Tulalip Indian School and Bandstand, 1910. Photograph. Ferdinand Brady. Courtesy UW Special Collections (NA1464).
Icy winter has departed,
And the balmy spring has come,
The birds sing forth their melody,
And the bees begin to hum.
The bobolink now sounds his note,[1]
His song so clear and sweet,
He tells us of the balmy spring,
We’ve longed so much to greet.
The fields have changed their dark gray robe
For one of loveliest green,
And on the hills and in the vales
The flocks and herds are seen.
Out on the fresh green sward
The hen now leads her tender brood,
And seeks for them with anxious care
The choicest bits of food.
The gentle river now is studded
With many a white-sailed craft,
That swiftly o’er its bosom
The genial breezes waft.
But summer soon will come,
And to us she will bring
More blessings and more pleasures
Than did the welcome spring.
Now let us well remember,
That their beauty cannot last,
For when cometh bleak December,
He’ll destroy it with his blast.
[1] Notable for its song, the Bobolink is a black and white bird with a yellow “cap.” ItDuring migration it occupies much of the southeastern quarter of the United States, and it summers (and breeds) in the U.S. Northeast, upper Midwest, and much of southern Canada. It rarely appears in the Tulalip region. Mentioning the bird here suggests that a teacher who came from the eastern part of the country may have described it to the author, or that the author read about it.
Contexts
Begun in 1881, The Youth’s Companion—a name that many nineteenth-century publications shared—was a monthly student magazine that published articles written by pupils of the Catholic-run boarding school located on the Tulalip Indian Reservation. A federally recognized tribe located in the mid-Puget Sound area, the Tulalip Tribes received reservation lands—22,000 acres—in 1855, with its legal boundaries established by President Ulysses S. Grant in 1873. According to the Tulalip Tribes website, “it was created to provide a permanent home for the Snohomish, Snoqualmie, Skagit, Suiattle, Samish, and Stillaguamish Tribes and allied bands living in the region.”
Nineteenth-century Indian boarding schools aimed to assimilate Native Americans into white culture. They separated children from their families, required students to dress like white Americans, and prohibited them from speaking their language. They also emphasized so-called “industrial” training: boys learned agricultural and industrial skills, while girls learned how to cook, sew, and clean a household. Students were often expected to become servants or to provide manual labor help for whites.
Like many contributions to Native American student periodicals, this poem was published anonymously.Students living on reservations during this time often received educations governed by white religious authorities who emphasized moral training. In describing the spring, this poem mirrors much of the nineteenth century’s natural history writing for children. Its emphasis on agriculture indirectly demonstrates the U.S. official policy of eliminating these tribes’ traditional lifeways of fishing, hunting, and gathering.
Marr, Carolyn J. “Assimilation Through Education: Indian Boarding Schools in the Pacific Northwest,” University of Washington Libraries Digital Collection. This article includes historical contexts and features “A Typical Daily Schedule.”
———. “Between Two Worlds: Experiences at the Tulalip Indian Boarding School, 1905-1932,” Hibulb Cultural Center & Natural History Preserve.
Contemporary Connections
“Tulalip History Minute 04—The Tulalip Indian School presented by Mary Jane Topash,” the Tulalip History Project. Provides Tulalip-sponsored background on the tribe.
The Four Seasons, by William Clarke Rice. Oil on fabric, 1923. Courtesy Smithsonian American Art Museum.
Spring is a very lovely season. Everybody delights to be out doors, to enjoy the pure air. In the fields some of the farmers are plowing, others are sowing their crops or preparing the ground for their vegetables. We see the birds in the trees flying about. They seem very happy, and are singing their sweetest songs. In the woods spring up beautiful wild flowers which we pick, some for our church, and others for our little oratory of St. Aloysius in our schoolroom.[1]
Then summer comes; it is the hottest of all the seasons. The berries are ripe and people, old and young, are picking them for their use. When it is very hot, no one likes to work outside in the sun, but the hay and grain must be cut and stored away. This is a very busy season for farmers.
After this we have autumn. The heat of the summer is gone, and we must now provide wood and fill up our sheds as much as we can, to keep us warm in the cold winter days, for we already feel the cold a little in the morning. Besides this we gather our vegetables and fruits, and keep them in a safe place, but sometimes the rats and mice have a good time with them.
Now comes the terrible and dreaded winter. How we like to have warm clothes, and fire is a precious thing. But there are many poor people who have no homes, and no fire to keep them warm. On the western coast of North America the winters are milder than on the eastern coast. We have snow in December and January. It does not stay long, but people make good use of it while it lasts.
Lear, William. “The Four Seasons.” The Youth’s Companion 6, no. 1 (November 1881): 143.
[1] St. Aloysius (1568-1591) was an Italian-born nobleman who relinquished his wealth to become a Jesuit priest in the Roman Catholic church. White religious leaders considered him to be an important spiritual model for students in the Tulalip Indian School.
Contexts
Begun in 1881, The Youth’s Companion—a name that many nineteenth-century publications shared—was a monthly student magazine that published articles written by pupils of the Catholic-run boarding school located on the Tulalip Indian Reservation. A federally recognized tribe located in the mid-Puget Sound area, the Tulalip Tribes received reservation lands—22,000 acres—in 1855, with its legal boundaries established by President Ulysses S. Grant in 1873. According to the Tulalip Tribes website, “it was created to provide a permanent home for the Snohomish, Snoqualmie, Skagit, Suiattle, Samish, and Stillaguamish Tribes and allied bands living in the region.”
Nineteenth-century Indian boarding schools aimed to assimilate Native Americans into white culture. They separated children from their families, required students to dress like white Americans, and prohibited them from speaking their language. They also emphasized so-called “industrial” training: boys learned agricultural and industrial skills, while girls learned how to cook, sew, and clean a household. Students were often expected to become servants or to provide manual labor help for whites.
Unlike many contributions to Native American student periodicals, this conversation was published with an author’s name. William Lear (Lummi) appears in the 1885-1940 Native American Census Rolls in 1901, when he was thirty-six, so he would have been about fifteen when he composed “The Four Seasons.” He was the father of thirteen-year-old Clara and fifteen-year-old Florance, who are listed in 1910 school census. Students living on reservations during this time often received educations governed by white religious authorities who emphasized moral training. In describing the seasons, this story mirrors much of the nineteenth century’s natural history writing for children. The sketch of winter veers from convention, focusing on the region’s poverty and ending with a hint of pleasure.
Marr, Carolyn J. “Assimilation Through Education: Indian Boarding Schools in the Pacific Northwest,” University of Washington Libraries Digital Collection. This article includes historical contexts and features “A Typical Daily Schedule.”
