It's the time to tell stories
These days of early darkness and bone deep cold, when the grass and leaves crunch under your feet and the stars shine with the bright fires of the spirit world, this is the time to tell the stories that carry our teachings and our history forward to the next generations.
On these icy nights, there is nothing like a friendly dog to sit by your feet and warm them. I am looking at my wonderful Ginger and my son's dog Callie keeping each other company, and I think the story of how the dogs came to our people would be a good one for tonight. I will take this from a veteran storyteller who has published it on the web for us to see.
How Dogs Came To The Indians
An Ojibwa story*
Two Ojibwa Indians in a canoe had been blown far from shore by a great wind. They had gone far and were hungry and lost. They had little strength left to paddle, so they drifted before the wind.
At last their canoe was blown onto a beach and they were glad, but not for long. Looking for the tracks of animals, they saw some huge footprints that they knew must be those of a giant. They were afraid and hid in the bushes. As they crouched low, a big arrow thudded into the ground close beside them. Then a huge giant came toward them. A caribou hung from his belt, but the man was so big that it looked like a rabbit. He told them that he did not hurt people and he liked to be a friend to little people, who seemed to the giant to be so helpless. He asked the two lost Indians to come home with him, and since they had no food and their weapons had been lost in the storm at sea, they were glad to go with him.
An evil Windigo spirit came to the lodge of the giant and told the two men that the giant had other men hidden away in the forest because he liked to eat them. The Windigo pretended to be a friend, but he was the one who wanted the men because he was an eater of people. The Windigo became very angry when the giant would not give him the two men, and finally the giant became angry too. He took a big stick and turned over a big bowl with it.
A strange animal which the Indians had never seen before lay on the floor, looking up at them. It looked like a wolf to them, but the giant called the animal 'Dog.' The giant told him to kill the evil Windigo spirit. The beast sprang to its feet, shook himself, and started to grow, and grow, and grow. The more he shook himself, the more he grew and the fiercer he became. He sprang at the Windigo and killed him; then the dog grew smaller and smaller and crept under the bowl.
The giant saw that the Indians were much surprised and pleased with Dog and said that he would give it to them, though it was his pet. He told the men that he would command Dog to take them home. They had no idea how this could be done, though they had seen that the giant was a maker of magic, but they thanked the friendly giant for his great gift.
The giant took the men and the dog to the seashore and gave the dog a command. At once it began to grow bigger and bigger, until it was nearly as big as a horse. The giant put the two men onto the back of the dog and told them to hold on very tightly. As Dog ran into the sea, he grew still bigger and when the water was deep enough he started to swim strongly away from the shore.
After a very long time, the two Ojibwa began to see a part of the coast that they knew, and soon the dog headed for shore. As he neared the beach, he became smaller and smaller so that the Indians had to swim for the last part of their journey. The dog left them close to their lodges and disappeared into the forest. When the men told their tribe of their adventure, the people though that the men were speaking falsely. "Show us even the little mystery animal, Dog, and we shall believe you," a chief said.
A few moons came and went and then, one morning while the tribe slept, the dog returned to the two men. It allowed them to pet it and took food from their hands. The tribe was very much surprised to see this new creature. It stayed with the tribe.
That, as the Indians tell, was how the first dog came to the earth.
http://www.samoyed.org/dogind.html
One lesson for sure: Always watch out for Windigo.
A different Dog story -- Tails of Dogs
This isn't the one I was looking for, but it is a good story. One thing that used to bug me as a youngster is how the stories don't match up. Now I see that each one tells a different part of the story and has different lessons. This one is lots of fun.
A Dog's Tail
by Gilbert Oskaboose
Once upon a time, long ago and far away - as these matters usually are - all the dogs came together for a band meeting. In those days dogs could speak, just like human beings, so this meeting was not as strange as it
sounds, at least not for that reason.
Aside from the meeting, it was also Treaty Day so all the dogs were there for their little bone. There were big ones, small ones, fat ones, skinny ones, young ones, old ones, handsome ones, ugly ones and so on and so on. They were all there. In those times it was the custom to hang one's tail just inside the door, much to same way we hang up our hats today when we enter a lodge, out of respect.
With the dogs it was easy because the anus attached to the tail made a dandy ring to slip over the nail. Some of the dogs became quite skilful at tossing the ring over the nail from five or ten feet away. They say that's how the modern game of ring tossing was invented, but that's another story for another time.
