Zuni Folktales: The Rabbit Huntress and Her Adventures and The Ugly Wild Boy Who Drove the Bear Away from Southeastern Mesa
The Rabbit Huntress and Her Adventures
It was long ago, in the days of the ancients, that a poor maiden lived at Kʻyawana Tehua-tsana (“Little Gateway of Zuni River”). You know there are black stone walls of houses standing there on the tops of the cliffs of lava, above the narrow place through which the river runs, to this day.
In one of these houses there lived this poor maiden alone with her feeble old father and her aged mother. She was unmarried, and her brothers had all been killed in wars, or had died gently; so the family lived there helplessly, so far as many things were concerned, from the lack of men in their house.
It is true that in making the gardens—the little plantings of beans, pumpkins, squashes, melons, and corn—the maiden was able to do very well; and thus mainly on the products of these things the family were supported. But, as in those days of our ancients we had neither sheep nor cattle, the hunt was depended upon to supply the meat; or sometimes it was procured by barter of the products of the fields to those who hunted mostly. Of these things this little family had barely enough for their own subsistence; hence, they could not procure their supplies of meat in this way.
Long before, it had been a great house, for many were the brave and strong young men who had lived in it; but the rooms were now empty, or at best contained only the leavings of those who had lived there, much used and worn out.
One autumn day, near wintertime, snow fell, and it became very cold. The maiden had gathered brush and firewood in abundance, and it was piled along the roof of the house and down underneath the ladder which descended from the top. She saw the young men issue forth the next morning in great numbers, their feet protected by long stockings of deerskin, the fur turned inward, and they carried on their shoulders and stuck in their belts stone axes and rabbit-sticks. As she gazed at them from the roof, she said to herself: “O that I were a man and could go forth, as do these young men, hunting rabbits! Then my poor old mother and father would not lack for flesh with which to duly season their food and nourish their lean bodies.” Thus ran her thoughts, and before night, as she saw these same young men coming in, one after another, some of them bringing long strings of rabbits, others short ones, but none of them empty-handed, she decided that, woman though she was, she would set forth on the morrow to try what luck she might find in the killing of rabbits herself.
It may seem strange that, although this maiden was beautiful and young, the youths did not give her some of their rabbits. But their feelings were not friendly, for no one of them would she accept as a husband, although one after another of them had offered himself for marriage.
Fully resolved, the girl that evening sat down by the fireplace, and turning toward her aged parents, said: “O my mother and father, I see that the snow has fallen, whereby easily rabbits are tracked, and the young men who went out this morning returned long before evening heavily laden with strings of this game. Behold, in the other rooms of our house are many rabbit-sticks, and there hang on the walls stone axes, and with these I might perchance strike down a rabbit on his trail, or, if he run into a log, split the log and dig him out. So I have thought during the day, and have decided to go tomorrow and try my fortunes in the hunt, woman though I be.”
“Naiya, my daughter,” quavered the feeble old mother; “you would surely be very cold, or you would lose your way, or grow so tired that you could not return before night, and you must not go out to hunt rabbits, woman as you are.”
“Why, certainly not,” insisted the old man, rubbing his lean knees and shaking his head over the days that were gone. “No, no; let us live in poverty rather than that you should run such risks as these, O my daughter.”
But, say what they would, the girl was determined. And the old man said at last: “Very well! You will not be turned from your course. Therefore, O daughter, I will help you as best I may.” He hobbled into another room, and found there some old deerskins covered thickly with fur; and drawing them out, he moistened and carefully softened them, and cut out for the maiden long stockings, which he sewed up with sinew and the fiber of the yucca leaf. Then he selected for her from among the old possessions of his brothers and sons, who had been killed or perished otherwise, a number of rabbit-sticks and a fine, heavy stone axe. Meanwhile, the old woman busied herself in preparing a lunch for the girl, which was composed of little cakes of cornmeal, spiced with pepper and wild onions, pierced through the middle, and baked in the ashes. When she had made a long string of these by threading them like beads on a rope of yucca fiber, she laid them down not far from the ladder on a little bench, with the rabbit-sticks, the stone axe, and the deerskin stockings.