———. “Between Two Worlds: Experiences at the Tulalip Indian Boarding School, 1905-1932,” Hibulb Cultural Center & Natural History Preserve.
Contemporary Connections
“Tulalip History Minute 04—The Tulalip Indian School presented by Mary Jane Topash,” the Tulalip History Project. Provides Tulalip-sponsored background on the tribe.
Carolina parrot. Late 18th-century colored engraving. Courtesy Getty Images.
There once lived, in a small village, a farmer who kept a parrot, which was in the habit of keeping bad company. One day, after the farmer had finished planting his corn, the crows, together with the parrot, soon occupied themselves with feasting upon it. The farmer, seeing this, resolved to punish the black robbers. Seizing his gun, he crept slyly along the fence until he came within a few yards of them, and then fired. Walking over to the corn to see what effect the shot produced, to his great surprise, he found that he had wounded his parrot. Poor Polly was taken home and kindly cared for. The children asked their father how the parrot came to be shot. “Bad company,” answered the father; “Bad company,” repeated Poll.
Afterwards, whenever the parrot would see the children quarreling and wrangling among themselves, Poll would cry out, “Bad company! Bad company!”
Thus, dear young readers, when you are tempted to associate with bad companions, remember the story of the parrot and its punishment.
American crow. Lithograph. Birds of Pennsylvania, 1897. Public domain.
Anonymous. “The Farmer and the Parrot.” The Youth’s Companion 5, no. 1 (October 1881): 112.
Contexts
Begun in 1881, The Youth’s Companion—a name that many nineteenth-century publications shared—was a monthly student magazine that published articles written by pupils of the Catholic-run boarding school located on the Tulalip Indian Reservation. A federally recognized tribe located in the mid-Puget Sound area, the Tulalip Tribes received reservation lands—22,000 acres—in 1855, with its legal boundaries established by President Ulysses S. Grant in 1873. According to the tribe’s website, “it was created to provide a permanent home for the Snohomish, Snoqualmie, Skagit, Suiattle, Samish, and Stillaguamish Tribes and allied bands living in the region.”
Nineteenth-century Indian boarding schools aimed to assimilate Native Americans into white culture. They separated children from their families, required students to dress like white Americans, and prohibited them from speaking their language. They also emphasized so-called “industrial” training: boys learned agricultural and industrial skills, while girls learned how to cook, sew, and clean a household. Students were often expected to become servants or to provide manual labor help for whites.
Like many contributions to Native American newspapers, this sketch was published anonymously. Students living on reservations during this time often received educations governed by white religious authorities who emphasized moral training. This story typifies the didactic texts that students were expected to compose. Its humor, however, suggests the author may be resisting the “parroting” of conventional morality.
Marr, Carolyn J. “Assimilation Through Education: Indian Boarding Schools in the Pacific Northwest,” University of Washington Libraries Digital Collection. This article includes historical contexts and features “A Typical Daily Schedule.”
———. “Between Two Worlds: Experiences at the Tulalip Indian Boarding School, 1905-1932,” Hibulb Cultural Center & Natural History Preserve.
Contemporary Connections
“Tulalip History Minute 04—The Tulalip Indian School presented by Mary Jane Topash,” the Tulalip History Project. Provides Tulalip-sponsored background on the tribe.
Detail of oil painting of insects. Jan van Kessel the elder, 17th century. Public domain.
There was a little grasshopper
Forever on the jump;
And as he never looked ahead
He often got a bump.
His mother said to him one day
As they were in the stubble,
“If you don’t look before you leap,
You’ll get yourself in trouble.”
The silly little grasshopper
Despised his wise old mother,
And said he knew what best to so,
And told her not to bother.
He hurried off across the fields,
An unknown path he took,
When oh! he gave a heedless jump,
And landed in a brook.
He struggled hard to reach the bank,
A floating straw he seizes,
When quickly a hungry trout drops out,
And tears him all to pieces.
MORAL. Good little boys and girls, heed well
Your mother’s wise advice;
Before you move, look carefully;
Before you speak, think twice.
Tulalip Indian Boarding School, 1917. Courtesy Aurelia Celestine.
Anonymous. “The Conceited Grasshopper.” The Youth’s Companion 3, no. 1 (August 1881): 57.
Contexts
Begun in 1881, The Youth’s Companion—a name that many nineteenth-century publications shared—was a monthly student magazine that published articles written by pupils of the Catholic-run boarding school located on the Tulalip Indian Reservation. A federally recognized tribe located in the mid-Puget Sound area, the Tulalip Tribes received reservation lands—22,000 acres—in 1855, with its legal boundaries established by President Ulysses S. Grant in 1873. According to the tribe’s website, “it was created to provide a permanent home for the Snohomish, Snoqualmie, Skagit, Suiattle, Samish, and Stillaguamish Tribes and allied bands living in the region.
Nineteenth-century Indian boarding schools aimed to assimilate Native Americans into white culture. They separated children from their families, required students to dress like white Americans, and prohibited them from speaking their language. They also emphasized so-called “industrial” training: boys learned agricultural and industrial skills, while girls learned how to cook, sew, and clean a household. Students were often expected to become servants or to provide manual labor help for whites.
Like many contributions to Native American newspapers, this poem was published anonymously. Students living on reservations during this time often received educations governed by white religious authorities who emphasized moral training. This poem suggests the kind of didactic texts students were expected to compose.
Marr, Carolyn J. “Assimilation Through Education: Indian Boarding Schools in the Pacific Northwest,” University of Washington Libraries Digital Collection. This article includes historical contexts and features “A Typical Daily Schedule.”
———. “Between Two Worlds: Experiences at the Tulalip Indian Boarding School, 1905-1932,” Hibulb Cultural Center & Natural History Preserve.
Contemporary Connections
“Tulalip History Minute 04—The Tulalip Indian School presented by Mary Jane Topash,” the Tulalip History Project. Provides Tulalip-sponsored background on the tribe.
Tulalip Indian School Classroom, May 1914. Courtesy J. A. Juleen / Everett Public Library’s Northwest History Room.
Teacher. “Now Mary, my dear, suppose I were to shoot at a tree with five birds on it, and kill three, how many would be left?”
Mary: “Three, ma’am.”
Teacher: “No, two would be left.”
Mary: “No there wouldn’t though. The three shot would be left and the other two would be flied away.” [1]
Anonymous. [A Mathematical conversation.] The Youth’s Companion: A Juvenile Monthly Magazine Published for the Benefit of the Puget Sound Indian Missions 2, no. 1 (July 1881): 39.
