Smith, Albert A. “That Meddlesome Bird.”1920. From the fifth volume of The Brownies’ Book, 137. W. E. B. Du Bois, ed., http://www.loc.gov/item/22001351/.
––1––
THERE’S a little bird that comes when the weather gets warm,
‘Long ‘bout the time the corn rows seem so long;
If you stop to rest a minute he begins to scream and storm
And he sings an awful tantalizing song.
He cocks his head and looks at you in such a sassy way,
“La-zee-ness will ki-i-ill yer!” is what he seems to say. [1]
––2––
I wouldn’t mind his singing, if he wouldn’t sing that song.
For I know it’s jest to be a-teasing me
Why some days I’m up at sunrise working steady all day long,
And a-hustling jest as long as I can see. [2]
An’ ‘at meddl’some lil’ o’ bird he sets a-swinging on a limb,
“La-zee-ness will ki-i-ill yer!” is all I get from him.
––3––
I woke up soon one morning before time to start the day,
And thought I’d lie awake awhile in bed.
I soon went off to sleep again but didn’t go to stay,
For that meddler woke me screaming overhead.
He was looking in my window from his perch upon a tree,
“La-zee-ness will ki-i-ill yer!” he was singing down to me.
––4––
Oh! I got so awful mad that I jumped up out of bed
And grabbed my shoe and threw it in the tree.
“I hope you’ll die of meddling, you old nuisance, you!” I said,
But he dodged my shoe and shook his head at me.
He looked like he was saying, “Gonna lie in bed all day?
“La-zee-ness will ki-i-ill yer!” he sang and flew away.
L. Prang & Co., 1. Song sparrow. Melospiza melodia. 2. Chipping sparrow. Spizella socialis. 3. White throated sparrow. Zonotrichia albicollis. 4. Fox colored sparrow. Passerelia iliaca. 1874. Print: color lithograph. 36.2 x 28 cm. Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington, D.C. http://hdl.loc.gov/loc.pnp/pp.print.
Brown, Annette Christine. “That Meddlesome Bird.” The Brownies’ Book, ed. W. E. B. Du Bois, vol. 1, no. 5, New York, N.Y.: DuBois and Dill, May 1920. 137. Retrieved from the Library of Congress, <www.loc.gov/item/22001351/>.
[1] The author both mocks a bird’s song and anthropomorphizes the bird.
[2] Though this seems to be an innocent and light-hearted children’s poem, Brown prioritizes the issue of labor as well.
Contexts
Typically, the anthropomorphization of animals effectively builds emotional connections between people and animals – specifically between children and animals. For more information, see Karen Kilcup’s discussion of anthropomorphism and affection for animals in Stronger, Truer, Bolder (full citation below). Yet in this text, the author anthropomorphizes the bird in order to ridicule herself for not working. This strategy introduces an interesting issue in an otherwise light-hearted poem: child labor.
Resources for Further Study
Burke, Carolyn L. and Joby G. Copenhaver. “Animals as People in Children’s Literature.” NCTE Language Arts, 81, no. 3 (2004): 205-213. https://cdn.ncte.org/nctefiles/store/samplefiles/journals/la/la0813animals.pdf.
Kilcup, Karen. Stronger, Truer, Bolder: American Children’s Writing, Nature, and the Environment. University of Georgia Press, 2021.
Manacorda, Marco. 2006. “Child Labor and the Labor Supply of Other Household Members: Evidence from 1920 America.” American Economic Review, 96 (5): 1788-1801.
Markowsky, Juliet Kellogg. “Why Anthropomorphism in Children’s Literature?” Elementary English 52, no. 4 (1975): 460-66. http://www.jstor.org/stable/41592646.
Moehling, Carolyn M. “Family structure, school attendance, and child labor in the American South in 1900 and 1910.” Explorations in Economic History, 41 (2004): 73-100. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.eeh.2003.07.001.
