BellaOnline Forums Travel and Culture Native American The Campfire Circle

Hi Jae,

Welcome to our Campfire and thank you for sharing your beautiful words. I hope you come back often to join us and to bask in the warm glow of the fire in our camp and within our spirits and hearts.

Hello my Fellow Campfire Sitters!

Just south of where I live is a town named 'Plant City' (Florida)It is known for the wonderful strawberries that are grown there.
With that in mind I bring you the Cherokee legend of the origin of strawberries:

When the first man (a s ga ya) was created and a mate was given to him, they lived together very happily for a time, but then began to quarrel, until at last the woman (a ge ya) left her husband and started off toward the Sun land (Nundagunyi), in the east.
The man followed alone and grieving, but the woman kept on steadily ahead and never looked behind, until the Creator, took pity on him and asked him if he was still angry with his wife. He said he was not, and Creator then asked him if he would like to have her back again, to which he eagerly answered yes.

So Creator caused a patch of the finest ripe huckleberries to spring up along the path in front of the woman, but she passed by without paying any attention to them. Farther on he put a clump of blackberries, but these also she refused to notice. Other fruits, one, two, and three, and then some trees covered with beautiful red service berries, were placed beside the path to tempt her, but she went on until suddenly she saw in front of her a patch of large ripe strawberries, the first ever known.

She stooped to gather a few to eat, and as she picked them she chanced to turn her face to the west, and at once the memory of her husband came back to her and she found herself unable to go on. She sat down, but the longer she waited the stronger became her desire for her husband, and at last she gathered a bunch of the finest berries and started back along the path to give them to him. He met her kindly and they went home together.

Leave it to a woman to just up and leave, eh! *grin*

So, our fire burns brightly once more. I just know there are others that would love to add "sticks" to keep our fire going!
Hummm, does that sound like a challenge? *grin*

ka dish day,
kimi kaya

Thank you, Kimi Kaya, for coming back to the campfire. I enjoyed your story of the first strawberries. I hope more people come back and share their stories and legends and thoughts with us.

Hello and Blessings to all. I wrote a short story for our campfire gathering. Hope you like it.

Grandfather sat outside his tipi, watching the children play in the early evening, the scents of the cool summer's night air and the woodland plants coming gently to him. He sat with his robe over his shoulders, feeling good after his evening meal of venison stew and bannock bread. Now he began to get sleepy and an image of Little Sparrow, his wife of many years, came to him. He missed her greatly and wished she was there with him to watch their grandchildren grow. As he dozed he heard her say, "I am watching, Brave Bear. I see our grandchildren and I see what is in your heart, for I love you greatly. I see you, an old man, coming to the end, yet at the beginning, and I see the babies growing, beginning again the circle of life. Come with me, Brave Bear. Come where you belong now and know that your life has been good and full. The Great Spirit has blessed us and now it is time we let the young ones go on with their own lives. They will remember us and keep the teachings we gave to them and carry on the traditions, and the Great Spirit will give them many blessings." Grandfather smiled, remembered when, as a child, his Grandfather taught him how to catch the great salmon in the sacred rivers. He remembered so many things. Then Grandfather slept and turned towards Little Sparrow.

One day Fox was out walking along. He'd been hunting but had no luck. It was a long time since he'd eaten. His stomach was growling so loudly he could hardly hear anything else.
Suddenly he realized someone was coming singing a song. Quicker than the flick of a wren's tail Fox leaped off the path and crouched down on his belly in the bushes. Louder and louder grew the song.

Then Fox saw something begin to appear over the crest of the hill. It was a single heron feather. Fox moved his front paws, getting ready to leap out at the bird he thought the feather was attached to.
But as the feather lifted higher and higher, he realized it was no bird at all. It was the feather attached to the top of a gustoweh, the head-dress of an Iroquois man whose face now bobbed into sight as he came over the hill on horseback.
If he sees me, Fox thought, I can forget about my hunger forever! It was well known that fox skins were prized by the Iroquois. Fox tried to make himself smaller than a mouse, hoping he wouldn't be seen.

Closer and closer the man came. He was wearing fine clothes and Fox could hear the words of man's song very clearly now. It was a boasting song.
"No one is braver than Heron Feather," sang the young man. "And I should know that for I am he. No one wears finer clothing. No one is a better fisherman. If you doubt this, look and see."

He was on his way to the lodge of a young woman he had been watching for some time. He was going to try to impress her and her mother so that the girl would ask him to marry her. His song and his fine clothing were part of the plan.

But Fox was no longer listening to Heron Feather's song. He was not seeing those fine clothes. All of Fox's attention was on what he was smelling. Fish. That large bag hanging from the young man's blanketroll was full of fish! Fox's mouth watered and his tongue hung out. It had been such a long time since he had eaten fish. His fears left him. The young man on the horse passed him by, but Fox's thoughts were far ahead.

Yes, Fox said to himself. I think there is a way. As quickly as he could, he ran along through the woods keeping out of sight of the road. Soon he was ahead of the Iroquois man. Just around a bend, Fox laid himself down by the edge of the path. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth so that his tongue hung out in the dirt. Not moving a muscle, he waited. Soon he began to near Heron Feather's boasting song.