That night the maiden planned and planned, and early on the following morning, even before the young men had gone out from the town, she had put on a warm, short-skirted dress, knotted a mantle over her shoulder and thrown another and larger one over her back, drawn on the deerskin stockings, had thrown the string of corn-cakes over her shoulder, stuck the rabbit-sticks in her belt, and carrying the stone axe in her hand sallied forth eastward through the Gateway of Zuni and into the plain of the valley beyond, called the Plain of the Burnt River, on account of the black, roasted-looking rocks along some parts of its sides. Dazzlingly white the snow stretched out before her—not deep, but unbroken—and when she came near the cliffs with many little canyons in them, along the northern side of the valley, she saw many a trail of rabbits running out and in among the rocks and between the bushes.
Warm and excited by her unwonted exercise, she did not heed a coming snowstorm, but ran about from one place to another, following the trails of the rabbits, sometimes up into the canyons, where the forests of piñon and cedar stood, and where here and there she had the good fortune sometimes to run two, three, or four rabbits into a single hollow log. It was little work to split these logs, for they were small, as you know, and to dig out the rabbits and slay them by a blow of the hand on the nape of the neck, back of the ears; and as she killed each rabbit she raised it reverently to her lips, and breathed from its nostrils its expiring breath, and, tying its legs together, placed it on the string, which after a while began to grow heavy on her shoulders. Still she kept on, little heeding the snow which was falling fast; nor did she notice that it was growing darker and darker, so intent was she on the hunt, and so glad was she to capture so many rabbits. Indeed, she followed the trails until they were no longer visible, as the snow fell all around her, thinking all the while: “How happy will be my poor old father and mother that they shall now have flesh to eat! How strong will they grow! And when this meat is gone, that which is dried and preserved of it also, lo! another snowstorm will no doubt come, and I can go out hunting again.”
At last the twilight came, and, looking around, she found that the snow had fallen deeply, there was no trail, and that she had lost her way. True, she turned about and started in the direction of her home, as she supposed, walking as fast as she could through the soft, deep snow. Yet she reckoned not rightly, for instead of going eastward along the valley, she went southward across it, and entering the mouth of the Descending Plain of the Pines, she went on and on, thinking she was going homeward, until at last it grew dark and she knew not which way to turn.
“What harm,” thought she, “if I find a sheltered place among the rocks? What harm if I remain all night, and go home in the morning when the snow has ceased falling, and by the light I shall know my way?”
So she turned about to some rocks which appeared, black and dim, a short distance away. Fortunately, among these rocks is the cave which is known as Taiuma’s Cave. This she came to, and peering into that black hole, she saw in it, back some distance, a little glowing light. “Ha, ha!” thought she; “perhaps some rabbit-hunters like myself, belated yesterday, passed the night here and left the fire burning. If so, this is greater good fortune than I could have looked for.” So, lowering the string of rabbits which she carried on her shoulder, and throwing off her mantle, she crawled in, peering well into the darkness, for fear of wild beasts; then, returning, she drew in the string of rabbits and the mantle.
Behold! there was a bed of hot coals buried in the ashes in the very middle of the cave, and piled up on one side were fragments of broken wood. The girl, happy in her good fortune, issued forth and gathered more sticks from the cliff-side, where dead piñons are found in great numbers, and bringing them in little armfuls one after another, she finally succeeded in gathering a store sufficient to keep the fire burning brightly all the night through. Then she drew off her snow-covered stockings of deerskin and the bedraggled mantles, and, building a fire, hung them up to dry and sat down to rest herself. The fire burned up and glowed brightly, so that the whole cave was as light as a room at night when a dance is being celebrated. By-and-by, after her clothing had dried, she spread a mantle on the floor of the cave by the side of the fire, and, sitting down, dressed one of her rabbits and roasted it, and, untying the string of corn-cakes her mother had made for her, feasted on the roasted meat and cakes.