Once the meeting got going, everybody started yapping at once, except of course, for the ones who come to meetings and say nothing. Some save their words for later, when they're drunk and not afraid of anybody. Others save them to lie later on about how many important things they said at the meeting and how many other dogs they had "told off."
Meanwhile, at the meeting, everybody else was mixing it up good. Big dogs growled, little dogs yapped shrilly, old dogs criticized everything, silly dogs clowned and vicious dogs attacked anything that moved. Whenever a dog fell down or was knocked down, the rest pounced on it and gave it a damn good beating. To add to the chaos all the crazy dogs howled for no apparent reason.
Nanabush happened to be going by at the time and heard the commotion. The racket hurt his ears and he became annoyed at the dogs' behaviour.
"I've got a good notion to play a trick on those buggers," he said, digging around for his fire -maker. In no time at all Nanabush had the back wall of the council lodge burning fiercely. He ran away laughing.
Inside the dogs smelled the smoke, saw the flames, and panicked. Everybody headed for the door at the same time. In their tradition it was every dog for himself. In the confusion and panic no one took the time to find his or her tail. They just grabbed one, stuck it on, and ran for their lives.
And that's why, to this very day, whenever two strange dogs meet, the very first thing they do is check out each other's backside and tail. They're still looking for their own.
Ojibway elders say it is so.
The Evolution of a Legend
Starting with Bearwalk or Windigo, moving along to Loup-Garou, and now we come to the Dog Man. Funny thing, in 1987, a Michigan radio station DJ thought he made up the Dog Man as an April Fool's prank. He didn't realize that Dog Man stories go back more than 100 years.
The Dog Man is said to look like a huge dog or wolf, and to run on all fours except when threatened, when it will stand upright, the size of a large man with the head of a dog or wolf. Some say they have seen actual wolves walk upright on their back feet if they feel threatened. If true, that could point to a basis of this persistent legend. It would have been long ago, because wolves were mostly killed off in Michigan, and are just now making a comeback.
Here is a site about the song written as an April Fool Prank in 1987:
http://www.michigan-dogman.com/00_history_chap1.html
I think you can see the similarities between the Dog Man and the Loup-Garou.
Another tradition that hies back to the spirit nature is shapeshifting. If the Dog Man can walk as a man or a wolf, he would be a shapeshifter. That also ties to Bearwalk, which is another example of a shapeshifter.
Tomorrow, we end our horror week with the Windigo.
Are you enjoying the stories? Got any to share? Storytelling goes round the fire.
Windigo, the baddest of them all
I saved the most horrible of the horrors for last, Windigo.
We talked a little about Windigo, but the whole story will chill your bones. Windigo comes from famine, from the dark and the icy cold of winter. Windigo is an insatiable eater of human flesh. A person can turn windigo and crave human flesh, but Windigo is a spirit, a shapeshifter who can take human form. Windigo’s heart is made of solid ice. He has the stench of rotting flesh, and his skin is scarred by frostbite.
In the deepest darkest winter, when food is scarce, that is when Windigo walks. Families huddle in fear as they become hungrier and hungrier. They might turn on a loved one and kill because they fear that one has turned windigo. Even an infant is not safe from this horror. There is nothing more fearsome, because it could be the beast that hides within ourselves.
A Windigo Tale
Ojibwa First Nation
retold by S. E. Schlosser
The storm lasted so long that they thought they would starve. Finally, when the wind and swirling snow had died away to just a memory, the father, who was a brave warrior, ventured outside. The next storm was already on the horizon, but if food was not found soon, the family would starve.
Keeping his knife and spear close, he ventured out upon the most-frequently used game trail, watching intently for some sign, in the newly-fallen snow, of animal footprints or movement of any kind. The forest lay deep and oddly silent under its gleaming coating of ice and snow. Every creature of sense lay deep within its burrow and slept. Still, the warrior hunted, knowing how desperate his family had become.
As he moved through the eerie stillness, broken only by the soft caress of the wind, he heard a strange hissing noise. It came from everywhere and nowhere at once. The warrior stopped, his heart pounding. That was when he saw the blood-soaked footprints appearing on the path in front of him. He gripped his knife tightly, knowing that somewhere, watching him, was a Windigo.