Pedagogy
The Office of Culturally and Linguistically Responsive Initiatives released this guide for 9th and 10th grade students to work on with their families as they read particular texts from The Brownies’ Book. For each literary work, the Office of CLRI has included reading, writing, and critical thinking activities. Included in this guide is a section about “That Meddlesome Bird.”
The Tolchini,[3] a clan of the Navajos,[4] lived at Wind Mountains.[5] One of them used to take long visits into the country. His brothers thought he was crazy. The first time on his return, he brought with him a pine bough; the second time, corn. Each time he returned he brought something new and had a strange story to tell. His brothers said: “He is crazy. He does not know what he is talking about.”
Now the Tolchini left Wind Mountains and went to a rocky foothill east of the San Mateo Mountain. They had nothing to eat but seed grass. The eldest brother said, “Let us go hunting,” but they told the youngest brother not to leave camp. But five days and five nights passed, and there was no word. So he followed them.
After a day’s travel he camped near a canon, in a cavelike place. There was much snow but no water so he made a fire and heated a rock, and made a hole in the ground. The hot rock heated the snow and gave him water to drink. Just then he heard a tumult over his head, like people passing. He went out to see what made the noise and saw many crows crossing back and forth over the canon. This was the home of the crow, but there were other feathered people there, and the chaparral cock[6]. He saw many fires made by the crows on each side of the caeon(sic). Two crows flew down near him and the youth listened to hear what was the matter.
The two crows cried out, “Somebody says. Somebody says.”
The youth did not know what to make of this.
A crow on the opposite side called out, “What is the matter? Tell us! Tell us! What is wrong?”
The first two cried out, “Two of us got killed. We met two of our men who told us.”
Then they told the crows how two men who were out hunting killed twelve deer, and a party of the Crow People went to the deer after they were shot. They said, “Two of us who went after the blood of the deer were shot.”
The crows on the other side of the caeon (sic) called, “Which men got killed?”
“The chaparral cock, who sat on the horn of the deer, and the crow who sat on its backbone.”
The others called out, “We are not surprised they were killed. That is what we tell you all the time. If you go after dead deer you must expect to be killed.”
“We will not think of them longer,” so the two crows replied. “They are dead and gone. We are talking of things of long ago.”[7]
But the youth sat quietly below and listened to everything that was said.
After a while the crows on the other side of the canon made a great noise and began to dance. They had many songs at that time. The youth listened all the time. After the dance a great fire was made and he could see black objects moving, but he could not distinguish any people. He recognized the voice of Hasjelti.[8] He remembered everything in his heart. He even remembered the words of the songs that continued all night. He remembered every word of every song. He said to himself, “I will listen until daylight.”
The Crow People did not remain on the side of the canon where the fires were first built. They crossed and recrossed the canon in their dance. They danced back and forth until daylight. Then all the crows and the other birds flew away to the west. All that was left was the fires and the smoke.
Then the youth started for his brothers’ camp. They saw him coming. They said, “He will have lots of stories to tell. He will say he saw something no one ever saw.”
But the brother-in-law who was with them said, “Let him alone. When he comes into camp he will tell us all. I believe these things do happen for he could not make up these things all the time.”
Now the camp was surrounded by pinon brush and a large fire was burning in the centre. There was much meat roasting over the fire. When the youth reached the camp, he raked over the coals and said. “I feel cold.”
Brother-in-law replied, “It is cold. When people camp together, they tell stories to one another in the morning. We have told ours, now you tell yours.”
The youth said, “Where I stopped last night was the worst camp I ever had.” The brothers paid no attention but the brother-in-law listened.
The youth said, “I never heard such a noise.” Then he told his story. Brother-in-law asked what kind of people made the noise.
The youth said, “I do not know. They were strange people to me, but they danced all night back and forth across the canon and I heard them say my brothers killed twelve deer and afterwards killed two of their people who went for the blood of the deer. I heard them say, ‘That is what must be expected. If you go to such places, you must expect to be killed.'”
The elder brother began thinking. He said, “How many deer did you say were killed?”
Elder brother said, “I never believed you before, but this story I do believe. How do you find out all these things? What is the matter with you that you know them?”
