Burpee has something that looks similar called birdseye. Granny took her "digging stick", dug holes with it, and we eleven grandchildren filled each hole with the number of seeds Granny wanted/needed. Granny made us all flour sack bags, filled them with the seeds she wanted each to plant and we followed her around dropping our seeds where, and as, she told us. The biggest one of us always followed with water bucket. Granddaddy was crazy about his sweet potatoes. He said he kept moving his vines up closer to the house due to the 'gators also liking sweet potatoes and the closer Granddaddy went to the house, the closer went the 'gators. Granddaddy started loosing his dogs, he called them Cherokee bulldogs, in the back yard when his potato vines were moved the last time. Do y'all believe those bulldogs attacked 'gators? I didn't see it, but then Granddaddy said it was so and the 'gators quit coming up near the house, so something worked. We still lived a lot off the land: wild greens, green plums, berries of many kinds, roots that grew down near the water, turtle, fish and squirrel; but the vegetables/peppers named above were planted using the methods described. One other item of possible interest: Granddaddy planted by the "moon". Now, being a child, I don't know what that meant. Maybe a reader knows and will explain. Fran Chinkapin ======*====== 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

I have to admit Fran that I am very curious and would know that as well William Threerivers -----Original Message----- From: Fran West-Powe <fwestpowe@gmail.com> To: CHEROKEE <CHEROKEE@rootsweb.com> Sent: Fri, Mar 7, 2014 3:54 pm Subject: [Cherokee Circle] Granddaddy's crops My Daddy who told us we are Cheery-kee, left the farm early on, picked strawberries in FL and fished for folks for a living so I never knew him to farm. Daddy did teach me how to live alone in our environment so that I did not need planted food. Granddaddy was another matter. With a wife and seventeen kids to feed, he planted literally from daylight to dark with his mule and plow. I remember our gourds were always removed first off, then re-planted elsewhere. Corn was next, sweet potatoes. Beans and squash were planted by Granny, as was okra . As best as I can recall all these years later, they were planted pretty much in that order. Granny planted her peppers, the little round ones that my people fancied. Today, Burpee has something that looks similar called birdseye. Granny took her "digging stick", dug holes with it, and we eleven grandchildren filled each hole with the number of seeds Granny wanted/needed. Granny made us all flour sack bags, filled them with the seeds she wanted each to plant and we followed her around dropping our seeds where, and as, she told us. The biggest one of us always followed with water bucket. Granddaddy was crazy about his sweet potatoes. He said he kept moving his vines up closer to the house due to the 'gators also liking sweet potatoes and the closer Granddaddy went to the house, the closer went the 'gators. Granddaddy started loosing his dogs, he called them Cherokee bulldogs, in the back yard when his potato vines were moved the last time. Do y'all believe those bulldogs attacked 'gators? I didn't see it, but then Granddaddy said it was so and the 'gators quit coming up near the house, so something worked. We still lived a lot off the land: wild greens, green plums, berries of many kinds, roots that grew down near the water, turtle, fish and squirrel; but the vegetables/peppers named above were planted using the methods described. One other item of possible interest: Granddaddy planted by the "moon". Now, being a child, I don't know what that meant. Maybe a reader knows and will explain. Fran Chinkapin ======*====== 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

How The Gopher Raced With The Runners Of K'iákime – Zuñi There was a time in the days of the ancients when the runners of K'iákime were famed above those of all other cities in the Valley of Shíwina for their strength, endurance, and swiftness of foot. In running the tikwa, or kicked-stick race, they overcame, one after another, the runners of Shíwina or Zuñi, of Mátsaki or the Salt City, of Pínawa or the Town of the Winds, and in fact all who dared to challenge them or to accept their challenges. The people of Shíwina and Mátsaki did not give up easily. They ran again and again, only to be beaten and to lose the vast piles of goods and precious things which they had staked or bet; and at last they were wholly disheartened and bereft of everything which without shame a man might exhibit for betting. So the people of the two towns called a council, and the old men and runners gathered and discussed what could be done that the runners of K'iákime might be overcome. They thought of all the wise men and wise beings they knew of; one after another of them was mentioned, and at last a few prevailed in contending that for both wisdom and cunning or craft the Gopher took precedence over all those who had been mentioned. Forthwith a young man was dispatched to find an old Gopher who lived on the side of the hill near which the race-course began. He was out sunning himself, and finishing a cellar, when the young man approached him, and he called out: "Ha, grandson! Don't bother me this morning; I am busy digging my cellars." The young man insisted that he came with an important message from his people. So the old Gopher ceased his work, and listened attentively while the young man related to him the difficulties they were in. Said he: "Go back, my grandson, and tell your people to challenge the runners of K'iákime to run the race of the kicked stick with a runner whom they have chosen, a single one, the fourth day from this day; and tell your people, moreover, that I will run the race for them, providing only that the runners of K'iákime will permit me to go my own way, on my own road, which as you know runs underground." The youth thanked the old Gopher and was about to retire when the fat-sided, heavy-cheeked old fellow called to him to hold on a little. "Mind you," said he. "Tell your people also that they shall bet for me only two things--red paint and sacred yellow pollen. These shall, as it were, be the payment for my exertions, if I win, as I prize this sort of possession above all else." The young man returned and reported what the Gopher had said. Thereupon the people of Shíwina and Mátsaki sent a challenge to the people of K'iákime for a race, saying: "We bet all that we have against what you have won from us from time to time that our runner, the Gopher, who lives beside the beginning of our race-course, will beat you in the race, which we propose shall be the fourth day from this day. The only condition we name is, that the Gopher shall be permitted to run in his own way, on his own road, which is underground." Right glad were the runners of K'iákime to run against anyone proposed by those whom they had so often beaten. They hesitated not a moment in replying that they would run against the Gopher or any other friend of the people of Mátsaki and Shíwina, stipulating only that the Gopher, if he ran underground, should appear at the surface