Category: Native American

Categories
1890s 1910s Folktale Native American Wild animals

The Antelope Boy

The Antelope Boy

Collected by Charles Lummis
Annotations by Ian McLAughlin
Pronghorn Antelope – Jean Beaufort

Once upon a time there were two towns of the Tée-wahn, called Nah-bah-tóo-too-ee (white village) and Nah-choo-rée-too-ee (yellow village). A man of Nah-bah-tóo-too-ee and his wife were attacked by Apaches while out on the plains one day and took refuge in a cave, where they were besieged. And there a boy was born to them. The father was killed in an attempt to return to his village for help; and starvation finally forced the mother to crawl forth by night seeking roots to eat. Chased by the Apaches, she escaped to her own village, and it was several days before she could return to the cave—only to find it empty.

The baby had begun to cry soon after her departure. Just then a Coyote[1] was passing, and heard. Taking pity on the child, he picked it up and carried it across the plain until he came to a herd of antelopes. Among them was a Mother-Antelope that had lost her fawn; and going to her the Coyote said:

“Here is an ah-bóo (poor thing) that is left by its people. Will you take care of it?”

The Coyote Carries the Baby to the Antelope Mother

The Mother-Antelope, remembering her own baby, with tears said “Yes” and at once adopted the tiny stranger, while the Coyote thanked her and went home.

So the boy became as one of the antelopes, and grew up among them until he was about twelve years old. Then it happened that a hunter came out from Nah-bah-tóo-too-ee for antelopes, and found this herd. Stalking them carefully, he shot one with an arrow. The rest started off, running like the wind; but ahead of them all, as long as they were in sight, he saw a boy! The hunter was much surprised, and, shouldering his game, walked back to the village, deep in thought. Here he told the Cacique[2] what he had seen. Next day the crier was sent out to call upon all the people to prepare for a great hunt, in four days,[3] to capture the Indian boy who lived with the antelopes.

While preparations were going on in the village, the antelopes in some way heard of the intended hunt and its purpose. The Mother-Antelope was very sad when she heard it, and at first would say nothing. But at last she called her adopted son to her and said: “Son you have heard that the people of Nah-bah-tóo-too-ee are coming to hunt. But they will not kill us; all they wish is to take you. They will surround us, intending to let all the antelopes escape from the circle. You must follow me where I break through the line, and your real mother will be coming on the northeast side in a white manta (robe). I will pass close to her, and you must stagger and fall where she can catch you.”

On the fourth day all the people went out upon the plains. They found and surrounded the herd of antelopes, which ran about in a circle when the hunters closed upon them. The circle grew smaller and the antelopes began to break through; but the hunters paid no attention to them, keeping their eyes upon the boy. At last he and his antelope mother were the only ones left, and when she broke through the line on the northeast he followed her and fell at the feet of his own human mother, who sprang forward and clasped him in her arms.

Amid great rejoicing he was taken to Nah-bah-tóo-too-ee, and there he told the principales[4] how he had been left in the cave, how the Coyote had pitied him, and how the Mother-Antelope had reared him as her own son.

It was not long before all the country round about heard of the Antelope Boy and of his marvelous fleetness of foot. You must know that the antelpes never comb their hair, and while among them the boy’s head had grown very bushy. So the people called him Pée-hleh-o-wah-wée-deh (big-headed little boy).

Among the other villages that heard of his prowess was Nah-choo-rée-too-ee, all of whose people “had the bad road.”[5] They had a wonderful runner named Pée-k’hoo (Deer-foot), and very soon they sent a challenge to Nah-bah-tóo-too-ee for a championship race. Four days were to be given for preparation, to make bets, and the like.

The race was to be around the world.[6] Each village was to stake all its property and the lives of all its people on the result of the race. So powerful were the witches of Nah-choo-rée-too-ee that they felt safe in proposing so serious a stake; and the people of Nah-bah-tóo-too-ee were ashamed to decline the challenge.

The day came and the starting point was surrounded by all the people of the two villages, dressed in their best. On each side were huge piles of ornaments and dresses, stores of grain, and all the other property of the people. The runner for the yellow village was a tall, sinewy athlete, strong in his early manhood; and when the Antelope Boy appeared for the other side, the witches set up a howl of derision and began to strike their rivals and jeer at them, saying, “Pooh! We might as well begin to kill you now! What can that óo-deh (little thing) do?

At the word “Hái-ko!” (“Go!”) the two runners started toward the east like the wind. The Antelope Boy soon forged ahead; but Deer-foot, by his witchcraft, changed himself into a hawk and flew lightly over the lad, saying, “We do this way to each other!”[7] The Antelope Boy kept running, but his heart was very heavy, for he knew that no feet could equal the swift flight of the hawk.