The boy said, “I do not know. They come into my mind and to my eyes.”
Then they started homeward, carrying the meat. The youth helped them.
As they were descending a mesa, they sat down on the edge to rest. Far down the mesa were four mountain sheep. The brothers told the youth to kill one.
The youth hid in the sage brush and when the sheep came directly toward him, he aimed his arrow at them. But his arm stiffened and became dead. The sheep passed by.
He headed them off again by hiding in the stalks of a large yucca. The sheep passed within five steps of him, but again his arm stiffened as he drew the bow.
He followed the sheep and got ahead of them and hid behind a birch tree in bloom. He had his bow ready, but as they neared him they became gods. The first was Hasjelti, the second was Hostjoghon,[10] the third Naaskiddi,[11] and the fourth Hadatchishi.[12] Then the youth fell senseless to the ground.
The four gods stood one on each side of him,[13] each with a rattle.[14] They traced with their rattles in the sand the figure of a man, drawing lines at his head and feet. Then the youth recovered and the gods again became sheep. They said, “Why did you try to shoot us? You see you are one of us.” For the youth had become a sheep.
The gods said, “There is to be a dance, far off to the north beyond the Ute Mountain. We want you to go with us. We will dress you like ourselves and teach you to dance. Then we will wander over the world.”
Now the brothers watched from the top of the mesa but they could not see what the trouble was. They saw the youth lying on the ground, but when they reached the place, all the sheep were gone. They began crying, saying, “For a long time we would not believe him, and now he has gone off with the sheep.”
They tried to head off the sheep, but failed. They said, “If we had believed him, he would not have gone off with the sheep. But perhaps some day we will see him again.”
At the dance, the five sheep found seven others. This made their number twelve. They journeyed all around the world. All people let them see their dances and learn their songs. Then the eleven talked together and said,
“There is no use keeping this youth with us longer. He has learned everything. He may as well go back to his people and teach them to do as we do.”
So the youth was taught to have twelve in the dance, six gods and six goddesses, with Hasjelti to lead them. He was told to have his people make masks to represent the gods.
So the youth returned to his brothers, carrying with him all songs, all medicines, and clothing.
JUDSON, KATHARINE BERRY., ED. MYTHS AND LEGENDS OF CALIFORNIA AND THE OLD SOUTHWEST. MYTHS AND LEGENDS OF CALIFORNIA AND THE OLD SOUTHWEST BY VARIOUS. PLACE OF PUBLICATION NOT IDENTIFIED: A.C. MCCLURG & CO., 1912. HTTPS://WWW.GUTENBERG.ORG/FILES/2503/2503-H/2503-H.HTM#LINK2H_4_0057.
[1] This image depicts all Diné deities that appear in this story. A more complete description is above the picture in the original.
[2] The proper name for this tribe is Diné. The name Navajo comes from a Spanish adaptation of the Tewa Pueblo word navahu’u, meaning “fields adjoining an arroyo.” (OED)
[3] Likely an attempted spelling of Tódich’ii’nii (Bitter Water clan)
[13] It is unclear which deity is referenced here. I could only find this spelling in other versions of this story.
[14] Some tellings state where each deity stood for this ritual.
[15] Ceremonial rattles are integral in Diné rituals.
Contexts
Stories such as this one were nearly lost due to the widespread use of residential schools to educate young Native Americans. These schools banned the use of their first language, stories from their culture, and traditional clothing- and hairstyles. These schools, like The Carlisle Indian Industrial School, were based on the philosophy of “Kill the Indian, save the man“.
Because of these schools, a whole generation lost much of their cultural identity, through the language, art, and stories of their people.
This story lends itself to comparative reading of similar stories from other cultures. For instance, the bringing of knowledge and civilization bears resemblance to the myth of Prometheus and the idea of a mortal becomeing a god is similar to the story of Heracles/Hercules.
Contemporary Connections
This story has interesting similarities to the story of Joseph from Genesis 37 & 39-47.
