The Nutcracker Ballet - Russian Tale

The Nutcracker Ballet was composed by Russian composer Peter Tchaikovsky. It was based on The Nutcracker and the Mouse King story written by German writer E.T.A. Hoffmann. In 1954, the renowned choreographer George Balanchine staged his own production of The Nutcracker Ballet. It has become the basis for the productions we see today and for the story adaptation below. The Nutcracker has become a special part of the Christmas holiday tradition worldwide.

On December 24^th, the Christmas Eve, magic happens all over the world. Inside one house, a brother and sister by the name Clara and Frits stood behind the closed door and peeked through the key whole. Their cousins shoving behind them giggled.  

When the door opened, the kids spilled into the parlor. A green fragrant tree stood in the corner of the room. Sweets and lights hung from the branches. “Whaaa” yelled the grandpa hiding behind the door. He was always full of magic, bringing the most unusual gifts.

This year, he brought three tall boxes, each wrapped in bright red paper tide with even brighter red ribbon. He opened the first box. A soldier outfitted in green regimental dress stepped out. When wounded, he saluted and clicked his heels. Harlequin and Columbine stepped out of the next boxes. When wounded, he jiggled and she danced like a ballerina.

When the kids thought that all their presents were unwrapped, the grandpa raised his eyebrows saying, “Aaaah, I think there is one more box to be opened.” He pulled from under a tree, a small box. Out of it appeared a wooden soldier. The grandpa opened the soldier’s mouth and placed a nut inside them. Crack!

“Aw, that’s a nutcracker,” said Clara.

The grandfather handed the Nutcracker to Clara. She didn’t have time to take a good look at the Nutcracker, when Fritz grabbed it from her and pushed a nut into his mouth. Snap! With a careless tug, Fritz broke the Nutcracker’s jaw.

The father scolded Fritz and the grandpa repaired the soldier’s mouth the best he could.

The same night, when everybody was tacked in bed and deep in sleep, Clara’s eyes were wide opened. She crept back to the parlor and cradled the soldier warmly in her arms. She drifted into a sleep on the sofa. Bong! A clock stroke midnight. Clara rose up from the sofa and couldn’t believe her eyes. A mouse scurried across the room and commended an army of mice. Frit’s toy soldiers marched out in tight formation. They charged against the mice. A fight broke out. The mice led by the Mouse King were winning. The Nutcracker charged in and led the toy soldiers to victory.

The Nutcracker placed a crown on Clara’s head. At the same time, Clara found herself standing at the foot of a snowy hill and in front of her eyes, the awkward wooden figure turned into a handsome prince. He bowed deeply before her and led her to the edge of the ice-covered shore. They stepped onto a sleigh-bow, whisking them into his kingdom.

As they stepped out, Clara noticed that the ice was behind them, but in front of them stood the most colorful and the sweetest land.

“Welcome to the Land of Sweets,” spoke the prince. “I rule from the Marzipan Castle.”

Clara and the prince were led inside the castle, where a banquet was awaiting them. High-stepping Russians kicked up their heels across the banquet hall. Flower girls danced and whirled around the room. Finally, the fairies buzzed around. It was all so colorful echoing with cheerful music.

When music faded, Clara knew it was time to return home. As the prince said his goodbye, he promised Clara, “We would see each other again.”

On Christmas morning, Clara awoke in her warm bed. As she held the Nutcracker in her arms, she recalled the adventures of last night and knew instantly a secret of Christmas – that magic is the best present of all.

Source: The Nutcracker Ballet by Vladimir Vagin. The author is also an award-winning illustrator of Russian Folk Tales. The illustrations of this book fill each page transporting readers to the ballet story. At the same time, the story brings a tribute to the Russian heritage of music, painting, and dance.

Mexican Christmas Traditions

The colorful city of Oaxaca located between high mountains in southern Mexico honors its traditions and its people with celebrations starting on December 12 with a series of festivals and ending on January 6 with the arrival of presents.

On December 12 the festivities start with Fiesta of the Virgin of Guadalupe. According to Mexican legend, Virgin Mary, the mother of Jesus in Christian religion, appeared to an Aztec Indian who lived during the 1500s, a simple peasant named Juan Diego. She announced that she had come to help Mexican Indians, giving hope and peace to many people. The Virgin of Guadalupe is the name given to Mary as she appeared to Juan Diego. Each Christmas season starts with a celebration in her honor. Boys dress as Juan Diego, and girls dress as

an Indian woman of his time. Children come to church to be blessed by a priest and to have their picture taken in the nearby park. After church, they celebrate with family and friends in the park.

