Eastern Delaware Nations Stories

STORIES

There are many wonderful American Indian stories from around the country. We hope you enjoy these.

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 to greedy to share it with others. Possum said he would be glad to steal a little of it. "I have a bushy tail," he said. "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, Possum's tail have 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 in 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.
         Then Grandmother Spider said, " Let me try! " First she made a thick- walled 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. Back to top

From Grandfather Homer
         It is said that when an American Indian reaches into a bag of grain and takes a handful out, some of that grain spills to the ground.
         The true Indian leaves a seed and only takes what he needs for that moment.
         The seed that was left on the ground is the seed for tomorrow...........
         The seed for the next seven generations........... Back to top

One day the Creator was resting, sitting, watching some children at play in a village. The children laughed and sang, yet as he watched them, the Creator's heart was sad. He was thinking:"These children will grow old. Their skin will become wrinkled. Their hair will turn gray. Their teeth will fall out. The young hunter's arm will fail. These lovely young girls will grow ugly and fat. The playful puppies will become blind, mangy dogs. And those wonderful flowers - yellow and blue, red and purple - will fade. The leaves from the trees will fall and dry up. Already they are turning yellow."
Creator grew sadder and sadder. It was in the fall, and the thought of the coming winter, with its cold and lack of game and green things, made his heart heavy.

BUTTERFLIES

Source: American Indian - Myths and Legends

         Yet it was still warm, and the sun was shinning. The Creator watched the play of sunlight and shadow on the ground, the yellow leaves being carried here and there by the wind. He saw the blueness of the sky, the whiteness of some cornmeal ground by the women. Suddenly he smiled. "All those colors, they ought to be preserved. I'll make something to gladden my heart, something for these children to look at and enjoy."
         The Creator took out his bag and started gathering things: a spot of sunlight, a handful of blue from the sky, the whiteness of the cornmeal, the shadow of playing children, the blackness of a beautiful girl's hair, the yellow of the falling leaves, the green of the pine needles, the red, purple, and orange of the flowers around him. All these he put into his bag. As an afterthought, he put the songs of the birds in, too.
         Then he walked over to the grassy spot where the children were playing. "Children, little children, this is for you," and he gave them his bag. "Open it; there's something nice inside," he told them.
         The children opened the bag, and at once hundreds and hundreds of colored butterflys flew out, dancing around the childrens heads, settling on their hair, fluttering up again to sipp from this or that flower. And the children, enchanted, said that they had never seen anything so beautiful.
         The butterflies began to sing, and the children listened smiling.
         But then a songbird came flying, settling on the Creator's shoulder, scolding him, saying: "It's not right to give our song's to these new, pretty things. You told us when you made us that every bird would have his own song. And now you've passed them all around. Isn't it enough that you gave your new playthings the colors of the rainbow?"
         "You're right," said the Creator. "I made one song for each bird, and I shouldn't have taken what belongs to you."
         So the Creator took the songs away from the butterflies, and that's why they are silent. "They're beautiful even so!" he said. Back to top

Glooscap And The Baby - Algonquian
         Glooscap, having conquered the Kewawkqu', a race of giants and magicians, and the Medeclin, who were cunning sorcerers, and Pamola, a wicked spirit of the night, besides hosts of friends, goblins, cannibals, and witches, felt himself great indeed, and boasted to a woman that there was nothing left for him to subdue.
         But the woman laughed and said: " Are you quite sure, Master? There is still one who remains unconquered, and nothing can overcome him." In some surprise Gloocap inquired the name of this mighty one. " He is called Wasis," replied the woman, " but I strongly advise you to have no dealings with him."
         Wasis was only a baby, who sat on the floor sucking a piece of maple sugar and crooning a little song to himself. Now Glooscap had never married and was ignorant of how children are managed, but with perfect confidence he smiled at the baby and asked it to come to him. The baby smiled back but never moved, whereupond Glooscap imitated a beautiful birdsong. Wasis, however, paid no attention and went on sucking his maple sugar. Unaccustomed to such treatment, Glooscap lashed himself into a rage and in terrible and threatening accents ordered Wasis to come to him at once. But Wasis burst into dire howls, which quite drowned the god's thundering, and would not budge for any threats.
         Glooscap, thoroughly aroused, summoned all his magical resources. He recited the most terrible spells, the most dreadful incantations . He sang the songs which raised the dead, and those which send the devil scurrying to the nethermost depths. But Wasis merely smiled and looked a trifle bored. At last Glooscap rushed from the hut in despair, while Wasis, sitting on the floor, cried, "Goo, goo!" And to this day the Indian say that when a baby says "Goo," he remembers the time when he conquered mighty Glooscap. Back to top

The Seven Star Dancers - Iroquois

(The Iroquois know the Dancers- which we call the Pleiades- return again each year to mark the celebration of the Midwinter Ceremonies). This is one of the many stories of Plediaes.

Long ago in an earlier sacred time, and a Iroquois long house settlement near the great river, many families worked together gathering the forest and garden foods during late summer. Eight boys who were very close friends went off together each evening after their work was done to dance and drum. They had grown up together and were almost like brothers in their passion for sharing time together. They wanted to form their own medicine society, similar to the ones their elders belonged to, and they worked to fashion and Iroquois water drum, elm bark rattles, and a snapping turtle rattle. Meeting in their remote clearing on a hill away from the village, no one could hear them, nor did anyone realize what they were doing. If the adults had been aware of the boys' seriousness, they might have cautioned them not to copy the sacred ceremonies.

Winter set in and most evening the boys continued to meet together in their sacred clearing. They drummed and sang and danced, and talked of taking a journey together. They asked their parents for extra food to bring on these evening encounters, but winter rations were slim and no food could be spared beyond the one meal a day.
The eight boys continued to dance and sing with growing strength, although they grew increasingly slim and light. One cold, clear winter night the sound of their music grew so powerful it reached the village, and the people became alarmed. The growing boys had been given freedom and encouragement to gather and develop their skills, but now they sounded supernatural.

The parents and others from the village made their way to the distant campfire on the hill where the music was throbbing. They were amazed to see the boys dancing skyward, high above the flames of their campfire, circling and climbing even higher into the Sky World. They called out to them, but the boys could not hear them. The smallest boy paused to look back, and he became a shooting star. The remaining seven boys danced even higher into the sky, where they continue to dance today, circling the Sky World. Back to top