[1] Presumably the observer uses “flied” to indicate that Mary is very young. We should assume that the teacher is white and that Mary is a Tulalit student.
Contexts
Begun in 1881, The Youth’s Companion—a name that many nineteenth-century publications shared—was a monthly student magazine that published articles written by pupils of the Catholic-run boarding school located on the Tulalip Indian Reservation. A federally recognized tribe located in the mid-Puget Sound area, the Tulalip Tribes received reservation lands—22,000 acres—in 1855, with its legal boundaries established by President Ulysses S. Grant in 1873. According to the Tulalip Tribes website, “it was created to provide a permanent home for the Snohomish, Snoqualmie, Skagit, Suiattle, Samish, and Stillaguamish Tribes and allied bands living in the region.”
Nineteenth-century Indian boarding schools aimed to assimilate Native Americans into white culture. They separated children from their families, required students to dress like white Americans, and prohibited them from speaking their language. They also emphasized so-called “industrial” training: boys learned agricultural and industrial skills, while girls learned how to cook, sew, and clean a household. Students were often expected to become servants or to provide manual labor help for whites.
Like many contributions to Native American student periodicals, this conversation was published anonymously. Students living on reservations during this time often received educations governed by white religious authorities who emphasized moral training. This story represents a significant change from the didactic texts that students were normally expected to compose. It showcases Native intelligence in a period when most white Americans regarded the nation’s Indigenous people as inferior or even subhuman. The conversation also emphasizes how the Tulalip child sees the world differently, and in some ways more clearly than her white teacher. Humorous sketches like these were common in Native American texts.
Marr, Carolyn J. “Assimilation Through Education: Indian Boarding Schools in the Pacific Northwest,” University of Washington Libraries Digital Collection. This article includes historical contexts and features “A Typical Daily Schedule.”
———. “Between Two Worlds: Experiences at the Tulalip Indian Boarding School, 1905-1932,” Hibulb Cultural Center & Natural History Preserve.
Contemporary Connections
“Tulalip History Minute 04—The Tulalip Indian School presented by Mary Jane Topash,” the Tulalip History Project. Provides Tulalip-sponsored background on the tribe.
Detail, cat with game. Oil painting, Alexandre-François Desportes, late 17th-early 18th century. Public Domain.
A blind girl in a hospital had learned to feed herself, and at meal times a tray containing her dinner was placed on her knees. One day while she was eating, the pet cat of the establishment placed herself before the girl and looked long and earnestly at her, so earnestly that the attendant, fearing the animal meditated some mischief, took her out of the room. Again, the next day, at the same hour, the cat entered the room, but this time walked quietly to the girl’s side, reared herself on her hind legs, and noiselessly reached out her paw to the plate, seized a morsel that pleased her, and, silently as she came, departed to enjoy her stolen meal. The girl never missed her loss, and when told of it by her companions laughed heartily. It is evident that the cat, from observation, had entirely satisfied herself that the girl could not see, and by a process of reasoning decided she could steal a good dinner by this practical use of knowledge.
Tulalip Indian School Classroom, May 1914. Courtesy J. A. Juleen / Everett Public Library’s Northwest History Room.
Anonymous. “A Knowing Cat.” The Youth’s Companion: A Juvenile Monthly Magazine Published for the Benefit of the Puget Sound Indian Missions 2, no. 1 (July 1881): 39.
Contexts
Begun in 1881, The Youth’s Companion—a name that many nineteenth-century publications shared—was a monthly student magazine that published articles written by pupils of the Catholic-run boarding school located on the Tulalip Indian Reservation. A federally recognized tribe located in the mid-Puget Sound area, the Tulalip Tribes received reservation lands—22,000 acres—in 1855, with its legal boundaries established by President Ulysses S. Grant in 1873. According to the Tulalip Tribes website, “it was created to provide a permanent home for the Snohomish, Snoqualmie, Skagit, Suiattle, Samish, and Stillaguamish Tribes and allied bands living in the region.”
Nineteenth-century Indian boarding schools aimed to assimilate Native Americans into white culture. They separated children from their families, required students to dress like white Americans, and prohibited them from speaking their language. They also emphasized so-called “industrial” training: boys learned agricultural and industrial skills, while girls learned how to cook, sew, and clean a household. Students were often expected to become servants or to provide manual labor help for whites.
“A Knowing Cat,” like many contributions to Native American student periodicals, was published anonymously. Students living on reservations during this time often received educations governed by white religious authorities who emphasized moral training. This story represents a significant change from the didactic texts that students were normally expected to compose. It showcases feline intelligence, a common theme in nineteenth-century American children’s writing.
Marr, Carolyn J. “Assimilation Through Education: Indian Boarding Schools in the Pacific Northwest,” University of Washington Libraries Digital Collection. This article includes historical contexts and features “A Typical Daily Schedule.”
———. “Between Two Worlds: Experiences at the Tulalip Indian Boarding School, 1905-1932,” Hibulb Cultural Center & Natural History Preserve.
Contemporary Connections
“Tulalip History Minute 04—The Tulalip Indian School presented by Mary Jane Topash,” the Tulalip History Project. Provides Tulalip-sponsored background on the tribe. “Editorial: Getting to the truth of Tulalip boarding school,” September 26, 2021, HeraldNet (Everett, Washington). Caution: includes information about abuses at the school.
By Stella Le Flore Carter (Cherokee-Chickasaw), age 9
Annotations by Karen L. Kilcup
Sunset at Washita National Wildlife Refuge, OK. Public domain.
My Aunt Lizzie lives at the head of the beautiful Washita canyon. [1] She is almost a full-blood Chickasaw, and has all the ways of a full-blood Indian. She tells many beautiful stories about her people, as she calls the Chickasaws. [2] She calls these tales legends and traditions, but Papa says they are pipe stories. Among others she told me what she calls the legend of Horn Lake, which I will tell you as she told it to me. [3]
Many years ago, when your Great Grandfather wore the breech clout and hunting shirt, a clan of my people lived in a beautiful valley, near the line of Mississippi and Tennessee.
The Chief of this clan had a beautiful daughter, named Climbing Panther. [4] She was known among all the Chickasaws for her pretty face and perfect form. One day the young men of the tribe cut down a large bee tree for they wanted the honey. [5] The trunk of the tree was found to be hollow and full of water, and a fish was seen coming to the surface for air. Climbing Panther wanted to get the fish, but the old Medicine Man fussed at her, and told her not to do it. But she took the fish home to her father’s wigwam[,] cooked it and ate it. She became very thirsty and they brought her water, but she could not get enough. At last she went to the spring and drank the water as fast as it ran from the spring. Before leaving camp she told her father that she was sick, and to call his people together and have a big Pashofa, or Medicine Dance. [6]
Her father called the people together that night, and when they were forming lines for the Tikbahoka, [7] the men on one side and the women on the other, they heard an awful roaring noise. A big snake as big as a horse appeared between the two lines. It had long horns and on its head was the face of Climbing Panther. Then they all knew that Climbing Panther had turned to a snake.
