Myths of the Cherokee Extract from the Nineteenth Annual...

23.The Rabbit dines the Bear (p. 273): This favorite story with the Cherokee east and west is another of the animal myths of wide distribution, being found with almost every tribe from Maine to the Pacific. Beans and peas in several varieties were indigenous among the agricultural tribes.

In the Creek version, in the Tuggle manuscript, “The Bear invited the Rabbit to dinner. When he came the Bear called his wife and said, ‘Have peas for dinner: the Rabbit loves peas.’ ‘But there is no grease,’ said the Bear’s wife, ‘to cook them with.’ ‘O,’ said the Bear, ‘that’s no trouble, bring me a knife.’ So she brought the knife and the Bear took it and split between his toes, while the Rabbit looked on in wonder. ‘No grease between my toes! Well, I know where there is some,’ so he cut a gash in his side and out, ran the grease. His wife took it and cooked the peas and they had a fine dinner and vowed always to be good friends,” etc. The wounded Rabbit is put under the care of the Buzzard, who winds up by eating his patient.

In the Passamaquoddy version, “The Rabbit’s Adventure with Mooin, the Bear,” the Bear cuts a slice from his foot and puts it into the pot. The Rabbit invites the Bear to dinner and attempts to do the same thing, but comes to grief.38 In a Jicarilla myth a somewhat similar incident is related of the Fox (Coyote?) and the Prairie-dog (Russell, Myths of the Jicarilla, in Journal of American Folk-Lore, October, 1898). In a British Columbian myth, nearly the same thing happens when the Coyote undertakes to return the hospitality of the Black Bear (Teit, Thompson River Indian Traditions, p. 40).

25.Flint visits the Rabbit (p. 274): This story was told in slightly different form by John Ax and Swimmer (east) and was confirmed by Wafford (west). Although among the Cherokee it has degenerated to a mere humorous tale for the amusement of a winter evening, it was originally a principal part of the great cosmogonic myth common to probably all the Iroquoian and Algonquian tribes, and of which we find traces also in the mythologies of the Aztec and the Maya. Among the northern Algonquian tribes “the West was typified as a flint stone, and the twin brother of Michabo, the Great Rabbit. The feud between them was bitter, and the contest long and dreadful.... At last Michabo mastered his fellow twin and broke him into pieces. He scattered the fragments over the earth....” Among the Iroquoian tribes, cognate with the Cherokee, the name is variously Tăwiskaroñ, Tăwiskară, and sometimes Ohaa, all of which are names both for flint and for hail or ice. Tăwiskară is the evil-working god, in perpetual conflict with his twin brother Yoskeha, the beneficent god, by whom he is finally overpowered, when the blood that drops from his wounds is changed into flint stones. Brinton sees in the Great Rabbit and the Flint the opposing forces of day and night, light and darkness, locally personified as East and West, while in the twin gods of the Iroquois Hewitt sees the conflicting agents of heat and cold, summer and winter. Both conceptions are identical in the final analysis.

Hewitt derives the Iroquois name from a root denoting “hail, ice, glass”; in Cherokee we have tăwiskalûñ′ĭ, tăwi′skălă, “flint,” tăwi′skă, “smooth,” une′stălûñ, “ice.” (See Brinton, American Hero Myths, pp. 48, 56, 61; Hewitt, The Cosmogonic Gods of the Iroquois, in Proc. Am. Ass. Adv. Sci., XLIV, 1895.)

In one of the Cherokee sacred formulas collected by the author occurs the expression: “The terrible Flint is coming. He has his paths laid down in this direction. He is shaking the red switches threateningly. Let us run toward the Sun land.”

Siyu′—This word, abbreviated from âsiyu′, “good,” is the regular Cherokee salutation. With probably all the tribes the common salutation is simply the word “good,” and in the sign language of the plains the gesture conveying that meaning is used in the same way. The ordinary good-bye is usually some equivalent of “I go now.”

In a parallel Pawnee myth, “How the Deer Lost His Gall,” the Deer and Antelope wager their galls in a race, which the Antelope wins, but in sympathy takes off his own dewclaws and gives them to the Deer. In the Blackfoot variant the Deer and the Antelope run two races. The first, which is over the prairie, the Antelope wins and takes the Deer’s gall, while in the second, which the Deer stipulates shall be run through the timber, the Deer wins and takes the Antelope’s dewclaws (Grinnell, Pawnee Hero Tales, pp. 204, 205).

28.What became of the Rabbit (p. 277): This version was obtained from Suyeta, who says the Rabbit never went up, because he was “too mean” to be with the other animals. Swimmer, however, says that he did afterward go up to Gălûñ′lătĭ. The belief in a large rabbit still existing beyond a great river may possibly have its origin in indirect reports of the jack-rabbit west of the Missouri.