On December 16 nine nightly processions start. Two children are chosen to lead the first procession. It begins with children acting out the story of Mary and her husband, Joseph, on the night of Jesus’ birth. The two chosen children pretend to be searching for an inn to spend the night. They lead their group to a neighbor’s house, where they are invited and the celebration begins. Processions take place at different homes on each of the nine nights before Christmas.

On December 18 Fiesta of the Virgin of Soledad follows. Soledad is the Spanish word for “solitude.” The Virgin of Soledad represents the Virgin Mary after the death of her son, Jesus. This parade is a serious event, where girls and boys dress in angel costumes, riding on a float and honoring the Virgin of Soledad. Tall figures with huge, colorful heads march and dance past the parade floats. A tower of fireworks is built and late at night, the fuses are lit. Back at home, families set up Christmas displays called nacimientos, showing nativity scenes with figures of Mary, Joseph, and animals. The baby Jesus is missing as it awaits his birth on Christmas Day.

Many parts of Mexico have unique Christmas fiestas. On December 23 Oaxaca celebrates the Night of the Radishes. This tradition began more than one hundred years ago. Every year at Christmastime, Indian farmers came to the city to sell vegetables. To make their stands more attractive, the farmers carved radishes into interesting shapes. Over time, radish carving became an important art of Oaxaca, leading to a fiesta. Nowadays, children and grown-ups enter the contest. At night, the city square fills with people. They admire the radishes carvings. Later in the evening, judges award the prizes. After the contest, children enjoy a dessert called bunuelos, sugary fried tortillas served with honey. After eating, children take part in another Mexican tradition, making a wish, while tossing bunuelo bowl to the ground, where it shatters. Breaking old pottery at the start of the New Year is an ancient custom of Mexican Indians. It began thousands of years ago. In modern times, the smashing of the bowls celebrates the birth of the baby Jesus.

On December 24, the Christmas Eve, thousands of people come to the city square for parades. After which, many families go to church services. Then they share a large Christmas meal with grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. At midnight, families place the missing figure of baby Jesus in their nacimientos. Some children receive presents on Christmas Night; some have to wait a few more days.

January 6^th the last day of festivities is marked with the arrival of the Three Kings. Those children, who had to wait a few more days for their presents, set their shoes outside by the door a day earlier on January 5^th. They hope that the Three Kings will remember them.

Presents and treats are important parts of Christmas in Oaxaca, but so is honoring the traditions of Mexican culture. Being with friends and family is the best of all.

 

Source: A Mexican Christmas by Michael Elsohn Ross

Tuko and the Birds - Filipino Folktale

The Philippines consists of 7,107 islands spread in the western Pacific Ocean of Southeast Asia. According to legend, a giant once hurled a huge rock into the sky. It fell into the Pacific Ocean and broke to bits, creating the Philippine Islands.

The tokay gecko, a large lizard found throughout Southeast Asia, is called a tuko in the Philippines. Legend says that whenever a tuko swallows anything, it calls its name five times. This fable of tuko is still favorite tale of the Filipino people.

Once on the Philippine island of Luzon, a little house stood on top of Mount Pinatubo, overlooking the bay and its city of Maynilad. Over the years, its thatched palm roof blended with growing trees. All the people forgot about the house except the birds, which used it to practice singing.

The people living by the water enjoyed evenings with birdsongs, carried down the mountainside. The children playing with sand, the women washing the cooking pots, and the men fishing with nets upon hearing the birds, they knew it was time to go to bed.

One night, the birds were awakened by an ear-shuttering sound of “TUKO! TUKO! TUKO! TUKO! TUKO!”

“What was that?” They chirped all at the same time.

Suddenly, something dreadful crouched by the door. The creature was the size of a young crocodile, similar in looks as well, except it was covered with orange-spotted scales.

“What are you?” trembled the pigeon.

“I already told you five times,” snapped the creature. “I am Tuko the gecko, and I’ve come to sing with you.”

The birds looked at each other, “How did you find us?”

“My ears followed your singing,” responded Tuko.

“Can you sing for us?” asked robin.

“TUKO! TUKO! TUKO! TUKO! TUKO!” a dreadful sound pierced the birds’ ears.

He screeched all night. The sleepless birds collapsed in the morning.