She had just finished her evening meal, and was about to recline and watch the fire for awhile, when she heard away off in the distance a long, low cry of distress—“Ho‑o‑o‑o thlaia-a!”
“Ah!” thought the girl, “someone, more belated than myself, is lost; doubtless one of the rabbit-hunters.” She got up, and went nearer to the entrance of the cavern.
“Ho‑o‑o‑o thlaia-a!” sounded the cry, nearer this time. She ran out, and, as it was repeated again, she placed her hand to her mouth, and cried, woman though she was, as loudly as possible: “Li-i thlaia-a!” (“Here!”)
The cry was repeated near at hand, and presently the maiden, listening first, and then shouting, and listening again, heard the clatter of an enormous rattle. In dismay and terror she threw her hands into the air, and, crouching down, rushed into the cave and retreated to its farthest limits, where she sat shuddering with fear, for she knew that one of the Cannibal Demons of those days, perhaps the renowned Átahsaia of the east, had seen the light of her fire through the cave entrance, with his terrible staring eyes, and assuming it to be a lost wanderer, had cried out, and so led her to guide him to her place of concealment.
On came the Demon, snapping the twigs under his feet and shouting in a hoarse, loud voice: “Ho lithlsh tâ ime!” (“Ho, there! So you are in here, are you?”) Kothl! clanged his rattle, while, almost fainting with terror, closer to the rock crouched the maiden.
The old Demon came to the entrance of the cave and bawled out: “I am cold, I am hungry! Let me in!” Without further ado, he stooped and tried to get in; but, behold! the entrance was too small for his giant shoulders to pass. Then he pretended to be wonderfully civil, and said: “Come out, and bring me something to eat.”
“I have nothing for you,” cried the maiden. “I have eaten my food.”
“Have you no rabbits?”
“Yes.”
“Come out and bring me some of them.”
But the maiden was so terrified that she dared not move toward the entrance.
“Throw me a rabbit!” shouted the old Demon.
The maiden threw him one of her precious rabbits at last, when she could rise and go to it. He clutched it with his long, horny hand, gave one gulp and swallowed it. Then he cried out: “Throw me another!” She threw him another, which he also immediately swallowed; and so on until the poor maiden had thrown all the rabbits to the voracious old monster. Every one she threw him he caught in his huge, yellow-tusked mouth, and swallowed, hair and all, at one gulp.
“Throw me another!” cried he, when the last had already been thrown to him.
So the poor maiden was forced to say: “I have no more.”
“Throw me your overshoes!” cried he.
She threw the overshoes of deerskin, and these like the rabbits he speedily devoured. Then he called for her moccasins, and she threw them; for her belt, and she threw it; and finally, wonderful to tell, she threw even her mantle, and blanket, and her overdress, until, behold, she had nothing left!
Now, with all he had eaten, the old Demon was swollen hugely at the stomach, and, though he tried and tried to squeeze himself through the mouth of the cave, he could not by any means succeed. Finally, lifting his great flint axe, he began to shatter the rock about the entrance to the cave, and slowly but surely he enlarged the hole and the maiden now knew that as soon as he could get in he would devour her also, and she almost fainted at the sickening thought. Pound, pound, pound, pound, went the great axe of the Demon as he struck the rocks.
In the distance the two War-gods were sitting in their home at Thla-uthla (the Shrine amid the Bushes) beyond Thunder Mountain, and though far off, they heard thus in the middle of the night the pounding of the Demon’s hammer-axe against the rocks. And of course they knew at once that a poor maiden, for the sake of her father and mother, had been out hunting—that she had lost her way and, finding a cave where there was a little fire, entered it, rebuilt the fire, and rested herself; that, attracted by the light of her fire, the Cannibal Demon had come and besieged her retreat, and only a little time hence would he so enlarge the entrance to the cave that he could squeeze even his great overfilled paunch through it and come at the maiden to destroy her. So, catching up their wonderful weapons, these two War-gods flew away into the darkness and in no time they were approaching the Descending Plain of the Pines.
