The Sun and the Moon

In a riverside village, a sister and her lazy young companion had a falling out over his behavior, leading her to leave via a celestial ladder. She became the sun, and he, pursuing her in vain, became the moon. Their eternal chase explains the waxing and waning of the moon, symbolizing its starvation and renewal as the sun feeds it in cycles.

Source:
The Eskimo about Bering Strait
by Edward William Nelson
[Smithsonian Institution]
Bureau of American Ethnology
Eighteenth Annual Report
Washington, 1900

► Themes of the story

Creation: It offers an explanation for the origins of celestial bodies and their movements.

Origin of Things: The tale provides a narrative for natural phenomena, specifically the moon’s phases.

Transformation: Both characters undergo a metamorphosis into celestial entities, highlighting themes of change and adaptation.

► From the same Region or People

North America
- Arctic Region
  - Inuit/Eskimo Lore

Learn more about Inuit peoples

from the Lower Yukon

In a village on the great river once lived four brothers and a sister. The sister had for a companion a small boy of whom she was very fond. This boy was lazy and could never be made to work. The other brothers were great hunters and in the fall hunted at sea, for they lived near the shore. As soon as the Bladder feast was over they went to the mountains and hunted reindeer. The boy never went with them, but stayed at home with the sister, and they amused each other. One night the sister awoke and found the boy lying in bed close to her, at which she became very angry and made him go to sleep in the kashim with the men. The next evening, when she carried food to her brothers in the kashim she gave none to the boy; instead, she went home, and after mixing some berries and deer fat, cut off one of her breasts, placed it in the dish, and carried it to the boy.

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Putting the dish before him she said, “You wanted me last night, so I have given you my breast. If you desire me, eat it.” The boy refused the dish, so she took it up and went outside. As she went out she saw a ladder leading up into the sky, with a line hanging down by the side of it. Taking hold of the line, she ascended the ladder, going up into the sky. As she was going up her younger brother came out and saw her and at once ran back into the kashim, telling his brothers. They began at once to scold the boy and ran out to see for themselves.

The boy caught up his sealskin breeches and, being in such a hurry, thrust one leg into them and then drew a deerskin sock upon the other foot as he ran outside. There he saw the girl far away up in the sky and began at once to go up the ladder toward her, but she floated away, he following in turn.

The girl then became the sun and the boy became the moon, and ever since that time he pursues but never overtakes her. At night the sun sinks in the west and the moon is seen coming up in the east to go circling after, but always too late. The moon, being without food, wanes slowly away from starvation until it is quite lost from sight; then the sun reaches out and feeds it from the dish in which the girl had placed her breast. After the moon is fed and gradually brought to the full, it is then permitted to starve again, so producing the waxing and waning every month.

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The Sun and the Moon

A coastal village tale recounts a boy’s forbidden love for his sister, leading her to escape into the sky as the moon, pursued by him as the sun, causing eclipses. Their father, consumed by despair, turned malevolent, spreading disease and consuming both the dead and living. Shamans eventually subdued him, inspiring burial traditions that bind the deceased to prevent possession by evil spirits.

Source:
The Eskimo about Bering Strait
by Edward William Nelson
[Smithsonian Institution]
Bureau of American Ethnology
Eighteenth Annual Report
Washington, 1900

► Themes of the story

Forbidden Love: The brother’s prohibited affection for his sister initiates the central conflict.

Transformation: The siblings’ metamorphosis into the sun and the moon, and the father’s change into a malevolent being.

Supernatural Beings: The involvement of shamans and the father’s transformation into an evil spirit highlight interactions with supernatural entities.

► From the same Region or People

North America
- Arctic Region
  - Inuit/Eskimo Lore

Learn more about Inuit peoples

from St. Michael

In a coast village once lived a man and his wife who had two children, a girl and a boy. When these children grew large enough, so that the boy could turn over the gravel stone, he became in love with his sister. Being constantly importuned by the boy his sister finally, to avoid him, floated away into the sky and became the moon. The boy has pursued her ever since, becoming the sun, and sometimes overtakes and embraces her, thus causing an eclipse of the moon. After his children had gone their father became very gloomy and hated his kind, going about the earth scattering disease and death among mankind, and the victims of disease became his food, until he became so evil that his desire could not be satisfied in this way, so he killed and ate people who were well.

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Through fear of this being people threw the bodies of their dead just outside the village that he might be fed without injuring the living. Whenever he came about the bodies would disappear during the night. Finally he became so bad that all the most powerful shamans joined together and, by using their magic powers, were enabled to capture and bind him hand and foot, so that he was no longer able to wander about doing mischief. Although bound and unable to move about, he has still the power to introduce disease and afflict mankind. To prevent evil spirits from wandering and taking possession of dead bodies and thus giving them a fictitious animation for evil purposes, and in memory of the binding of this evil one, the dead are no longer thrown out, but are tied hand and foot in the position in which the demon was bound and placed in the grave box.

The dwarf people

Long ago, a small family of dwarfs arrived at a village near Pikmiktalik, astonishing the villagers with their strength and unique customs. After the tragic loss of their child, the dwarfs introduced sled innovations and burial practices that transformed village traditions. Departing in sorrow, they were fondly remembered. Hunters still report sightings of these elusive, peaceful dwarfs, said to vanish into the tundra near the mountains.

Source:
The Eskimo about Bering Strait
by Edward William Nelson
[Smithsonian Institution]
Bureau of American Ethnology
Eighteenth Annual Report
Washington, 1900

► Themes of the story

Supernatural Beings: The dwarfs possess extraordinary strength and unique customs, distinguishing them from the villagers.

Cultural Heroes: The dwarfs introduce innovations in sled design and burial practices, significantly influencing the villagers’ traditions.

Loss and Renewal: The death of the dwarfs’ child leads to the introduction of new burial customs, marking a transformation in the villagers’ cultural practices.