But just as he came half-way to the east, a Mole came up from its burrow and said: “My son, where are you going so fast with a sad face?”

The lad explained that the race was for the property and the lives of all his people; and that the witch runner had turned into a hawk and left him far behind.

Rain Falls on Pée-K’Hoo

“Then, my son,” said the Mole, “I will be he that shall help you. Only sit down here a little while, and I will give you something to carry.”

The boy sat down, and the Mole diced into the hold, but soon came back with four cigarettes.[8]

Holding them out the Mold said, “Now, my son, when you have reached the east and turned north, smoke one; when you have reached the north and turn west, smoke another; when you turn south, another and when you turn east again, another. Hái-ko!”

The boy ran on, and soon reached the east. Turning his face to the north he smoked the first cigarette. No sooner was it finished than he became a young antelope; and at the same instant a furious rain began. Refreshed by the cool drops, he started like an arrow from the bow. Half-way to the north he came to a large tree; and there sat the hawk, drenched and chilled, unable to fly, and crying piteously.

“Now, friend, we too do this to each other,” called the boy-antelope as he dashed past. But just as he reached the north, the hawk—which had become dry after the short rain—caught up and passed him, saying, “We too do this to each other!” The boy-antelope turned westward, and smoked the second cigarette; and at once another terrific rain began.[9] Half-way to the west he again passed the hawk shivering and crying in a tree, and unable to fly; but as he was about to turn to the south, the hawk passed him with the customary taunt. The smoking of the third cigarette brought another storm, and again the antelope passed the wet hawk half-way, and again the hawk dried its feathers in time to catch up and pass him as he was turning to the east for the home-stretch. Here again the boy-antelope stopped and smoked a cigarette—the fourth and last. Again a short, hard rain came and again he passed the water-bound hawk half-way.

The Two Runners Came Sweeping Down the Home-stretch Straining Every Nerve

Knowing of the witchcraft of their neighbors, the people of Nah-bah-tóo-too-ee had made the condition that, in whatever shape the racers might run the rest of the course, they must resume human form upon arrival at a certain hill upon the fourth turn, which was in sight of the goal. The last wetting of the hawk’s feathers delayed it so that the antelope reached the hill just ahead; and there, resuming their natural shapes, the two runners came sweeping down the home-stretch, straining at every nerve. But the Antelope Boy gained at each stride. When they saw him, the witch-people felt confident that he was their champion, and again began to push, and taunt, and jeer at their others. But when the little Antelope Boy sprang lightly across the line, far ahead of Deer-foot, their joy turned to mourning.

The people of Nah-bah-tóo-too-ee burned all the witches upon the spot, in a great pile of corn; but somehow one escaped, and from him come all the witches that trouble us to this day.

The property of the witches was taken to Nah-bah-tóo-too-ee; and as it was more than that village could hold, the surplus was sent to Shee-eh-whíb-bak (Isleta),[10] where we enjoy it to this day; and later the people themselves moved here. And even now, when we dig in that little hill on the other side of the charco (pools), we find charred corn-cobs, where our forefathers burned the witch-people of the yellow village.

LUMMIS, CHARLES FLETCHER. THE MAN WHO MARRIED THE MOON AND OTHER PUEBLO INDIAN FOLK-STORIES. THE MAN WHO MARRIED THE MOON AND OTHER PUEBLO INDIAN FOLK-STORIES, BY CHARLES LUMIS. NEW YORK, NY: THE CENTURY CO., 1894. HTTPS://HDL.HANDLE.NET/2027/UC2.ARK:/13960/T3WS8JC1P.

[1] The small prairie-wolf. (Lummis)
Coyote Tales of the Southwest has more coyote stories.

[2] The highest religious official (Lummis)

[3] Four is the most important number in many Native American cultures. It stands for a cycle of fertility, being found in the four ages of man, the four seasons, and the four cardinal directions.

[4] The old men who are the congress of the pueblo (Lummis)

[5] That is, were witches (Lummis)

[6] The Pueblos believed it was an immense plain whereon the racers were to race over a square course—to the extreme east, then to the extreme north, and so on, back to the starting point. (Lummis)

[7] A common Indian taunt, either good-natured or bitter, to the loser of a game or to a conquered enemy (Lummis)

[8] These are made by putting a certain weed called pee-én-hleh into hollow reeds. (Lummis)

[9]The cigarette plays an important part in the Pueblo folk-stories,—they never had the pipe of the Northern Indians, —and all the rain-clouds are supposed to come from its smoke. (Lummis)

[10] Isleta is the largest of the Tée-wahn pueblos and the second-largest pueblo overall.