The lightning flashed and the Heavens gave a mighty roar. The body of the snake burst open, the ground sank and everything was covered with water except the long horns of the snake. This is the way Horn Lake was made. And the great horns of the snake can be seen sticking above the water today. And it was all caused by Climbing Panther’s disobedience.
STELLA LE FLORE CARTER, “LEGEND OF HORN LAKE,” TWIN TERRITORIES 5, NO. 5 (MAY 1903): 182-83.
Attack on Peace Chief Black Kettle’s village near the Washita River by the Seventh U.S. Cavalry let by Lt. Colonel George Armstrong Custer, November 27, 1868. Harper’s Weekly 12 (December 1868): 804. Public domain.
[1] The Washita River, which meanders across many miles in southwest Oklahoma, figures tragically in Native American history. See Contexts and Resources for Further Study, below.
[2] The Chickasaw people were among the groups called the “Five Civilized Tribes” that the U.S. Government removed to Indian Territory (now part of Oklahoma) on the Trail of Tears. See Resources for Further Study, below.
[3] Horn Lake does not appear in any contemporary or historical maps of Oklahoma. The location the story references is almost certainly in the traditional homeland of the Chickasaws. Crossing the Tennessee-Mississippi border, Horn Lake appears on a 1932 U.S. Army Corps of Engineers topographic map, as well as on contemporary Google maps. Thanks to Jessica Cory for locating this information.
[4] The name Climbing Panther may suggest that the chief’s daughter belonged to the Panther Clan, traditionally regarded as hunters.
[5] As its name suggests, a bee tree contains a colony of honeybees. Those we regularly reference today are not native to North America but were brought here from Europe in the seventeenth century. Before this time, American Indians “enjoyed a different kind of honey prior to the arrival of the Spanish conquistadors. The Mayans and Aztecs ate honey from a bee, Melipona beecheii, that used hollowed-out logs as hives.” See Carson in Resources for Further Study, below.
[6] “Pashofa” is a traditional Chickasaw dish composed of pashofa corn and pork. The Chickasaw Nation website, which contains recipes, comments that it “was, and still is, served at large gatherings of Chickasaws, for celebrations and ceremonies.”
[7] The author may have transcribed this word imprecisely, for a search reveals no results. The context suggests that it references the Medicine Dance mentioned in the previous paragraph.
Contexts
Stella Carter’s story exemplifies a notable genre of Native American literature, the traditional tale that explains the origin of a natural feature. The story’s key emphasis, however, lies in what the narrator calls “Climbing Panther’s disobedience”: in rejecting her elders’ wisdom and prioritizing her individual desires, she endangers the entire tribe.
Carter’s narrative does not mention the 1868 Washita Massacre, but her aunt would almost certainly have known about this attack in which U.S. soldiers led by Lt. Colonel George Armstrong Custer decimated the village of Peace Chief Black Kettle and killed the chief. Four years earlier, the horrific Sand Creek Massacre by U.S. soldiers in Colorado had killed many women and children, but Black Kettle attempted to maintain peaceful relations with the federal government. The websites of the National Park Service (NPS) and the Washita Battlefield National Historic Site in Oklahoma provide some historical background, although readers should be wary of non-Native accounts. The NPS description acknowledges that “Black Kettle, a respected Cheyenne leader, had sought peace and protection from the US Army and had signed the Little Arkansas Treaty in 1865 and the Medicine Lodge Treaty in 1867.” For eyewitness Cheyenne accounts, see Hardoff, below.
Resources for Further Study
Brown, Dee. Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee: An Indian History of the American West. 1970; rpt. New York: Henry Holt, 2007. See 167-68, 243.
“Carter, Charles David, 1868-1929.” Biographical Dictionary of the United States Congress.
Hardoff, Richard G., ed. Washita Memories: Eyewitness Views of Custer’s Attack on Black Kettle’s Village. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 2006. Notable because it contains accounts by Cheyenne Indians who witnessed the massacre.
Hatch, Thom. Black Kettle: The Cheyenne Chief Who Sought Peace But Found War. Hoboken: John Wiley, 2004. See Chapters 8, 9, and 12.
“History.” Office of the Governor. The Chickasaw Nation. This site encompasses Chickasaw history from the pre-settler period to the present.
Boatman, Christine. “Lessons Learned in Teaching Native American History.” Edutopia. George Lucas Educational Foundation, September 18, 2019. “A white teacher shares resources and things she’s learned: Be humble, find the gaps in your knowledge, and listen to Native voices.”
“Chickasaw Nation Curriculum.” The essential guide for teaching primary and secondary grades about the Chickasaw Nation.
“Teacher’s Guide. American Indian History and Heritage.” EDSITEment! National Endowment for the Humanities. “Transforming teaching and learning about Native Americans.” Native Knowledge 360° Education Initiative. National Museum of the American Indian, Smithsonian. The site offers educators and others free webinars, including many hosted by Native Americans, aimed to correct problematic narratives about Native Americans; it maintains an archive of previous sessions.
Contemporary Connections
For a Native American perspective on the events of November 1868, see Winter Rabbit (Métis). “Washita Massacre of November 27, 1868: 151st Anniversary.” Daily Kos, November 27, 2019.
Two Pigs, by George Morland, probably late eighteenth century. Public domain.
Billy Wiggs once caught some pigs, [1]
And he put them in a pen,
But the pen was not strong,
And so all went wrong,
And the pigs were gone again.
He followed them fast,
And found them at last
And put them in another;
They ate and they fussed,
As if they would bust,
And he sold them to his mother.
[1] Wiggs may be a Chickasaw name. In the late 1890s, a Richard C. Wiggs applied for tribal enrollment on the Dawes Rolls. His application is listed in the National Archives catalog. See below.
Contexts
Anderson was featured in Twin Territories, an Indian Territories magazine that achieved national recognition. The lavishly illustrated periodical was edited and published by Ora V. Eddleman (later Reed) beginning in 1899, when the editor was herself only nineteen years old. “The Unruly Pigs” appeared in a new column that Eddleman inaugurated, “For the Little Chiefs and Their Sisters”; Anderson’s poem had the honor of being the first contribution by a young reader. Eddleman was responding to a letter from “a little Indian girl—a bright little Cherokee maid” who wrote to the magazine with a request: “Twin Territories is good, and of course we all read it, and look at the pictures. Once my papa’s picture was in it, and we all liked it. But I think if you would have a page for the children’s own it would be better. We want a page that we can write for and can have pictures in it. Won’t you please fix a page for us?”