The clan system is still important to contemporary Diné.
Lee, Mary Effie. “The Birds at My Door.”1920. From the fourth volume of The Brownies’ Book, 105. W. E. B. Du Bois, ed., http://www.loc.gov/item/22001351/.
IF you live in the country, you can have many interesting experiences with birds. One morning, at about seven o’clock, last March, I discovered a fawn-colored screech owl perched disconsolately upon the upper sash of a window which had been left lowered from the top all night. [1] The owl, uttering faint croons, peered about as if trying to discover where he had spent the night. It was many minutes after my finding him, that he fluttered heavily away. My first cry of surprise seemed in no wise to have disturbed him.
Once, at this same window, I found a chimney swift, clinging desperately to the screen. The bird had flown in at the top of the window and landed just inside, against the screen below. He was quivering with fear.
For countless springs, the swifts, or swallows, had taken up their abode in a south chimney of our house. We could hear them often at night, in the brick-walled home. They seemed always to be “cuddling down”, yet never to get quite “cuddled” to their satisfaction. The little bell-like twitterings would be sounding, I imagined, whenever I awoke.
At dusk, when the sky was lavender, the swallows would flutter in graceful groups, trilling, swirling high over our heads. [2] How well I can see them now!––grouping themselves, breaking ranks, then flitting together. But as to having come into close contact with our neighbors, the swifts, that pleasure had not been mine till I found the frightened bird on the window screen. [3]
“Ah, here you are at last, little lodger,” I thought, and my heart bounded as it had when I first discovered an oriole’s nest. “We have slept in the same house many nights,” I said gently. “You should not fear me now.”
But the swallow said, with its every twitch, “Oh, please don’t touch me,––don’t touch me!” [4]
I watched it a minute, before setting it free. Swallows in motion, gnat-catching, are more pleasing to look upon than swallows in repose. When one is clinging to your screen, you think, “What a queer, little, long-winged bird; dark, with here and there touches of weather-beaten-shingle gray; tiny black beak and strange stubby tail, with extended spines that seem to hold it to the screen like black basting threads!”
Rather a mousy-looking little creature, somehow, it seemed to me. Its prominent black eyes appeared to add to the suggestion.
Lee, Mary Effie. “The Birds at My Door.”1920. From the fourth volume of The Brownies’ Book, 106. W. E. B. Du Bois, ed., http://www.loc.gov/item/22001351/.
Speaking of bright dark eyes, reminds me of the humming-bird that was imprisoned one August day on my back porch. [5] She––for the little bird lacked the crimson throat that marks the male hummer––frantically imagined herself a captive, till she found that only the west end of the porch was incased in glass, and all the rest consisted of railing and lattice work. But while she was discovering this, I had an opportunity to watch her.
For a long time, I saw only a blinding grayish blur of perpetual motion. Then the hummingbird paused on the framework of the window, and I noticed the sheen on her splendid moss-green feathers, and marvelled at tiny black claws, minute enough to have been fashioned from wire hairpins. I heard a faint, “Chirp, chirp.” Yet, when I was a child, someone had told me that humming-birds made no sound aside from the buzzing produced by their wings in motion.
While writing of sounds, I think of a songbird, the brown thrasher, and a surprise that the thrashers once gave me. [6] On a sunny morning in spring, I came upon a pile of brush at the back of the orchard. Peeping at me through the mass of twigs, was a certain old Plymouth Rock hen, that I had always suspected of being a little daft. [7] Her ways were wild and strange. She delighted in hatching eggs in outlandish places. I went to discover upon what she was sitting. And what do you think I beheld just above Mrs. Plymouth Rock? I found a brown thrasher there, nesting complacently in what you might call the second story of the brush heap. Her glassy yellow eyes glared at me coldly, as if to say, “If it suits Mrs. Plymouth Rock and me–––”
But who can account for the whims of birds? One summer day, a most amazing sight met my eyes. Flat on the ground in the back pasture, I found the nest of a mourning-dove! [8] Mother Dove fluttered off, with that gentle, high-keyed plaint that she uses in flight, and left me to gaze at the nest of faded rootlets and two woefully ugly fledglings with long gray breaks. Their shallow nest was on a particularly damp-looking spot of earth. After one recovered from the little shock of finding the brood on the ground, one’s heart was filled with pity. The sight was so cheerless. [9]
I thought of the oriole’s comely basket, high in the golden light, where it swung from the tip of a poplar branch. [10] I thought of a neat song-sparrow’s nest that I had just seen hidden under the “eaves” of a Norway spruce hedge, where the song-sparrows spend the winter.