Contexts

Stories of humans raised by animals are almost as old as civilization. The story of Romulus and Remus from Roman mythology, Kippling’s Mowgli, and Incident at Hawk’s Hill (1971) by naturalist and writer Allan W. Eckert all use this trope. In most cases, this connection to nature is accompanied by animal-like abilities, such as ferocity in battle, literally talking to animals, or, in the case of “The Antelope Boy” running as fast as an antelope.

Resources for Further Study
  • “The Sacred Hoop: A Contemporary Perspective on Native American Literature” from The Sacred Hoop: Recovering the Feminine in American Indian Traditions by Paula Gunn Allen is a great essay on how to read Native Literature as a non-Native.
  • The Man Who Married the Moon by Charles Lummis (also published under the title Pueblo Indian folk-stories) is an excellent resource on the stories and the culture of the Tée-wahn pueblos of New Mexico.
  • “Locating the Human in Performance” from Affect, Animals, and Autists: Feeling Around the Edges of the Human in Performance by Marla Carlson touches on the idea of the feral child and how it shapes our understanding of civilization.
Pedagogy

Despite the cigarette imagery, this story is great for a comparative reading with other stories of children raised by animals, such as those listed in the Contexts section above.

Contemporary Connections

Avatar: The Last Airbender features a character raised by giant badger-like creatures.
The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kippling and the subsequent movies, including the most recent Disney version, have captured imaginations for more than a century.

Categories
1900s Birds Native American Short Story Wild animals

Battle of the Owls

Battle of the Owls

By Joseph M. Poepoe (Kānaka Maoli)
Annotations by Jessica cory
Printed panel, entitled "The Owl" with front, back and bottom views of a perched owl in shades of brown, green and yellow, meant to be cut and sewn into a stuffed toy. Sewing instructions are printed in the center. "Arnold Print Works, North Adams, MA" is printed on the upper left corner.
Artist unknown, The Owl, Printed by Arnold Print Works, N. Adams, Mass. Textile (engraved roller on plain weave
cotton), 1892, Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum, New York, NY.

The following is a fair specimen of the animal myths current in ancient Hawaii, and illustrates the place held by the owl in Hawaiian mythology.

There lived a man named Kapoi, at Kahehuna, in Honolulu, who went one day to Kewalo to get some thatching for his house. On his way back he found some owl’s eggs, which he gathered together and brought home with him. In the evening he wrapped them in ti leaves[1] and was about to roast them in hot ashes, when an owl perched on the fence which surrounded his house and called out to him, “O Kapoi, give me my eggs!”

Kapoi asked the owl, “How many eggs had you?”

“Seven eggs,” replied the owl.

Kapoi then said, “Well, I wish to roast these eggs for my supper.”

The owl asked the second time for its eggs, and was answered by Kapoi in the same manner. Then said the owl, “O heartless Kapoi! why don’t you take pity on me? Give me my eggs.”

Kapoi then told the owl to come and take them.

The owl, having got the eggs, told Kapoi to build up a heiau, or temple, and instructed him to make an altar and call the temple by the name of Manua. Kapoi built the temple as directed; set kapu[2] days for its dedication, and placed the customary sacrifice on the altar.

News spread to the hearing of Kakuihewa, who was then King of Oahu, living at the time at Waikiki, that a certain man had kapued certain days for his heiau, and had already dedicated it. This King had made a law that whoever among his people should erect a heiau and kapu the same before the King had his temple kapued, that man should pay the penalty of death. Kapoi was thereupon seized, by the King’s orders, and led to the heiau of Kupalaha, at Waikiki.

That same day, the owl that had told Kapoi to erect a temple gathered all the owls from Lanai, Maui, Molokai, and Hawaii to one place at Kalapueo. [3] All those from the Koolau districts were assembled at Kanoniakapueo, [4] and those from Kauai and Niihau at Pueohulunui, near Moanalua.

It was decided by the King that Kapoi should be put to death on the day of Kane. [5] When that day came, at daybreak the owls left their places of rendezvous and covered the whole sky over Honolulu; and as the King’s servants seized Kapoi to put him to death, the owls flew at them, pecking them with their beaks and scratching them with their claws. Then and there was fought the battle between Kakuihewa’s people and the owls. At last the owls conquered, and Kapoi was released, the King acknowledging that his Akua (god) was a powerful one. From that time the owl has been recognized as one of the many deities venerated by the Hawaiian people.

Poepoe, Joseph m. “battle of the owls,” in hawaiian folk tales: a collection of native legends, ed. thomas g. thrum, 200-202. a.c. mcclurg & co., 1907.

[1] Ti leaves are leaves of Cordyline fruticosa, a tree that grows in the Pacific Islands. Its leaves are often used to wrap foods before cooking, similar to how corn husks are used for tamales.