Just as the Demon was about to enter the cavern, and the maiden had fainted at seeing his huge face and gray shock of hair and staring eyes, his yellow, protruding tusks, and his horny, taloned hand, they came upon the old beast, and, each one hitting him a welt with his war-club, they “ended his daylight,” and then hauled him forth into the open space. They opened his huge paunch and withdrew from it the maiden’s garments, and even the rabbits which had been slain. The rabbits they cast away amongst the soap-weed plants that grew on the slope at the foot of the cliff. The garments they spread out on the snow, and by their knowledge cleansed and made them perfect, even more perfect than they had been before. Then, flinging the huge body of the giant Demon down into the depths of the canyon, they turned them about and, calling out gentle words to the maiden, entered and restored her; and she, seeing in them not their usual ugly persons, but handsome youths (as like to one another as are two deer born of the same mother), was greatly comforted; and bending low, and breathing upon their hands, thanked them over and over for the rescue they had brought her. But she crouched herself low with shame that her garments were but few, when, behold! the youths went out and brought in to her the garments they had cleaned by their knowledge, restoring them to her.
Then, spreading their mantles by the door of the cave, they slept there that night, in order to protect the maiden, and on the morrow wakened her. They told her many things, and showed her many things which she had not known before, and counselled her thus: “It is not fearful that a maiden should marry; therefore, O maiden, return unto thy people in the Village of the Gateway of the River of Zuni. This morning we will slay rabbits unnumbered for you, and start you on your way, guarding you down the snow-covered valley, and when you are in sight of your home we will leave you, telling you our names.”
So, early in the morning the two gods went forth; and flinging their sticks among the soap-weed plants, behold! as though the soap-weed plants were rabbits, so many lay killed on the snow before these mighty hunters. And they gathered together great numbers of these rabbits, a string for each one of the party; and when the Sun had risen clearer in the sky, and his light sparkled on the snow around them, they took the rabbits to the maiden and presented them, saying: “We will carry each one of us a string of these rabbits.” Then taking her hand, they led her out of the cave and down the valley, until, beyond on the high black mesas at the Gateway of the River of Zuni, she saw the smoke rise from the houses of her village. Then turned the two War-gods to her, and they told her their names. And again she bent low, and breathed on their hands. Then, dropping the strings of rabbits which they had carried close beside the maiden, they swiftly disappeared.
Thinking much of all she had learned, she continued her way to the home of her father and mother; and as she went into the town, staggering under her load of rabbits, the young men and the old men and women and children beheld her with wonder; and no hunter in that town thought of comparing himself with the Maiden Huntress of Kʻyawana Tehua-tsana. The old man and the old woman, who had mourned the night through and sat up anxiously watching, were overcome with happiness when they saw their daughter returning; and as she laid the rabbits at their feet, she said: “Behold! my father and my mother, foolish have I been, and much danger have I passed through, because I forgot the ways of a woman and assumed the ways of a man. But two wondrous youths have taught me that a woman may be a huntress and yet never leave her own fireside. Behold! I will marry, when some good youth comes to me, and he will hunt rabbits and deer for me, for my parents and my children.”
So, one day, when one of those youths who had seen her come in laden with rabbits, and who had admired her time out of mind, presented himself with a bundle at the maiden’s fireside, behold! she smilingly and delightedly accepted him. And from that day to this, when women would hunt rabbits or deer, they marry, and behold, the rabbits and deer are hunted.
Thus shortens my story.