occasionally, that they might know where he was. So it was arranged, and the acceptance of the challenge was reported to the Gopher, and the stipulation also which was named by the runners of K'iákime. That night the old Gopher went to his younger brother, old like himself, heavy-cheeked, gray-and-brown-coated, and dusty with diggings of his cellars. "My younger brother," said the old Gopher, "the fourth day from this day I am to run a race. I shall start at the beginning of the race-course of the people of K'iákime over here, which is near my home, as you know. There I shall dig two holes; one at the beginning of the race-course, the other a little farther on. Now, here at your home, near the Place of the Scratching Bushes, do you dig a hole, down below where the race-course passes your place, off to one side of it, and another hole a little beyond the first. The means by which I shall be distinguished as a racer will be a red plume tied to my head. Do you also procure a red plume and tie it to your head. When you hear the thundering of the feet of the racers, run out and show yourself for a minute, and rush into the other hole as fast as you can." "I understand what you would have of me, and right gladly will I do it. It would please me exceedingly to take down the pride of those haughty runners of K'iákime, or at least to help in doing it," replied the younger brother. The old Gopher went on to the Sitting Space of the Red Shell, where dwelt another of his younger brothers precisely like himself and the one he had already spoken to, near whose home the race-course also ran. To him he communicated the same information, and gave the same directions. Then he went on still farther to the place called K'ópak'yan, where dwelt another of his younger brothers. To him also he gave the same directions; and to still another younger brother, who dwelt beneath the base of the two broad pillars of Thunder Mountain, at the last turning-point of the race-course; and to another brother, who dwelt at the Place of the Burnt Log; and lastly to another brother quite as cunning and inventive as himself, who dwelt just below K'iákime where the racecourse turned toward its end. When all these arrangements had been made, the old Gopher went back and settled himself comfortably in his nest. Bright and early on the fourth day preparations were made for the race. The runners of K'iákime had been fasting and training in the sacred houses, and they came forth stripped and begirt for the racing, carrying their stick. Then came the people of Mátsaki and Shíwina, who gathered on the plain, and there they waited. But they waited not long, for soon the old Gopher appeared close in their midst, popping out of the ground, and on his head was a little red plume. He placed the stick which had been prepared for him, on the ground, where he could grab it with his teeth easily, saying: "Of course, you will excuse me if I do not kick my stick, since my feet are so short that I could not do so. On the other hand," he said to the runners, "you do not have to dig your way as I do. Therefore, we are evenly matched." The runners of K'iákime, contemptuously laughing, asked him why he did not ask for some privilege instead of talking about things which meant nothing to them. At last the word was given. With a yell and a spring, off dashed the racers of K'iákime, gaily kicking their stick before them. Grabbing his stick in his teeth, into the ground plunged the old Gopher. Fearful lest their runner should be beaten, the people of Shíwina and Mátsaki ran to a neighboring hill, watching breathlessly for him to appear somewhere in the course of the race above the plain. Away over the plain in a cloud of dust swept the runners of K'iákime. They were already far off, when suddenly, some distance before them, out of the ground in the midst of the race-course, popped the old Gopher, to all appearance, the red plume dusty, but waving proudly on his forehead. After looking round at the runners, into the ground he plunged again. The people of Shíwina and Mátsaki yelled their applause. The runners of K'iákime, astounded that the Gopher should be ahead of them, redoubled their efforts. When they came near the Place of the Red Shell, behold! somewhat muddy round the eyes and nose, out popped the old Gopher again, to all appearance. Of course it was his brother, the red plume somewhat heavy with dirt, but still waving on his forehead. On rushed the runners, and they had no sooner neared K'ópak'yan than again they saw the Gopher in advance of them, now apparently covered with sweat,--for this cunning brother had provided himself with a little water which he rubbed over his fur and made it all muddy, as though he were perspiring and had already begun to grow tired. He came out of his hole and popped into the other less quickly than the others had done; and the runners, who were not far behind him, raised a great shout and pushed ahead. When they thought they had gained on him, behold! in their pathway, all bedraggled with mud, apparently the same old Gopher appeared, moving with some difficulty, and then disappeared under the ground again. And so on, the runners kept seeing the Gopher at intervals, each time a little worse off than before, until they came to the last turning-place; and just as they reached it, almost in their midst appeared the most bedraggled and worn out of all the Gophers. They, seeing the red plume on his crest, almost obscured by mud and all flattened out, regarded him as surely the same old Gopher. Finally, the original old Gopher, who had been quietly sleeping meanwhile, roused himself, and besoaking himself from the tip of his nose to the end of his short tail, wallowed about in the dirt until he was well plastered with mud, half closing his eyes, and crawled out before the astonished multitude at the end of the goal, a sorry-looking object indeed, far ahead of the runners, who were rapidly approaching. A great shout was raised by those who were present, and the runners of K'iákime for the first time lost all of their winnings, and had the swiftness, or at least all their confidence, taken out of them, as doth the wind lose its swiftness when its legs are broken. Thus it was in the days of the ancients. By the skill and cunning of the Gopher--who, by digging his many holes and pitfalls, is the opponent of all runners, great and small--was the race won against the swiftest runners among the youth of our ancients. Therefore, to this day the young runners of Zuñi, on going forth to prepare for a race, take with them the sacred yellow pollen and red paint; and they make for the gophers, round about the race-course in the country, beautiful little plumes, and they speak to them speeches in prayer, saying: "Behold, O ye Gophers of the plains and the trails, we race! And that we may have thy aid, we give ye these things, which are unto ye and your kind most precious, that ye will cause to fall into your holes and crannies and be hidden away in the dark and the dirt the sticks that are kicked by our opponents." Thus shortens my story. Zuñi Folk Tales, by Frank Hamilton Cushing [1901]. Introduction by John Wesley Powell. and is now in the public domain.