He had learned about the Windigo at his father's knee. It was a large creature, as tall as a tree, with a lipless mouth and jagged teeth. Its breath was a strange hiss, its footprints full of blood, and it ate any man, woman or child who ventured into its territory. And those were the lucky ones. Sometimes, the Windigo chose to possess a person instead, and then the luckless individual became a Windigo himself, hunting down those he had once loved and feasting upon their flesh.
The warrior knew he would have just one chance to prevail over the Windigo. After that, he would die. Or… the thought was too terrible to complete.
Slowly, he backed away from the bloody footprints, listening to the hissing sound. Was it stronger in one direction? He gripped spear in one hand, knife in the other. Then the snowbank to his left erupted as a creature as tall as a tree leapt out at him. He dove to one side, rolling into the snow so that his clothing was covered and he became hard to see in the gray twilight of the approaching storm.
The Windigo whirled its massive frame and the warrior threw the spear. It struck the creature's chest, but the Windigo just shook it off as if it were a toy. The warrior crouched behind a small tree as the creature searched the torn-up snow for a trace of him. Perhaps one more chance.
The Windigo loomed over his hiding place, its sharp eyes seeing the outline of him against the tree. It bent down, long arms reaching. The warrior leapt forward as if to embrace the creature and thrust his knife into its fathomless black eye. The Windigo howled in pain as the blade of the knife sliced into its brain cavity. It tried to pull him off of its chest, but the warrior clung to the creature, stabbing it again and again in the eyes, the head.
The Windigo collapsed to the ground, bleeding profusely, almost crushing the warrior beneath its bulk. He pulled himself loose and stared at the creature, which blended in with its white surroundings so well that he would not have seen it save for the blood pouring from its eyes and ears and scalp. Then the outline of the creature grew misty and it vanished, leaving only a pool of blood to indicate where it had fallen.
Shaken, the warrior, heart pounding with fear and fatigue, turned for home. He was weakened by lack of food, but knew that the storm would break soon and he would die if he did not seek shelter.
At the edge of the wood, he found himself face to face with a red fox. It was a fat old creature, its muzzle lined with gray. The creature stood still, as if it had been brought to him as a reward for killing the Windigo. With a prayer of thanksgiving, the warrior killed the fox and took it home to his starving family. The meat lasted for many days, until the final storm had blown itself out and the warrior could safely hunt once more.
An image of Windigo, and some thoughts
Attachment 4362
Windigo Analyzed:
Basil H. Johnston is an Ojibwa scholar, lecturer and author of 11 books about First Nations legends and mythology. In his book, The Manitous, he devotes an entire chapter to the Windigo as both a myth and a philosophy.
Almost all Windigos are self-created, Johnston states. A Windigo was a human whose selfishness has overpowered their self-control to the point that satisfaction is no longer possible. That is why Windigos are always hungry no matter how much they eat. In former times Ojibwa people would strive to keep their selfishness under control.
If there was no food, the entire community went hungry. If food was plentiful, they still would take only what they needed to avoid building up a taste for self-indulgence. To an Ojibwa’s point of view, any overindulgent habit is self-destructive and any self-destructive habit is Windigo.
Johnston says that over the last 200 years, a new breed of Windigo has appeared in North America. Multi-national corporations have taken over the landscape like the giant cannibals of Indian legend. Driven by profit, the multi-nationals devour resources and even each other not for need but greed. Yet instead of looking at these Windigos in horror, we admire people who single-mindedly amass more wealth than they can ever possibly use. “Look at even today’s hockey players,” Mr. Johnston said in a phone interview. “Even the most mediocre expect millions.”
http://www.legionmagazine.com/en/ind...e-the-windigo/
The Legend of the Snowbirds
This is a tale from the Anishinaabeg.
Many years ago, there lived in the Ojibwe encampment at the mouth of the Kaministiqua River, a beautiful young Indian maiden, beloved by all, and talented in the art of handicrafts. Many beautiful gifts were fashioned by the clever fingers of White Dove. White Dove made some lovely gifts of silver, found that summer on a trip to Silver Island.