► From the same Region or People

North America
- Arctic Region
  - Inuit/Eskimo Lore

Learn more about Inuit peoples

from St. Michael and Pikmiktalik

Very long ago, before we knew of the white men, there was a large village at Pikmiktalik. One winter day the people living there were very much surprised to see a little man and a little woman with a child coming down the river on the ice. The man was so small that he wore a coat made from a single white fox skin. The woman’s coat was made from the skins of two white hares, and two muskrat skins clothed the child. The old people were about two cubits high and the boy not over the length of one’s forearm. Though he was so small, the man was dragging a sled much larger than those used by the villagers, and he had on it a heavy load of various articles. When they came to the village he easily drew his sled up the steep bank, and taking it by the rear end raised it on the sled frame, a feat that would have required the united strength of several villagers.

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Then the couple entered one of the houses and were made welcome. This small family remained in the village for some time, the man taking his place in the kashim with the other men. He was very fond of his little son, but one day as the latter was playing outside the house he was bitten so badly by a savage dog that he died. The father in his anger caught the dog up by the tail and struck it so hard against a post that the dog fell into halves. Then the father in great sorrow made a handsome grave box for his son, in which he placed the child with his toys, after which he returned into his house and for four days did no work. At the end of that time he took his sled and with his wife returned up the river on their old trail, while the villagers sorrowfully watched them go, for they had come to like the pair very much.

Before this time the villagers had always made a bed for their sleds from long strips of wood running lengthwise, but after they had seen the dwarf’s sled with many crosspieces, they adopted this model. Up to the time when they saw the dwarf people bury their son in a grave box with small articles placed about him, the villagers had always cast their dead out upon the tundra to be the prey of dogs and wild beasts. But thenceforth they buried their dead and observed four days of seclusion for mourning, as had been done by the dwarf. Since that time the hunters claim that they sometimes see upon the tundra dwarf people who are said usually to carry bows and arrows, and when approached suddenly disappear into the ground, and deer hunters often see their tracks near Pikmiktalik mountains. No one has ever spoken to one of these dwarfs since the time they left the village. They are harmless people, never attempting to do any one an injury.

The circling of cranes

Long ago, cranes preparing for their autumn migration encountered a beautiful young woman near a village. Enchanted, they lifted her on their wings and carried her away, their cries drowning her calls for help. She was never seen again. To this day, cranes circle and call loudly each autumn, echoing their ancient deed in preparation for their journey southward.

Source:
The Eskimo about Bering Strait
by Edward William Nelson
[Smithsonian Institution]
Bureau of American Ethnology
Eighteenth Annual Report
Washington, 1900

► Themes of the story

Supernatural Beings: The cranes exhibit extraordinary behavior by communicating with the woman and abducting her, suggesting a supernatural element beyond typical animal behavior.

Origin of Things: The tale provides an explanation for the cranes’ circling behavior and loud calls during autumn migrations, attributing it to their ancient deed of abducting the young woman.

Transformation: The young woman’s life undergoes a dramatic change as she is taken from her village by the cranes, symbolizing a transformation from her human world to an unknown fate.

► From the same Region or People

North America
- Arctic Region
  - Inuit/Eskimo Lore

Learn more about Inuit peoples

from St. Michael and other places on Norton Sound

One autumn day, very long ago, the cranes were preparing to go southward. As they were gathered in a great flock they saw a beautiful young woman standing alone near the village. Admiring her greatly, the cranes gathered about, and lifting her on their widespread wings, bore her far up in the air and away.

While the cranes were taking her up they circled below her so closely that she could not fall, and their loud, hoarse cries drowned her calls for help, so she was carried away and never seen again.

Ever since that time the cranes always circle about in autumn, uttering their loud cries while preparing to fly southward, as they did at that time.

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text

The lone woman

Long ago, a young man from the north journeyed south to marry the only woman known to live there. Another northern man, envious, attempted to abduct her, resulting in a struggle that split the woman in two. Both men replaced her missing halves with wood, creating two women. Their traits—dexterous northern needlework and southern dancing—passed to their descendants, reflecting this tale’s truth.

Source:
The Eskimo about Bering Strait
by Edward William Nelson
[Smithsonian Institution]
Bureau of American Ethnology
Eighteenth Annual Report
Washington, 1900

► Themes of the story

Transformation: The woman is physically divided and each half is reconstructed with wooden parts, resulting in two living women with distinct characteristics.

Creation: The story explains the origin of two groups of women, each inheriting specific traits from their respective ‘mothers.’

Family Dynamics: The narrative explores relationships and conflicts, such as the abduction attempt and the subsequent division of the woman, affecting familial and societal structures.

► From the same Region or People

North America
- Arctic Region
  - Inuit/Eskimo Lore

Learn more about Inuit peoples

This tale refers to notable facts in regard to the accomplishments of the women in the districts north and south of St Michael.

Very long ago there were many men living in the northland, but there was no woman among them. Far away in the southland a single woman was known to live. At last one of the young men in the north started and traveled to the south until he came to the woman’s house, where he stopped and in a short time became her husband. One day he sat in the house thinking of his home and said, “Ah, I have a wife, while the son of the headman in the north has none.” And he was much pleased in thinking of his good fortune.

Meanwhile the headman’s son also had set out to journey toward the south, and while the husband was talking thus to himself the son stood in the entrance passage to the house listening to him. He waited there in the passage until the people inside were asleep, when he crept into the house and, seizing the woman by the shoulders, began dragging her away.

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Just as he reached the doorway he was overtaken by the husband, who caught the woman by her feet. Then followed a struggle, which ended by pulling the woman in two, the thief carrying the upper half of the body away to his home in the northland, while the husband was left with the lower portion of his wife. Each man set to work to replace the missing parts from carved wood. After these were fitted on they became endowed with life, and so two women were made from the halves of one.

The woman in the south, however, was a poor needlewoman, owing to the clumsiness of her wooden fingers, but was a fine dancer. The woman in the north was very expert in needlework, but her wooden legs made her a very poor dancer. Each of these women gave to her daughters these characteristics, so that to the present time the same difference is noted between the women of the north and those of the south, thus showing that the tale is true.