[2] Kapu is a traditional code of conduct that governed many interpersonal, spiritual, and government interactions. By making “kapu days,” Kapoi would create holy days or dedicate them to a higher power. The word contemporarily means “taboo” or “avoid.”

[3] Situated beyond Diamond Head, a volcanic cone on Oahu.

[4] In Nuuanu Valley.

[5] When the moon is 27 days old.

Contexts

This story reminds us that while owls often signify death in some Native American tribes, particular tribal meanings or symbols are not universally true for all Indigenous peoples. It is also important to recognize that these are stories, not just myths. As stories, particularly Native Hawaiian stories (moʻolelos), there are many layers of meaning that a reader outside of that culture may not fully understand. For more information on moʻolelos, check out Kumakahi: Living Hawaiian Culture.

Resources for Further Study

Categories
1920s Creation stories Folktale Native American

Old Man and the Bullberries

Old Man and the Bullberries

By Grey Wolf
Annotations by Catherine Bowlin
A man beats a blueberry bush with a stick above a river.
Gwenyth Waugh. Old Man and the Bullberries. 1920. From the third volume of The Brownies’ Book, 80.
W. E. B. Du Bois, ed., The Brownies’ Book, www.loc.gov/item/22001351/.

OLD MAN was walking along, very thirsty, so the first river he came to, he flung himself down to drink. Right after he had filled up, he noticed a branch full of bullberries [1], lying under the water. 

“Say, that is fine,” exclaimed Old Man. “Berries! I guess I’ll dive in and get ‘em.” 

He dived in, swam around under water, and felt for the berries; but not one could he find. 

“That’s queer!” he gasped, coming to the surface. “I’ll look again.”

When the water cleared, he stared into it again. Sure enough, there were the berries.

Old Man dived a second time, and the poor fellow nearly suffocated, trying to stay under water long enough to find the berries. Finally he came up and blew a long breath and climbed out on the bank. After a minute, he turned to look and the berries were there as before! 

“I don’t stay under long enough, that’s the trouble!” exclaimed Old Man. He found a stone and tied it around his middle and jumped in. He went down, like a stone, and flopped on the hard bottom of the river. Once there, he thrashed his arms about, looking for the berries. It was no use. At last, choking and bubbling, he tried to rise, but could not. The stone held him down.

“Do I die now?” he wondered. 

“No,” answered his tomahawk,––“cut the cord!”

Old Man cut the cord, and the rock fell on his toes.

“OUCH!” he gurgled.

He shot to the surface. Now he was so exhausted that he had to lie on his back to recover breath. Suddenly he noticed, right above him a berry bush, leaning out over the river. It was the reflection of this bush that Old Man had dived for! 

“So!” cried the Old Man to the berry bush, “you fooled me, did you!” He jumped up and picked out a stick and attacked the berry bush, beating it until he had knocked all of its berries.

“There!” he cried, as he ate the berries, “that is your punishment for fooling Old Man. After this, even the women will beat you!”

It was so. From that time, whenever the Indian women wanted berries, they beat the bullberry bushes with sticks, having first spread blankets to catch the berries. Old Man taught them that. 

Gray Wolf, Chief of Winnebagoes. None. [Between 1865 and 1880] Photograph. https://www.loc.gov/item/95518265/.
Grey Wolf. “Old Man and the Bullberries.” The Brownies’ Book, ed. W. E. B. Du Bois, vol. 1, no. 3, New York, N.Y.: DuBois and Dill, March 1920. 80. Retrieved from the Library of Congress, <www.loc.gov/item/22001351/>.

[1] Bullberries, also known as Buffalo berries, are shrubs found in the Great Plains and in more northern parts of Ho-Chunk territory.

Contexts

As is usual with Native American folk tales, not much is known about the origin of this story or the author. It is possible that Grey Wolf may be Gray Wolf, Chief of Winnebagoes, though there is not much known about Chief Gray Wolf either. The Winnebago Tribe, also known as the Ho-Chunks, lived in what is now central Minnesota and northern Illinois, and now the Tribe lives in Nebraska.

There is at least one contemporary children’s story related to Native characters and berries. Paul Goble’s Iktomi and the Berries: A Plains Indian Story, published in 1989, tells the story of a Trickster figure, Iktomi, who repeatedly dives for buffalo berries in the water.