How the Gods of the Kâ'kâ Counselled the Duck - Zuni "Yes, we know him well!" replied the gods. "If our sacred breath breathed his father and his mother when days were new and of us shall they be numbered when time is full. See! therefore because changed violently of his grief and sore hardships while yet but k'yaíyuna he has become hlímna and yet unchanging, since finished so; yes, and unceasing as one of ourselves, thus shall he remain. This is also true of his brother and sister who dwell with their uncouth offspring in the mountain hard by. Go upward, now, and with your tinkling shells entice these children to the lake shore. They will talk loudly of the marvel as in their wilder moments they always talk of anything new that's happened. And they will give no peace to the old ones until these come down also in order to see you! You will be wearing the sacred shells and strands ot' K'yäk'lu with which he used to count his talks in other days when days were new to men. When they see these, look! they will become instantly grave and listen to your words, for they will know the things they watched him wear and coveted when they were still little, all in the days that were new to men. Bid them immediately make a litter of poles alld reeds and bear it away, the father of them all with his children (but not the Sister-mother, to sore hurt the love of a older brother for a youngest sister, which is why he so pitiably mourns even now) to where, in the far plain, K'yäk'lu sits so mourning. And the greet him, and bring him here. They may not enter, but they may point the way and tell him how, fearlessly, to win into our presence, for he is to become as one even of ourselves; yes, and they are, too, save that they stayed themselves for the ages, midway between the living and the dead, by their own rash acts did they stay themselves so, which is why it is become their office to point the way of the again living to the newly dead forever. Tell the grandchild, your father, K'yäk'ku, to mourn no longer, nor to delay, but to get himself here straightway so that he may learn from us of his people of the meanings of past times, and of how it shall be in times to come." http://www.wsu.edu:8000/~dee/NAANTH/ZGODDUCK.HTM

How The Frogs Honored The Dead – Tlingit One time, when they were afraid of being attacked, all of the KîksA'dî and Kâ'gwAntân encamped on KAnAsq!ê' (St. Lazaria island). There are two parts to this island separated at high tide, and the KîksA'dî encamped upon one, while the Kâ'gwAntân lived upon the other. On the same island there is also a small salt water pond at the bottom of which was a creature called L!în, and, being pressed for food on account of their fear of the enemy, the allies often tried to bail out this pond when the tide left it, to get at the sea animal. While the people were there, a chief of the Kâ'gwAntân died, and, after he had been in the house among his friends for eight days, one of his friends said to the KîksA'dî, "Take care of his dead body." All the Kâ'gwAntân chiefs marry Kîkca' (KîksA'dî women). But the real frog tribe thought they were the ones who were summoned, because they are also Kîkca'. Then all the KîksA'dî made ready to go ashore to burn his dead body. They chopped much wood and made a fire, while all of the KîksA'dî and Kâ'gwAntân stood around it, and everyone felt badly. All at once a big frog, as long as the hand and wrist, jumped out from the place where the fire was and began making a noise. All looked at it. It had come out because the frogs were the ones to whom the Kâ'gwAntân had spoken. After that it jumped into the fire and burned up. Then all the people tied themselves up (gA'xAnî) (i. e., tied their blankets around their waists, as they did when they were engaged in lifting the sun [1]) out of respect to the chief. All felt very badly about the dead man, and one person said, "It will not be like draining out the L!în lake (L!în â'ya). Let us go to war." So they captured slaves and killed them for the dead man, and, when they put food into the fire for him, they also named the frog that it might receive some as well. Footnotes [1] See Twenty-sixth Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology, Abstract: How The Frogs Honored The Dead A Kâ'gwAntân chief having died, one of his friends called upon the KîksA'dî to take care of his body. The frog people, hearing this, thought that they were meant, and when the corpse was being burnt a big frog jumped out from the place, made a noise, and then jumped into the flames. Afterward they captured slaves for the dead man, and, when they put food into the fire for him, they named the frog as well. Tlingit Myths and Texts, by John R. Swanton; Smithsonian Institution; Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 39; Washington, Government Printing Office; [1909] and is now in the public domain.

My Daddy who told us we are Cheery-kee, left the farm early on, picked strawberries in FL and fished for folks for a living so I never knew him to farm. Daddy did teach me how to live alone in our environment so that I did not need planted food. Granddaddy was another matter. With a wife and seventeen kids to feed, he planted literally from daylight to dark with his mule and plow. I remember our gourds were always removed first off, then re-planted elsewhere. Corn was next, sweet potatoes. Beans and squash were planted by Granny, as was okra . As best as I can recall all these years later, they were planted pretty much in that order. Granny planted her peppers, the little round ones that my people fancied. Today, Burpee has something that looks similar called birdseye. Granny took her "digging stick", dug holes with it, and we eleven grandchildren filled each hole with the number of seeds Granny wanted/needed. Granny made us all flour sack bags, filled them with the seeds she wanted each to plant and we followed her around dropping our seeds where, and as, she told us. The biggest one of us always followed with water bucket. Granddaddy was crazy about his sweet potatoes. He said he kept moving his vines up closer to the house due to the 'gators also liking sweet potatoes and the closer Granddaddy went to the house, the closer went the 'gators. Granddaddy started loosing his dogs, he called them Cherokee bulldogs, in the back yard when his potato vines were moved the last time. Do y'all believe those bulldogs attacked 'gators? I didn't see it, but then Granddaddy said it was so and the 'gators quit coming up near the house, so something worked. We still lived a lot off the land: wild greens, green plums, berries of many kinds, roots that grew down near the water, turtle, fish and squirrel; but the vegetables/peppers named above were planted using the methods described. One other item of possible interest: Granddaddy planted by the "moon". Now, being a child, I don't know what that meant. Maybe a reader knows and will explain. Fran Chinkapin

How the Four Winds Were Named – Haudenosaunee WHEN the world was first made, says the old Iroquois Grandmother, Gaoh, the mighty Master of the Winds dwelt in his lodge in the Western Sky. So fierce was he and so strong that had he wandered freely through the heavens, he would have torn the world in pieces. So he stayed in the Western Sky, and, blowing a loud blast, summoned the creatures of Earth to ask them for help. And when his call had ceased, and its thundering echoes had died away, Gaoh opened the north door of his lodge wide across the Sky. Immediately the thick snow fell, and a fierce wind tore around the lodge. And lo! there came lumbering up the Sky, Yaogah, the bulky Bear. Battling with the storm and growling loudly, the Bear took his place at Gaoh's north door. "O Bear, you are strong," said Gaoh. "You can freeze the waters with your cold breath. In your broad arms you can carry the mad tempest, and clasp the whole Earth when I bid you destroy. Therefore you shall live in the North, and watch my herd of Winter Winds when I let them loose upon the Earth. You shall be the North Wind. Enter your house." And straightway the Bear bent his head, and Gaoh bound him with a leash, and placed him in the Northern Sky. Then Gaoh trumpeted a shrill blast, and threw open the west door of his lodge, summoning the creatures. Clouds began to cover the Sky. An ugly darkness filled the world. Strange voices shrieked and snarled around the lodge. And with a noise like great claws tearing the heavens, Dajoji, the Panther, sprang to Gaoh's west door. "O Panther, you are ugly and fierce," said Gaoh. "You can tear down the forests. You can carry the whirlwind on your strong back. You can toss the waves of the sea high into the air, and snarl at the tempests if they stray from my door. You shall be the West Wind. Enter your house." And straightway the Panther bent his head, and Gaoh bound him with a leash, and placed him in the Western Sky. Then Gaoh sent forth a sighing call, and threw open the east door of his lodge, summoning the creatures. There arose a sobbing and a moaning. The Sky shivered in the cold rain. The Earth lay in grey mist. There came a crackling sound like the noise of great horns crashing through forest trees, and Oyandone, the mighty Moose, stood stamping his hoofs at Gaoh's east door. "O Moose," said Gaoh, "your breath blows the grey mist and sends down the cold rain upon the Earth. Your horns spread wide and can push back the trees of the forests to widen the paths for my storms. With your swift hoofs you can race with the winds. You shall be the East Wind. Enter your house." And straightway the Moose bent his head, and Gaoh bound him with a leash, and placed him in the Eastern Sky. Yet Gaoh was not content, for there remained still one door to open. He threw it wide to the south, and in gentle tones like sweetest music summoned the creatures. A caressing breeze stole through the lodge, and with it came the fragrance of a thousand sweet flowers, the soft call of babbling brooks, and the voices of birds telling the secrets of Summer. And daintily lifting her feet, ran Neoga, the brown-eyed Fawn, and stood timidly waiting at Gaoh's south door. "O gentle Fawn," said Gaoh, "you walk with the Summer Sun, and know its most beautiful paths. You are kind like the Sunbeam, and feed on dew and fragrance. You will rule my flock of Summer breezes in peace and joy. You shall be the South Wind. Enter your house." And straightway the Fawn bent her head, and Gaoh bound her with a leash, and placed her in the Southern Sky. And now, when the North Wind blows strong, the old Iroquois Grandmother says, "The Bear is prowling in the Sky." And if the West Wind snarls around the tent door, she says, "The Panther is whining." When the East Wind chills the tent with mist and rain, she says, "The Moose is spreading his breath." But when the South Wind caresses her cheek, and wafts soft voices and sweet odors through the tent, she smilingly says, "The Fawn is going home to her mother, the Doe." The Red Indian Fairy Book: For the Children's Own Reading and for Story-Tellers, by Frances Jenkins Olcott, with illustrations by Frederick Richardson, Houghton Mifflin Company, 1917. Public domain.