The Ugly Wild Boy Who Drove the Bear Away from Southeastern Mesa
In the days of the ancients there lived with his old grandmother, not far from Kʻiákime, east, where the sweet wafer-bread is pictured on the rocks, a frightfully ugly boy. The color of his body and face was blue. He had a twisted nose, crooked scars of various colors ran down each side of his face, and he had a bunch of red things like peppers on his head; in fact, in all ways he resembled the Héhea, or the wild men of the Sacred Dance who serve as runners to the priest-clowns.
Now, one season it had rained so much that the piñon trees were laden with nuts, and the datilas were heavy with fruit, and the gray grass and red-top were so heavy with seeds that even when the wind did not blow they bent as if in a breeze.
In vain the people of Kʻiákime went to the Southeastern Mesa, where the nut trees and datilas and grass grew. They could not gather the nuts and the fruit and the seeds, because of the ugly old Bear who claimed the country and its products for his own, and waxed fat thereon. Some of the people were killed by him, others were maimed, and all the rest were driven away.
One day the ugly little boy said to his grandmother: “O grandmother, I am going out to gather datilas and piñon nuts on the Southeastern Mesa.”
“Child, child!” cried the grandmother, “do not go; do not, by any means, go! You know very well there is an ugly Bear there who will either kill you or maim you frightfully.”
“I don’t care for all that!” cried the boy; “I am going!” Whereupon he went.
He followed the trail called the Road of the Pending Meal-sack, and he climbed the crooked path up Shoyakoskwe (Southeastern Mesa), and advanced over the wide plateau. No sooner had he begun to pluck the sweet datila fruit and eat of it, and had cracked between his teeth an occasional piñon nut, than “Wha‑a‑a‑a!” snarled the old Bear; and he came rushing out of the nearest thicket toward the boy.
“U shoma kutchi kihe!” shouted the boy. “Friend, friend, don’t bite me! It’ll hurt! Don’t bite me! I came to make a bargain with you.”
“I’d like to know why I shouldn’t bite you!” growled the Bear. “I’ll tear you to pieces. What have you come to my country for, stealing my fruit and nuts and grass-seed?”
“I came to get something to eat,” replied the boy. “You have plenty.”
“Indeed, I have not. I will let you pick nothing. I will tear you to pieces!” said the Bear.
“Don’t, don’t, and I will make a bargain with you,” said the boy.
“Who should talk of bargains to me?” yelled the Bear, cracking a small pine-tree to pieces with his paws and teeth, so great was his rage.
“These things are no more yours than mine,” said the boy, “and I’ll prove it.”
“How?” asked the Bear.
“They are mine; they are not yours!” cried the boy.
“They are mine, I tell you! They are not yours!” replied the Bear.
“They are mine!” retorted the boy.
And so they might have wrangled till sunset, or torn one another into pieces, had it not been for a suggestion that the boy made.
“Look here! I’ll make a proposition to you,” said he.
“What’s that?” asked the Bear.
“Whoever is certain of his rights on this plateau and the things that grow on it must prove it by not being scared by anything that the other does,” said the boy.
“Ha, ha!” laughed the Bear, in his big, coarse voice. “That is a good plan, indeed. I am perfectly willing to stand the test.”
“Well, now, one of us must run away and hide,” said the boy, “and then the other must come on him unaware in some way and frighten him, if he can.”
“All right,” said the Bear. “Who first?”
“Just as you say,” said the boy.
“Well, then, I will try you first,” said the Bear, “for this place belongs to me.” Whereupon he turned and fled into the thicket. And the boy went around picking datilas and eating them, and throwing the skins away. Presently the Bear came rushing out of the thicket, snapping the trees and twigs, and throwing them about at such a rate that you would have thought there was a sandstorm raging through the forest.
“Ku hai yaau! Ku pekwia nu! Ha! ha! ha! haaaa!”
he exclaimed, rushing at the boy from the rear.
The boy stirred never so much as a leaf, only kept on champing his datilas.