He continued his screeching for the whole week. The weary birds couldn’t sleep or sing. The people of Maynilad were tired, too. Without the birds’ singing, they didn’t know when to go to bed.

“He needs to go,” whispered the talon.

“But how will we make him go?” chimed in the parrot.

“We’ll think of something,” responded the eagle. He spent the morning circling the island of Luzon until he spied a wasps’ nest dangling from a branch of a tall tree. “This might be Tuko’s favorite snack.” He snipped the hive and carried it back to Mount Pinatubo.

“Tuko I brought you something,” called the eagle.

The creature woke up from its nap and his tongue flicked, “Zap! Zap! Zap!” All wasps were gone.

“I see that wasps must be your favorite food,” said the talon.

“Oh, no,” responded gecko. “I like rhinoceros beetles best. They’re nice and chewy.”

“Good to know. I may get you some,” replied the eagle with a sly smile. He knew exactly what to do and where to find it. He flew to the other side of the island to a gum tree. He pecked the trunk with his beak. Sap oozed from the holes in the bark. He caught the milky liquid in half a coconut shell. With the shell full of sap, he returned to Mount Pinatubo and formed the rubbery sap into five rhinoceros beetles. He lined them on the stump and called for Tuko.

“Beetles! Beetles!” yelled happy gecko. He popped one beetle after another. When he pushed the fifth beetle, he mumbled something. His tongue was stuck to his teeth with getah gum. Tuko tried to dig with his feet, but they stuck to his teeth, too. He tripped and tumbled down the hill. He rolled faster and faster down the mountain. And never was heard from or seen again.

The same day, in the evening, the birds opened their beaks, and rejoice to sing. Down the mountain, the people were happy to hear the birds’ singing again. They knew when to go to bed and get a good night sleep.

 

Source: Tuko and the Birds by Shirley Climo

A Clever Leprechaun - Irish Folktale

The Irish Island with its lush green hills is known for leprechauns, solitary fairies who are happy living on their own. They earn gold by making shoes for the Wee Folk. Leprechauns are full of mischief and deceit with their clever ways they trick humans who try to steal their treasures. In this story, a salmon poacher learns his lesson that wit is stronger than arrogance.

In the southwest corner of Ireland, not far away from Sneem village, in the fort of Lissaree once lived the most famous shoemaker of all leprechauns named Brohgawn. In his spacious underground chambers was hidden a secret room full of pots of gold.

He fashioned many shoes to the rich and famous in the fairy kingdom. The fairy queen was so pleased with her new pair of shoes that she presented Brohgawn with a magic silver-handled knife. This priceless knife helped the leprechaun create shoes much faster and without wasting any piece of leather.

Brohgawn could determine the exact size of person’s foot without taking any measurement. None of his shoe got wet inside and all of them had the most intricate designs.

The other leprechauns were envious of Brohgawn’s shoemaking ability. They tried to sneak many apprentices to learn the skills and reveal them to others, but the old leprechaun wouldn’t let himself to be tricked.

He liked working in the open air, but this wasn’t easy to avoid prying eyes. So he was forced to find secret places to work. His favorite one was along the Blackwater River in a secluded spot among the tall reeds.

One morning, as he hardly sat down to start his work hidden among the reeds, a salmon poacher grabbed him from behind and threatened him.

“Either you give me a pot of gold or I will roast you alive!”

“My good man,” calmly responded Brohgawn, “there is no need for rudness. I will gladly give you a pot of gold, which is hidden under a boulder just a mere stone's throw from here down the river.”

“I do not believe a single word you’re saying!” barked the poacher. “I will not release my grip until I see the shining gold!”

“Then hold me in your right hand as you already do and grab my knife with your left hand, which I need to release the gold from under the boulder.”

“Let’s not waste any more time!” shouted the poacher while grabbing the knife with his left hand.

When they reached the spot where the gold was hidden, the leprechaun stated.

“If you allow me to stand on the stone, I can quickly open a tiny crevice with one tap of the knife handle.”

“You will not trick me you little leprechaun!” yelled the poacher.

“You keep offending me and there is no need for this,” calmly responded Brohgawn. “Then why don’t you step on the stone with me and I will show you the spot to tap.”

The fisherman spoke through his teeth with his jaws clenched, “This is your last chance.”

They climbed the large rock and the leprechaun pointed to a spot covered with green moss. It was still early morning. The rock was a bit slippery covered with dew. Moss made it even worse. As Brohgawn predicted, when the fisherman clumsily turned the knife with his left hand to tap with the knife’s handle, the blade of the knife had pierced his palm of his hand, causing him to writhe in agony and fall headlong from the rock. His head bumped the trunk of a linden tree, leaving him temporarily stunned. Meanwhile Brohgawn grabbed his knife and ran off.

