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

According to a Creek myth in the Tuggle collection the Turkey was once a warrior and still wears his last scalp from his neck. In another story of the same collection it is a man’s scalp which he seized from the Terrapin and accidentally swallowed as he ran off, so that it grew out from his breast.

Tugălû′nă—A small slender-bodied spotted fish about four inches in length, which likes to lie upon the rocks at the bottom of the larger streams. The name refers to a gourd, from a fancied resemblance of the long nose to the handle of a gourd.

Whistles and flutes or flageolets are in use among nearly all tribes for ceremonial and amusement purposes. The whistle, usually made from an eagle bone, was worn suspended from the neck. The flute or flageolet was commonly made from cedar wood.

41.How the Redbird got his color (p. 289): This short story was obtained from Cornelius Boudinot, a prominent mixed-blood of Tahlequah, and differs from the standard Cherokee myth, according to which the redbird is the transformed daughter of the Sun (see number 5, “The Daughter of the Sun”).

Red paint—Much sacredness attaches, in the Indian mind, to red paint, the color being symbolic of war, strength, success, and spirit protection. The word paint, in any Indian language, is generally understood to mean red paint, unless it is otherwise distinctly noted. The Indian red paint is usually a soft hematite ore, found in veins of hard-rock formation, from which it must be dug with much labor and patience. In the western tribes everyone coming thus to procure paint makes a prayer beside the rock and hangs a small sacrifice upon a convenient bush or stick before beginning operations.

43.The race between the Crane and the Hummingbird (p. 290): This story is a favorite one in the tribe, and was heard from several informants, both East and West. The sequel may surprise those who have supposed that woman has no rights in Indian society.

In a Creek story under the same title, in the Tuggle collection, the rivals agree to fly from a certain spot on a stream to the spring at its head. The humming bird is obliged to follow the windings of the stream, but the crane takes a direct course above the trees and thus wins the race.

44.The Owl gets married (p. 291): Told by Swimmer. The three owls of the Cherokee country are known, respectively, as tskĭlĭ′ (i. e., “witch,” Bubo virginianus saturatus, great, dusky-horned owl), waʻhuhu′ (Megascops asio, screech owl), and uguku′ (Syrnium nebulosum, hooting or barred owl). There is no generic term. The Cherokee say that there is almost no flesh upon the body of the hooting owl except upon the head.

45.The Huhu gets married (p. 292): This story was heard at different times from Swimmer, John Ax, and Ta′gwadihĭ′. The first named always gave in the proper place a very good imitation of the huhu call, drawing out the sau-h slowly, giving the hŭ, hŭ, hŭ, hŭ, hŭ, hŭ in quick, smothered tones, and ending with three chirps and a long whistle. From this and one or two other stories of similar import it would seem that the woman is the ruling partner in the Cherokee domestic establishment. Matches were generally arranged by the mother, and were conditional upon the consent of the girl (see notes to number 84, “The Man who Married the Thunder’s Sister”).

46.Why the Buzzard’s head is bare (p. 293): This story was told by Swimmer and other informants, and is well known. It has an exact parallel in the Omaha story of “Ictinike and the Buzzard” (Dorsey, in Contributions to North American Ethnology, vi).

Drying pole—A pole laid horizontally in the forks of two upright stakes, planted firmly in the ground, for the purpose of temporarily hanging up game and fresh meat in the hunting camp, to protect it from wolves and other prey animals or to allow it to dry out before the fire.

48.The Hunter and the Buzzard (p. 294): Told by Swimmer. The custom of lending or exchanging wives in token of hospitality and friendship, on certain ceremonial occasions, or as the price of obtaining certain secret knowledge, was very general among the tribes, and has been noted by explorers and other observers, east and west, from the earliest period.

49.The snake tribe (p. 294): Rattlesnake—The custom of asking pardon of slain or offended animals has already been noted under number 15, “The Fourfooted Tribes,” and number 35, “The Bird Tribes” (eagle). Reverence for the rattlesnake was universal among the Indians, and has been repeatedly remarked by travelers in every part of the country. To go into a dissertation upon the great subject of serpent worship is not a part of our purpose.