Resources for Further Study
  • Alexander, Hartley Burr. Native American Mythology. Dover Publications: Mineola, New York, 2005. (Link to Google Book)
  • Bastian, Dawn E. and Judy K. Mitchell. Handbook of Native American Mythology. ABC-Clio, 2004. (Link to Google Book)
  • Gill, Sam D. and Irene F. Sullivan. Dictionary of Native American Myths. Oxford University Press, 1994. (Link to eBook)
Categories
1880s Column Education Essay Native American

Our Young Folks

Our Young Folks

By The Indian
Annotations by jessica cory
The header of The Indian newspaper. Volume 1 in the left hand corner, number 7 in the right hand corner. Hagersville, Ontario and Wednesday, April 14, 1886 in the middle.
Header for the issue of the The Indian containing the new column, “Our Young Folks.”

Under this head we propose to establish a new feature in our journal. The bulk of the matter hitherto appearing in the The Indian has been to mature and older heads. This, our new departure [sic] is calculated to be especially for the Indian children, but answers and questions will receive all due attention, no matter from what source they come. We propose publishing continuously an interesting story suitable for juvinile [sic] readers, also a series of questions of a general character: Historical, Geographical, Mathematical, etc, and also conundrums, graded to suit our young readers and to come within their scope of knowledge. The answers to these questions will be published in each following issue with the names of those who answer correctly. We shall be glad to have questions sent to us by those who have any which they may deem worthy of publication. Our object in this is to create a spirit or desire for knowledge among the young of our people to whom The Indian comes. As soon as we can arrive at an opinion as to the capacity of our readers to grapple with the problems of a varied character, we shall offer prizes and awards to successful candidates. This feature will be added to this department from time to time. We commence this issue with the following:—

                1) Find the cost of a 160-acre farm at $11.25 an acre.

                2) A fence is 38 rods long. How many feet long is it?

                3) How many cords of wood in a pile 32 feet long, 12 feet wide, 14 feet wide?

Pictured is a yellowed newspaper clipping with the page's text included on it.
The original column in The Indian from April 14, 1886. Original is held by The Newberry Library in Chicago, Illinois.
“Our young folks.” The Indian, April 14, 1886, 82. https://webvoyage.carli.illinois.edu/nby/cgi-bin/Pwebrecon.cgi?DB=local&v1=1&BBRecID=494884.

Contexts

The Indian was published by The Indian Publishing Company from December 30, 1885 until December 29, 1886. According to the American Indian Newspapers database, “The Indian: A paper devoted to the aborigines of North America and especially to the Indians of Canada was established by Peter Edmund Jones – or Kahkewaquonaby – a Mississauga Ojibwa chief. The first newspaper to be published by an Indigenous Canadian, The Indian was circulated across Ontario’s Indian Reserves and intended to inform the First Nations people about Canadian legislation.” Not many Indigenous newspapers at the time contained features specifically for children, and it’s notable that features, such as this one, would contain environmental themes like cords of wood or farming, as these topics would’ve been familiar to readers, including youth.

Though no way way to know for certain, the column’s title, “Our Young Folks,” may have been inspired from the popular U.S. children’s periodical Our Young Folks: an Illustrated Magazine for Boys and Girls that circulated in the 1860s and ’70s.

Resources for Further Study

Categories
1910s Native American Short Story

How Morning Star Lost Her Fish

How Morning Star Lost Her Fish

By Mabel Powers/Yeh Sen Noh Wehs[1]
Annotations by Jessica Cory
A Native American woman stands in traditional dress with braids in front of her body. Below her are little people who are shirtless and appear to also be Native.
Original image for “How Morning Star Lost Her Fish” included in the 1917 edition of Stories the Iroquois Tell Their Children, page 199.

Once the Little People, the Indian fairies, ran with the Red Children through the woods, and played with them beside the streams. Now they are not often seen, for the white man drove them out of the woods with the Indians, and away from the waters, with his big steam noises.

But before steamboats and great mills were on the streams, the Little People were there. They were often seen paddling their tiny canoes, or sliding down the great rocks on the banks. They loved to slide down a bank where one rock jutted out, for then they had a big bounce. They also liked to sport and jump with the fish.

There was a young Indian girl whose name was Morning Star. She was called Morning Star because her face was so bright, and she was always up early in the morning.

Morning Star lived with her father in a comfortable wigwam by a river. Every day she would get up with the sun, and run down to the river where the great rocks were, to catch fish for breakfast.

Morning Star caught her fish in a basket. At night, she would go and fasten her basket between the rocks, in a narrow place of the stream. Then, when the fish swam through in the night, they would get caught in it, and Morning Star would find plenty of fish waiting for her. In the morning, she would take the basket of fish back to the wigwam, and soon the smell of fish frying on hot coals would come from the lodge.

Never since Morning Star began to fish with her basket, had Chief Little Wolf, her father, had to wait for his fish breakfast before starting on the chase. But one morning, neither Chief Little Wolf nor Morning Star breakfasted on fish. This is how it happened.