When he reached his place safely, he murmured to himself.

“Such an adventure is not good for the heart, but it does make a good story.”

 

Source: The King with Horse’s Ears and Other Irish Folktales by Batt Burns

Paying the Rent - Irish Folktale

On the island of Ireland, located in the western part of Europe, among its lush green hills once lived peasants who had a great love of their land and were resentful to pay high rents to selfish English landlords, who lived lavishly. Failure to pay the rent meant families were driven out of their homes, while their thatched mud-walled hovels were leveled to the ground. For many families in the 19^th century, the only thing that saved them from eviction was the arrival of money from America. The Irish Potato Famine of the 19^th century caused a massive immigration to the US. Those who left in Ireland were awaiting money from America from the relatives.

Crohan O’Sullivan as a child had heard stories of the Great Famine when the potato crop failed and many people starved to death. Now his mind was filled with worry as his family had fallen on hard times.

As March approached, he found his supply of potatoes running short. The following month, he realized that he wouldn’t be able to pay the next month rent. He was forced to contact his older brother who emigrated to New York ten years earlier.

When the third week of April was nearing the end and Crohan and his wife Mary had not heard back from his brother, they started fearing the worst.

In the last week of April, as Crohan was working in the woods catching rabbits, he heard postman calling his name, “A letter for you, from America.”

Within seconds Crohan snatched the letter from the postman and opened it. There it was, one hundred dollars inside. Tears welled up in his eyes. He put the money back inside the envelope, which he carefully folded and put inside his tattered waistcoat. He laid the waistcoat beside a dead rabbit on the ground. He had one more task to perform. He rushed to cut some twigs for the fire to roast the rabbit.

While he reached to cut the first twig with his penknife, a giant eagle swooped low and snatched the dead rabbit.

Crohan rushed after the eagle to see that the bird snatched not only the rabbit but also his waistcoat, which somehow got entangled in its claws. His shouts of panic echoed in the valley as the eagle flew out of sight over the hills. He shed many tears on his way home. And many more while telling the story to his wife.

Soon word of Crohan’s misfortune spread among the neighbors. Even the parish priest talked about it from the pulpit at Mass. When the story reached a sheep farmer living in a remote mountain glen, he rushed to the distraught Crohan family. “I saw an eagle flying to its nest on a high cliff with a piece of clothing it its claws, but I couldn’t tell for sure from distance whether or not it was a waistcoat.”

The same afternoon several neighbors gathered with Crohan on the top of a steep cliff. The men lowered Crohan in a wicker basket slowly releasing ropes attached to basket. With his pike, he steered the basket toward the huge nest containing seven large eggs. Right there in a clump of ferns directly beneath the nest, he spotted his waistcoat. He snagged the waistcoat with his pike and shouted at the men to pull him up.

As soon as Crohan was standing at the top of the cliff he looked for the envelope in his waistcoat. And there it was, one hundred dollars. A smile appeared on his face dotted with tears in his eyes out of joy.

The men patted Crohan on both shoulders. “You got it back.”

“Thank you my dear friends for your help,” responded Crohan.

“What are friends for,” cheered the men.

From that day forward, Crohan and his family prospered, and never again had difficulty with paying rent.

Later that week, he wrote back to his brother, thanking for his generosity and telling him the story. With time, the regular correspondence brought both brothers very close.

 

Source: The King with Horse’s Ears and Other Irish Folktales by Batt Burns

The King with Horse's Ears - Irish Folktale

In the low-lying mountains of the Irish Island and among its green lush hills lived once King Labhraidh Loingseach. He had a secret, but had learned that keeping it isn’t always best and that it is good to be able to laugh at yourself.

King Labhraidh was a very sensitive about the way he looked. His crown was designed in such a way that it covered his ears. Why? He wanted to make sure that nobody would discover his secret. What was the secret? He was born with horse’s ears!

Horse’s ears or not, he still needed a haircut as everybody else. Every six weeks a barber was selected randomly to cut the king’s hair. Afterwards, the barber was thrown into dungeon and killed. The King didn’t want to take any chance.

The news spread throughout the kingdom quickly. Soon no barber could be found to cut the king’s hair.