The missionary Washburn tells how, among the Cherokee of Arkansas, he was once riding along, accompanied by an Indian on foot, when they discovered a poisonous snake coiled beside the path. “I observed Blanket turned aside to avoid the serpent, but made no signs of attack, and I requested the interpreter to get down and kill it. He did so, and I then inquired of Blanket why he did not kill the serpent. He answered, ‘I never kill snakes and so the snakes never kill me; but I will tell you about it when you next come to see me.’” He kept his word soon after by relating as a personal experience (probably, in fact, an Indian dream) a long story of having once been conducted by a rattlesnake to an underground council of the rattlesnake tribe, where he found all the snakes lamenting over one of their number who had been recently killed by an Indian, and debating the method of punishment, which was executed a day or two later by inflicting a fatal bite upon the offender while engaged in the ballplay (Reminiscences, pp. 208–212). As told by the missionary, the story is very much dressed up, but strikingly resembles number 58, “The Rattlesnake’s Vengeance.”

Adair, evidently confusing several Cherokee snake myths, speaks of some reputed gigantic rattlesnakes in the Cherokee mountains, with beautiful changing colors and great power of fascination, by which they drew into their jaws any living creature coming within their vision, and continues: “They call them and all of the rattlesnake kind, kings or chieftains of the snakes, and they allow one such to every different species of the brute creation. An old trader of Cheeowhee told me that for the reward of two pieces of stroud cloth he engaged a couple of young warriors to show him the place of their resort; but the headmen would not by any means allow it, on account of a superstitious tradition—for they fancy the killing of them would expose them to the danger of being bit by the other inferior species of the serpentine tribe, who love their chieftains and know by instinct those who maliciously killed them, as they fight only in their own defense and that of their young ones, never biting those who do not disturb them.” He mentions also an instance of a Chickasaw priest who, after having applied to his hands the juice of a certain plant, took up a rattlesnake without damage and laid it carefully in a hollow tree to prevent Adair’s killing it (History of the American Indians, pp. 237–238).

Of the Carolina tribes generally, Lawson, in 1701, says: “As for killing of snakes, they avoid it if they lie in their way, because their opinion is that some of the serpents’ kindred would kill some of the savage’s relations that should destroy him” (History of Carolina, p. 341).

Bartram says of the Seminoles, about 1775: “These people never kill the rattlesnake or any other serpent, saying, if they do so, the spirit of the killed snake will excite or influence his living kindred or relatives to revenge the injury or violence done to him when alive.” He recounts an amusing incident of his own experience where the Indians sent for him to come and kill a rattlesnake which had invaded their camp ground, and which they were afraid to disturb. Their request having been complied with, the Indians then insisted upon scratching him, according to the Indian custom, in order to let out some of his superabundant blood and courage, but were finally, with some difficulty, dissuaded from their purpose. “Thus it seemed that the whole was a ludicrous farce to satisfy their people and appease the manes of the dead rattlesnake” (Travels, pp. 258–261).

The trader Henry (Travels, pp. 176–179) narrates a most interesting instance from among the Ojibwa of Lake Superior in 1764. While gathering wood near the camp he was startled by a sudden rattle, and looking down discovered a rattlesnake almost at his feet, with body coiled and head raised to strike.

“I no sooner saw the snake, than I hastened to the canoe, in order to procure my gun; but, the Indians observing what I was doing, inquired the occasion, and being informed, begged me to desist. At the same time, they followed me to the spot, with their pipes and tobacco-pouches in their hands. On returning, I found the snake still coiled.

“The Indians, on their part, surrounded it, all addressing it by turns, and calling it their grandfather; but yet keeping at some distance. During this part of the ceremony, they filled their pipes; and now each blew the smoke toward the snake, who, as it appeared to me, really received it with pleasure. In a word, after remaining coiled, and receiving incense, for the space of half an hour, it stretched itself along the ground, in visible good humor. Its length was between four and five feet. Having remained outstretched for some time, at last it moved slowly away, the Indians following it, and still addressing it by the title of grandfather, beseeching it to take care of their families during their absence, and to be pleased to open the heart of Sir William Johnson [the British Indian agent, whom they were about to visit], so that he might show them charity, and fill their canoe with rum. One of the chiefs added a petition, that the snake would take no notice of the insult which had been offered him by the Englishman, who would even have put him to death, but for the interference of the Indians, to whom it was hoped he would impute no part of the offence. They further requested, that he would remain, and inhabit their country, and not return among the English; that is, go eastward.”