The myth has close parallel in the southern negro story of “The Origin of the Ocean” (Harris, Nights with Uncle Remus), in which the Rabbit by a stratagem persuades the Lion to jump across a creek, when the Rabbit “cut de string w’at hol’ de banks togedder.... Co’se wen Brer Rabbit tuck’n cut de string, de banks er de creek, de banks dey fall back, dey did, en Mr Lion can’t jump back. De banks dey keep on fallin’ back, en de creek keep on gittin’ wider en wider, twel bimeby Brer Rabbit en Mr Lion ain’t in sight er one er n’er, en fum dat day to dis de big waters bin rollin’ ’twix um.”

31.The Terrapin’s escape from the Wolves (p. 278): This story, of which the version here given, from Swimmer and John Ax, is admittedly imperfect, is known also among the western Cherokee, having been mentioned by Wafford and others in the Nation, although for some reason none of them seemed able to fill in the details. A somewhat similar story was given as belonging to her own tribe by a Catawba woman married among the East Cherokee. It suggests number 21, “The Rabbit and the tar wolf,” and has numerous parallels.

In the Creek version, in the Tuggle manuscript, the Terrapin ridicules a woman, who retaliates by crushing his shell with a corn pestle. He repairs the injury by singing a medicine song, but the scars remain in the checkered spots on his back. In a variant in the same collection the ants mend his shell with tar, in return for his fat and blood. Other parallels are among the Omaha, “How the Big Turtle went on the Warpath” (Dorsey, Contributions to North American Ethnology; VI, p. 275), and the Cheyenne, “The Turtle, the Grasshopper, and the Skunk” (Kroeber, Cheyenne Tales, in Journal of American Folk-Lore, July, 1900). The myth is recorded also from west Africa by Chatelain (“The Man and the Turtle,” in Folktales of Angola, 1894).

Kanahe′na.—This is a sour corn gruel, the tamfuli or “Tom Fuller” of the Creeks, which is a favorite food preparation among all the southern tribes. A large earthern jar of kanahe′na, with a wooden spoon upright in it, is always upon a bench just inside the cabin door, for every visitor to help himself.

32.Origin of the Groundhog dance (p. 279): This story is from Swimmer, the supplementary part being added by John Ax. The Groundhog dance is one of those belonging to the great thanksgiving ceremony, Green-corn dance. It consists of alternate advances and retreats by the whole line of dancers in obedience to signals by the song leader, who sings to the accompaniment of a rattle. The burden of the song, which is without meaning, is

33.The migration of the animals (p. 280): This little story is given just as related by Ayâsta, the only woman privileged to speak in council among the East Cherokee. A similar incident occurs in number 76, “The Bear Man.” According to one Cherokee myth concerning the noted Track Rock gap, near Blairsville in upper Georgia, the pictographs in the rocks there are the footprints of all sorts of birds and animals which once crossed over the gap in a great migration toward the south.

34.The Wolf’s revenge: The Wolf and the Dog (p. 280): These short stories from Swimmer illustrate the Cherokee belief that if a wolf be injured his fellows will surely revenge the injury. See also note to number 15, “The Fourfooted Tribes,” and number 3, “Kana′tĭ and Selu.”

In a West African tale recorded by Chatelain (Folktales of Angola, 1894) the dog and the jackal are kinsmen, who live together in the bush until the jackal sends the dog to the village for fire. The dog goes, enters a house and is fed by a woman, and thereupon concludes to stay in the village, where there is always food.

35.The bird tribes (p. 280): The eagle killer—Of the Southern tribes generally Adair says: “They use the feathers of the eagle’s tail in certain friendly and religious dances, but the whole town will contribute, to the value of 200 deerskins, for killing a large eagle—the bald eagle they do not esteem—and the man also gets an honorable title for the exploit, as if he had brought in the scalp of an enemy.”39

Timberlake says that the Cherokee held the tail of an eagle in the greatest esteem, as these tails were sometimes given with the wampum in their treaties, and none of their warlike ceremonies could be performed without them (Memoirs, p. 81). The figurative expression, “a snowbird has been killed,” used to avoid offending the eagle tribe, is paralleled in the expression, “he has been scratched by a brier,” used by the Cherokee to mean, “he has been bitten by a snake.” Professional eagle killers existed among many tribes, together with a prescribed ceremonial for securing the eagle. The most common method was probably that described in a note to number 98, “Gana’s Adventures among the Cherokee.” A detailed account of the Blackfoot method is given by Grinnell, in his Blackfoot Lodge Tales, pp. 236–240. The eagle, being a bird of prey, as well as a sacred bird, was never eaten.