The One-who-finds-nothing

A small, unlucky man, unable to find success in hunting, fishing, or daily tasks, grows despondent and decides to die outside his village. As he lies awaiting death, two ravens argue over his fate. One offers a knife in his beak, which the man seizes. Refusing to return it despite the raven’s warnings, he attempts to return to the village but suddenly ages and dies, cursed by his decision.

Source:
The Eskimo about Bering Strait
by Edward William Nelson
[Smithsonian Institution]
Bureau of American Ethnology
Eighteenth Annual Report
Washington, 1900

► Themes of the story

Transformation: The protagonist undergoes a sudden physical change—rapid aging leading to death—after taking the raven’s knife, symbolizing the consequences of his actions.

Divine Intervention: The ravens, often seen as spiritual or supernatural beings in Inuit culture, influence the man’s fate by offering the knife and cursing him upon his refusal to return it.

Tragic Flaw: The man’s inability to succeed in his tasks and his subsequent despair lead him to make fatal decisions, highlighting personal weaknesses that result in his downfall.

► From the same Region or People

North America
- Arctic Region
  - Inuit/Eskimo Lore

Learn more about Inuit peoples

from St. Michael

Once there was a small, ugly-face young man who could never find anything that he looked for. Whenever he went out with his sled for wood, he returned without any, because he could never succeed in finding any, not the least piece. Then he entered the kashim and sat down in his place over the entrance way. When he sat down there he would remain quiet for a long time. The one sitting beside him sometimes gave him water, which he would drink and then become quite still again. If forced to go out, he would put on his boots and go, but would return again very soon and sit as before. Once when thirsty he went out to the water hole for a drink, but when he came to the place he could not find the water hole, as it seemed not to be there. Then he returned to the kashim again without drinking and sat down in his place, the one beside him giving him water.

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At night in bed, not being able to sleep and being thirsty, he went out to find his elder brother’s house. After much searching he could not find the place, so went back to the kashim and lay down. Awaking in the morning, he took some fishing tackle and went fishing. When he came to the water he could not find it, and after looking for it unsuccessfully he returned without fishing. Thus he came back once more without anything and was hungry also when he sat in his place as usual.

Then he thought, “If I go to pick berries I suppose I will not be able to find any.” Taking a wooden bucket he went for berries. After looking, but failing to find any, he returned to his place in the kashim. The next morning, becoming hungry, he took his arrows and went hunting for wild geese. Not finding any, and seeing nothing else, he returned again. Other men brought back hair seals they had killed. The One-who-finds-nothing took his kaiak and putting it into the water went out seal hunting. He hunted long for the seals, but there seemed to be none; and seeing nothing, he came back to his place in the kashim.

Winter came, and he thought, “I do not know what to do with myself.” The next day he took his miserable bed and rolled it up with his poor tool bag, put the bundle on his back, and went out to the land ward side of the village, beyond the houses, and sat down. Being seated, he took his bundle from his back and, opening it, untied his tool bag. This being done, he scattered the tools about him and threw away the bag. Then he spread down his bed and, sitting upon it, lay back, saying, “Here will I die.”

There he lay all night without moving. When the sun came up he heard a Raven croaking, and then its mate. He remained quiet and the Raven came, alighting near him with its mate just beyond. The nearest Raven spoke, saying, “Look! here is something to eat. We have not eaten, and we had better not wait. Let us have his eyes.” The farthest Raven answered, “No, he is not dead.” “Why does he lie there, then, as if he were dead?” said the first Raven. “No, he is not dead; for look there, there is no smoke 1 by him,” replied the second one.

Then the first Raven became enraged and cast himself about, saying, “Why is he thrown out, then? Look at his things scattered about him.” “I do not wish any of it,” said the mate, “there is no smoke by him. I will leave you.” And he flew away. “All right: you can fly off,” said the first Raven; “I will have his eyes.”

Then the man opened his eyes very slightly and looked sidewise at the Raven. This one, coming toward the small, ugly-face young man, stood there holding up his beak, which became a fine knife. He went nearer, and between his eyelashes the man saw, raised by the hilt, a fine knife. He thought, “I have no knife.” Then the point came close to him. He thought again, “I have no knife.” He suddenly caught it and snatched it away from the Raven.

Back sprang Raven, and the man sat up. “Give me my knife,” said Raven. The man answered, saying, “I have no knife, and this shall be my knife. The Raven replied, “I will pay you for it with all kinds of game.” “No,” said the man, “I will not give it back. I always go out hunting and can get nothing.” “Then,” said the Raven, “if you wish to go back to the village you will not reach there when you try.” “I have no knife,” replied the man. Here the Raven coughed and fell down, saying, “Thus will you do. Keep my knife, if you prize it,” said he, and flew away.

The man sat up, still keeping the knife. Then he started to go back to the village. As he was going his throat contracted, his back bent over in front, and he rested his hands on his knees. Suddenly he became an old man. He could not walk. He lay on his face. He did not stir. He was dead.

The Giant (Kin-ak)

In the harsh tundra, a woman fleeing her abusive husband finds refuge on the body of Kin-ak, a giant whose vast form shelters and sustains her. Kin-ak helps her thrive and sends her back to her village with wealth and protection. Later, her son Kin-ak grows violent and leaves, only to vanish after defying the giant’s warnings. The giant’s breath still shapes the northern winds.

Source:
The Eskimo about Bering Strait
by Edward William Nelson
[Smithsonian Institution]
Bureau of American Ethnology
Eighteenth Annual Report
Washington, 1900

► Themes of the story

Conflict with Authority: The woman escapes her abusive husband, challenging his oppressive control.

Guardian Figures: Kin-ak, the giant, provides shelter, sustenance, and protection to the woman, guiding her to a better life.

Supernatural Beings: The giant Kin-ak is a mythical entity whose actions influence the human world, such as shaping the northern winds.