They come out on every mild morning to sing a little, even when Cardinal is silent. You recall their sharp knife-like notes. Ever ready to make cheer, the song-sparrows would seem to live a life free from trouble. Yet they know what it is to have their hedge haunted by wily cats, on winter evenings, when the cold birds are fluttering to shelter; and at dusk, in spring, when Mother Sparrow is directing her awkward, freckled birdlings to some nook for safety. [11]
Oh, I cannot tell how indignant it made me once to discover in the nest of Mother Song-Sparrow, two cowbird eggs, flecked with cocoa-brown like hers, but a trifle larger. Unsuspecting little Song-Sparrow, would have five instead of three eggs to tend, while the cowbird went swaggering with her noisy comrades up and down the pasture, in the wake of the cows.
As I write, this pasture is white with snow. For it is a January day, and cold. Five crows have come up from the woods, to peck at the corn stubble in what was once a pasture and then a cornfield. They strut over the snowy surface and pull at the bits of stalk. But they never come to feast when I feed Titmouse, with his golden hoard under each wing, and Chickadee, wearing the jaunty black skullcap, and making small sounds like corks screwing in bottles. [12]
Hawkins, Marcellus. Front cover. 1920. From the fourth volume of The Brownies’ Book, 97. W. E. B. Du Bois, ed., The Brownies’ Book, www.loc.gov/item/22001351/.
Lee, Mary Effie. “The Birds at My Door.” The Brownies’ Book, ed. W. E. B. Du Bois, vol. 1, no. 4, New York, N.Y.: DuBois and Dill, April 1920. 105-106. Retrieved from the Library of Congress, <www.loc.gov/item/22001351/>.
Contexts
This nonfiction text blends both animal welfare and natural history. Lee describes and animates many different types of birds, but important to note is Lee’s evocation of readers’ sympathy. The young author “anthropomorphizes and feminizes” the animals throughout the text as a way to teach moral lessons to her young readers (Kilcup 306, full citation below). Lee’s nonfiction demonstrates her ability to write informally and with a child-like tone, while also drawing important and mature connections about animal welfare.
Resources for Further Study
The Cornell Lab of Ornithology’s Birds of the World: All About Birds
Kilcup, Karen. Stronger, Truer, Bolder: American Children’s Writing, Nature, and the Environment. University of Georgia Press, 2021.
By Chief William Shelton/Wha-Cah-Dub (Snohomish)[1]
Annotations by Jessica cory
Original cover for the 1923 publication.
On the banks of a beautiful river lived a Raven and a Fish-Hawk and as they were neighbors they were very friendly and congenial. Now, as winter drew near and the fish in the river became scarce and food of all kinds was very difficult to find, they began to experience some rather hard times. The fish-hawk was noted for his skill in fishing and he was also known for his honesty and truthfulness throughout the country, while on the other hand, the raven was unskilled and poor and a great deceiver. This the Fish-Hawk did not know and he always believed that his neighbor, the Raven, was a very good man.
The winter became even more severe and the Raven found very little food indeed, in fact, he was very nearly starving to death. The Fish-Hawk, however, did not fare quite so badly for although the fish in the river were scarce he managed to get enough to keep him comfortably in food. He would climb a tree one limb of which overhung the river and then would let himself fall down on the ice, breaking through it and so enabling him to get at the fish. It required great skill to do this stunt, but then we know that the Fish-Hawk was very skillful.