Again the Bear retired, and again he came rushing forth and snarling out: “Ha! ha! ha! hu! hu! hu!” in a terrific voice, and grabbed the boy; but never so much as the boy’s heart stirred.
“By my senses!” exclaimed the Bear; “you are a man, and I must give it up. Now, suppose you try me. I can stand as much frightening as you, and, unless you can frighten me, I tell you you must keep away from my datila and piñon patch.”
Then the boy turned on his heel and fled away toward his grandmother’s house, singing as he went:
“Kuyaina itoshlakyanaa! Kuyaina itoshlakyanaa!”
He of the piñon patch frightened shall be!
He of the piñon patch frightened shall be!“Oh! shall he?” cried his grandmother. “I declare, I am surprised to see you come back alive and well.”
“Hurry up, grandmother,” said the boy, “and paint me as frightfully as you can.”
“All right, my son; I will help you!” So she blackened the right side of his face with soot, and painted the left side with ashes, until he looked like a veritable demon. Then she gave him a stone axe of ancient time and magic power, and she said: “Take this, my son, and see what you can do with it.”
The boy ran back to the mountain. The Bear was wandering around eating datilas. The boy suddenly ran toward him, and exclaimed:
“Ai yaaaa! He! he! he! he! he! he! he! tooh!”—
and he whacked the side of a hollow piñon tree with his axe. The tree was shivered with a thundering noise, the earth shook, and the Bear jumped as if he had been struck by one of the flying splinters. Then, recovering himself and catching sight of the boy, he exclaimed: “What a fool I am, to be scared by that little wretch of a boy!” But presently, seeing the boy’s face, he was startled again, and exclaimed: “By my eyes, the Death Demon is after me, surely!”
Again the boy, as he came near, whacked with his magic axe the body of another tree, calling out in a still louder voice. The earth shook so much and the noise was so thunderous that the Bear sneezed with agitation. And again, as the boy came still nearer, once more he struck a tree a tremendous blow, and again the earth thundered and trembled more violently than ever, and the Bear almost lost his senses with fright and thought surely the Corpse Demon was coming this time. When, for the fourth time, the boy struck a tree, close to the Bear, the old fellow was thrown violently to the ground with the heaving of the earth and the bellowing of the sounds that issued forth. Picking himself up as fast as he could, never stopping to see whether it was a boy or a devil, he fled to the eastward as fast as his legs would carry him, and, as he heard the boy following him, he never stopped until he reached the Zuni Mountains.
“There!” said the boy; “I’ll chase the old rogue no farther. He’s been living all these years on the mountain where more fruit and nuts and grass-seed grow than a thousand Bears could eat, and yet he’s never let so much as a single soul of the town of Kʻiákime gather a bit.”
Then the boy returned to his grandmother, and related to her what had taken place.
“Go,” said she, “and tell the people of Kʻiákime, from the top of yonder high rock, that those who wish to go out to gather grass-seed and datilas and piñon nuts need fear no longer.”
So the boy went out, and, mounting the high rock, informed and directed the people as follows:
“Ye of the Home of the Eagles! Ye do I now inform, whomsoever of ye would gather datilas, whomsoever of ye would gather piñon nuts, whomsoever of ye would gather grass-seed, that bread may be made, hie ye over the mountains, and gather them to your hearts’ content, for I have driven the Bear away!”
A few believed in what the boy said; and some, because he was ugly, would not believe it and would not go; and thus were as much hindered from gathering grass-seed and nuts for daily food as if the Bear had been really there. You know people nowadays are often frightened by such a kind of Bear as this.
Thus it was in the days of the ancients. And therefore the Zuni Mountains to this day are filled with bears; but they rarely descend to the mesas in the southwest, being fully convinced from the experience of their ancestor that the Corpse Demon is near and continues to lie in wait for them. And our people go over the mountains as they will, even women and children, and gather datila fruit, piñon nuts, and grass-seed without hindrance.
Thus shortens my story.