American Indian Trickster Tales (Myths and Legends) (35 page)

“That’s Whiskey Jack for you!” said all who saw it.

The geese were very angry. They scolded Wesakaychak for his rashness. “I will be good from now on,” said Wesakaychak, “I will behave myself. Only give me another pair of wings.” He begged so earnestly that the geese relented and gave him a new pair of wings.

“Well,” said the geese, “we have eaten all the fish, minnows, frogs, and toads around here. We must fly to another lake for food.” The geese flew away in their usual arrow-point-shaped formation, honking loudly and merrily.

Wesakaychak flew at their head, crying, “Honk, honk!” as if he were a gander.

They saw a camp with people in the distance. “Don’t fly near there,” the geese warned him. “These people are dangerous. They are hunters. They would like nothing better than having roast goose for dinner.” Wesakaychak paid no attention to them. He wanted to show off. He swooped down low over the camp, honking mightily. The people came running out of their wigwams, crying: “Geese, geese, enough to feed the whole village!” They shot their arrows at Wesakaychak and at the flock of geese.

The geese were honking: “Oh, my, oh, my, Wesakaychak, what have you done? You put all our lives in danger!”

“Don’t make a fuss over nothing!” Wesakaychak shouted back. Just then an arrow hit one of his wings and broke it off. Wesakaychak fell to the ground. He fell hard. He was all shook up. The people came running, yelling: “Let’s get that goose. Let’s have a feast!” But then they saw who it was. “It’s only that fool, Whiskey Jack,” they told each other, “playing another one of his silly pranks. Will he never learn?”

This time the geese gave Wesakaychak a tremendous tongue-lashing. “You are not worthy to fly,” they told him. “No more wings for the likes of you!”

Wesakaychak fell to his knees. “Have pity, little brothers,” he wailed. “I’ll never disobey you again! Give me another chance. Let me have another pair of wings.” Wesakaychak wept a flood of tears.

The good-natured geese felt pity for him. They gave him a new pair of wings. “Use them wisely this time,” they admonished him.

“I will. I will,” promised Wesakaychak.

The geese had eaten up everything edible in their new location. “We must fly on to find more food,” they said. They flew on, Wesakaychak in the lead, crying: “Honk, honk!” They were flying over some woods. There was a big forest fire.

“Don’t fly near it,” cried the geese, “or you’ll be burned!”

“It’s cold up here,” Wesakaychak shouted back. “I’ll just fly down to warm myself a little.” He swooped down. He got too close to the fire. His wings burned up and he fell down all the way amid the burning trees. He almost burned to death. He was badly singed. He barely escaped the flames. There were some people living near that place. They hurried to see the big bird that had fallen from the sky. They saw that it was Wesakaychak. They were disappointed. “It’s only that half-wit, Whiskey Jack,” they said, “up to his old foolish tricks again. This dunderhead plays at being a bird. What will it be next?”

Wesakaychak hurt all over. His skin was blistered and hanging in shreds where the flames had reached it. “One more chance, little brothers!” he cried, before the geese had a chance to say anything. “Just one more chance. I’ll be good from now on.” He carried on so much, weeping and wailing, that the geese gave him a fourth pair of wings.

“But this is the last time,” they told him. “If you mess up again, there will be no more wings!”

“I won’t mess up. I won’t mess up!” cried Wesakaychak.

The geese had eaten up all the fingerlings, pollywogs, worms, grubs, and caterpillars they could find in their new place. “We must fly to another lake to find food,” they said.

They flew on with Wesakaychak in the lead. He was crying: “Honk, honk!”

They came to an inlet of the sea. There was a giant clam lying on the beach. The geese warned Wesakaychak: “Don’t fly close to that clam. It is big and wicked. It could swallow you up.”

“I’ll be careful,” Wesakaychak answered. But he was curious and flew down to the clam to look it over. “What can that clam do to me?” He thought. “It can’t move, but I can fly.” He flew too close to the giant clam and it snapped him up. Luckily, Wesakaychak had his strike-a-light, his steel, flint, and tinderbox. He lit a fire inside the clam, which got burned and opened up so that Wesakaychak could jump out. His hair was singed, his clothes burned.