Two days before the great feast, Ghost Supper, White Dove and her lover, Nanokaasi, set out to take the ornaments of silver to White Dove's grandmother, who lived a day's journey away in the foothills of the Huron mountain range. Taking only a light lunch for their midday meal, the young couple bid their families goodbye, promising to return in time for the great feast. Shortly after they had finished their noon lunch, they were unpleasantly surprised by a chilling gust of wind.
Immediately Nanokaasi climbed to the top of a giant pine tree and looking north saw billows of black, ominous clouds. Fearful of the storm, he urged White Dove to run as fast as her legs could carry her but they had gone only a short distance, when the storm burst upon them in all its fury! The wind howled about them, whipping the heavy snow into enormous drifts and blinding their vision. They wandered hopelessly until nightfall. Then cold, exhausted and hungry, they laid down in the shelter of a large rock, embracing each other to share their body warmth.
The Ghost Supper was at its height when old Chief Running Deer sadly announced the two had not returned and that he feared they were lost in the storm. All the men volunteered to go in search of them. After four days the searchers came upon the couple, still embraced, but sleeping the Great Sleep, from which there is no awakening. The men knelt beside them and called upon Giche Manido to breathe new life into their bodies.
The Great Spirit told them he could not bring them back as they were now in the home of Giche Manido, neither could he forbid the Snow Spirit to come again. He promised he would give them a sign that would forever warn them of the Snow Spirit approaching and, if heeded, would bring them no harm. As the men watched, they were amazed to see the bodies of White Dove and Nanokaasi slowly disappear into the snow and, there where they had lain appeared two pretty little soft gray birds with striped heads.
As they flew into the air, they darted from left to right, making the snowy plumage of their breasts and under their wings and tail quite visible to the on-looker. Where these birds come from, or where they go, no one knows, but when you see them swirling and darting around in large flocks, take heed, for as surely as night follows day, snow is not very far away.
Nanabozho and his other names
This is from Wikipedia with some additions by me. The time is coming for a story about the Birth of Nanabozho.
In Anishinaabe mythology, particularly among the Ojibwa, Nanabozho is a spirit, and figures prominently in their storytelling, including the story of the world's creation. Nanabozho is the Ojibwe trickster figure and culture hero [[these two archetypes are often combined into a single figure in First Nations mythologies).
He plays a similar role as the Saulteaux Wiisagejaak [[Cree Wisakedjak)—eastern James Bay Crees call this figure 'Chikapash', who is said to be a shape shifter. [[He can change from various animal forms to various human forms [[adult to child) and various mythical animals such as [[the great big porcupine, or big skunk.) Note, there is a bird in the northern territories of Canada known as a whiskeyjack. You can see where his name comes from. Chikapash conquered or diminished these mythical animals to smaller size after killing or changing them with his trickery or shape shifting.
The Algonquin had a similar figure called Ganoozhigaabe [[Abenaki Gluskabe). Also spelled Glooscap. He was the son of Wiininwaa [["Nourishment"),[1] a human mother, and E-bangishimog [["In the West"), a spirit father.
Hiawatha in Longfellow's poem is based upon Nanabozho, but the name Hiawatha comes from the Onondaga. Hiawatha is said to be the founder of the Iroquois confederacy at least 500 years ago. Six Nations with similar languages came together the Onondaga, the Seneca, the Cayuga, Mohawk, and Oneida, and later the Tuscarora. You can see how the name fit better within the trachaic tetrameter chosen by Longfellow for his poem. Because of Longfellow's choice, many places around the UP and northern Michigan are known by Hiawatha's name.
Nanabozho most often appears in the shape of a rabbit and is characterized as a trickster. In his rabbit form, he is called Mishaabooz [["Great rabbit" or "Hare") or Chi-waabooz [["Big rabbit"). He was sent to Earth by Gitchi Manitou to teach the Ojibwe. One of his first tasks was to name all the plants and animals.
Nanabozho is considered to be the founder of Midewiwin. Like the Egyptian god Thoth, he is thought to be the inventor of fishing and hieroglyphs, and the creator of the earth.
Nanabojo is a trickster hero in Native American legend. He was the eldest of three brothers. The middle brother created the road to the spirit world after he died; the youngest brother was made of stone. Nanabojo killed his two younger brothers because he wanted to travel the earth freely. Ojibway myth has it that Nanabojo saved the forests from Paul Bunyan. They fought for forty days and nights, and Nanabojo killed Bunyan with a Red Lake walleye [[blackjack). [ This is a contemporary addition, after the invention of Paul Bunyan, rather than a traditional tale.]