He adds that the appearance of the rattlesnake so far north was regarded as an extraordinary omen, and that very little else was spoken of for the rest of the evening. The next day, while steering across Lake Huron in their canoe, a terrible storm came up.

“The Indians, beginning to be alarmed, frequently called on the rattlesnake to come to their assistance. By degrees the waves grew high; and at 11 o’clock it blew a hurricane, and we expected every moment to be swallowed up. From prayers, the Indians now proceeded to sacrifices, both alike offered to the god-rattlesnake, or manito-kinibĭc. One of the chiefs took a dog, and after tying its forelegs together, threw it overboard, at the same time calling on the snake to preserve us from being drowned, and desiring him to satisfy his hunger with the carcass of the dog. The snake was unpropitious, and the wind increased. Another chief sacrificed another dog, with the addition of some tobacco. In the prayer which accompanied these gifts, he besought the snake, as before, not to avenge upon the Indians the insult which he had received from myself, in the conception of a design to put him to death. He assured the snake, that I was absolutely an Englishman, and of kin neither to him nor to them. At the conclusion of this speech, an Indian, who sat near me, observed, that if we were drowned it would be for my fault alone, and that I ought myself to be sacrificed, to appease the angry manito, nor was I without apprehensions, that in case of extremity, this would be my fate; but, happily for me, the storm at length abated, and we reached the island safely.”

The Delawares also, according to Heckewelder, called the rattlesnake grandfather and refrained from injuring him. He says: “One day, as I was walking with an elderly Indian on the banks of the Muskingum, I saw a large rattlesnake lying across the path, which I was going to kill. The Indian immediately forbade my doing so; ‘for,’ said he, ‘the rattlesnake is grandfather to the Indians, and is placed here on purpose to guard us, and to give us notice of impending danger by his rattle, which is the same as if he were to tell us, ‘look about.’ ‘Now,’ added he, ‘if we were to kill one of those, the others would soon know it, and the whole race would rise upon us and bite us.’ I observed to him that the white people were not afraid of this; for they killed all the rattlesnakes that they met with. On this he enquired whether any white man had been bitten by these animals, and of course I answered in the affirmative. ‘No wonder, then!’ replied he, ‘you have to blame yourselves for that. You did as much as declaring war against them, and you will find them in your country, where they will not fail to make frequent incursions. They are a very dangerous enemy; take care you do not irritate them in our country; they and their grandchildren are on good terms, and neither will hurt the other.’ These ancient notions have, however in a great measure died away with the last generation, and the Indians at present kill their grandfather, the rattlesnake, without ceremony, whenever they meet with him” (Indian Nations, p. 252).

Sălikwâyĭ—“The old Tuscaroras had a custom, which they supposed would keep their teeth white and strong through life. A man caught a snake and held it by its head and tail. Then he bit it through, all the way from the head to the tail, and this kept the teeth from decay” (W. M. Beauchamp, Iroquois Notes, in Journal of American Folk-Lore, July, 1892).

50.The Uktena and the Ûlûñsû′tĭ (p. 297): The belief in the great Uktena and the magic power of the Ûlûñsû′tĭ is firmly implanted in the Cherokee breast. The Uktena has its parallel in the Gitchi-Kenebig or Great Horned Serpent of the northern Algonquian tribes, and is somewhat analogous to the Zemoʻgu′ani or Great Horned Alligator of the Kiowa. Myths of a jewel in the head of a serpent or of a toad are so common to all Aryan nations as to have become proverbial. Talismanic and prophetic stones, which are carefully guarded, and to which prayer and sacrifice are offered, are kept in many tribes (see Dorsey, Teton Folklore, in American Anthropologist, April, 1889). The name of the serpent is derived from akta, “eye,” and may be rendered “strong looker,” i.e., “keen eyed,” because nothing within the range of its vision can escape discovery. From the same root is derived akta′tĭ, “to look into,” “to examine closely,” the Cherokee name for a field glass or telescope. By the English-speaking Indians the serpent is sometimes called the diamond rattlesnake. The mythic diamond crest, when in its proper place upon the snake’s head, is called ulstĭtlû′, literally, “it is on his head,” but when detached and in the hands of the conjurer it becomes the Ulûñsû′tĭ, “Transparent,” the great talisman of the tribe. On account of its glittering brightness it is sometimes called Igăgû′tĭ, “Day-light.” Inferior magic crystals are believed to be the scales from the same serpent, and are sometimes also called ulûñsû′tĭ.