Heron Feather was so intent on his singing, trying to find a few more words to describe just how fine he looked in his new white buckskin breechclout that he almost rode right past Fox. When he saw Fox out of the corner of his eye, he stopped.
"Enh," he said, "what is this?" He climbed down from his horse.
"Kweh, a dead fox?"
Picking up a long stick he carefully prodded the side of the animal. It did not move.
"Nyoh," he said, "it is surely dead."
He bent down and looked at it closely. It was skinny, but the pelt was in fine condition. He picked it up by the tail.
"Hmm, it has not been dead for long. It only stinks a little bit."
When he said that, Fox's mouth opened a little and his lips curled back from his teeth, but Heron Feather did not notice.
"Hmm," Heron Feather said, "maybe I should skin it out now."
When he said that one of Fox's eyes twitched a little, but Heron Feather did not notice.
"Neh," he went on, "I should not skin him out now. If I do I may dirty my fine new clothes. I will just take him with me."

He walked back to his horse and began to unlace the bag.
"Weh-yoh," he smiled, "when Swaying Reed's mother sees this fox I caught she will know I am a great hunter. Then she will surely allow her daughter to bring me marriage bread."
He dropped the fox in with his fish, laced the bag shut and climbed back on his horse. Soon he was singing again. This time it was a song about how great a hunter Heron Feather was.

Inside the bag Fox lay still for a few minutes. Then he began to gnaw at the side. When he had made a hole large enough, he began to drop the fish out, one by one.
Finally, when all the fish were gone, he made the hole larger and jumped out to freedom and his best meal in many days.

Too busy with his singing, Heron Feather did not even notice. He rode all the way to the village where Swaying Reed lived. He stopped in front of her mother's lodge and sat there on his horse, singing til many people had gathered around.
He sang of his beautiful clothes, of the many fish he caught (he actually had traded his mother's beaded moccasins for them), of all the animals he hunted and trapped.
Swaying Reed and her mother came out of the lodge and watched as he reached back for his bag. Now he would show them what a good provider he was!

When he held up the bag and saw that it was empty with a hole in the bottom he stopped singing. Turning around, he rode silently away.
He learned that day that boasting songs do not make a person great. It is one thing to find a fox and another skin it.

Vance,

I love your story of fox. Good lesson to learn!

Ahhh, what wonderful stories, Phyllis and Vance! Pilamaya!
Just look at how very brightly our campfire now burns!

I have no story today, but some beautiful words that spoke to me!
I would like to share it with you, My Dear Friends:

"Speak to me of serenity, of treasures yet to be found, of peace that flows like a river. Tell me of tranquil places that no hand has marred, no storm has scarred. Give me visions of standing in sunlight or the feeling of spring mist against my cheek as I live and move and breathe. Show me paths that wind through the wild lilies and beds of buttercups. Sing me songs like the mingled voices of wrens and meadowlarks, the lowing of gentle cows, the soft mother-call of a mare to her colt. Lead me past a glass-smooth pond where frogs croak of coming-out parties, their graduation from frisky tadpoles to squat green frogs. Find me a place in the sunlight to sit and think and listen to the sweet inner voice that says so quietly", "Peace, be still."

Peace be with You All.

Heen Akeeya (smile),
kimi kaya

Kimi Kaya, what beautiful words indeed! Thank you for sharing with us. Blessings and peace to you.

Grandmother Spider Steals the Sun
[CHEROKEE]


In the beginning there was only blackness, and nobody could see anything. People kept bumping into each other and groping blindly. They said: "What this world needs is light."
Fox said he knew some people on the other side of the world who had plenty of light, but they were too greedy to share it with others. Possum said he would be glad to steal a little of it. "I have a bushy tail," he siad. "I can hide the light inside all that fur." Then he set out for the other side of the world. There he found the sun hanging in a tree and lighting everything up. He sneaked over to the sun, picked out a tiny piece of light, and stuffed it into his tail. But the light was hot and burned all the fur off.

The people discovered his theft and took back the light, and ever since, Possoum's tail has been bald.
"Let me try," said Buzzard. "I know better than to hide a piece of stolen light in my tail. I'll put it on my head." He flew to the other side of the world and, diving straight into the sun, seized it with his claws. He put it on his head, but it burned his head feathers off. The people grabbed the sun away from him, and ever since that time Buzzard's head has remained bald.

Grandmother Spider said, "Let me try!" First she made a thickwalled pot out of clay. Next she spun a web reaching all the way to the other side of the world. She was so small that none of the people there noticed her coming. Quickly Grandmother Spider snatched up the sun, put it in the bowl of clay, and scrambled back home along one of the strands of her web. Now her side of the world had light, and everyone rejoiced.

Spider Woman brought not only the sun to the Cherokee, but fire with it. And besides that, she taught the Cherokee people the art of pottery making.

Thanks, Vance, I love that tale. Here's another one:

Before there were humans on earth the animal fathers lived there. They were kept busy making prts of the world, different animals created different parts. Beaver and his family made the Great Water by building a dam at the eastern end. Manabozho, the Great Hare saw what they had done and said, "I do not want a dam there." So he stamped on the dam. But Great Hare did not stamp hard enough.

He did not destroy the dam completely, but left rapids, waterfalls and whirlpools. Great Hare lived in land called Michilimackinak, with islands, rippling water, wide spreading shade trees and leaping fish.

Manabozho made the first fish net after watching Spider weave her web. He knew that nets could help catch fish.

Wild rice grew in the land of the Great Hare. He discovered it and taught the Indians how to use it. Manabozho showed the Chippewa the islands of wild rice in the lake, and he showed them how to cut paths through the rice beds and how to beat ripe heads of grain into their canoes. The Indians then taught the white man about wild rice.