On this morning, the Indian girl was up as usual with the sun. She ran down the river just as the Great Spirit lifted the sun’s smiling face. Morning Star had such a light heart that she was glad just to be alive, and she sang a song of praise as she ran. All true Indians at sunrise lift their arms and faces to the sun, and thank the Great Spirit that he has smiled upon them again.

Happy and fleet as a deer, Morning Star ran on until she came to the great rocks. There she saw a whole tribe of tiny little folk gathered about her basket. Some of them were perched on the sides of the basket, laughing and singing. Others were lifting the fish from it and throwing them into the stream. Still others were opening and closing the splints of the basket for the fish to slip through.

Morning Star knew that these tiny folk were the Jo gah oh. She knew also that these Little People were friends of the fish. They know every twist of a fish net and every turn of a hook. Often they have been known to set fish free, and to guide them into deep, quiet places, far away from the men who fish.

Morning Star called to the Little People and begged them not to let all the fish go. Then she began to climb down the rocks, as fast as she could. The little Chief called up to her, “Fish, like Indian girls, like to be alive.”

Then he told the Little People to keep on setting the fish free. When Morning Star reached her basket, a few fish were still in it. She put out her hand to take them from the Little People,—and not a fish, nor a Jo gah oh was to be seen. The Little People had darted into the rocks, for they go through anything, and the fish had slipped through the tiny spaces between the splints of the basket.

Morning Star heard the laughter of the Little People echo deep within the rocks, for they like to play pranks with the earth children. And far down the stream, she saw the fish leap with joy at being still alive. She took up her empty basket and went back to the wigwam.

That morning for breakfast, Morning Star baked corn cakes on the hot coals. As she ate the hot cakes, she thought they tasted almost as good as fish.

Ever after, when Morning Star saw a fish leap from the stream, she remembered what the Jo gah oh had said: “Fish, like Indian girls, like to be alive.”

Powers, Mabel. “How Morning Star Lost Her Fish” in Stories the Iroquois tell their children, 196-200. New York: American Book Company, 1917.

[1] Mabel Powers was a white settler who was made an honorary or adopted member of the Snipe Clan of the Seneca Indians, part of the Iroquois (now most commonly called Haudenosaunee) Confederacy. She was given the name Yeh Sen Noh Wehs following her adoption.

Contexts

The stories in this collection were told to Powers by members of several tribes that are part of the Haudenosaunee and unlike other anthropologists and ethnographers of her time, she listed all tribal members who contributed stories and included the signatures of all six tribal chiefs, essentially authenticating and endorsing this collection of stories. While its generally advisable to avoid “as told to” or “as told by” narratives in Native American Studies, largely because the audience is unaware of the editing process, I chose to include this work because it does appear to have the endorsement of the tribal nations involved.

Acknowledgements of contributors to Powers’ collection, page 8.
This document lists all 6 chiefs and their signatures.
List of signatures of the chiefs of the 6 tribes that are part of the Haudenosaunee (also called Iroquois) Confederacy, pages 9-10.
Resources for Further Study
Pedagogy

It is important to note that anthropological or ethnographic work does have a contentious history in regard to Native peoples, as it is an extension of colonization and frequently results in the exploitation of Indigenous populations.

Categories
1910s Birds Column Creation stories Myth Native American

Tradition of the Crows

Tradition of the Crows

By Louis George (Klamath)[1,2]
Annotations by Jessica Cory
The bird seated on a branch, facing right in profile.
“The Crackle, or Crow-Blackbird” by Ernest Thompson Seton, 1893. The drawing is held in the Cooper Hewitt gallery at the Smithsonian Design Museum.

The crows were once beautiful birds, loved and admired by all the fowls of the air.

The crows at that time dressed in the most gorgeous colors, and their heads were decorated with red feathers that glistened like fire when the sun reflected upon it. The crows had many servants, who attended upon them. The woodpecker was the head servant, and his helpers were the sapsuckers, yellow hammers, and the linnets. They faithfully performed their duty of combing the beautiful heads of the crows, and would now and then pluck a feather from the crow’s head and stick it in their own, at the same time making the excuse that they were pulling at a snarled feather, or picking nits from his head.

So one day the crows got very angry at losing their beautiful feathers from their heads and when the servants heard of this they immediately formed a plot against the crows.

So one morning, as the servants were attending upon the crows, they overpowered them and plucked all of their red feathers from their heads and rolled them in a heap of charcoal, thus coloring them black to this very day. Any one can see for himself, the crows are not on friendly terms with their former servants, for they still possess the red heads that the crows once had. [3] 






George, Louis. “Tradition of the crows.” The Red Man, 2 no. 10 (June 1910): 42.