“They have many beautiful stones of different colours, many of which, I am apt to believe, are of great value; but their superstition has always prevented their disposing of them to the traders, who have made many attempts to that purpose; but as they use them in their conjuring ceremonies, they believe their parting with them or bringing them from home, would prejudice their health or affairs. Among others there is one in the possession of a conjurer, remarkable for its brilliancy and beauty, but more so for the extraordinary manner in which it was found. It grew, if we may credit the Indians, on the head of a monstrous serpent, whose retreat was, by its brilliancy, discovered; but a great number of snakes attending him, he being, as I suppose by his diadem, of a superior rank among the serpents, made it dangerous to attack him. Many were the attempts made by the Indians, but all frustrated, till a fellow more bold than the rest, casing himself in leather, impenetrable to the bite of the serpent or his guards, and watching a convenient opportunity, surprised and killed him, tearing his jewel from his head, which the conjurer has kept hid for many years, in some place unknown to all but two women, who have been offered large presents to betray it, but steadily refused, lest some signal judgment or mischance should follow. That such a stone exists, I believe, having seen many of great beauty; but I cannot think it would answer all the encomiums the Indians bestow upon it. The conjurer, I suppose, hatched the account of its discovery;

A few years later Adair gives us an account of the serpent and the stone. According to his statement the uktenas had their home in a deep valley between the heads of the Tuckasegee and the “northern branch of the lower Cheerake river” (i. e., the Little Tennessee), the valley being the deep defile of Nantahala, where, by reason of its gloomy and forbidding aspect, Cherokee tradition locates more than one legendary terror. With pardonable error he confounds the Uktena with the Chief of the Rattlesnakes. The two, however, are distinct, the latter being simply the head of the rattlesnake tribe, without the blazing carbuncle or the immense size attributed to the Uktena.

“Between two high mountains, nearly covered with old mossy rocks, lofty cedars and pines, in the valleys of which the beams of the sun reflect a powerful heat, there are, as the natives affirm, some bright old inhabitants or rattlesnakes, of a more enormous size than is mentioned in history. They are so large and unwieldy, that they take a circle almost as wide as their length to crawl around in their shortest orbit; but bountiful nature compensates the heavy motion of their bodies, for, as they say, no living creature moves within the reach of their sight, but they can draw it to them....

“The description the Indians give us of their colour is as various as what we are told of the camelion, that seems to the spectator to change its colour, by every different position he may view it in; which proceeds from the piercing rays of the light that blaze from their foreheads, so as to dazzle the eyes, from whatever quarter they post themselves—for in each of their heads, there is a large carbuncle, which not only repels, but they affirm, sullies the meridian beams of the sun. They reckon it so dangerous to disturb these creatures, that no temptation can induce them to betray their secret recess to the prophane. They call them and all of the rattlesnake kind, kings, or chieftains of the snakes, and they allow one such to every different species of the brute creation. An old trader of Cheeowhee told me, that for the reward of two pieces of stroud cloth, he engaged a couple of young warriors to shew him the place of their resort, but the head-men would not by any means allow it, on account of a superstitious tradition—for they fancy the killing of them would expose them to the danger of being bit by the other inferior species of that serpentine tribe, who love their chieftains, and know by instinct those who maliciously killed them, as they fight only in their own defence and that of their young ones, never biting those who do not disturb them.”—History of the American Indians, pp. 237–238.