How The Fog Came - Inuit THERE was a Mountain Spirit, which stole corpses from their graves and ate them when it came home. And a man, wishing to see who did this thing, let himself be buried alive. The Spirit came, and saw the new grave, and dug up the body, and carried it off. The man had stuck a flat stone in under his coat, in case the Spirit should try to stab him. On the way, he caught hold of all the willow twigs whenever they passed any bushes, and made himself as heavy as he could, so that the Spirit was forced to put forth all its strength. At last the Spirit reached its house, and flung down the body on the floor. And then, being weary, it lay down to sleep, while its wife went out to gather wood for the cooking. "Father, father, he is opening his eyes," cried the children, when the dead man suddenly looked up. "Nonsense, children, it is a dead body, which I have dropped many times among the twigs on the way," said the father. But the man rose up, and killed the Mountain Spirit and its children, and fled away as fast as he could. The Mountain Spirit's wife saw him, and mistook him for her husband. "Where are you going?" she cried. The man did not answer, but fled on. And the woman, thinking something must be wrong, ran after him. And as he was running over level ground, he cried: "Rise up, hills!" And at once many hills rose up. Then the Mountain Spirit's wife lagged behind, having to climb up so many hills. The man saw a little stream, and sprang across. "Flow over your banks!" he cried to the stream. And now it was impossible for her to get across. "How did you get across?" cried the woman. "I drank up the water. Do you likewise." And the woman began gulping it down. Then the man turned round towards her, and said: "Look at the tail of your tunic; it is hanging down between your legs." And when she bent down to look, her belly burst. And as she burst, a steam rose up out of her, and turned to fog, which still floats about to this day among the hills. Taken from: Eskimo Folk-Tales, collected by Knud Rasmussen, translated and edited by W. Worster, [London, 1921]

How the Fly Saved the River – Ojibwa Many, many years ago when the world was new, there was a beautiful river. Fish in great numbers lived in this river, and its water was so pure and sweet that all the animals came there to drink. A giant moose heard about the river and he too came there to drink. But he was so big, and he drank so much, that soon the water began to sink lower and lower. The beavers were worried. The water around their lodges was disappearing. Soon their homes would be destroyed. The muskrats were worried, too. What would they do if the water vanished? How could they live? The fish were very worried. The other animals could live on land if the water dried up, but they couldn't. All the animals tried to think of a way to drive the moose from the river, but he was so big that they were too afraid to try. Even the bear was afraid of him. At last the fly said he would try to drive the moose away. All the animals laughed and jeered. How could a tiny fly frighten a giant moose? The fly said nothing, but that day, as soon as the moose appeared, he went into action. He landed on the moose's foreleg and bit sharply. The moose stamped his foot harder, and each time he stamped, the ground sank and the water rushed in to fill it up. Then the fly jumped about all over the moose, biting and biting and biting until the moose was in a frenzy. He dashed madly about the banks of the river, shaking his head, stamping his feet, snorting and blowing, but he couldn't get rid of that pesky fly. At last the moose fled from the river, and didn't come back. The fly was very proud of his achievement, and boasted to the other animals, "Even the small can fight the strong if they use their brains to think." Ojibway - an explanation: The tribes called "Chippewa" (a corruption of Ojibway, itself not the native name) generally call themselves Anishnabeg people. This linguistic/ethnic/cultural group, which is located around the Great Lakes in the U.S. and Canada, is comprised of many tribes and reserves--most of these defined by modern (that is 19th century) treaties with the respective governments of the U.S. and Canada. http://www.ilhawaii.net/~stony/lore09.html

How the First White Man Came to the Cheyenne By Glenn Welker Several versions of this story have been told by the grandfathers for many generations. It is a simple, straightforward story revealing the kind, giving, open and free spirited character of the people prior to the invasion of vast hordes of greedy white men. Many generations ago during the hot summer, the Cheyenne camped along the cool flowing tributaries of the upper Missouri River. Awakening from their sleep one morning, Gray Wolf and his wife saw a strange creature lying in their tipi. The woman was frightened and was about to cry out, but Gray Wolf quieted her and went closer to the strange being which was slowly rising to a sitting position. Gray Wolf saw that this creature was a man who looked something like a Cheyenne, but he had a white skin and hair on his face and spoke in a strange language. The man was so thin that he had scarcely any flesh on his bones, and for clothing he wore were in shreds. He near death. Gray Wolf gave him something to eat, but at first the man was so weak and exhausted that his stomach would not hold it, yet after a little while he got stronger. Gray Wolf told his wife to keep the presence of the stranger a secret. He feared that some of his tribesmen would kill the man, believing that he might bring them bad luck. A few days later, the chiefs sent a crier through the camp, announcing that the Cheyenne would be moving camp the next day. Knowing that the stranger could no longer be concealed, Gray Wolf revealed his presence. "I have taken him for my brother," he said. "If anyone harms him I will punish them. The Great Spirit must have sent this man to us for a good reason." And so Gray Wolf clothed him, fed him, and led him back to life. After a time the man learned to speak a few words of Cheyenne. He also learned the sign language of the tribe. In this way he was able to tell Gray Wolf that he came from the East, the land of the rising sun. "With five other men I started out to trap the beaver. We were on a lake in a boat when the wind came up suddenly, overturned the boat, and drowned all the others. After I struggled ashore, I wandered about, living on roots and berries until all my clothes were worn and scratched off. Half blind, and nearly dead with hunger, I wandered into your camp and fell into your tipi." For the hundredth time the man thanked Gray Wolf for saving his life, and then he continued: "For many days I have watched how hard you and your wife work. To make a fire