Watch out for the little old Indian women
A little old Indian woman went into Republic National Bank with a sack full of money. She plopped it onto the desk of the Bank president as she had wrangled her way into his office. He was an Indian man.
"Where did you get money like this?" he asked her.
"Well, you see." She answered him. "I make bets."
"Bets?" He wanted to know.
"Yes." She replied. "For instance, I'll bet you $25,000. you are not brown all over. I bet that under your shorts you are white."
"The Indian president of the Bank told her, "Well, I will take that bet. I am brown all over."
"Okay," the wily old lady agreed. "However, tomorrow when we close the bet, I want my attorney with me. He is Indian too.
"Okay! Okay." The president of the bank was agreeable.
When he went home though he double checked to see if he was brown all over. After all $25,000. was at stake.
The next day when the little old Indian lady came in with her attorney, the president was ready for her.
The little old Indian woman told him. "I am not going to take your word for it. I want to see if you are brown all over."
The president thought for a moment and decided since it was, after all, $25,000 he would, indeed, drop his pants to show the little old Indian woman he was brown all over, which he did. He looked over at the Indian attorney who was banging his head against the wall.
"Why is he doing that?" The president asked.
The little old Indian woman answered, "Because I bet him $165,000 that the President of the Republic National Bank would drop his pants for me."
Time for one more story...Why we have Winter (Bboon)
Long ago there was only summer. The days were always warm and sunny. Winter and snow were unknown. For the young it was a time of happiness. They played all the time. Animals played with animals. Fish played with fish. Insects played with insects. Birds played with birds. They had many games -- hide-and-seek, blind-man's buff, and tag. They ran races, they wrestled, and they played lacrosse. The lakes, the meadows, and the skies rang with their laughter. From dawn to dusk the young played. No sooner had they finished one game than they began another. They ate little and rested even less. For the parents it was a time of worry. All they could do was try to keep their offspring from harming themselves. Only nighttime brought rest.
Maang, the loon, was no different from any of the other young birds. He played all their games. But most of all he liked to play lacrosse. If he had his way, he would never have played anything else. The trouble was that his friends did not always want to play lacrosse. Sometimes Maang had to beg them to share his game. When they agreed, and that was not often enough, he was happy. When they refused, he was sad. Maang simply had to find a way to make his friends play lacrosse with him whenever he wanted.
Finally Maang decided that the only thing to do was to challenge the other birds to a match. Off he went to look for someone to challenge. He did not have to go far. Almost at once he met the raven. Boldly Maang dared him; "My team can beat the feathers off your team any time." The raven cackled and croaked and then flew off without bothering to answer Maang.
Maang watched the raven disappear. e was very upset that the raven had paid no attention to his dare. Oh well, he thought to himself, there are better players than the raven. Besides, the raven cheats. Deep in thought, Maang almost bumped into Benae, the grouse.
Once again Maang tried a bold challenge. Looking Benae in the eye, he snarled, "Get out of my way, runt, or I'll rub your beak in the ground--just as I would on the lacrosse field.”
Benae puffed up his feathers in anger. Then just as quickly he relaxed and a smile spread slowly over his face. "I know what you’re up to,” Benae said, "but you can't trick me. I don't feel like playing lacrosse. Get someone else." And Benae turned and strutted off into the bush.
Maang was stunned. Twice he had been refused- Very rudely. Well, he would just have to try again.
"Do you want to play lacrosse, Kaikaik?" Maang asked.
"I don't think so,"Kaikaik replied, "it's too hot."
Maang answered very quickly, for he realized that Kaikaik, Hawk, had said no. "We can play tomorrow,"he said, "but lets choose our teams now. You can have first choice."
Kaikaik stretched his wings out and shook his tail. “Lacrosse is no fun when it is so easy to win," he said. To show his strength Kaikaik squeezed the dead tree with his talons- so hard that he broke off some chips.
"Let's make a bet then," Maang answered. "If you win, I'll do whatever you want. If I win, you'll have to play lacrosse with me whenever I want."
"Yes, yes!" Kaikaik replied eagerly. He knew that he would win. "Let's choose teams now."
