An elderly woman lives alone, diligently fishing and preparing for winter. One evening, she hears singing and, hoping for company, readies herself to meet a visitor. Upon investigation, she discovers the source of the song is a small fish. Disappointed, she returns home, eats, feels lonely, and eventually weeps in the woods.
Source:
Ten’a Texts and Tales
(from Anvik, Alaska)
by John W. Chapman
The American Ethnological Society
Publications, Volume 6 (ed. Franz Boas)
E.J. Brill, Leyden, 1914
► Themes of the story
Community and Isolation: The old woman’s solitary life and her reaction to the singing indicate themes of isolation and the desire for companionship.
Sacred Spaces: The pond or location where the fish appears may have spiritual or mystical significance.
Mystical Creatures: If the singing fish is a legendary being rather than just a magical event.
► From the same Region or People
Learn more about Koyukon people
Few stories contain so many of the details of the monotonous everyday life of an old Indian woman in so short a compass as this one does. It gets its point to the Indian in the haste with which she makes ready to see a man.
There was once an old woman. She worked on alone, and in the summer she fished with a net, and (so) had plenty of fish. She cut them and hung them up and dried them, and put them into a cache, a grass cache which she had. Now she had plenty of food, and, having plenty of food, she was glad. It came on winter, and she did her cooking. She cooked only the bones, even though she had plenty of food. “I shall be short in the winter,” thought she. Once in a while only, she made ice-cream (vwa’nkgyuk). This she ate occasionally.
Now, once at dusk she took off the curtain from the smoke-hole and made the fire, and she put the pot upon (or against) the fire, and cooked (her food) and dished it up. “Now, then,” thought she, “that’s all. I will put on the curtain and go to bed.” So she threw her fire out at the smoke-hole, and went out to it. She went up and put on the curtain. She went to the door and stood still, as if she expected to hear something.
► Continue reading…
She listened carefully, and thrust her fingers into her ears and drew them out again, to better her hearing. Then she heard. She heard some one singing, and ran in at her door. She thrust her hand under the shelf for the wash-bowl. She poured water into it, and washed her face and combed her hair, and finished her toilet. She reached out and got her bag, and took out the clothing that was in it, and put on a fish-skin parka and went out again. Presently some one sang; and she went in and took her place on the shelf, and busied herself spinning sinew thread on her fingers. Just a little while she sat there. Then she went out again. Again she listened. From the same place came the sound of singing. Then the old woman thought, “I don’t believe it’s a man.” She went downstream from the house. She looked down also at the edge of the water, and saw a little fish. It sang as it swam around. She caught up a stick and threw it out upon the bank, and went back and entered the house. She staid there a little while, and went out again. Everything was quiet. “It must have been a man,” she thought. She went in again and ate something. She sucked in some ice-cream, and felt lonesome. She cried, and went into the woods.
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Dreamtime Whispers 