you must use two sticks. Your wife uses porcupine quills for needles in sewing. She uses stone vessels to cook in, and you use stone knives and stone points for your spears and arrows. You must work hard and long to make these things. My people, who are powerful and numerous, have many wonderful things that the Cheyenne do not have." "What are these wonderful things?" Gray Wolf asked. "Needles that keep their points forever for your wife to sew with. Sharp knives of metal to cut with, steel to make a fire with, and a weapon that uses a black powder and sends hard pieces of metal straight at any wild game you need to kill. I can bring you these things if you and your people will help me get beaver skins. My people are fond of beaver fur, and they will give me these wonderful things for you in exchange." Gray Wolf told his tribesmen what the stranger had said, and they collected many beaver skins for him. The skins were loaded on several travois drawn by dogs, and one day the stranger went off toward the rising sun with his dog-train of furs. Several moons passed, and Gray Wolf began to wonder if the stranger would ever return. Then on a bright sun shiny morning, the Cheyenne heard a noise like a clap of thunder near their camp. On a bluff to the east, they saw a man wearing a red cap and red coat. Above his head he lifted a strange weapon that resembled a black stick, and then he shouted a greeting to them in their own language. As he approached, they recognized him as the stranger who had taken away the beaver skins. He had brought the Cheyenne all the wonderful things he had told about--knives, needles and steel -- and he showed the people how to use them. Then he showed them the black powder and hollow iron with which he had made the noise like thunder. And that is how the first white man came to the Cheyenne --- Indigenous Peoples' Literature

How the First Stories Came Out of the Earth – Delaware A man returning from hunting found a curious hole in the ground. He looked into it and somebody spoke to him. The hunter asked who it was. But the thing did not tell him, only said it was a grandfather (grandfather was how many tribes once addressed a Lenape): "If anyone wishes to hear stories, let them come here and roll in a little tobacco or a bead, and I will tell them a story." So the people came. And that is the beginning of the stories which we do not know are true or not. This grandfather told them never to tell stories after it begins to get warm in the spring. "If you do," he said, "the snakes, bugs, and all kinds of little creatures will get after you." >From THE WHITE DEER, and Other Stories Told by the Lenape http://www.delawaretribeofindians.nsn.us/

Buffalo Field Campaign PO Box 957 West Yellowstone, MT 59758 http://www.buffalofieldcampaign.org bfc-media@wildrockies.org BFC's Mission: To protect the natural habitat of wild migratory buffalo and native wildlife, to stop the slaughter and harassment of America's last wild buffalo as well as to advocate for their lasting protection, and to work with people of all Nations to honor the sacredness of wild buffalo. Yellowstone Bison Update from the Field February 27, 2014 *You can view the HTML version of the Update from the Field, which includes photos and hyperlinks, on http://www.buffalofieldcampaign.org * Yellowstone Buffalo Slaughter Escalates, Park Withholding Info * TAKE ACTION TO STOP THE SLAUGHTER! * A Buffalo Orphan's Story * The Buffalo Need You. Volunteer or Donate Today * Submit Your Photos & Artwork to BFC's Wild Bison Calendar * Participate in BFC's Summer Program! * By the Numbers * Last Words of Buffalo Inspiration ~ ******************** *Yellowstone Buffalo Slaughter Escalates, Park Withholding Info The existence of Buffalo Field Campaign has never been more critical. If BFC were not here in the field, no one would know what is happening with America's last wild buffalo. Yellowstone National Park has been capturing and consigning wild buffalo to slaughter since February 7, yet, for the first time since their involvement, they have not sent out a single press release. Daily phone calls to Yellowstone officials have gone unanswered while the Park's public information officer says he has not been receiving timely or complete information. Transparency and accountability is severely lacking. We have been told by a Yellowstone spokesperson that Superintendent Dan Wenk doesn't want press releases going out. But BFC has been diligent in trying to gain as much information as possible from firsthand observations by field patrols and numerous phone calls to Yellowstone and tribes. Numerous times, BFC has also requested that the Park organize media tours to let the public see what is happening to America's last wild buffalo in the trap. We have been denied. We have asked for access to the Stephens Creek trap to document, and we have been denied. It has been frustrating and it is critical that Yellowstone feel the pressure from the American public. Through BFC's observations and investigations we know that at least 275 of America's last wild buffalo have been captured for slaughter. To date, 37 wild buffalo have been sent to slaughter by the Confederated Salish & Kootenai Tribes, 84 have been sent to slaughter by the InterTribal Buffalo Council, and 35 have been sent to USDA-Animal & Plant Health Inspection Service for use in research. With at least 120 buffalo still in the trap, more are bound for tribal slaughter or government research in the coming days. To date, 172 wild buffalo have been killed by Native Americans hunting under treaties, and 35 have been killed by hunters holding Montana tags. The Montana hunt is now over, but tribes will continue hunting through March, ending when buffalo calving season is barely a month away. This week, BFC patrols have not encountered a single mature bull, an indication that all in the Gardiner Basin have been killed by hunters. Family groups of pregnant females and calves are being shattered. Treaty hunters have been chasing buffalo out of areas that would be difficult for them to retrieve carcasses from, and pushing them into places right along Forest Service roads where it's easy. State law prohibits "group hunting," which is the chasing of animals toward awaiting rifles. This is not hunting, this is massacre. On Wednesday morning, BFC patrols saw livestock trailers coming in to the Gardiner Basin. As we have done, we positioned ourselves in a spot where we can view the Stephens Creek bison trap with a spotting scope -- we can't get closer due to an unreasonable seven-mile closure around the trap site. We saw the trailers lined up to the chutes, with men walking on the catwalks and loading up buffalo. We positioned our patrol to a choke point where we knew we'd meet the trailers so that