When the people saw him like that they laughed at him, saying: “There goes that fool Whiskey Jack, who got himself snapped up by a clam!”

“I guess I was not meant to fly,” said Wesakaychak as he staggered off. “From now on I walk.”

There lives a fearful creature in the northern woods called Windigo. Some of the Métis call him the Loup-Garou. He lives on human flesh. He devours people. The Windigo’s scream is so fearful that it paralyzes and renders helpless all who hear it. Nobody knows exactly what the Windigo looks like because those who have the misfortune to encounter him are instantly killed and eaten.

Wesakaychak was wandering through the forest one day when he suddenly found himself face-to-face with the Windigo. He was numb with fear. He was unable to move. He trembled. His teeth chattered. He thought: “This is the end of me.” But he made up his mind to try outwitting the Windigo. He addressed the terrifying creature: “Elder brother, I am glad to see you. I always wanted to meet you.” “Likewise,” said the Windigo, grinning, baring his huge fangs and smacking his lips. “I, too, am glad to meet you. Hurry up, little fellow, and make a fire. I am hungry and I want to cook.”

“There is no food here to be cooked,” said Wesakaychak.

“Don’t worry, there will be,” said the Windigo, with his wolfish grin. “Hurry up, collect wood, make a good, hot fire!”

Wesakaychak gathered wood, very slowly, stick by stick. “How can I escape winding up in this monster’s stomach?” he thought. He was desperate. At this moment he saw an Ermine coming along. Ermine was small. He had dark fur that blended in with the ground. The Windigo did not see him. “Friend, friend, come here,” whispered Wesakaychak. “Save me. The Windigo is going to kill me and gobble me up. If you help me, I’ll make you into the most beautiful animal in the world.”

“How can I help?” asked Ermine.

“When the Windigo opens his mouth,” Wesakaychak told him, “jump into it; jump down his throat. Compared to him, you are so tiny, he won’t even notice it. Little brother, once you are inside, you’ll find a big red round thing pumping away—thud, thud, thud. That is the Windigo’s heart. You have such fine, sharp teeth, little friend, use them. Bite deep into the heart. Tear it to pieces!”

In the meantime the Windigo kept growling fearfully: “Hurry up with that fire! I am hungry!”

“I am working as fast as I can,” said Wesakaychak, gathering wood as slowly as possible.

“You’re stalling,” the Windigo shouted, opening his mouth wide.

Ermine jumped in. Ermine is small, but fierce. He has the sharpest teeth in the world. He gnawed his way into the Windigo’s heart; he bit deeply into it. The Windigo groaned, shuddered, and died. Ermine hopped out of the dead monster’s mouth. He was covered with the Windigo’s blood.

“Little friend,” said Wesakaychak, jumping with joy and relief, “let me clean you up.” He washed the blood out of Ermine’s fur.

“Elder brother,” Ermine reminded Wesakaychak, “you promised to make me beautiful.”

“And so I shall,” answered Wesakaychak. He took some white clay and used it to paint Ermine’s body as white as snow. He left only a tiny bit of black around Ermine’s eyes and at the tip of his tail, just to remind people of how Ermine had looked before Wesakaychak had beautified him. Ermine, his fur glistening like silver, was now the prettiest animal in the world.

“Thank you very much for doing this,” he said to Wesakaychak.

“Oh, it was nothing, don’t even mention it, little brother,” answered Wesakaychak. “It was the reward for the small service you rendered me.” Gracefully, his silvery body moving like a snake, Ermine went home.

Wesakaychak addressed the people: “Friends, behold me! It is entirely due to my courage and wisdom that you no longer have to be afraid of the terrible Windigo.”

Having created the world, the animals, grass, trees, all life upon it, Old Man realized that by having men live by themselves, and women by themselves, he had made a mistake. He saw that they should live together. The camps of the two sexes were far apart: The women were living here at the foot of the mountains, in Cutbank Valley, and the men were away down on Two Medicine River. Each camp had a buffalo trap and subsisted wholly upon the buffalo that were decoyed into it.

As I have said, Old Man saw that he had made a mistake by keeping men and women apart. In fact, he found that he himself wanted a woman, so he went to the men and said: “You shall no longer live by yourselves. Come! We will go up to the camp of the women, and each of us get one of them.”