[1] In the original document (and on additional Carlisle School paperwork), Louis’ name is spelled “Lewis.” However, on the school application, apparently filled out by this mother, Jennie Martin, it is spelled “Louis.” Following what was likely his mother’s chosen name, I’ve used “Louis” here.










[2] Louis George is noted by the Carlisle Indian Industrial School as belonging to the Klamath Nation. Today, the Klamath Tribes encompass the Klamath, Modoc, and Yahooskin peoples. Their ancestral territory is in modern-day southwest Oregon and northern California. 










[3] While it is likely that the Klamath have traditional stories involving crows or ravens, as many tribes do, I was unable to find this particular story replicated elsewhere.


















Contexts





The Carlisle School, located in Pennsylvania, was the most well-known of the residential schools for Native Americans in the US, which existed from 1860 until the late 20th century.  It was founded by Henry Pratt, infamous for his views on the necessity of Native American cultural destruction. Native children were forced to attend the school, where they were given new names, forbidden to speak their languages, and frequently abused and even killed. Because the Carlisle School published this Native student’s story, we should recognize how power and censorship shape such texts.










Resources for Further Study





  • Becky Little explains a bit of the history behind the residential school system in the U.S., and looks specifically at the Carlisle School in particular.
  • Mary Annette Pember (Red Cliff Band of Wisconsin Ojibwe) writes of her mother’s experience as a student at Saint Mary’s Catholic Indian Boarding School, exploring the intergenerational trauma, disconnection, and other long-lasting impacts that such schools caused.





Pedagogy





When teaching about the history of Native American boarding schools, it’s important to couch these forced “educations” within the larger context of attempted genocide and settler colonialism, as well as to explore the often traumatic outcomes for Native Americans for which these institutions are responsible.









Contemporary Connections





While Canada has formerly apologized to its Indigenous citizens for the impact that the residential schools had on the affected populations (though Indigenous Canadian peoples still face systemic and individual discrimination and many scholars, such as Dian Million and Audra Simpson, have explained the complexities of reconcilliation), the United States has refused to offer any sort of apology or reconciliation to its Native peoples.  
















		


	


	

		
	


	






	



	


		
			

				
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					1910s Autobiography Book chapter Native American				

			


			
At Home with Nature

	





	


		


			
		


	


	
	


		


			





At Home with Nature









By Charles A. Eastman/Ohiyesa (Santee Dakota)[1]





Annotations by Jessica Cory












Image of book cover with the words Indian Scout Talks and Eastman near the top. The image is of a shirtless Native American man using a bow drill with wisps of smoke emanating from it. A person in a suit and hat with their back to the reader looks on. In the back are teepees.





Portrait of the author, a Native American man wearing a war bonnet. The image is in black and white.


Left: Original cover of Eastman’s Indian Scout Talks: A Guide for Boy Scouts and Camp Fire Girls. 
Right: Portrait of the author included in the original 1914 publication. Photographer unknown.










To be in harmony with nature, one must be true in thought, free in action, and clean in body, mind, and spirit. This is the solid granite foundation of character.





Have you ever wondered why most great men were born in humble homes and passed their early youth in the open country? There a boy is accustomed to see the sun rise and set every day; there rocks and trees are personal friends, and his geography is born with him, for he carries a map of the region in his head. In civilization there are many deaf ears and blind eyes. Because the average boy in the town has been deprived of close contact and intimacy with nature, what he has learned from books he soon forgets, or is unable to apply. All learning is a dead language to him who gets it at second hand.





It is necessary that you should live with nature, my boy friend, if only that you may verify to your own satisfaction your schoolroom lessons. Further than this, you may be able to correct some error, or even to learn something that will be a real contribution to the sum of human knowledge. That is by no means impossible to a sincere observer. In the great laboratory of nature there are endless secrets yet to be discovered.





We will follow the Indian method, for the American Indian is the only man I know who accepts natural things as lessons in themselves, direct from the Great Giver of life.





Yet there exists in us, as in you, a dread of strange things and strange places; light and darkness, storm and calm, affect our minds as they do yours, until we have learned to familiarize ourselves with earth and sky in their harsher aspects. Suppose that you are absolutely alone in the great woods at night! The Indian boy is taught from babyhood not to fear such a situation, for the laws of the wilderness must necessarily be right and just, and man is almost universally respected by the animals, unless he himself is the aggressor. This is the normal attitude of trust in our surroundings, both animate and inanimate; and if our own attitude is normal, the environment at once becomes so. It is true that an innate sense of precaution makes us fear what is strange; it is equally true that simplicity and faith in the natural wins in the end.





I will tell you how I was trained, as a boy, to overcome the terror of darkness and loneliness. My uncle, who was my first teacher, was accustomed to send me out from our night camp in search of water. As we lived a roving life in pursuit of game, my errand led me often into pathless and unfamiliar woods. While yet very young, all the manhood and self-reliance in me was called forth by this test.