Eddleman responds with encouragement, aiming to make the new feature “attractive” and announcing plans for “prizes for the best stories, poems, compositions, etc.” She comments, “Especially do we urge the Indian children to contribute.” Eddleman prefaces “The Unruly Pigs” proudly: “The following poem was written by a little Cherokee girl just eight years of age—Hellen Rebecca Anderson, daughter of Mrs. Mabel Washbourne Anderson, a contributor to Twin Territories. The poem is entirely original with little Hellen, and we give it just as she submitted the manuscript to Twin Territories.”
The magazine’s goal was to showcase the achievements of Native peoples in the area that would become Oklahoma and to combat the stereotype of Indians as uncivilized.
Resources for Further Study
Carpenter, Cari, and Karen L. Kilcup. Introduction. Selected Writing of Ora Eddleman Reed, Cherokee Author, Editor, and Activist. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, forthcoming.
Kilcup, Karen L. “Mabel Washbourne Anderson (Cherokee, 1863-1949).” In Native American Women’s Writing, c. 1800-1924: An Anthology. Malden, MA and Oxford, UK: Blackwell, 2000. 248-49.
Pennington, William D. “Twin Territories.” Oklahoma Historical Society.
Numerous resources support teaching at various levels about Native Americans in the Twin Territories, Oklahoma, and the United States more generally. The Cherokees were long invested in fostering their citizens’ education, and teachers can help students learn about the Cherokee Female Seminary and the Cherokee Male Seminary. A few examples follow, but many more are easily found on the web.
Boatman, Christine. “Lessons Learned in Teaching Native American History.” Edutopia. George Lucas Educational Foundation, September 18, 2019. “A white teacher shares resources and things she’s learned: Be humble, find the gaps in your knowledge, and listen to Native voices.”
“Transforming teaching and learning about Native Americans.” Native Knowledge 360° Education Initiative. National Museum of the American Indian, Smithsonian. The site offers educators and others free webinars, including many hosted by Native Americans, aimed to correct problematic narratives about Native Americans; it maintains an archive of previous sessions.
Contemporary Connections
One ongoing manifestation of the Cherokees’ commitment to education is their newspaper, the Cherokee Phoenix. A version of this newspaper, edited by Cherokee Elias Boudinot, first appeared in 1829 as the Cherokee Phoenix, and Indians’ Advocate. The weekly newspaper, which appeared in both English and the Cherokee syllabary developed by Chief Sequoyah, contained a wide range of materials, including the Cherokee Constitution, political and religious news, biographies of notable Cherokees, and more. In “Education has always been important to the Cherokees” (March 12, 2004), Principal Chief Chad Smith celebrates the nation’s tradition, commenting that “before statehood, our school system was the envy of local states. In fact, many non-Indian families that lived on the border of the Cherokee Nation would send their children to our day schools because of the high level of education they would receive there.”
Masthead for the Cherokee Phoenix, and Indians’ Advocate, May 5, 1832. Courtesy Archives and Special Collections, Amherst College.
Lawrence W. Ladd. The Creation. Watercolor on paper, 1880, Smithsonian American Art Museum and its Renwick Gallery, Washington, D.C.
The Beginning of Newness
Before the beginning of the New-making, the All-father Father alone had being. Through ages there was nothing else except black darkness.
In the beginning of the New-making, the All-father Father thought outward in space, and mists were created and up-lifted. Thus through his knowledge he made himself the Sun who was thus created and is the great Father. The dark spaces brightened with light. The cloud mists thickened and became water.
From his flesh, the Sun-father created the Seed-stuff of worlds, and he himself rested upon the waters.And these two, the Four-fold-containing Earth-mother and the All-covering Sky-father, the surpassing beings, with power of changing their forms even as smoke changes in the wind, were the father and mother of the soul beings.
Then as man and woman spoke these two together. “Behold!” said Earth-mother, as a great terraced bowl appeared at hand, and within it water, “This shall be the home of my tiny children. On the rim of each world-country in which they wander, terraced mountains shall stand, making in one region many mountains by which one country shall be known from another.”
Then she spat on the water and struck it and stirred it with her fingers. Foam gathered about the terraced rim, mounting higher and higher. Then with her warm breath she blew across the terraces. White flecks of foam broke away and floated over the water. But the cold breath of Sky-father shattered the foam and it fell downward in fine mist and spray.
Then Earth-mother spoke: “Even so shall white clouds float up from the great waters at the borders of the world, and clustering about the mountain terraces of the horizon, shall be broken and hardened by thy cold. Then will they shed downward, in rain-spray, the water of life, even into the hollow places of my lap. For in my lap shall nestle our children, man-kind and creature-kind, for warmth in thy coldness.”
So even now the trees on high mountains near the clouds and Sky-father, crouch low toward Earth mother for warmth and protection. Warm is Earth-mother, cold our Sky-father.
Then Sky-father said, “Even so. Yet I, too, will be helpful to our children.” Then he spread his hand out with the palm downward and into all the wrinkles of his hand he set the semblance of shining yellow corn-grains; in the dark of the early world-dawn they gleamed like sparks of fire.
“See,” he said, pointing to the seven grains between his thumb and four fingers, “our children shall be guided by these when the Sun-father is not near and thy terraces are as darkness itself. Then shall our children be guided by lights.” So Sky-father created the stars. Then he said, “And even as these grains gleam up from the water, so shall seed grain like them spring up from the earth when touched by water, to nourish our children.” And thus they created the seed-corn. And in many other ways they devised for their children, the soul-beings.
William Henry Holmes. The Enchanted Mesa. Watercolor and opaque watercolor on paper, 1927, Smithsonian American Art Museum and its Renwick Gallery, Washington, D.C.
But the first children, in a cave of the earth, were unfinished. The cave was of sooty blackness, black as a chimney at night time, and foul. Loud became their murmurings and lamentations, until many sought to escape, growing wiser and more man-like.