► From the same Region or People

North America
- Arctic Region
  - Inuit/Eskimo Lore

Learn more about Inuit peoples

from Unalaklit, Norton Sound

One dark winter night a woman ran through the village of Nikh’-ta and out on to the snow-covered tundra; she was fleeing from her husband whose cruelty had become unbearable. All through the night and for many days afterward she traveled on toward the north, always going around the villages she came near, fearing that she might be pursued. Finally she left all signs of human life behind, and the cold became more and more intense; her small supply of food was exhausted and she began to eat snow to lessen her hunger. One day, as evening drew nigh, she was in such a wind-swept place that she forced herself to go on. At last she saw before her what seemed to be a hill with five elevations on its crest; when she came to it she saw that it looked like an enormous human foot.

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Removing the snow from between two elevations that looked like huge toes, she found it warm and comfortable, and slept there until morning, when she started and walked toward a single elevation that showed in the snowy level. This she reached near nightfall and noticed that it appeared to be shaped like a great knee. Finding a sheltered place by it she stayed there until morning, when she went on. That evening a hill like a huge thigh sheltered her for the night. The next night she was sheltered in a round pit-like hollow, around which grew scattered brush; as she left this place in the morning it appeared to her like a great navel.

The next night she slept near two hills shaped like enormous breasts; the night following she found a sheltered, comfortable hollow, where she slept. As she was about to start from there in the morning a great voice seemed to come from beneath her feet, saying: “Who are you? What has driven you to me, to whom human beings never come?” She was very much frightened, but managed to tell her sorrowful tale, and then the voice spoke again: “Well, you may stay here, but you must not sleep again near my mouth nor on my lips, for if I should breathe on you it would blow you away. You must be hungry. I will get you something to eat.”

While she waited it suddenly occurred to her that for five days she had been traveling on the body of the giant, Kin-a-g’ak, or Kin-ak. Then the sky became suddenly obscured, and a great black cloud came swiftly toward her; when it was near she saw that it was the giant’s hand, which opened and dropped a freshly killed reindeer, and the voice told her to eat of it. Very quickly she got some of the brushwood that grew all about, made a fire, and ate heartily of the roasted flesh. The giant spoke again: “I know you wish a place in which to rest, and it is best for you to go into my beard where it grows most thickly, for I wish to take breath now and to clear from my lungs the hoarfrost which has gathered there and which bothers me; so go quickly.”

She barely had time to get down into the giant’s beard when a furious gale of wind rushed over her head, accompanied by a blinding snow storm, which ended as quickly as it began, after extending far out over the tundra, and the sky became clear once more.

The next day Kin-ak told her to find a good place and build herself a hut of hairs from his beard. She looked about and chose a spot on the left side of the giant’s nose, not far from his nostril, and built her hut from hairs taken from his mustache. Here she lived for a long time, the giant supplying her wants by reaching out his great hand and capturing deer, seals, and whatever she wished for food. From the skins of wolves, wolverines, and other fur-bearing animals that he caught for her she made herself handsome clothing, and in a little time had on hand a great store of skins and furs.

Kin-ak began to find his mustache getting thin, as she used the hairs for firewood, so forbade her using any more of it, but told her to get some of the hair growing down the side of his face whenever she needed any. Thus a long time passed.

One day Kin-ak asked her if she would not like to return home. “Yes,” she replied, “only I fear my husband will beat me again, and I shall have no one who will protect me.”

“I will protect you,” said he. “Go and cut the ear tips from all the skins you have and put them in the basket. Then set yourself before my mouth, and whenever you are in danger remember to call, Kin-ak, Kin-ilk, come to me, and I will protect you. Go now and do as I have told you. It is time. I have grown tired of lying so long in one place and wish to turn over, and if you were here you would be crushed.” Then the woman did as she had been told, and crouched before his mouth.

At once there burst forth a tempest of wind and fine snow, and the woman felt herself driven before it until she became sleepy and closed her eyes. When she awoke she was on the ground before the houses of Nikh’-ta, but could not believe it was so until she heard the familiar howling of the dogs. She waited until evening, and after placing the basket of ear tips in her storehouse, entered her husband’s home. He had long mourned her as dead, and his pleasure was very great when she returned. Then she told her story and her husband promised never to treat her badly again. When he went to his storehouse the next day he was very much surprised to find it filled with valuable furs, for every ear tip brought by his wife had turned into a complete skin during the night.

These skins made him very rich, so that he became one of the head men of the village. After a time he began to feel badly because they had no children, and said to his wife, “What will become of us when we are old and weak, with no one to care for us? Ah, if we could but have a son.” One day he told his wife to bathe herself carefully; then he dipped a feather in oil and with it drew the form of a boy on her abdomen. In due time she bore a son and they were very happy.

The boy grew rapidly and excelled all of his youthful companions in. strength, agility, and marksmanship. He was named Kin-ak, in memory of the giant. Then by degrees the husband became unkind and harsh as he had been before, until one day he became so enraged that he caught up a large stick to beat his wife. She ran out of the house in fear, but slipped and fell just outside, and her husband was close upon her when she remembered the giant and called “Kin-ak! Kin-ak! come to me.” Scarcely had she said these words when a terrible blast of wind passed over her, blowing her husband away, and he was never seen again.

The years passed until young Kin-ak grew to be a handsome and powerful young man and became a very successful hunter, but he had a fierce and cruel temper. One evening he came home and told his mother that he had quarreled with two of his companions and had killed both of them. His mother remonstrated with him, telling of the danger he would be in from the blood revenge of the relatives of the murdered men. Time went on, and the matter seemed to be for gotten.

Again Kin-ak came home with a tale of having killed a companion. After this every few days he would quarrel with someone and end by killing him; at last he had killed so many people that his mother refused to permit him to live with her any longer. He seemed greatly surprised at this, saying, “Are you not my mother! How is it that you can thus treat me?”

“Yes,” she replied, “I am your mother, but your evil temper has ended in killing or driving away all our friends. Everyone hates and fears you, and soon no one will be left living in the village except old women and children. Go away; leave this place, for it will be better for all of us.”