Upon the seventh week without his haircut, the king got furious and ordered two of his soldiers to fetch a barber or their lives would be on the line. The soldier knew the true meaning of king’s words and knew to better come back with a barber.

They searched eagerly on the first day with no luck. The second day seemed no better until they came across a remote village in the mountains. Young barber by the name of Johnny Gruagach, who lived with his mother, was about to open the front door of his barbershop when he was grabbed and tied by two soldiers. “You are to give a haircut to the king,” announced one of the soldiers.

While the soldiers were approaching the castle, the young barber’s mother entered his shop for a chat, but to her surprise it was empty.

She ran across the tiny village yelling, “Has anybody seen Johnny?”

A neighbor rushed toward her, “I thought you knew. The soldiers took him to the castle to give the king a haircut.” Her cries reached the whole village.

Eventually she was calmed by kindly neighbors and vowed to plead with the king for her son’s life. And that’s what she did. She set on the long trek to the castle.

Once there, she threw herself on the floor in front of the king and pleaded with her tearing eyes. “Johnny is all I have. The little he earns keeps us from starving. I beg you to spare him.”

The king was moved, but wondered if he could trust the young barber. “I will spare his life, but if he doesn’t keep my secret, you will both respond with your lives.”

The woman thanked the king repeatedly and returned home.

In the adjacent room, small and dark, her terrified son was awaiting the king.

A short time later, the king entered the room and sat on a simple chair. The barber instinctively removed the crown. To his astonishment, tow horse’s ears popped up. Johnny suppressed a laugh.

Once the haircut was done, the king spoke. “Let me give you a warning. Your life is being spared today, but if you ever speak a word of this to anybody, not only you, but also your mother will pay for this with your lives.”

Upon his return to the village, people wondered how he escaped with his life. But promise was a promise. He wouldn’t say a word. However, his desire to share his secret was getting stronger and stronger to a point that he couldn’t eat or sleep. His worried mother fetched a doctor.

“Well, he seems to be perfectly fine,” announced the doctor after a thorough examination. “Is something on your mind that is bothering you?”

After a short hesitation, the boy burst out, “I have a secret, which I cannot reveal.”

“Well,” the doctor stroked his long grey beard, “Why don’t you to the Wood of Direen and find the tallest oak tree at the edge of the forest. Tell your secret to its trunk. This way you will relieve yourself without breaking your promise.”

And that’s what the boy did the following morning. In no time the boy felt great.

A month later, the king hosted a big feast to celebrate a great harvest. All the people were invited, including the poets and musicians.

On the day of the feast, the king’s famous harpist noticed that his harp’s base was cracked. He rushed to the nearby Wood of Direen and cut a piece of timber from an oak tree at the edge of the forest. He returned to the castle and repaired his harp just in time for the feast.

“Let’s begin the feast with the music,” declared the king.

The harpist gently stroked the strings. But to the utter dismay of all, these words rang out, “King Labhraidh Loingseach has two horse’s ears.”

The king grew in rage at first. But as giggles spread across the room, prompting some laughs, the king’s rage loosened. He lifted his crown, revealing the huge ears and laughed out loud himself.

 

Source: The King with Horse’s Ears and Other Irish Folktales by Batt Burns

Finn McCool and the Great Fish - Irish Folktale

In the country of Ireland, in its northeastern land, River Boyne streams across green lush hills of the countryside (yellow line). Its calm waters carry the fish of salmon and trout, passing by the quiet villages. In one of those villages once lived a giant…

A very long time ago, in a small village situated up on a gentle hill lived a giant by the name of Finn McCool. He was known for his great strength and kind heart. When the rain threatened to pour down from the dark clouds, he helped men to gather the hay. When the sunrays were beaming bright and hot, he helped women to pull the vegetables from the gardens.

He was always kind and helpful. So it hurt, when he once overheard people whispering, “He’s a bit of a turnip head.” It was true he wasn’t terrible smart, but he had a big heart.

In the nearby town lived an old wise man. Many asked him for his advice, which he granted gladly. However, when asked for the source of his wisdom, he would reply, “I will reveal it only to the right one.”

Finn knew of the wise man as well. “Maybe he’ll tell me,” he mumbled to himself.

The giant was too big to enter the house. He sat next to it with his hands resting on the hatched roof. From the blue house walked out the wise man, “You’ve come at last.”

Taken by surprise, giant’s big eyes raised the eyebrows questioningly.

“I know who you are and I’ve been waiting for you,” said the old man. “I know that your heart is as big as you are, but why do you need wisdom?”