The shifting of responsibility for the killing to a vicarious victim is a common feature of Indian formulas for obtaining pardon, especially for offenses against the animal tribe or the spirits of the dead. A remarkable parallel to the Cherokee prayer, from the Quichua of Peru, is given by Dr G. A. Dorsey. Having started, with a party of Indian laborers and a Spanish gentleman who was well acquainted with the native language, to examine some cave tombs near the ancient city of Cuzco, they had arrived at the spot and he was about to give the order to begin operations, when the Indians, removing their blankets and hats, knelt down and recited in unison in their own language a prayer to the spirits of the dead, of which the following translation is an extract:

“Chiefs, sons of the sun, you and we are brothers, sons of the great Pachacamac. You only know this, but we know that three persons exist, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. This is the only difference between you and us.... Chiefs, sons of the sun, we have not come to disturb your tranquil sleep in this, your abode. We come only because we have been compelled by our superiors; toward them may you direct your vengeance and your curses.”

Then followed sacrifices of coca leaves, aguardiente, and chicha, after which they called upon the snow-capped mountain to witness their affection for their ancestors, and were then ready to begin work (Dorsey, A Ceremony of the Quichuas of Peru, in Journal of American Folk-Lore, October, 1894).

Night birds—Says Adair of the Southern tribes (History of the American Indians, p. 130, 1775): “They reckon all birds of prey, and birds of night, to be unclean and unlawful to be eaten.” The mixed feeling of fear and reverence for all night birds is universal among the Western tribes. Owls particularly are believed to bring prophetic tidings to the few great conjurers who can interpret their language.

The hawk—This, being a bird of prey, was never eaten. The following incident is related by Adair, probably from the Chickasaw: “Not long ago when the Indians were making their winter’s hunt and the old women were without flesh meat at home, I shot a small fat hawk and desired one of them to take and dress it; but though I strongly importuned her by way of trial, she as earnestly refused it for fear of contracting pollution, which she called the ‘accursed sickness,’ supposing disease would be the necessary effect of such an impurity” (Hist. Am. Indians, p. 130).

Chickadee and titmouse—Adair speaks of having once observed a party of Southern Indians “to be intimidated at the voice of a small uncommon bird, when it pitched and chirped on a tree over their camp” (op. cit., p. 26). At a conference with the Six Nations at Albany in 1775 the Oneida speaker said: “We, the Six Nations, have heard the voice of a bird called Tskleleli (Tsĭkĭlilĭ′?), a news carrier, that came among us. It has told us that the path at the western connection, by Fort Stanwix, would be shut up by either one party or the other.” In reply, the commissioners said: “We apprehend the bird Tskleleli has been busy again; he seems to be a mischievous bird and ought not to be nourished or entertained” (New York Colonial Documents, VIII, pp. 612, 628, 1857). The bird name is in the Oneida dialect. Bruyas gives teksereri as the Mohawk name for the tomtit.

The Creeks and the Seminoles also, as we learn from the Tuggle manuscript collection, have stories of ball games by the birds against the fourfooted animals. In one story the bat is rejected by both sides, but is finally accepted by the fourfooted animals on account of his having teeth, and enables them to win the victory from the birds.

The ballplay—The ballplay, aʻne′tsâ, is the great athletic game of the Cherokee and the Gulf tribes, as well as with those of the St Lawrence and Great lakes. It need hardly be stated that it is not our own game of base ball, but rather a variety of tennis, the ball being thrown, not from the hand, but from a netted racket or pair of rackets. The goals are two sets of upright poles at either end of the ball ground, which is always a level grassy bottom beside a small stream. There is much accompanying ceremonial and conjuration, with a ball dance, in which the women take part, the night before. It is the same game by which the hostile tribes gained entrance to the British post at Mackinaw in 1763, and under the name of lacrosse has become the national game of Canada. It has also been adopted by the French Creoles of Louisiana under the name of raquette. In British Columbia it is held to be the favorite amusement of the people of the underworld (Teit, Thompson River Traditions, p. 116). In the southern states the numerous localities bearing the names of “Ballplay,” “Ball flat,” and “Ball ground,” bear witness to the Indian fondness for the game. Large sums were staked upon it, and there is even a tradition that a considerable territory in northern Georgia was won from the Creeks by the Cherokee in a ball game. For an extended description see the the author’s article “The Cherokee Ball Play,” in the American Anthropologist for April, 1890.

Won the game—On account of their successful work on this occasion the Cherokee ballplayer invokes the aid of the bat and the flying squirrel, and also ties a small piece of the bat’s wing to his ball stick or fastens it to the frame over which the sticks are hung during the preliminary dance the night before.

Gave the martin a gourd—The black house-martin is a favorite with the Cherokee, who attract it by fastening hollow gourds to the tops of long poles set up near their houses so that the birds may build their nests in them. In South Carolina, as far back as 1700, according to Lawson: “The planters put gourds on standing holes [poles] on purpose for these fowl to build in, because they are a very warlike bird and beat the crows from the plantations” (History of Carolina, p. 238).