Kin-ak made no reply, but for some time he hunted continually until he had filled his mother’s storehouse with food and skins. Then he went to her, saying, “Now that I have provided you with food and skins, as was my duty, I am ready to leave,” and he went forth. By chance he took the same road his mother had traveled during her flight, and came at last to the giant’s head. When the giant understood that he was the son of the woman who had been there he permitted the young man to stay on his face, but told him never to come about his lips, for if he ventured there evil would befall him. For some time Kin-ak lived there quietly, but at last made up his mind to go upon the giant’s lip and see what was there. After a great deal of hard work in getting through the tangled thicket of beard on the giant’s chin he reached the mouth. The moment he stepped upon the lips and approached the opening between them a mighty blast of wind swept forth and he was hurled into the air and never seen again. The giant still lives in. the north, although no one has ever been to him since that day; but whenever he breathes the fierce snow-drifting north winds of winter make his existence known.

The Red Bear (Ta-ku’-ka)

Pi-tikh’-cho-lik, a skilled hunter, predicts his death and instructs his wife, Ta-ku’-ka, on burial rites. After his death, she discovers him alive with other women, consumed by betrayal and rage. Seeking revenge, she kills his companions and confronts him disguised as a red bear, eventually slaying him. Overcome by bloodlust, Ta-ku’-ka becomes a vengeful, destructive spirit, influencing red bears’ savagery.

Source:
The Eskimo about Bering Strait
by Edward William Nelson
[Smithsonian Institution]
Bureau of American Ethnology
Eighteenth Annual Report
Washington, 1900

► Themes of the story

Love and Betrayal: Ta-ku’-ka’s discovery of her husband’s infidelity leads to feelings of betrayal and a desire for revenge.

Transformation: Ta-ku’-ka’s metamorphosis into a red bear symbolizes her shift from a devoted wife to a vengeful spirit.

Revenge and Justice: Ta-ku’-ka’s actions against her unfaithful husband and his companions reflect themes of retribution and the pursuit of justice for personal wrongs.

► From the same Region or People

North America
- Arctic Region
  - Inuit/Eskimo Lore

Learn more about Inuit peoples

from St. Michael and Norton Sound

On the seashore, near where the village of Pikmiktalik now stands, there once lived the Eskimo hunter Pi-tikh’-cho-lik and his wife Ta-ku’-ka.

The mountains were filled with great herds of reindeer and the sea was full of seals and fish, so that Pi-tikh’-cho-lik brought home an abundance of food and skins.

One fine summer evening Ta-ku’-ka stood on the seashore waiting for her husband’s return. She was uneasy and anxious, as he had remained away much longer than usual on his recent hunting excursions, although he had explained to her that the deer were getting farther back into the mountains and the seals were to be found only farther at sea.

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After a time Ta-ku’-ka went into the house to attend to her children and when she came out again her husband was putting his kaiak on the framework standing by the house.

She asked him many questions about his long stay, but he replied peevishly that he had gone far out to sea and had remained because he did not wish to come home without game. When they went into the house Ta-ku’-ka placed before him different kinds of food, prepared as he liked it best, but he ate very little, and seemed gloomy and sad. His wife urged him to tell her the cause of his sadness, and at last he said, “If you must know the cause of my sadness, hear it. I feel that I am going to die, and the third day from now will be the time of my death.”

At this Ta-ku’-ka began to cry very bitterly, but he stopped her, saying, “Do not cry and make me unhappy while I am with you, but hear my last wishes. When I am dead you must put my kaiak into the water and fasten it to the shore; lay my paddle, spears, and lines upon it in their proper places; dress my body in the waterproof shirt and put me into the kaiak, fastening the shirt to the manhole as you have seen me do when going to sea. Every evening for three days place fish, deer fat, and berries before my body that my inna may be satisfied. Do you promise me this?” Ta-ku’-ka promised and wept silently. Pi-tikh’-cho-lik did not leave the house again, and he died on the third day. Then Ta-ku’-ka cried very much, but did as she had been told. Every morning she saw that the shade had eaten, for all the food before the body was gone. On the fourth morning, when she went to the shore to lament for her dead as usual, she saw that the kaiak with all its contents had disappeared. Then she threw herself upon the ground and lay there for a long time in her sorrow; finally she remembered her children and went back to the house to care for them. For a long time Ta-ku’-ka worked very hard, gathering berries or catching and drying fish to prepare her store of winter food. One day while gathering berries she wandered far from home and went to the top of a mountain; there she looked out over the land and far away saw puffs of smoke drifting upward from the ground. This was the first sign she had ever seen of other people, and she decided to go to see what they were like. After some time she drew near the place and crept softly to the edge of the hill, that fell away sharply on one side to the sea, but sloped gradually toward a portion of the inland side. Near the water were three houses, from one of which came the smoke she had seen.

Here Ta-ku’-ka waited quietly to see what kind of people were there, and soon a woman came out, shading her eyes with one hand and looking out to sea; then she hurried back to the house, calling to someone within. At this two other women came out, and all went down to the water’s edge, where they began to sing a love song and to dance upon the sand facing the sea. Ta-ku’-ka had been so interested in watching these women and their handsome fur garments that she had not noticed anything else, but now the low, pleasant sound of a man’s voice rising in song struck her ear and made her heart beat faster. She looked beyond the women and saw a man urging his kaiak swiftly toward the shore, singing and playfully throwing his seal spear before him, and picking it up as he passed.

When he came near, Ta-ku’-ka recognized the song as one that Pi-tikh’-cho-lik used to sing to her in the old days; then the kaiak man came on shore and the women met him with exclamations of pleasure. Ta-ku’-ka could scarcely believe her eyes when she saw that the man was indeed her husband, whom she had believed to be dead. He went into the house with the women, and Ta-ku’-ka felt a strange, fierce anger in her heart, such as she had never known before. She stood on the hillside listening to the songs and laughter coming from the house until far into the night.