“To know how to serve the land and its people, to answer when asked and to speak when needed,” replied the giant.

The old man nodded. “Very well. What you need to do is catch a red salmon in the River Boyne. The fish holds the wisdom of the world. Cook the fish and eat it, then the wisdom will be yours.”

Finn thanked the man and left.

With five strides he stood by the river, where he dropped his line. He saw dark brownish fish. He saw silver fish. But there was no sign of red fish.

One hour went by, then another. Finn was about to snooze, when he felt the line being pulled. It was the red salmon at the end of the hook.

He pulled the fish swiftly out of the water. He looked at its red scale gleaming in the sunlight. He looked in its eyes and saw the wisdom, which didn’t feel right to take away from anybody. “I can’t sacrifice you for my own sake,” spoke Finn.

He pulled the hook from the fish’ bleeding lip and at the same time the hook pricked his thumb. He sucked on it and something unexpected had happened. The giant felt a tide going through his giant body.

“Thank you for sparing my life,” spoke the fish. “With my blood, my wisdom seeped into you. I know you will use it well.”

Gently he laid the salmon back in the river.

With five strides he was back at the old man’s house. But the wise man was not there. Instead he noticed a small fountain with a metal fish set on a pole, stretched above the water as ready to swim. It was right in front of the house. “Was this here before,” he wondered.

The people quickly noticed the giant’s wisdom. He spoke with the kings presenting the needs and wants of Ireland. He saved the Irish land from the invasions of Vikings. But above all he remained the same Finn, kind and helpful.

Source: Finn McCool and the Great Fish by Eve Bunting

How the Drum Came to the People - Native American Folktale

The Northwest region of the US includes Oregon, Washington, and parts of the adjacent inland areas. As buffalo played a vital role in the Great Plains for Native people, in the Northwest it was salmon. The people of the coastal regions are great canoe builders, making beautifully carved boats. This story of Salish people illustrates how music brings people together and helps them to express themselves.

A very long time ago, Sun looked down at his people and saw quietness and sadness. So he sent for Coyote, the wise one.

“Coyote I have given my people warmth and light. Why are they still so sad?” asked Sun.

“It’s true you have given them many things, but they do not know how to express themselves. Birds and tress know how to sing, but people don’t.”

“If that is so, then I want you to go back and find a way for people to express themselves.”

Coyote went back down to earth. He walked along the trail wondering how he was going to do it, when he met Beaver. He told him about his encounter with Sun and his wish.

“I know what we can do,” spoke Beaver. “A young hunter has plenty of skin set up in his tipi next to the big hollow stump. We can spread the skin onto the hollow stump.”

They waited for the night and while the young hunter was asleep, they sneaked inside the tipi. Took one of the stretched out skin and put it on the hollow stump and tied it to the stump.

The following morning, when the young hunter woke up, he got angry seeing his skin stretched and tied to a stump. He tried pulling it off the stump, but it was tied so tightly he couldn’t release the skin. He looked around and saw a wooden club on the ground. “If I can’t pull you, then I’ll beat you.” Then he struck the skin and to his surprise, it gave a nice sound. He struck the skin again, but softer this time. The sound touched his heart.

Far down the mountain, the people heard the sound and came running towards it.

“What is that sound?” they asked.

“It is right here,” the young hunter pointed to the stump. “When I strike the dried skin, it gives a sound. Listen.”

He began to beat upon the dried skin. The people listened and their hearts filled with joy. They began to dance and sing.

Up in the sky, Sun listened and smiled. Now he saw happiness.

Source: The Girl Who Helped Thunder and Other Native American Folktales by James Bruchac and Joseph Bruchac

Tu-tok-a-nu-la Story of Native American

The state of California stretches along the coast in the south-western part of the US. It was one of the most populous parts of the American continent in pre-Columbian times. There was an abundance of fruits, berries, and edible roots, therefore there was no such need for agriculture as in other parts of the country. There are several different groups of Miwok people situated between San Joaquin and Sacramento Valleys into the Sierra Nevadas. This story from Miwok culture teaches the importance of persistence and describes how Yosemite’s geologic features came to be.

A very long time ago, a mother bear and her two cubs walked along the river in the Yosemite Valley. It wasn’t long, when the first cub jumped into the river, followed by the second and third cub. They played and chased each other. Then they jumped out and laid down on a big flat boulder in the sun to dry their fur. Soon they fell asleep in the warm sunlight with the mother bear.

