Post by blackcrowheart on Mar 28, 2007 21:13:26 GMT -5
Coyote's Children - Wintu
In a tale from long ago Coyote was married to two ducks. He was married to two of them. The ducks he was married to were sisters. He went trapping for food, trapping for gophers. He brought only gophers for them to eat. They had nothing else to eat. They just ate gophers.
The two duck sisters talked and the younger one said, "Say, older sister, aren't you tired of eating gophers? I can't stomach those gophers any more! We're eating gophers all the time. Ever since we married this guy, we've been eating nothing but gopher. Every day we have gopher for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I'm so tired of eating gophers. We're pregnant and can't run away. And once we have the children we won't want to leave either. If we didn't have them, we could get away."
Her older sister said, "Yes, we had better stay here for a while. We'll both have our children. Gee, there will be so many children! Maybe if he takes care of them, he won't be able to follow us."
She had five or six. She tried to nurse them for a while, but there were too many. There was not enough milk for them all.
After about a month, the other one, the younger sister, had terribly many babies, too. She had a lot of children. She had a lot of them.
She said, "Now I too have so many that I don't know how to keep them alive. Well, I suppose I'll nurse them a little at a time. Gee, they may be small, but they are strong children. I wonder if they'd survive if we threw them into the water here; maybe they'd like the water. Let's go throw them into the water!"
They went upstream and threw the babies into the water. They threw them in the water. They floated on the water. They did not sink. They stayed on top. They floated on the water. And they slowly floated downstream as if on a lake. They went slowly downstream.
Old Man Coyote came home. He looked in the water and saw his children. "Oh dear, my babies are going to drown," he said. He took them out, dipping them out with a dipnet. He poured them out. He took them out. Again he dipped the net in and got the rest of them out.
"Oh dear, my children could have drowned," He said. "Where did my wives go? That must have run away somewhere." He looked, but they were not there. He searched everywhere, but they were not around. "What could have happened? Someone must have taken the two of them," he said.
He searched upstream and downstream, but they were not to be found. The duck sisters had flown far away. Coyote kept searching. He trapped for gophers and fed them to his children a little at a time. After some time they became strong and learned to fly. They flew in a flock. They flew to the trees and landed on a cottonwood. They made a lot of noise, talking terribly loud.
Then they all flew on. They went all over and landed on another tree. They landed on an alder. They ate that alder. They were very fond of the fresh tender alder leaves. They were noisy.
Coyote watched them. "Oh dear! My children are going to leave me," he said. "Oh my! First my women left me, and now my children are leaving too. What will come of it? I wonder what I'll do. Will they all leave me? My children are leaving. Why are they leaving me? Perhaps they'll find their mothers."
He went upstream and looked for them everywhere, but they did not fly to the water. They flew above it. They landed on trees. They did not land on the ground. They only landed on trees. "If I go to the head of the creek and look there, I might find the two sisters," Coyote said.
He went on and on; upstream he went. He waded across, going south. He waded across to the north. He went upstream. He arrived at the head of the creek, but did not see anyone there.
He turned and went downstream again, thinking that they might be there in a pool of still water. He went there. He went downstream, downstream, downstream. But when he arrived at the pool, nobody was around. He had gone downstream to the pool.
He said, "I am tired of looking for them; they have gone far away. If they do not want to come back, so be it. Some day I'll find another woman. I won't follow them. I won't be able to catch up with them. I'll look for another woman instead. Someday I'll see my children. They only land on trees and don't want to come close to their father. They somehow fear their father and won't come near him. They're afraid and won't come near me. My children don't want me as their father anymore. I'm just like a stranger to them," he said. "They wouldn't even let m e talk to them. They're fast. They can fly. So I'll stop trying. I think I'll visit the people. I'll find out if they happened to see the two women."
He came to the people's houses. He entered. They said, "We haven't seen you for so long! Are you the one that had the two wives?" He said, "Yes, that's me; and while I was out hunting, the two of them must have left. I have not seen them since. They left all the children. They never looked back. I fed the kids until they grew big and they flew away. They flew above me and landed on trees. They did not come close to the ground again. They flew up on trees, and when I looked for them, calling and trying to talk to them, they wouldn't come. They just went on. For some reason they are afraid of me and don't want to come near me. When they saw me coming, they flew on, far away. Although they are my children, I am just like a stranger to them. They don't want me as their father. They never even looked for their mothers. They are also strangers to them. I suppose I'll stop looking. I will be alone, the Coyote of the tales. And my children will be the 'little coyotes.' I will name them 'little coyotes.' That's it; I will be alone. I won't try to talk to my children any more. So now they'll be the 'little coyotes.'"
Note: 'little coyotes' is carawah po?ilah or common goldfinch. These birds always fly in large flocks and are noisier than any other type of bird.
In My Own Words. Stories, songs and memories of Grace Mckibbin, Wintu [1884-1987]. by Alice Shepherd, 1997.