But the earth was not then as we now see it. Then Sun-father sent down two sons (sons also of the Foam-cap), the Beloved Twain, Twin Brothers of Light, yet Elder and Younger, the Right and the Left, like to question and answer in deciding and doing. To them the Sun-father imparted his own wisdom. He gave them the great cloud-bow, and for arrows the thunderbolts of the four quarters. For buckler, they had the fog-making shield, spun and woven of the floating clouds and spray. The shield supports its bearer, as clouds are supported by the wind, yet hides its bearer also. And he gave to them the fathership and control of men and of all creatures. Then the Beloved Twain, with their great cloud-bow lifted the Sky-father into the vault of the skies, that the earth might become warm and fitter for men and creatures. Then along the sun-seeking trail, they sped to the mountains westward. With magic knives they spread open the depths of the mountain and uncovered the cave in which dwelt the unfinished men and creatures. So they dwelt with men, learning to know them, and seeking to lead them out.
Now there were growing things in the depths, like grasses and vines. So the Beloved Twain breathed on the stems, growing tall toward the light as grass is wont to do, making them stronger, and twisting them upward until they formed a great ladder by which men and creatures ascended to a second cave.
Up the ladder into the second cave-world, men and the beings crowded, following closely the Two Little but Mighty Ones. Yet many fell back and were lost in the darkness. They peopled the under-world from which they escaped in after time, amid terrible earth shakings.
In this second cave it was as dark as the night of a stormy season, but larger of space and higher. Here again men and the beings increased, and their complainings grew loud. So the Twain again increased the growth of the ladder, and again led men upward, not all at once, but in six bands, to become the fathers of the six kinds of men, the yellow, the tawny gray, the red, the white, the black, and the mingled. And this time also many were lost or left behind.
Now the third great cave was larger and lighter, like a valley in starlight. And again they increased in number. And again the Two led them out into a fourth cave. Here it was light like dawning, and men began to perceive and to learn variously, according to their natures, wherefore the Twain taught them first to seek the Sun-father.
Then as the last cave became filled and men learned to understand, the Two led them forth again into the great upper world, which is the World of Knowing Seeing.
The Men of the Early Times
Eight years was but four days and four nights when the world was new. While such days and nights continued, men were led out, in the night-shine of the World of Seeing. For even when they saw the great star, they thought it the Sun-father himself, it so burned their eye-balls.
Men and creatures were more alike then than now. Our fathers were black, like the caves they came from; their skins were cold and scaly like those of mud creatures; their eyes were goggled like an owl’s; their ears were like those of cave bats; their feet were webbed like those of walkers in wet and soft places; they had tails, long or short, as they were old or young. Men crouched when they walked, or crawled along the ground like lizards. They feared to walk straight, but crouched as before time they had in their cave worlds, that they might not stumble or fall in the uncertain light.
Anasazi sandal, yucca, 10th century AD. Bata Shoe Museum, Toronto, ON, Canada.
When the morning star arose, they blinked excessively when they beheld its brightness and cried out that now surely the Father was coming. But it was only the elder of the Bright Ones, heralding with his shield of flame the approach of the Sun-father. And when, low down in the east, the Sun-father himself appeared, though shrouded in the mist of the world-waters, they were blinded and heated by his light and glory. They fell down wallowing and covered their eyes with their hands and arms, yet ever as they looked toward the light, they struggled toward the Sun as moths and other night creatures seek the light of a camp fire. Thus they became used to the light. But when they rose and walked straight, no longer bending, and looked upon each other, they sought to clothe themselves with girdles and garments of bark and rushes. And when by walking only upon their hinder feet they were bruised by stone and sand, they plaited sandals of yucca fibre.
The Search for the Middle and the Hardening of the World
As it was with the first men and creatures, so it was with the world. It was young and unripe. Earthquakes shook the world and rent it. Demons and monsters of the under-world fled forth. Creatures became fierce, beasts of prey, and others turned timid, becoming their quarry. Wretchedness and hunger abounded and black magic. Fear was everywhere among them, so the people, in dread of their precious possessions, became wanderers, living on the seeds of grass, eaters of dead and slain things. Yet, guided by the Beloved Twain, they sought in the light and under the pathway of the Sun, the Middle of the world, over which alone they could find the earth at rest (1). (Ed. note 1: The earth was flat and round, like a plate.)
When the tremblings grew still for a time, the people paused at the First of Sitting Places. Yet they were still poor and defenceless and unskilled, and the world still moist and unstable. Demons and monsters fled from the earth in times of shaking, and threatened wanderers.
Then the Two took counsel of each other. The Elder said the earth must be made more stable for men and the valleys where their children rested. If they sent down their fire bolts of thunder, aimed to all the four regions, the earth would heave up and down, fire would, belch over the world and burn it, floods of hot water would sweep over it, smoke would blacken the daylight, but the earth would at last be safer for men.
So the Beloved Twain let fly the thunderbolts.
Frederic Edwin Church. Storm over Hudson Valley. Brush and oil on canvas, 1867, Cooper Hewitt Smithsonian Design Museum, New York, NY.
The mountains shook and trembled, the plains cracked and crackled under the floods and fires, and the hollow places, the only refuge of men and creatures, grew black and awful. At last thick rain fell, putting out the fires. Then water flooded the world, cutting deep trails through the mountains, and burying or uncovering the bodies of things and beings. Where they huddled together and were blasted thus, their blood gushed forth and flowed deeply, here in rivers, there in floods, for gigantic were they. But the blood was charred and blistered and blackened by the fires into the black rocks of the lower mesas (2). (Ed. note 2: Lava) There were vast plains of dust, ashes, and cinders, reddened like the mud of the hearth place. Yet many places behind and between the mountain terraces were unharmed by the fires, and even then green grew the trees and grasses and even flowers bloomed. Then the earth became more stable, and drier, and its lone places less fearsome since monsters of prey were changed to rock.
But ever and again the earth trembled and the people were troubled.
“Let us again seek the Middle,” they said. So they travelled far eastward to their second stopping place, the Place of Bare Mountains.
Again the world rumbled, and they travelled into a country to a place called Where-tree-boles-stand-in-the-midst-of-waters. There they remained long, saying, “This is the Middle.” They built homes there. At times they met people who had gone before, and thus they learned war. And many strange things happened there, as told in speeches of the ancient talk.
Then when the earth groaned again, the Twain bade them go forth, and they murmured. Many refused and perished miserably in their own homes, as do rats in falling trees, or flies in forbidden food.
But the greater number went forward until they came to Steam-mist-in-the-midst-of-waters. And they saw the smoke of men’s hearth fires and many houses scattered over the hills before them. When they came nearer, they challenged the people rudely, demanding who they were and why there, for in their last standing-place they had had touch of war.
“We are the People of the Seed,” said the men of the hearth-fires, “born elder brothers of ye, and led of the gods.”
“No,” said our fathers, “we are led of the gods and we are the Seed People…”
Ira D. Gerald Cassidy. Old Man of Zuni, High Priest (Cacique). Oil on canvas, 1924, Smithsonian American Art Museum and its Renwick Gallery, Washington, D.C.