Meanwhile a strange thing happened. The earth surrounding the stone receded down and the big stone was raised up. When the mother bear and the cubs woke, they found themselves trapped atop steep-sided stone. They called for help.

In the valley below, the other animals heard their cries for help.

“I will climb up,” volunteered Meadow Mouse. But it was a very short distance before she slid back down.

“I can do this,” yelled Pack Rat. But he as well slid down to the bottom.

“Watch me,” bragged Raccoon. But he got no farther than the others before sliding down.

Grizzly Bear and Mountain Lion tried it as well, but their claws only left the marks in the side of the great rock.

Meanwhile, a little Measuring Worm without a word began her crawl up the rock. She could move only a little at a time, but she did it without sliding back. She kept on climbing one day, then another until she reached the top.

 

Finally, she spun a rope and used it to lower the mother bear and her cubs down to the bottom.

The great rock still stands there and today it is known as El Capitan. But the old people knew it as Tu-tok-a-nu-la, meaning Measuring Worm’s Rock.

Source: The Girl Who Helped Thunder and Other Native American Folktales by James Bruchac and Joseph Bruchac

Why Moon Has One Eye - Native American Folktale

 

The Southwest of the US encompasses a dry area of high desert, mountains, and plains. It includes Texas, New Mexico, Arizona and parts of southern Utah and Colorado. Within this area there were two major cultural groups of Native American: the Tewan (or Pueblo), which includes the Hopi, the Zuni, and others living along the Rio Grande, and the second group made of the Dineh (or Navajo), and the Tinneh (or Apache). Those original tribes developed forms of dry-land agriculture. Through irrigation from the great river and the breeding of plants suited to the dry conditions, they grew corn, beans, squash, and other plants. Pueblo tradition says that there must be balance in all things, including darkness and light. And that’s where this story comes from.

A very long time ago, Moon and Sun kept watch over the earth. They watched for people who worked and played, for animals and birds who flew and sang, and for all the plants and flowers which bloomed and fragranced the air.

Sun did this during the day and Moon did this during the night. There was never any darkness. And for a while, it was all good.

However, since there was no darkness, people and animals didn’t know when to take a rest, flowers bloomed without stopping, as a result people, animals, and flowers grew tired. People and children stopped smiling and laughing. Birds singing became scratchy. Flowers lost their fragrance.

Sun and Moon noticed this and knew they had to do something about this.

“I will give up one of my eyes,” Sun said. “So it won’t be so bright during the daytime.”

“No, I must give up one of my eyes,” Moon responded. “Then the darkness will come over night, so the people, animals, and plants will be able to rest.”

So it was that Moon gave up one of the eyes. Now the night was no longer bright.

 

Source: The Girl Who Helped Thunder and Other Native American Folktales by James Bruchac and Joseph Bruchac

How the Buffalo Came to Be - Native American Folktale

The Great Plains of the US encompasses the wide, flat, grassy regions from the Rocky Mountains (W) to the Mississippi River (E) and from southern Saskatchewan (N) down to Colorado (S). Within this area there are four major cultural groups of Native American: the Lakota (or Sioux), the Cheyenne, the Pawnee, and the Blackfeet. Those tribes were excellent agriculturalists. However, as they were pushed south from the Great Lakes region, they quickly learned new skills such as how to tame wild horses. They rode and bred them, becoming some of the greatest horsemen in the world. Most of them gave up farming for buffalo hunting. With horses they were able to follow and hunt the migratory buffalo herds. Lakota’s culture, after the coming of horses, was built on the buffalos that provided them with food, fuel, clothing, covering for their tipis, tools, and other necessities of life.

A long time ago, Lakota people lived beneath the earth. When their leader, Tokahe, heard that there was a place above them with much light, he spoke up, “Let us leave the underworld and seek light.”

But there was a wise man, Tatanka, he warned them, “Life will be much harder on the outside. Stay where you are.”

Tokahe ignored the warning and led his people up from the underworld. Once they reached a cave called Wind Cave and came out, the way behind them closed. So they knew they had to make this new world their home.

Lakota people enjoyed the beauty of the new world, the light of the sun during the day and the brightness of the moon and stars at night. But they also felt the heat and dryness of the summer and the snow and coldness of the winter. Food was difficult to find. It seemed as the people would not survive.

Tatanka, the holy man who had warned them about this, took pity on them. He decided to sacrifice himself in order to save the people. He changed his form to a great shaggy beast known as buffalo, so that people could hunt.