First Kaikaik picked the raven, and Maang picked the Canada goose. Then Kaikaik chose the owl and Maang the robin. By the end of the afternoon the teams were made up. On his side Kaikaik had the raven, the owl, the chickadee, the snowbird, the cardinal, the woodpecker, the grouse, the junco, the pheasant, the partridge, the magpie, and the ptarmigan.
Maang had the Canada goose, the kingbird, the robin, the sparrow, the bluebird, the oriole, the scarlet tanager, the plover, the thrasher, the swallow, the catbird, and the kingfisher. Kaikaik's team was strong and included a few cheaters like the raven, but Maang was not worried. He had the kingbird on his side. The kingbird could handle anyone on Kaikaik's team.
"We'll meet tomorrow morning as soon as the sun comes up," Maang said. "And the team that scores the first goal wins the game."
"Agreed," answered Kaikaik.
The next morning at sunrise all the birds gathered to watch the two teams play. Kaikaik's fans were on one side of the field and Maang's were on the other. The game started. The woodpecker was keeping goal for Kaikaik's team and the oriole for Maang's. From the beginning Maang's team went on the attack. Their fans cheered loudly.
Maang's players were very quick, but they could not seem to score. Still, Kaikaik's fans were quiet. Their team was slow. It seemed to be just a matter of time before Maang's team slipped a goal past the woodpecker. Soon the grouse was injured and had to leave the field. Maang's supporters cheered. Then the raven was knocked down. He lay on the field rolling in pain and croaking for help. No one paid any attention to him. The rule was the play would not stop until the first goal was scored.
Then the swallow got the ball. He threw it with all his might towards Kaikaik's goal. As the ball went flying past the raven, he jumped to his feet and caught it. Off he raced towards Maang's goal. With a quick flip, he scored on oriole. From Maang's fans came a mighty groan. From Kaikaik's fans came an even mightier cheer. Kaikaik led his team to the middle of the field to meet Maang and his players. The fans crowded in to hear what Kaikaik would demand of Maang.
"Maang," Kaikaik said, "this is your penalty for losing. From now on, whenever the east wind blows, it will bring clouds and rain and thunderstorms, and you won't be able to play lacrosse."
The birds gasped. They had never heard of such a thing. But Maang did not pay much attention. "You only won because the raven cheated," he shouted. "We were winning until the raven pretended that he was hurt."
Kaikaik bristled and his eyes blazed. Maang went right on, "Let's have another game tomorrow. I know you can't win without cheating."
"What's the bet?" asked Kaikaik.
"The same bet," said Maang. "If I win, you must play lacrosse whenever I ask you. If I lose, I must do what ever you want. This time, though, I'd like the raven on my team."
"Agreed," said Kaikaik. "We can do without him."
At daybreak the next day a huge crowd gathered at the field. Even the animals came to watch. Who would win the second game? What penalty would Kaikaik demand if he won the second time?
Once again Maang's team carried the play to the end of Kaikaik's field so quickly Kaikaik's team couldn't touch it. Still, they could not get is past the woodpecker. He darted this way and that, blocking the ball with his feet, his wing, and his tail. The game went on and on.
Late in the afternoon Maang's team began to tire. One of Kaikaik's got the ball and threw it down the field towards Maang's goal. The raven, who was playing just as hard for Maang's team as he did on Kaikaik's team, caught the ball. He raced towards Kaikaik's goal. As he ran, the grouse came up behind him and tripped him. The grouse grabbed the ball and slipped it in Maang's goal and brought the long game to an end.
"Foul, Foul!" screamed Maang and his teammates, amid the thundering cheers of Kaikaik's fans. "Foul!" Maang screamed again to Bonsae the vulture, who was the referee. But Bonsae had not seen the grouse trip the raven. He declared that the score would stay.
Everyone rushed to the center of the field. What penalty would Maang and his friends have to pay this time?
Kaikaik looked sternly at Maang. "From now on," he said, "whenever the north winds blows, it will bring snow and bitter cold. You and your friends will have to leave this land."
That very night the north wind did begin to blow. Maang and his friends shivered in the snow. They could not stand the cold. Just as Kaikaik had said, they had to leave the land they loved.
Every year after that the north wind brought the cold winter and Maang and his friends had to fly to the south. If Maang had not been so eager to play lacrosse, if he hadn't made that foolish bet, winter would never have come.