Morning came and Pi-tikh’-cho-lik came out of the house and arranged his hunting gear upon the kaiak. After saying “good-bye” to the women on the shore he paddled out to sea, singing pleasantly. When he was out of sight Ta-ku’-ka went down from the hillside and followed the women into one of the houses; they seemed surprised to see her, but made her welcome, asking her many questions. They admired her face and its color, which was lighter than theirs, also several tattooed lines on her face, one up and down between her eyes and three that extended down across the chin from her lower lip; they were also pleased with the shape of her garments, which were different from theirs. By and by one of the women said, “You are very handsome with the beautiful lines marked on your face; I would give much if you would teach me how to make my face like yours.” Ta-ku’-ka answered, “I will show you how it is done, if I can please you, but it will hurt you and you may not wish to bear the pain.” “I shall not mind the pain,” said the woman, “for I wish to be handsome, as you are, and am ready to bear it.” “Be it as you wish,” said Ta-ku’-ka. “Go into the house and make a fire, and put by it a large clay pot, filled with oil; when the oil boils call me. I will make your face beautiful like mine.” When the woman had thanked hr and had gone to make ready, the other women asked her many questions. “Will it hurt very much!” and “Will she really be as pretty as you are?” and others. To which Ta-ku’-ka replied, “She will not be hurt very much, and she will be prettier even than I.”

In a short time the woman came back, saying that the oil was ready. Ta-ku’-ka then went into the house and told her to kneel before the pot of boiling oil and to bend her face over it. As soon as this was done, Ta-ku’-ka grasped her by the hair and thrust her face down into the hot oil and held it there until the woman was dead, saying, “There, you will always be beautiful now.” Then she laid the body on the bed platform, and covering the face, went back to the other women. During her absence the other two had been talking together, and when she came back they asked her if she had succeeded in making their companion handsome, and Ta-ku’-ka nodded her head.

Then both women said, “We, too, will make you presents if you will make us beautiful,” and she consented. Then all went to the dead woman’s house, and Ta-ku’-ka said to her companions, “Do not disturb your friend; she sleeps now and her face is covered so that nothing will break the charm; when she awakes she will be very handsome.” After this she killed both the other women as she had the first, saying, as she laid them on the ground, “You, too, will be very pretty.” She then made three crosses of sticks and placed them upright in the sand where the women had danced on the shore the evening before, upon which she placed the clothing of the dead women so that a person at a distance would think they were standing there. Then she took a red bearskin and went back to her hiding place in the rocks. Evening came, and the hunter drew near, singing as on the previous night. No answer reached him, but he thought he saw his wives standing on the shore, and although he raised his song in praise of them, they gave no answer. He became angry and stopped his song; then he began to scold and upbraid them, but still they were silent. Landing, he hurried to the silent figures and then on to the nearest house. There and at the second house he found nothing, but in the last he saw his wives as they lay dead, and Ta-ku’-ka heard his cries of sorrow when he saw them.

Pi-tikh’-cho-lik rushed raging from the house, wailing with sorrow, shouting in wild anger, “If any bad spirits have done this, I fear them not. Let them come and try to work their evil upon me. I hate and scorn them.” All remained quiet. “If any evil shade, man or beast, has done this, let it come out from its hiding place,” he shouted, “and dare to face a man who will tear out its heart and eat its blood; oh, miserable good-for-nothing!”

As if in answer, he heard a deep growl coming from the hillside, and there he saw a red bear standing on its hind feet, swaying its body back and forth. This was Ta-ku’-ka, who had placed a flat stone on each side of her body to protect herself from wounds by arrow or spear and had wrapped herself in the bearskin.

Pi-tikh’-cho-lik saw her and thought she was really a bear and began calling every opprobrious name he could think of, while he quickly fitted an arrow to his bow and loosed it. The arrow struck one of the stones and fell harmless, and the bear turned its other side toward him. Again he shot a well aimed arrow, and again it fell harmless. Then the bear rushed down the slope straight at him, and Pi-tikh’-cho-lik’s spear, striking the bear’s side, broke in his hands. In a few moments the bear had thrown him down lifeless and torn out and eaten his heart. Then the fury which had urged Ta-ku’-ka on seemed to leave her and her better feelings began to return. She tried to take off the bearskin, but it closed about her so firmly that she could not.

Suddenly Ta-ku’-ka thought of her children at home, so taking her basket of berries from the hilltop, she started for her dwelling. As she went along she began to be frightened at her strange desire for blood, mingled with the thoughts of her children. Hurrying on she came at last to the house and rushed in. The two children were asleep, and as soon as Ta-ku’-ka saw them a fierce, uncontrollable desire for blood again came over her, so that she at once tore them to pieces. After this she went out and wandered over the earth, filled with a desire to destroy every one she came across.

Up to that time red bears had been harmless, but Ta-ku’-ka filled them with her own rage, so that they have been very savage ever since. Finally she reached Kuskokwim river and was killed by a hunter, whose arrow found its way through a crack that had been made in one of the stones on her side.

The Raven, The Whale, and the Mink

Raven, a cunning trickster, encounters a whale and enters its body, discovering a magical, self-sustaining interior with a young woman, the whale’s inua (spirit). Disobeying her warnings, Raven’s greed causes the whale’s death, leading to his escape and subsequent feast on its remains. With Mink, Raven tricks seals into a deadly feast, ensuring plentiful oil and food, establishing a lifelong bond between ravens and minks.

Source:
The Eskimo about Bering Strait
by Edward William Nelson
[Smithsonian Institution]
Bureau of American Ethnology
Eighteenth Annual Report
Washington, 1900

► Themes of the story

Trickster: Raven exemplifies the trickster archetype, using cunning and deceit to achieve his goals, such as entering the whale’s body and later deceiving the seals.

Divine Intervention: The presence of the whale’s inua (spirit) signifies the influence of supernatural beings in the narrative, guiding events and interactions.

Cunning and Deception: Raven’s actions, including his manipulation of the whale and the seals, highlight themes of wit and deceit employed to secure sustenance and survival.

► From the same Region or People

North America
- Arctic Region
  - Inuit/Eskimo Lore

Learn more about Inuit peoples

This tale is related either separately or in conjunction with the preceding one, of which it forms a part.