we could document what Yellowstone is trying to withhold from the public. A convoy of three ITBC livestock trailers hauling 39 wild buffalo to slaughter was escorted by Yellowstone National Park law enforcement and a Montana Department of Livestock (DOL) stock inspector. We got into position to film them at the Corwin Springs bridge, before they got onto Highway 89 and took the buffalo to Big Timber, MT for slaughter. Peter, a seasoned BFC coordinator and volunteer, was determined to get footage of the buffalo inside the stock trailers so we could show the public what Yellowstone is hiding. Peter positioned himself alongside the road where the trailers would have to slow down to make a turn onto the highway. This incident prompted some "discussion" with Park County and a Yellowstone Park Ranger. As Peter explained that he was attempting to get footage, we underscored the inappropriateness of Yellowstone's lack of disclosure to the public since the trap has been in operation this season. We again asked for access to Stephens Creek to document what these agents are doing to our last wild buffalo, and were denied. We again asked for a media tour, and were told we needed to submit our request elsewhere, which we have done and thus far have been denied. Wild buffalo that are captured and confined suffer injuries and sometimes death. Of course, Yellowstone doesn't want the public to see what they are doing to these gentle giants. Yellowstone used to be up front with us, but this year they are trying to hide their nefarious actions against America's last wild, migratory buffalo. Yellowstone Superintendent Dan Wenk has never presided over buffalo slaughter before, and he is the first Superintendent of Yellowstone to withhold timely and complete information from the public. Since the signing of the Interagency Bison Management Plan in 2000, every other Superintendent has disclosed information, but not Dan Wenk. On Wednesday afternoon, after receiving a press release from Yellowstone about a youth conservation program, BFC co-founder Mike Mease contacted Yellowstone with this message: "Where is the news of your bison slaughter? Hiding the truth from the people is not your choice to make. You work for the American people not the Montana cattle industry. When you lose your integrity you lose yourself. Wake up!" Interestingly, not long after that contact, BFC started to get a few returned phone calls from Yellowstone officials, though no new information has been divulged. Wild buffalo are simply trying to migrate for their survival. It is their home, the land they have known for eight hundred thousand years or more. Once they walked with woolly mammoths and they survived the ice age, but it is unclear if they can survive the human race. There are lines in the sand everywhere they turn that make them vulnerable to capture and slaughter or massacre through so-called hunting. We are here on the front lines to bear witness and let you know what is happening to these buffalo; we are few in number and we need you to take this information and apply heavy pressure. Contact the decision makers below, forward and post this email to everyone you can, and please consider joining us on the front lines so we can be a more effective presence and advocate for America's last wild buffalo. WILD IS THE WAY ~ ROAM FREE! ********************* * TAKE ACTION TO STOP THE SLAUGHTER! 1. CONTACT THE FEDERAL GOVERNMENT: Please call Yellowstone Superintendent Dan Wenk at (307) 344-2002, and also send him a letter to urge him to stop the 2014 buffalo slaughter that is currently underway. >>> http://org.salsalabs.com/o/2426/p/dia/action/public/?action_KEY=12829 2. CONTACT TRIBAL GOVERNMENT: Contact the Confederated Salish & Kootenai Tribes and urge them to stop taking wild buffalo to slaughter! >>> http://org.salsalabs.com/o/2426/p/dia/action3/common/public/?action_KEY=15119 3. CONTACT TRIBAL CORPORATION: Contact the InterTribal Buffalo Council board of directors and member tribes and urge them to end the betrayal and stop the slaughter! >>> http://org.salsalabs.com/o/2426/p/dia/action3/common/public/?action_KEY=15141 4. CONTACT MONTANA GOVERNMENT: Contact Montana Governor Steve Bullock and urge him to stop the war against wild buffalo in Montana! >>> http://org.salsalabs.com/o/2426/p/dia/action3/common/public/?action_KEY=13718 5. Visit our Take Action page to contact other decision-makers who need to hear from you and please share the links to these take action alerts on Facebook and other social media outlets. >>> http://www.buffalofieldcampaign.org/actnow/takeaction.html ********************* * A Buffalo Orphan's Story During the last days of Montana's state hunt, which ended February 15, a group of twenty-six buffalo that we had been monitoring for months had been chased out of a safe area. Eight of these buffalo were shot by hunters and two calves were left orphaned. Traveling together and completely undone by the loss of their mothers and elders, the calves wandered up and down Highway 191. One calf was hit by a vehicle and last seen entering a Forest Service housing area. The other calf, now totally alone, made its way north, far from other family groups. We last saw this calf on Duck Creek road. We had wished for a nearby family group's presence that we could help the calf find, but there were none around. We knew of a bull group that was relatively close, but bulls don't typically accept the company of orphaned calves. While deliberating how we could help this baby buffalo, she wandered back out onto the highway and was struck and killed by a vehicle. This tragic ending is also a lesson to hunters who pay no heed to the lives they take and by their actions kill many more buffalo than with bullet alone. ********************* * The Buffalo Need You. Volunteer or Donate Today. If you have ever dreamed of standing with buffalo and fighting for their rights to be wild, NOW IS THAT TIME! BFC is in need of caring people to make this sacred sacrifice to help the buffalo. Buffalo Field Campaign invites you to join us on the front lines, here on the edge of the world's first national park, to defend America's last wild, migratory buffalo. State, federal, and tribal governments are in the process of capturing and killing hundreds of wild bison. They aim to reduce the already vulnerable population of America's last wild, migratory buffalo to a mere 3,000 animals. We need more people to stand with us and protect the buffalo. Please, if you have ever thought about coming out we need help from now until the end of May. BFC provides room, board, gear, and training while the wildlife and wild lands provide incredible inspiration. Please visit our volunteer page to fill out an application or email our volunteer coordinators at