“Use every part of me,” he said. “The meat will keep you strong, the hide will keep you warm, and the bones can be used to create spoons, shovels, knives and more.”

Then, from one animal many multiplied crossing the plains in great herds.

The people learned how to use skin for furs to cover their bodies and to make coverings for their lodges. They used bones for domestic purposes as well as for building sled runners.

And so it was that Tatanka’s gift saved his people and the Lakota became known as the Buffalo Nation.

Source: The Girl Who Helped Thunder and Other Native American Folktales by James Bruchac and Joseph Bruchac

The Coming of Corn - Native American Folktale

The Southeast area of the US stretches from the Mississippi River (W) to the Atlantic coast (E) and from Virginia (N) through Florida (S). Within this area there are five major cultural groups of Native American: the Aniyunwiya (or Cherokee), the Choctaw, the Chickasaw, the Muskogee (or Creek) and the Seminole. These groups became known as the Five Civilized Tribes because of the way they easily embraced certain aspects of European-American culture. Those tribes were excellent agriculturalists. Corn was a mainstay of their lives, which this Choctaw story presents. It also points out that being different is not a bad thing.

A long time ago, before people cultivated corn and even knew about it, there was an orphan boy. He didn’t participate in hunting as other boys from the village. He on the other hand liked playing in the fields and talking to birds.  

One day as he was talking to the birds in the fields, a crow flew from across the water and landed in front of him, dropping a single seed at his feet. “Plant it and water it every day. And you will be rewarded.”

The boy did as he was directed. He found a clearing where he planted the seed, watering it every day. After a few days, a green shoot poked out of the ground. Then it grew taller and taller until it was a large plant.

The people from the village laughed at him, “Why are you wasting your time? You should be helping the men to hunt.” The boy had not deterred a bit. He continued to care for the plant and he even named it Tanchi, meaning Corn.

Now golden bobbles began to appear and fruit formed on the plant. When the boy tasted it, it was the most delicious sweet he had ever tasted. When he served it to the people of his village, they were amazed at the sweet taste. They no longer laughed at the boy.

The boy dried some of the sweet seeds and planted them. With each planting the clearing grew into a green field topped with golden fruits. When it was time, to reap the harvest, the boy said to his people, “Remember, Crow brought us the first seed. So we must share some of our harvest every year with the crows.”

The people did as he said. Every year a patch of the corn was left in the field for the crows and other birds to share.

 

Source: The Girl Who Helped Thunder and Other Native American Folktales by James Bruchac and Joseph Bruchac

Maushop, the Good Giant - Native American Folktale

The northeastern area of the US stretches from the Great Lakes (W) to the Atlantic Ocean (E) and from the southern woodlands of eastern Canada (N) to the northern Appalachian Mountains (S). Within this area there are two major cultural groups of Native American: the Iroquoian people, including the Huron, Mohawk, Oneida, Onondaga, Cayuga, and Seneca; and the Algonquin people, including Wampanoag and Lenape. The Wampanoag are the people who helped the Pilgrims of the Plymouth Colony survive. This story comes from the Wampanoag people, who teach the importance of self-reliance in a community.

A long time ago, when the forests were thick and there were no cities, there was a giant named Maushop. He lived along the Massachusetts coast with the Wampanoag people, also known as the People of the First Light. He loved the people very much and wanted to help them in any way he could.

When the days were getting shorter and nights longer, people needed more and more fire to keep them warm.

“Mauship, can you fetch some wood from the forest?” they would ask. And that’s what he did. He went to the forest, broke a big tree into parts and carried it into the settlement.

“Mauship, can you chop the wood into smaller pieces and carry it to each of our wigwam?” they would ask further. And that’s what the giant did.

When the fire was blazing and their bodies warmed, they would ask, “Can you bring us some food to eat?” And once again that’s what he did. He caught a great fish, cleaned it, set it on sticks above fire and served it to people.

The people got used to relying on the giant so much that they became lazy. They would lay about the settlement doing nothing. And that’s when the giant realized that he had done too much for the people. So he had to teach them how to rely on themselves.

He taught them how to make a fire, how to plow and sow and pick up the harvest, how to store food for winter months so they could survive until the next harvest comes. He taught them all this and more.

“Now you should be able to provide for yourselves and survive on your own,” with those words he left the settlement and was never seen again.

 

Source: The Girl Who Helped Thunder and Other Native American Folktales by James Bruchac and Joseph Bruchac