Chief Shelton (middle) with his wife Siastenu Sehome Shelton (Northern Klallam and Samish) on the left and his daughter, Hiahl-tsa, later known as Harriette Shelton Dover, on his right. Image housed as Hibulb Cultural Center.
The Fish-Hawk was under the impression all this time that his neighbor was getting along quite well, until one day he heard that the Raven was starving to death. Fish-Hawk walked around the bend to his neighbor’s house that day to see for himself how the Raven was getting along and he found that it was really true that the Raven was starving to death, so he invited the Raven over to his house the next day for a feast. The Raven was greatly pleased with the invitation and the next morning he made ready for his visit and started off bright and early. As he approached the house of his neighbor he noticed particularly how beautiful everything seemed and how well taken care of the grounds were. The Raven came to the house and was very cordially received by the Fish-Hawk. Here the Raven began to look around for something to eat, for he had not eaten anything for several days and was feeling rather weak. To his dismay, he could see no food and he began to wonder why he had been called over to the house of the Fish-Hawk if the Fish-Hawk had no food for him; yet he noticed that the Fish-Hawk built his fire and made ready for the feast. Then he bade the Raven sit down close to the fire so that he might warm himself. The Fish-Hawk then excused himself and went out doors; the Raven watched him and saw that he went down to the stream, that he climbed a tall tree, one limb of which was overhanging the river, and when he reached this limb and got away out on the end of it he sang a weird song that the Raven could not understand. Then suddenly he saw the Fish-Hawk fall as if he were dead, right down on the ice, right through the ice, and the Raven was certain that he had been killed at once. The Raven ran to the edge of the river, but could find no trace of the Fish-Hawk until after a few seconds he saw him come up from under the ice with a number of trout. Of course the Raven was greatly surprised at this new way of fishing and decided he would like to try it himself. So after the Fish-Hawk had given him a feast and the Raven had all he could possibly eat, he started back home again and invited the Fish-Hawk over to his house for a feast the next day.
The next day Mr. Fish-Hawk went over to the Raven’s house and as he entered the place he was aware of the fact that there was no food anywhere in sight, yet he felt quite sure that the Raven would not have asked him to visit him if he had no food at all. He watched the Raven carefully and saw that he built the fire and then walked out of the house. The Fish-Hawk wondered what he was going to do; he saw the raven climb a high tree growing close to the river. When he reached the top of the tree, the Fish-Hawk heard him singing and his song sounded very much like the one the Fish-Hawk himself had used the day before, so the Fish-Hawk was certain that the Raven could do just as he did. When the Raven finished his song he permitted himself to fall down swiftly and he hit the ice with a great thud, but did not break through the ice as the Fish-Hawk had done and so when he landed on the ice all the bones in his body were broken and he died instantly.
Original artwork (artist unknown) from The Story of the Totem Pole. This image appeared on page 60, directly above “The Raven and the Fish Hawk.”
The Fish-Hawk, who was watching from the window in the house could not see down to the river and did not know that the Raven had been killed; he thought that the Raven was as skilled in doing this stunt as he himself was and therefore he waited to see the Raven come up towards the house with a catch of fish. After he waited for him several minutes he suspected some evil, so he walked down to the creek and there he discovered the broken body of the Raven. It made the Fish-Hawk feel very badly that his neighbor was killed just because he was foolish enough to try to do this trick and so he tried his best to bring him to life again. He picked up the pieces and placed them together and then he sang and danced around them until the raven finally came back to life. The Raven looked up and said: “Why, I must have been asleep for quite a time,” but the Fish-Hawk told him that he had not been asleep, but dead, adding: “I did not think that you were foolish enough to try to perform such a dangerous stunt as you must have known that you were unable to do it. In the future, you want to be sure you know how to do a thing before you try it.” Then he carried the Raven up to his house and came down to the stream again. He climbed the tree from which the Raven had fallen and after singing his great song, he let himself fall to the ice, breaking through it and after a second or two he came up with several fine fish. These he took up to the Raven’s house and left them there so that the Raven might have food while he was recovering from his fall.