You can imagine how I felt as I pushed forward alone into the blackness, conscious of real danger from possible wild beasts and lurking foes. How thrilling, how tantalizing the cry of the screech-owl! Even the rustling of a leaf or the snapping of a dry twig under foot sent a chill through my body. Novice that I was, I did not at once realize that it is as easy as swimming; all I needed was confidence in myself and in the elements.









Ralph Albert Blakelock. Moonlight, Indian Encampment. Oil on canvas, 1889, Smithsonian American Art Museum and its Renwick Gallery, Washington, D.C.









As I hurried through the forest in the direction my uncle had indicated, there seemed gradually to develop sufficient light for me to distinguish the trees along my way. The return trip was easier. When, as often happened, he sent me for a second pailful, no protest or appeal escaped my lips, thanks to my previous training in silent obedience. Instinct helped me, as he had foreseen, to follow the trail I had made, and the trees were already old acquaintances. I could hear my own breathing in the silence; my footfall and heart-beat sounded as though they were those of another person coming behind me, and while this disturbed me at first, I quickly became accustomed to it. Very soon I learned to distinguish different kinds of trees by the rustling of their leaves in the breeze which is caused by the stir of man or animal.





If you can accustom yourself to travel at night, how much more you will be able to see and appreciate in the daytime! You will become more sensible of the unseen presences all about you and understand better the communications of the wild creatures. Once you have thrown off the handicap of physical fear, there will develop a feeling of sympathetic warmth, unknown before.





In the event of sudden danger, I was taught to remain perfectly motionless—a dead pause for the body, while the mind acts quickly yet steadily, planning a means of escape. If I discover the enemy first, I may be passed undiscovered. This rule is followed by the animals as well. You will find it strictly observed by the young ones who are hidden by their mother before they are able to run with her; and they are made to close their eyes also. The shining pupil of the eye is a great give-away.





It is wonderful how quickly and easily one can adjust himself to his surroundings in wild life. How gentle is the wild man when at peace! How quick and masterful in action! Like him, we must keep nature’s laws, develop a sound, wholesome body, and maintain an alert and critical mind. Upon this basis, let us follow the trail of the Indian in his search for an earthly paradise! 





George Catlin. Sioux Village, Lake Calhoun, near Fort Snelling. Oil on canvas, 1836, Smithsonian American Art Museum and its Renwick Gallery, Washington, D.C. 





Eastman, Charles A. “At Home with Nature,” in Indian Scout Talks: A Guide for boy scouts and camp fire girls, 1-6. LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY, 1914.



















[1] The Santee Dakota are also sometimes known as the Santee Sioux.


















Contexts





The Boy Scouts, as an organization, have a lengthy history of exploiting and appropriating Native American cultures and traditions, as Vincent Schilling (Akwesasne Mohawk) explains in Indian Country Today. In becoming an icon for the Boy Scouts, Eastman received criticism of European assimilation. However, many of his supporters, such as Penelope Myrtle Kelsey (Seneca), argue that his association with the Boy Scouts was an act of resistance against the “vanishing Indian” narrative.[2] For additional information on the “vanishing Indian” narrative, please see The Pluralism Project.





Resources for Further Study





When teaching works by Native American writers, particularly older works such as those by Charles Eastman, it is critical to emphasize that Native peoples are still here. To foster this viewpoint, it can be helpful to teach contemporary Native American writers in addition to older foundational texts.





Sharing how other institutions work to counter the “vanishing Indian” trope may also provide insightful ideas. 





  • The Plains Art Museum, for example, is hosting an exhibition entitled The Vanishing Perspective to rebut this harmful narrative that was born of Manifest Destiny.
  • This activity template is based upon a text not written by a Native person but focusing on one, which may be problematic in and of itself. Still, instructors could easily tailor the learning opportunities to discuss the “vanishing Indian” trope in other works. The template is geared for 6th-8th grade learners. 





Contemporary Connections





  • Cecily Hilleary explores the connection between the Boy Scouts’ appropriation of Native cultures and other popular forms of appropriation, such as sports teams’ names and logos.
  • Ben Railton’s July 2020 article in the Saturday Evening Post provides a thorough overview of the “vanishing Indian” myth and its horrific effects, particularly in Oklahoma, including increased COVID-19 cases.










[2] Kelsey, Penelope Myrtle. “A ‘Real Indian’ to the Boy Scouts: Charles Eastman as a Resistance Writer.” Western American Literature, 38: no. 1 (2013): 30-48.











		


	


	

		
	


	



	
	


		

		
	
	


	




	


		


			
			
				

			
		


	


	
			

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