In a tale from long ago Coyote was married to two ducks. He was married to two of them. The ducks he was married to were sisters. He went trapping for food, trapping for gophers. He brought only gophers for them to eat. They had nothing else to eat. They just ate gophers.
The two duck sisters talked and the younger one said, "Say, older sister, aren't you tired of eating gophers? I can't stomach those gophers any more! We're eating gophers all the time. Ever since we married this guy, we've been eating nothing but gopher. Every day we have gopher for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I'm so tired of eating gophers. We're pregnant and can't run away. And once we have the children we won't want to leave either. If we didn't have them, we could get away."
Her older sister said, "Yes, we had better stay here for a while. We'll both have our children. Gee, there will be so many children! Maybe if he takes care of them, he won't be able to follow us."
She had five or six. She tried to nurse them for a while, but there were too many. There was not enough milk for them all.
After about a month, the other one, the younger sister, had terribly many babies, too. She had a lot of children. She had a lot of them.
She said, "Now I too have so many that I don't know how to keep them alive. Well, I suppose I'll nurse them a little at a time. Gee, they may be small, but they are strong children. I wonder if they'd survive if we threw them into the water here; maybe they'd like the water. Let's go throw them into the water!"
They went upstream and threw the babies into the water. They threw them in the water. They floated on the water. They did not sink. They stayed on top. They floated on the water. And they slowly floated downstream as if on a lake. They went slowly downstream.
Old Man Coyote came home. He looked in the water and saw his children. "Oh dear, my babies are going to drown," he said. He took them out, dipping them out with a dipnet. He poured them out. He took them out. Again he dipped the net in and got the rest of them out.
"Oh dear, my children could have drowned," He said. "Where did my wives go? That must have run away somewhere." He looked, but they were not there. He searched everywhere, but they were not around. "What could have happened? Someone must have taken the two of them," he said.
He searched upstream and downstream, but they were not to be found. The duck sisters had flown far away. Coyote kept searching. He trapped for gophers and fed them to his children a little at a time. After some time they became strong and learned to fly. They flew in a flock. They flew to the trees and landed on a cottonwood. They made a lot of noise, talking terribly loud.
Then they all flew on. They went all over and landed on another tree. They landed on an alder. They ate that alder. They were very fond of the fresh tender alder leaves. They were noisy.
Coyote watched them. "Oh dear! My children are going to leave me," he said. "Oh my! First my women left me, and now my children are leaving too. What will come of it? I wonder what I'll do. Will they all leave me? My children are leaving. Why are they leaving me? Perhaps they'll find their mothers."
He went upstream and looked for them everywhere, but they did not fly to the water. They flew above it. They landed on trees. They did not land on the ground. They only landed on trees. "If I go to the head of the creek and look there, I might find the two sisters," Coyote said.
He went on and on; upstream he went. He waded across, going south. He waded across to the north. He went upstream. He arrived at the head of the creek, but did not see anyone there.
He turned and went downstream again, thinking that they might be there in a pool of still water. He went there. He went downstream, downstream, downstream. But when he arrived at the pool, nobody was around. He had gone downstream to the pool.
He said, "I am tired of looking for them; they have gone far away. If they do not want to come back, so be it. Some day I'll find another woman. I won't follow them. I won't be able to catch up with them. I'll look for another woman instead. Someday I'll see my children. They only land on trees and don't want to come close to their father. They somehow fear their father and won't come near him. They're afraid and won't come near me. My children don't want me as their father anymore. I'm just like a stranger to them," he said. "They wouldn't even let m e talk to them. They're fast. They can fly. So I'll stop trying. I think I'll visit the people. I'll find out if they happened to see the two women."
He came to the people's houses. He entered. They said, "We haven't seen you for so long! Are you the one that had the two wives?" He said, "Yes, that's me; and while I was out hunting, the two of them must have left. I have not seen them since. They left all the children. They never looked back. I fed the kids until they grew big and they flew away. They flew above me and landed on trees. They did not come close to the ground again. They flew up on trees, and when I looked for them, calling and trying to talk to them, they wouldn't come. They just went on. For some reason they are afraid of me and don't want to come near me. When they saw me coming, they flew on, far away. Although they are my children, I am just like a stranger to them. They don't want me as their father. They never even looked for their mothers. They are also strangers to them. I suppose I'll stop looking. I will be alone, the Coyote of the tales. And my children will be the 'little coyotes.' I will name them 'little coyotes.' That's it; I will be alone. I won't try to talk to my children any more. So now they'll be the 'little coyotes.'"
Note: 'little coyotes' is carawah po?ilah or common goldfinch. These birds always fly in large flocks and are noisier than any other type of bird.
In My Own Words. Stories, songs and memories of Grace Mckibbin, Wintu [1884-1987]. by Alice Shepherd, 1997.