volunteer[AT]buffalofieldcampaign[DOT]org or 406-646-0070. Bring your passion and your ideas. See you on the front lines! If you can not join us in person we could still use your help. Please use the DONATE link below to make a tax-deductible contribution to our important work for the buffalo. Thanks for giving us the honor of standing with these sacred beings and please come experience it for yourselves, it will change your life. WITH THE BUFFALO, Mike Mease VOLUNTEER: http://www.buffalofieldcampaign.org/aboutus/volunteeringatcamp.html DONATE: https://org.salsalabs.com/o/2426/donate_page/forthebuffalo ********************* * BFC's 2015 Wild Bison Calendar: SUBMIT YOUR PHOTOS & ART WE ARE NOW ACCEPTING SUBMISSIONS FOR 2015! Help others fall in love with wild buffalo so that we have a chance to save them from extinction! If you have high resolution photos, artwork, poetry, quotes, or interesting natural facts about wild buffalo please contact Stephany for details at bfc-media[AT]wildrockies[DOT]org Don't miss out on BFC's 2014 Wild Bison of Yellowstone Country Calendar! This is likely our best calendar yet, with absolutely stunning photos of wild buffalo in their native habitat, incredible artwork, and inspiring quotes, facts, and poetry. ORDER NOW https://org.salsalabs.com/o/2426/t/7926/shop/item.jsp?storefront_KEY=554&t=&store_item_KEY=4649 Thank you to everyone who has made our Wild Bison calendars such a huge success! This is one of our favorite projects as it allows all of us to celebrate wild buffalo 365 days a year! ********************* * Participate in BFC's Summer Program! BFC is looking for at least six people to help us spread the word to save the herds this Summer. BFC is looking for help from June until the first week of September. The positions would entail working in our Buffalo Museum in West Yellowstone, Montana, tabling and camping inside Yellowstone National Park, and going to music festivals and Summer events. Each week we will have you do a different job so you would not be stuck doing one thing the whole Summer. If spending your Summer in the Yellowstone ecosystem and helping save the buffalo is something that interests you please contact Mike at mease[AT]wildrockies[DOT]org. I promise this will be a summer you will never forget. ********************* *By the Numbers The last wild, migratory buffalo populations are currently estimated at fewer than 4,500 individual animals, living in and around Yellowstone National Park. Wild, migratory bison are ecologically extinct throughout their native range in North America. 2013-2014 Total Buffalo Killed: 366 Government Capture: 275 Buffalo Released from Capture: Government Slaughter: Tribal - ITBC Slaughter: 84 Tribal - CSKT Slaughter: 37 Tribal - Nez Perce Slaughter: Held for Government Experiment: 35 Died in Government Trap: Died in Government Research Facility**: 1 Miscarriage in Government Trap: State Hunt: 35 Treaty Hunts: 172 Unknown Hunts: Sent to Quarantine: Sent to Research Facility: Shot by Agents: Highway Mortality: Cause of Death Unknown: Total Killed in Previous Years* 2012-2013: 261 2011-2012: 33 2010-2011: 227 2009-2010: 7 2008-2009: 22 2007-2008: 1,631 Total Killed Since 2000: 4,604 *includes lethal government action, trap-related fatalities, quarantine/experiments, hunts, and highway deaths **bison stolen from the wild and placed in research facilities (such as for GonaCon) have already been counted as being "eliminated from the population" so bison that have died in a government research facility are not reflected in the total. ********************* *Last Words of Buffalo Inspiration "I am crushed on a spiritual and sacredness level. If the Native Americans don't stand up and fight for their most revered animal, then were is the hope for humanity? They are giving up on what bonds them together." ~ Chuck Irestone, advocate for wild lands and wild bison. Please send us your submissions for Last Words to bfc-media[AT]wildrockies[DOT]org. Thank you for all the poems, songs, quotes and stories you've contributed! Keep them coming! Click here to unsubscribe http://org.salsalabs.com/o/2426/t/7926/p/salsa/supporter/unsubscribe/public/?unsubscribe_page_KEY=42

How The Fawn Got Its Spots - Dakota Long ago, when the world was new, Wakan Tanka, The Great Mystery, was walking around. As he walked, he spoke to himself of the many things he had done to help the four legged ones and the birds survive. "It is good," Wakan Tanka Said. "I have given Mountain Lion sharp claws and Grizzly Bear great strength. It is much easier now for them to survive. I have given Wolf sharp teeth and I have given his little brother, Coyote, quick wits. It is much easier now for them to survive. I have given Beaver a flat tail and webbed feet to swim beneath the water and teeth which can cut down the trees and I have given slow-moving Porcupine quills to protect itself. Now it is easier for them to survive. I have given the birds their feathers and the ability to fly so that they may escape their enemies. I have given speed to the deer and the rabbit so that it will be hard for their enemies to catch them. Truly it is now much easier for them to survive." However, as Wakan Tanka spoke, a mother deer came up to him. Behind her was her small fawn, wobbling on weak new legs. "Great One," she said. "It is true that you have given many gifts to the four-leggeds and the winged ones to help them survive. It is true that you gave me great speed and now my enemies find it hard to catch me. My speed is a great protection, indeed. But what of my little one here? She does not yet have speed. It is easy for our enemies, with their sharp teeth and their claws to catch her. If my children do not survive, how can my people live?" "Wica yaka pelo!" said Wakan Tanka. "You have spoken truly; you are right. Have your little one come here and I will help her." Then Wakan Tanka made paint from the earth and the plants. He painted spots upon the fawn's body so that, when she lay still, her color blended in with the earth and she could not be seen. Then Wakan Tanka breathed upon her, taking away her scent. "Now," Wakan Tanka said, "your little ones will always be safe if they only remain still when they are away from your side. None of your enemies will see your little ones or be able to catch their scent." So it has been from that day on. When a young deer is too small and weak to run swiftly, it is covered with spots that blend in with the earth. It has no scent and it remains very still and close to the earth when its mother is not by its side. And when it has grown enough to have the speed Wakan Tanka gave its people, then it loses those spots it once needed to survive. Caduto, J. Michael and Joseph Bruchac. Keepers of the Animals. Fulcrum Publishing. Golden Colorado. 1991. P191.