After Raven had dried his clothing at the fire he chanced to look toward the sea and saw a large whale passing close along the shore, and he cried out, “When you come up again shut your eyes and open your mouth wide.” Quickly putting on his raven coat, he drew down his mask, then, carrying his fire-drill under his wings, flew out over the water. The whale soon came up again and did as it was told, and when Raven saw the open mouth he flew straight down the whale’s throat. The whale closed its mouth and went down again, while Raven stood looking about, finding himself at the entrance of a fine room, at one end of which burned a lamp. He went in and was surprised to see a very beautiful young woman sitting there. The place was clean and dry, the roof being supported by the whale’s spine, while its ribs formed the walls. From a tube that extended along the whale’s back bone, oil was dropping slowly into the lamp.

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When Raven stepped in the woman started up and cried out, “How came you here? You are the first man who ever came in here.” Raven told how he came there, and she asked him to be seated on the other side of the room. This woman was the shade or inua of the whale, which was a female. Then she prepared him food, giving him some berries and oil, at the same time telling him that she had gathered the berries the year before.

For four days Raven stayed there as the guest of the inua, and continually wondered what the tube was that ran along the roof of the house. Each time the woman left the room she told him that he must not touch it. At last, when she left the room again, he went to the lamp, and holding out his claw caught a large drop of the oil and licked it with his tongue. It tasted so sweet that he began to catch and eat other drops as fast as they fell. This soon became too slow for him, so he reached up and tore a piece from the side of the tube and ate it. As soon as this was done a great rush of oil poured into the room, extinguishing the light, while the room itself began to roll wildly about. This continued for four days and Raven was nearly dead from weariness and the bruises which he had received. Then the room became still and the whale was dead, for Raven had torn off a part of one of the heart vessels. The inua never came back to the room, and the whale drifted upon the shore.

Raven now found himself a prisoner, and while trying to think of a plan for escaping, heard two men talking on top of the whale, and pro posing to bring all of their village mates to the place. This was done very quickly, and the people soon had a hole made through the upper side of the whale’s body. This hole was enlarged until, watching his chance while everybody was carrying a load of meat to the shore, Raven flew out and alighted on the top of a hill close by without being noticed.

Then he remembered that he had left his fire-drill behind, and exclaimed, “Ah, my good fire drill; I have forgotten it.” He quickly removed his raven mask and coat, becoming a young man again, and started along the shore toward the whale. The people on the carcass soon saw a small, dark colored man in a strangely made deerskin coat coming toward them, and they looked at him curiously. Raven drew near and said, “Ho, you have found a fine, large whale. Well, I will help you cut him up.” He rolled up his sleeves and set to work. Very soon a man working inside the whale’s body cried out, “Ah, see what I have found. A fire drill inside the whale.” At once Raven began to roll down his sleeves, saying, “That is bad, for my daughter has told me that if a fire-drill is found in a whale and people try to cut up that whale many of them will die. I shall run away.” And away he ran.

When Raven had gone the people looked at one another and said, “Perhaps he is right;” and away they all ran, every one trying to rub the oil off his hands as he went. From his hiding place nearby Raven looked on and laughed as the people ran away, and then he went for his mask and coat. After procuring them he returned to the whale and began cutting it up and carrying the flesh back from the shore. As he thought of the feast in store for him he even said, “Thanks” to the shades.

When he had stored away enough meat he wished to save some oil, but had no bag to put it in, so he walked along the shore trying to find a seal. He had gone only a short distance when he saw a mink run swiftly by, and he called out, “What are you running after so fast? Are you going for something to eat?”

Mink stopped, and pushing up his nose like a mask, as Raven had done with his beak, became a small, dark-colored man. Then Raven cried, “Ah, you will be my friend? I have plenty of food, but I am lonely, for I have no one with me.” To this Mink agreed, and both walked back to the whale and went to work, but Mink did the most for Raven was very lazy.

They made grass bags and mats for the meat and blubber, storing great quantities of it in holes in the ground. After this was done they built a fine kashim. When it was finished Raven said, “It is lonely; let us make a feast.” And he told Mink to go out and invite the sea people to join them.

To this Mink agreed, so next morning he started out, while Raven made a short, round, slender rod, at one end of which he painted two rings with charcoal paint. When he had finished this, he gathered a large ball of sticky spruce gum, which he placed with the rod in the kashim.

Mink soon returned and told Raven that on the morrow plenty of sea people would come to the feast. To this Raven answered, “Thanks.” Early the next morning Mink called Raven outside and pointed toward the sea, the surface of which was covered with different kinds of seals coming to the feast. Raven went back into the kashim, while Mink went down to the water to meet the guests and escort them to the house.

As each seal came on shore he pushed up his mask and became a small man, and all entered the house until it was full. Raven looked about at the guests and exclaimed, “What a number of people. How shall I be able to make a feast for all of you? But never mind; let me first rub the eyes of some of you with this stuff, in order that you may be able to see better; it is dark in here.”

With his ball of gum Raven then fastened shut the eyes of every seal, except a small one near the door, which he overlooked. The last seal whose eyes were shut was also a small one, and as soon as its eyes were made fast it tried to get them open, and began to cry. The little one by the door cried out to the others, “Raven has stuck your eyes shut, and you can not open them.” Then every seal tried to open his eyes, but could not. With the stick he had made the day before Raven now killed all the guests by striking them on the head, each seal man changing back to a seal as it was killed. As soon as the little one by the door saw Raven killing his companions, it ran out and escaped alone into the sea.

When he had finished, Raven turned to Mink and said, See what a lot of seals I have killed. We will have plenty of oil bags now.” Then they made bags of the sealskins and filled them with oil for the winter. Ever since that time Raven and Mink have been friends, and even to this day ravens will not eat the flesh of a mink, be they ever so hungry; and the mink and the raven are often found very close together on the tundras.

Raven Takes a Wife

Raven, tired of solitude, sought a wife among migrating birds. Disguising himself as a young man, he joined a family of geese, marrying the daughter. Though admired for his grace, Raven struggled to keep pace during their journey. Exhausted, he fell behind, losing the geese’s respect. Cast ashore by waves, he abandoned his disguise and dried himself by a fire, reflecting on his misfortune.

Source:
The Eskimo about Bering Strait
by Edward William Nelson
[Smithsonian Institution]
Bureau of American Ethnology
Eighteenth Annual Report
Washington, 1900

► Themes of the story

Transformation: Raven disguises himself as a young man to join the geese, highlighting themes of physical change and adaptation.