Long lived the people in the town on the sunrise slope of the mountains of Kahluelawan, until the earth began to groan warningly again. Loath were they to leave the place of the Kaka and the lake of their dead. But the rumbling grew louder and the Twain Beloved called, and all together they journeyed eastward, seeking once more the Place of the Middle. But they grumbled amongst themselves, so when they came to a place of great promise, they said, “Let us stay here. Perhaps it may be the Place of the Middle.”
So they built houses there, larger and stronger than ever before, and more perfect, for they were strong in numbers and wiser, though yet unperfected as men. They called the place “The Place of Sacred Stealing.”
Long they dwelt there, happily, but growing wiser and stronger, so that, with their tails and dressed in the skins of animals, they saw they were rude and ugly.
In chase or in war, they were at a disadvantage, for they met older nations of men with whom they fought. No longer they feared the gods and monsters, but only their own kind. So therefore the gods called a council.
“Changed shall ye be, oh our children,” cried the Twain. “Ye shall walk straight in the pathways, clothed in garments, and without tails, that ye may sit more straight in council, and without webs to your feet, or talons on your hands.”
So the people were arranged in procession like dancers. And the Twain with their weapons and fires of lightning shored off the forelocks hanging down over their faces, severed the talons, and slitted the webbed fingers and toes. Sore was the wounding and loud cried the foolish, when lastly the people were arranged in procession for the razing of their tails.
But those who stood at the end of the line, shrinking farther and farther, fled in their terror, climbing trees and high places, with loud chatter. Wandering far, sleeping ever in tree tops, in the far-away Summerland, they are sometimes seen of far-walkers, long of tail and long handed, like wizened men-children.
But the people grew in strength, and became more perfect, and more than ever went to war. They grew vain. They had reached the Place of the Middle. They said, “Let us not wearily wander forth again even though the earth tremble and the Twain bid us forth.”
And even as they spoke, the mountain trembled and shook, though far-sounding.
But as the people changed, changed also were the Twain, small and misshapen, hard-favored and unyielding of will, strong of spirit, evil and bad. They taught the people to war, and led them far to the eastward.
At last the people neared, in the midst of the plains to the eastward, great towns built in the heights. Great were the fields and possessions of this people, for they knew how to command and carry the waters, bringing new soil. And this, too, without hail or rain. So our ancients, hungry with long wandering for new food, were the more greedy and often gave battle.
It was here that the Ancient Woman of the Elder People, who carried her heart in her rattle and was deathless of wounds in the body, led the enemy, crying out shrilly. So it fell out ill for our fathers. For, moreover, thunder raged and confused their warriors, rain descended and blinded them, stretching their bow strings of sinew and quenching the flight of their arrows as the flight of bees is quenched by the sprinkling plume of the honey-hunter. But they devised bow strings of yucca and the Two Little Ones sought counsel of the Sun-father who revealed the life-secret of the Ancient Woman and the magic powers over the under-fires of the dwellers of the mountains, so that our enemy in the mountain town was overmastered. And because our people found in that great town some hidden deep in the cellars, and pulled them out as rats are pulled from a hollow cedar, and found them blackened by the fumes of their war magic, yet wiser than the common people, they spared them and received them into their next of kin of the Black Corn….
But the tremblings and warnings still sounded, and the people searched for the stable Middle.
Now they called a great council of men and the beasts, birds, and insects of all kinds. After a long council it was said,
“Where is Water-skate? He has six legs, all very long. Perhaps he can feel with them to the uttermost of the six regions, and point out the very Middle.”
Illustration for “Water-Skate Finding the Center” from Living the Sky: The Cosmos of the American Indian by R. A. Williamson, p. 66.
So Water-skate was summoned. But lo! It was the Sun-father in his likeness which appeared. And he lifted himself to the zenith and extended his fingerfeet to all the six regions, so that they touched the north, the great waters; the west, and the south, and the east, the great waters; and to the northeast the waters above, and to the southwest the waters below. But to the north his finger foot grew cold, so he drew it in. Then gradually he settled down upon the earth and said, “Where my heart rests, mark a spot, and build a town of the Mid-most, for there shall be the Mid-most Place of the Earth-mother.”
And his heart rested over the middle of the plain and valley of Zuni. And when he drew in his finger-legs, lo! there were the trail-roads leading out and in like stays of a spider’s nest, into and from the mid-most place he had covered.
Here because of their good fortune in finding the stable Middle, the priest father called the town the Abiding-place-of-happy-fortune.
various authors. “The Beginning of Newness,” “The men of the early times,” “The Search for the Middle and the Hardening of the World.” InMYTHS AND LEGENDS OF CALIFORNIA AND THE OLD SOUTHWEST, Ed. Katharine Berry Judson. Chicago: A.C. MCCLURG & CO., 1912.
[1] These three stories constitute a history of the Earth and the Zuni people from the beginning of creation to the foundation of their pueblo.
Contexts
Creation myths, or cosmogonies, are one of the few universals. Although the how, why, where, and when of creation varies from culture to culture, they all account for the existence of the world around them. Some cultures attribute the creation of the world to one or more divine beings; others say it emanates from a source. In the case of the Zuni Creation Cycle, the story places their pueblo in the geographical Middle of the World, where the gods wish them to be.
Resources for Further Study
Zunian Lullaby is another example of Zuni oral tradition.
In the days of the grandfathers, buffaloes lived under the earth. In the olden times, they say, a man who was journeying came to a hill where there were many holes in the ground. He entered one of them. When he had gone inside he found buffalo chips and buffalo tracks on all sides. He found also buffalo hairs where the buffaloes had rubbed against the walls. These were the real buffaloes and they lived under the ground. Afterwards some of them came to the surface of the earth and lived there. Then the herds on the earth increased.
These buffaloes had many lodges and there they raised their children. They did many strange things. Therefore when a man escapes being wounded by an enemy, people say he has seen the buffaloes in his dreams, and they have helped him.
Men who dream of the buffaloes act like them and dance the buffalo-bull dance. Then the man who acts the buffalo has a real buffalo inside of him, people say, a little hard ball near the shoulder blade; and therefore he is very hard to kill. No matter how often he is wounded, he does not die.
People know that the buffaloes live in earth lodges; so they never dance the buffalo dance vainly.
THE BUFFALO AND THE GRIZZLY BEAR (Omaha)
Grizzly Bear was going somewhere, following the course of a stream, and at last he went straight towards the headland. When he got in sight, Buffalo Bull was standing beneath it. Grizzly Bear retraced his steps, going again to the stream, following its course until he got beyond the headland.Then he drew near and peeped. He saw that Buffalo Bull was very lean, and standing with his head bowed, as if sluggish.