How the Fairies Came – Wabanaki IN the country of the Wabanaki, ten sisters once lived in their father's lodge. Each was more beautiful than any other maiden in the land, and the youngest was the most beautiful of all. Many handsome braves laid their gifts before the lodge door. So nine of the sisters married and went to live with their mothers-in-law. But the youngest refused all suitors, and stayed in her father's lodge. One day an old man named Osseo came to woo the youngest. His eyes were bright and his thoughts keen, and he sang softly before her door. And as the maiden was willing, the marriage-feast was held. The nine sisters came with their handsome husbands, and they laughed and jeered at the bride, because her husband was so old. But she only said: "Wait and see! Soon you shall know who has chosen most wisely." After the marriage-feast was over, Osseo led his bride toward his lodge in the distant forest. The nine sisters and their husbands went with them along the path. Presently they passed a hollow log. Then Osseo gave a loud call, and leaving the side of his bride, dashed into the log. Immediately he came out at the other end, no longer old and wrinkled, but younger and handsomer than the husbands of the nine sisters. He then led the party forward with a step as light as the Reindeer's. Soon they reached a splendid lodge, and entered it. A delicious feast was spread in wooden dishes, and the sisters and their husbands sat down. "The food you see before you is magic food," said Osseo; "eat it and receive a gift from the Evening Star, whose lodge this is." And as they all ate, sweet music like the voices of birds fell from the Sky. The lodge began to rise in the air. Higher it rose through the trees, and as it did so, it changed into a wonderful cage. Its poles became glittering silver wires, and its covering was of the shining wings of blue, green, and yellow insects. And as the silver cage passed above the tree-tops, the wooden dishes became scarlet shells, and the nine sisters and their husbands were transformed into birds. Some became Bluebirds, others Red-Breasted Robins, still others Golden Orioles, and birds with scarlet wings. Immediately they all began to hop about the cage showing their bright feathers and singing songs sweeter than those sung in the woodland. As for Osseo's bride, she grew more lovely than ever, so that she shone like a star. Her garments were of shimmering green, and in her hair was a silver feather. Higher rose the cage, until it reached the home of the Evening Star. "Welcome, my son," said he to Osseo. "Bring in your lovely bride, but hang the cage of coloured birds at the door. Because the nine sisters laughed at the bride, they must stay outside. "Be careful that you never open the cage, nor let the ray of light from the little Star dwelling near us, fall upon you. For the ray of light is the little Star's bow and arrow, and if it touches you, your wife and the birds will become enchanted." So Osseo hung up the cage of coloured birds at the door of the lodge; and he and his wife lived there in happiness. In time a son was born to them, who was brighter than the starlight. And when he grew older, Osseo made for him a little bow and arrows. One day to please the child who wished to shoot something, Osseo opened the door of the silver cage, and let the coloured birds go free, and they flew singing toward the Earth. The little boy shot an arrow after them, and immediately a ray of light struck Osseo. Then the little boy began to float downward through the Sky. Soon he passed the soft white clouds, and fell gently upon a green island in the middle of a wide blue lake. The coloured birds came swiftly flying to him, with songs of joy. As for the silver cage, it descended after, its glittering insect wings fluttering from its sides. And in it were Osseo and his wife. As the cage touched the green island, it became a shining lodge, and Osseo and his wife, the little boy, and all the coloured birds, were changed into bright and joyous Fairies. And ever since that day, on Summer starlit nights, the little Fairies join hands, and dance around. Their shining lodge may still be seen when the Moon's beams light the green island. And by night the Indian fisher-boys, on the blue lake, hear the sweet voices of the Fairy dancers. The Red Indian Fairy Book: For the Children's Own Reading and for Story-Tellers, by Frances Jenkins Olcott, with illustrations by Frederick Richardson, Houghton Mifflin Company, 1917. Public domain.

How the Fairies Came – Wabanaki IN the country of the Wabanaki, ten sisters once lived in their father's lodge. Each was more beautiful than any other maiden in the land, and the youngest was the most beautiful of all. Many handsome braves laid their gifts before the lodge door. So nine of the sisters married and went to live with their mothers-in-law. But the youngest refused all suitors, and stayed in her father's lodge. One day an old man named Osseo came to woo the youngest. His eyes were bright and his thoughts keen, and he sang softly before her door. And as the maiden was willing, the marriage-feast was held. The nine sisters came with their handsome husbands, and they laughed and jeered at the bride, because her husband was so old. But she only said: "Wait and see! Soon you shall know who has chosen most wisely." After the marriage-feast was over, Osseo led his bride toward his lodge in the distant forest. The nine sisters and their husbands went with them along the path. Presently they passed a hollow log. Then Osseo gave a loud call, and leaving the side of his bride, dashed into the log. Immediately he came out at the other end, no longer old and wrinkled, but younger and handsomer than the husbands of the nine sisters. He then led the party forward with a step as light as the Reindeer's. Soon they reached a splendid lodge, and entered it. A delicious feast was spread in wooden dishes, and the sisters and their husbands sat down. "The food you see before you is magic food," said Osseo; "eat it and receive a gift from the Evening Star, whose lodge this is." And as they all ate, sweet music like the voices of birds fell from the Sky. The lodge began to rise in the air. Higher it rose through the trees, and as it did so, it changed into a wonderful cage. Its poles became glittering silver wires, and its covering was of the shining wings of blue, green, and yellow insects. And as the silver cage passed above the tree-tops, the wooden dishes became scarlet shells, and the nine sisters and their husbands were transformed into birds. Some became Bluebirds, others Red-Breasted Robins, still others Golden Orioles, and birds with scarlet wings. Immediately they all began to hop about the cage showing their bright feathers and singing songs sweeter than those sung in the woodland. As for Osseo's bride, she grew more lovely than ever, so that she shone like a star. Her garments were of shimmering green, and in her hair was a silver feather. Higher rose the cage, until it reached the home of the Evening Star. "Welcome, my son," said he to Osseo. "Bring in your lovely bride, but hang the cage of coloured birds at the door. Because the nine sisters laughed at the bride, they must stay outside. "Be careful that you never open the cage, nor let the ray of light from the little Star dwelling near us, fall upon you. For the ray of light is the little Star's bow and arrow, and if it touches you, your wife and the birds will become enchanted." So Osseo hung up the cage of coloured birds at the door of the lodge; and he and his wife lived there in happiness. In time a son was born to them, who was brighter than the starlight. And when he grew older, Osseo made for him a little bow and arrows. One day to please the child who wished to shoot something, Osseo opened the door of the silver cage, and let the coloured birds go free, and they flew singing toward the Earth. The little boy shot an arrow after them, and immediately a ray of light struck Osseo. Then the little boy began to float downward through the Sky. Soon he passed the soft white clouds, and fell gently upon a green island in the middle of a wide blue lake. The coloured birds came swiftly flying to him, with songs of joy. As for the silver cage, it descended after, its glittering insect wings fluttering from its sides. And in it were Osseo and his wife. As the cage touched the green island, it became a shining lodge, and Osseo and his wife, the little boy, and all the coloured birds, were changed into bright and joyous Fairies. And ever since that day, on Summer starlit nights, the little Fairies join hands, and dance around. Their shining lodge may still be seen when the Moon's beams light the green island. And by night the Indian fisher-boys, on the blue lake, hear the sweet voices of the Fairy dancers. The Red Indian Fairy Book: For the Children's Own Reading and for Story-Tellers, by Frances Jenkins Olcott, with illustrations by Frederick Richardson, Houghton Mifflin Company, 1917. Public domain.