Quest: Raven’s journey to find a wife among the migrating birds represents a personal quest for companionship and belonging.

Trials and Tribulations: Raven encounters difficulties in keeping pace with the geese during their migration, leading to exhaustion and loss of respect, illustrating the challenges faced during his pursuit.

► From the same Region or People

North America
- Arctic Region
  - Inuit/Eskimo Lore

Learn more about Inuit peoples

Tale of the Raven
from the Unalit of Norton Sound

For a long time Raven lived alone, but finally became tired of this and decided to take a wife. For this purpose he looked about and noticed that it was late in the fall and that the birds were going southward in large nocks. Then Raven flew away and stopped directly in the path taken by the geese and other wild fowl on their way to the land of summer. As he sat by the way he saw a pretty young Hutchins goose coming near. Then he modestly hid his face by looking at his feet, and as the goose passed he called out, “Who wishes me for a husband? I am a very nice man.” Unheeding him, the goose flew on, and Raven looked after her and sighed. Soon after a black brant passed, and Raven cried out as before, with the same result. He looked after her and cried out, “Ah, what kind of people are these? They do not even wait to listen.” Again he waited, and a duck passed near, and when Raven cried out she turned a little toward him but passed on.

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For an instant his heart beat quickly with hope, and as the duck passed, he cried, “Ah, I came very near then; perhaps I shall succeed this time;” and he stood waiting with bowed head.

Very soon a family of white-front Geese came along, consisting of the parents with four brothers and a sister, and the Raven cried out, “Who wishes me for a husband? I am a fine hunter and am young and handsome.” As he finished they alighted just beyond him, and he thought, “Now I will get a wife.” Then he looked about and saw a pretty white stone with a hole in it lying near; he picked it up and, stringing it on a long grass stem, hung it about his neck. As soon as he had done this he pushed up his bill so that it slid to the top of his head like a mask, and he became a dark-colored young man, who walked up to the Geese. At the same time each of the Geese pushed up its bill in the same manner, and they became nice-looking people. Raven was much pleased with the looks of the girl and, going to her, gave her the stone, choosing her for his wife, and she hung it about her own neck. Then all pushed down their bills, becoming birds again, and flew away toward the south.

The Geese flapped their wings heavily and worked slowly along, but Raven with his outspread wings glided on faster than his party, while the geese looked after him, exclaiming, in admiration, “How light and graceful he is!” At length Raven grew weary, so he said, “We had better stop early and look for a place to sleep.” The others agreed to this, so they stopped and were soon asleep.

Early next morning the Geese were astir and wished to be off, but Raven still slept so heavily that they had to arouse him. The father Goose said, “We must make haste, for it will snow here soon; let us not linger.”

As soon as Raven was fully awake he pretended to be eager to get away, and, as on the day before, led the others with outspread wings and was greatly admired by his young companions. And so Raven kept on, above or in front of his companions, who made admiring remarks to one another, such as “Ah, see how light and graceful he is.” Thus the party traveled on until they stopped one evening upon the seashore, where they feasted upon the berries that were plentiful all about them, and then went to sleep.

Early the next morning the Geese made ready to go without stopping for breakfast. Raven’s stomach cried out for some of the fine berries that were so plentiful, but the Geese would not wait, so he dared not object to starting. As they left the seashore the father Goose told them that they would stop to rest once on the way, and the next stretch would bring them to the other shore. Raven began to feel very doubtful about being able to reach the other shore, but he was ashamed to say so and thought he would risk making the attempt; so off they all flew. The Geese flew steadily on and on. After a long time Raven began to fall behind. His wide-spread wings ached, yet the Geese kept on steadily and untiringly. Raven flapped heavily along, and then would glide on outspread pinions for a time, trying to ease his tired wings, but to no purpose, so he fell farther and farther behind. Finally the Geese looked back, and the father Goose exclaimed, “I thought he was light and active, but he must be getting tired; let us wait.” Then the Geese settled close together in the water, and Raven came laboring up and sunk upon their backs, gasping for breath. In a short time he partly recovered, and, putting one hand on his breast, said, “I have an arrowhead here from an old war I was iii and it pains me greatly; that is the reason I fell behind.”

After resting they went on, but the others had to wait for Raven again, and he repeated the story of the arrowhead, which he told them had pierced his heart. Then he had his wife put her hand on his breast to feel” it shaking about. She did so, but could feel only his heart beating like a hammerstone and no sign of an arrowpoint, yet she said nothing. Thus they went on, and again they waited for Raven, but now the brothers began to talk about him, saying among themselves, “I do not believe that story about the arrowhead. How could he live with an arrowhead in his heart?”

When they were rested they saw the far-away shore before them. The father Goose now told Raven that they “would wait for him no more until they reached the land. Then all arose and flew on, Raven slowly flapping his wings, which felt very heavy. The Geese kept steadily on toward the shore, while Raven sank lower and lower, getting nearer and nearer to the dreaded water. As he came close to the waves he cried and shrieked to his wife, “Leave me the white stone! Throw it back to me!” for it contained magical properties. Thus he kept crying until suddenly his wings lost their power and he floated helplessly in the water as the Geese gained the shore. He tried to rise from the water, but his wings seemed to be weighted down, and he drifted back and forth along the beach. The waves arose, and soon succeeding white caps buried him until he was soaked, and only with the greatest difficulty could he get his beak above the surface to breathe a little between the waves. After a long time a great wave cast him upon the land. Then, as it flowed back, he dug his claws into the pebbles and only by great effort did he save himself from being dragged back again into the sea. As soon as he was able he struggled up the beach, an unhappy-looking object. The water ran in streams from his soaked feathers and his wings dragged on the ground. He fell several times, and at last, with wide-gaping mouth, reached some bushes, where he pushed up his beak and became a small, dark-colored man. Then he took off his raven coat and mask, hanging them on a bush, while he made a firedrill out of some pieces of wood and soon had a fire burning, before which he dried himself.