So Grizzly Bear crawled up close to him, made a rush, seized him by the hair of his head, and pulled down his head. He turned Buffalo Bull round and round, shaking him now and then, saying, “Speak! Speak! I have been coming to this place a long time, and they say you have threatened to fight me. Speak!” Then he hit Buffalo Bull on the nose with his open pa
“Why!” said Buffalo Bull, “I have never threatened to fight you, who have been coming to this country so long.”
“Not so! You have threatened to fight me.” Letting go the buffalo’s head, Grizzly Bear went around and seized him by the tail, turning him round and round. Then he left, but as he did so, he gave him a hard blow with his open paw.
“Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! you have caused me great pain,” said Buffalo Bull. Bobtailed Grizzly Bear departed.
Buffalo Bull thought thus: “Attack him! You too have been just that sort of a person.”
Grizzly Bear knew what he was thinking, so he said, “Why! what are you saying?”
“I said nothing,” said Buffalo Bull.
Then Grizzly Bear came back. He seized Buffalo Bull by the tail, pulling him round and round. Then he seized him by the horns, pulling his head round and round. Then he seized him again by the tail and hit him again with the open paw. Again Grizzly Bear departed. And again Buffalo Bull thought as he had done before. Then Grizzly Bear came back and treated Buffalo Bull as he had before.
Buffalo Bull stepped backward, throwing his tail into the air.
“Why! Do not flee,” said Grizzly Bear.
John and Karen Hollingsworth. American Bison. Photograph, 1997, Digital Public Library of America.
Buffalo threw himself down, and rolled over and over. Then he continued backing, pawing the ground.
“Why! I say, do not flee,” said Grizzly Bear. When Buffalo Bull backed, making ready to attack him, Grizzly Bear thought he was scared.
Then Buffalo Bull ran towards Grizzly, puffing a great deal. When he neared him, he rushed on him. He sent Grizzly Bear flying through the air.
As Grizzly Bear came down towards the earth, Buffalo Bull caught him on his horns and threw him into the air again. When Grizzly Bear fell and lay on the ground, Buffalo Bull made at him with his horns to gore him, but just missed him. Grizzly Bear crawled away slowly, with Buffalo Bull following him step by step, thrusting at him now and then, though without striking him. When Grizzly Bear came to a cliff, he plunged over headlong, and landed in a thicket at the foot. Buffalo Bull had run so fast he could not stop at the edge where Grizzly Bear went over, but followed the cliff for some distance. Then he came back and stood with his tail partly raised. Grizzly Bear returned to the bank and peeped.
“Oh, Buffalo Bull,” said Grizzly Bear. “Let us be friends. We are very much alike in disposition.”
Julian Martinez. Buffalo Hunter. Watercolor, ink, and pencil on paperboard, c. 1920-1925, Smithsonian American Art Museum and its Renwick Gallery, Washington, D.C.
I went three times on the buffalo hunt. When I was there the first time, I was small; therefore, I did not shoot the buffaloes. But I used to take care of the pack horses for those who surrounded the herd. When they surrounded the herd at the very first, I spoke of shooting at the buffaloes. But my father said, “Perhaps the horse might throw you suddenly, and then the buffalo might gore you.” And I was in a bad humor.
My father went with me to the hill. We sat and looked on them when they attacked the buffaloes. And notwithstanding my father talked to me, I continued there without talking to him. At length one man was coming directly toward the tents in pursuit of a buffalo bull. And the buffalo bull was savage. He attacked the man now and then.
“Come! Go thither,” said my father. I tied a lariat on a large red mare that was very tall. And taking a very light gun which my father had, I went over there. When I arrived the buffalo bull was standing motionless. The man said he was very glad that I had come. The buffalo bull was savage. The man shot suddenly at him with a bow and wounded him on the back. And then he attacked us. The horse on which I was seated leaped very far four times, and had gone off, throwing me suddenly. When the buffalo bull had come very close, he wheeled around and departed. So I failed to shoot at him before he went. I reached home just as my mother was scolding my father about me. When the horse reached home with the bridle sticking to it, she knew that I had been thrown. My father said nothing at all, but sat laughing. Addressing me, he said, “Did you kill the buffalo bull?” And I did not speak.
JUDSON, KATHARINE BERRY., ED. “Origin of the buffalo,” in MYTHS AND LEGENDS OF the great plains, 53-54. A. C. McClurg & co., 1913.
JUDSON, KATHARINE BERRY., ED. “the buffalo and the grizzly bear,” IN MYTHS AND LEGENDS, 68-70.
JUDSON, KATHARINE BERRY., ED. “My first buffalo hunt,” IN MYTHS AND LEGENDS, 71-72.
[2] “The author, Frank La Flèche, an Omaha Indian, was about twelve years old when this occurred” (ed. footnote).
Contexts
Mistakenly called buffalo, the American Bison once roamed across North America in large numbers. Though we may never know how many bison were alive at their peak, experts believe they once numbered between 30 and 75 million. By 1800, the herds east of the Mississippi were killed off. By 1838, many herds in the northern and southern portions of the Great Plains were destroyed. There were only 300 wild bison by the turn of the 20th century. In 1894, Congress passed a law making it illegal to hunt bison in Yellowstone National Park. Twenty-one bison were purchased in 1902 to rebuild the Yellowstone herd. In 2019, the Yellowstone herd numbered nearly 5,000, and there were nearly 40,000 bison across North America.
The American bison is culturally important to the Native American tribes of the Great Plains region, including the Teton and Omaha tribes, from whom these stories were collected. The overhunting of the buffalo since the arrival of Europeans has had systemic effects on the land and the Native peoples.
The National Park Service has information on the Yellowstone herd and bison conservation, as does Bison Range Restoration, which is in the process of transitioning oversight of the National Bison Range from U.S. Fish and Wildlife to resource managers from the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes (CKST).
Ryan Hagerty. Bison on the National Bison Range. Photograph, 2003, Digital Public Library of America.
Contemporary Connections
There are several works of fiction regarding the Native American connection to the American Bison:
Buffalo Dreams by Kim Doner links the traditional connection to buffalo to the present day.
Buffalo Song by Joseph Bruchac (Abenaki) is a buffalo history: how they came to be, why they were almost killed off, and how Great Plains Natives still see them as sacred.
The Buffalo Jump by Peter Roop describes a traditional method for hunting buffalo.
[1] Judson includes the tribal origins of each tale with the title.