Mr. Fish-Hawk went home that day very much disgusted with his neighbor, the Raven. He had discovered that the Raven was not a great man at all, but merely a fraud, and he was greatly disappointed in him.
Now the lesson part of this story is that one should not attempt to do the impossible; if you know you are not qualified to do certain things, do not try to do them just because you see someone else doing them, and so cause others to laugh at you and call you a fool. Test your strength, your power, your knowledge, and then act accordingly!
Shelton, William. “The Raven and the fish hawk.” The Story of the Totem Pole or Indian legends. (Everett, Wash., Kane & Harcus co., printers, 1923), 60-63. [3]
[1] The Snohomish Tribe are a people whose ancestral territory is in the Puget Sound area of Washington. Currently, the Tribe is not recognized by the state or federal governments. Many Snohomish have joined the federally recognized Tulalip Tribe, which is comprised of “direct descendants of and the successors in interest to the Snohomish, Snoqualmie, Skykomish, and other allied bands signatory to the 1855 Treaty of Point Elliott.” Because Chief Shelton was not enrolled in the Tulalip Tribe, I have identified him as Snohomish. According to this source, the spelling of “Snohomish” in Lushootseed, the language spoken by the Snohomish, is ‘Sdoh-doh-hohbsh.’ However, I’ve kept it as “Snohomish” in this case, as the traditional spelling is not commonly used.
[3] No publication location was provided. Additionally, an alternate title (or perhaps a subtitle) appears on the inside title page: The Story of the Totem Pole: Early Indian Legends As Handed Down from Generation to Generation Are Herewith Recorded by William Shelton of Tulalip. While Chief Shelton was not enrolled in the Tulalip Tribe, he did live in the Tulalip, WA area.
Contexts
Chief Shelton was also a master carver, creating many story poles (sometimes called spirit poles). Often these poles are carved from cedar and depict tribal stories used to teach lessons to youth. For additional information on Chief Shelton’s carvings, see the “Contemporary Connections” section below.
Not much scholarship has been written on Chief Shelton, particularly on the stories that comprise this book. One source that discusses his depictions of Native children is the article “Reading into the Voice: The Representation of Native Voices in Three Early Twentieth-Century Children’s Story Collections” by Melinda Li Sheung Ying. Ying’s article can be found in Knowing Their Place? Identity and Space in Children’s Literature, edited by Terri Doughty and Dawn Thompson, published by Cambridge Scholars in 2011.
The Tulalip Tribes’ website is especially helpful for understanding the differences and similarities in the Tulalip and Snohamish Tribes.
The Washington Governor’s Office of Indian Affairs provides the full text of the Treaty of Point Elliott, 1855, which resulted in the ceding of Native lands in Washington State. It’s important to remember the power dynamics and structures at play between the U.S government and Tribal Nations at the times many of these treaties were ratified.
Alexa Koenig and Joshua Stein explain the differences between state-recognized and federally-recognized tribes. Essentially, for federal recognition, a tribe has to prove that’s it has existed in an uninterrupted fashion for hundreds of years. However, federal and state policies since contact have made this difficult to prove for many tribes.
Many lesson plans that focus on totem poles are, frankly, terrible and encourage cultural appropriation. Make sure that if you’re teaching about totem/spirit/story poles that you include education about what they are, what they represent, and how they are important to specific tribes.
The Puyallup School District has lots of activities and lesson plans for teaching about the tribes inhabiting what is now Washington State.
Contemporary Connections
In 2010, Shelton’s massive 71-foot story pole, “Lifting the Sky,” (pictured below) was removed from the Capitol grounds in Olympia due to fear of rot and potential injury. It appears to still be in storage, though the Burke Museum in Seattle has shown interest and there is also talk to returning it to the Tribe.
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.
“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.
[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.
The Stanford History Education Group has some wonderful curriculums for teachers and students that provide historical context and information regarding the Carlisle Indian Industrial School.
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.
