The volume contains the 33 stories from the Journal of American Folklore (recorded by Frank Alfred Golder between 1903 and 1907) and the American Anthropologist (recorded by Rev. T. I. Lavrischeff in 1928) published in our site, with many additional notes and comments from the original authors.
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A wealthy man named Anoogne, proud of his abundant stores of food, mocked a divine warning about his reliance on nature’s provisions. In response, relentless snow buried the land for two years, freezing his supplies and causing widespread starvation. Humbled and remorseful, Anoogne admitted his folly, learning the harsh cost of arrogance and ingratitude toward nature’s gifts.
Source
Two Aleut Tales
recorded by Rev. T. I. Lavrischeff
American Anthropologist
Vol. 30, Issue 1, January-March 1928
Divine Punishment: Anoogne’s arrogance and dismissal of the divine warning lead to a severe punishment from higher powers, resulting in a prolonged snowstorm that devastates his resources.
Conflict with Nature: The story highlights the struggle between Anoogne and the natural forces, emphasizing the consequences of underestimating and disrespecting nature’s power.
Moral Lessons: The narrative imparts a lesson on humility and the importance of respecting nature, illustrating the perils of pride and ingratitude.
Learn more about the Aleut people
Long, long ago rich Anoogne lived in the village on Hinchinbrook island, keeping rough storehouses with their stone shelves filled with valuable furs, many clothes and all kinds of native foods. He preserved many fish and eggs in the ground, for sour fish dug from the earth formed his favorite repast. All of the villages about worked for the Anoogne and often he gave feasts in his house and the guests praised him highly for his generous deeds. One evening, the Anoogne took a walk on the seashore. The sky was blue, the sea was calm and the old man enjoyed his slow promenade. Suddenly his foot slipped and he fell. He had stepped on a dead fish cast on the beach.
Anoogne started to complain bitterly, but a voice came from on high, saying: “Do not scold. Do not curse the old fish. If I did not give to you the same fish for your food you will starve.”
“If you did not send this fish, I will not starve,” the Anoogne replied.
“Why not?” the voice asked.
The old man told him, “I have all kinds of fish. I have all kinds of meat, enough to keep me forever. My stores are filled with halibut, seal, bear, salmon, codfish, and mountain goats. I shall not lose the food I have stored.”
But the voice continued, “Remember, Anoogne, very soon you shall be the most miserable man and thy riches shall not be of use to thyself.”
Never, never,” replied the excited Anoogne. “I am the wealthiest of the natives and I shall never grow poor.”
“What will you eat if your food freezes over?” he was asked.
“I have dried fish and meat and have buried fish eggs, a reserve that will last a long time.”
“I can send the deep snow to cover the earth,” he was told.
“Do not think you can even cover the koongat, the edible trees?’’ the haughty Anoogne responded.
No reply came, only repeated in gradually dying echoes, the sound of the word “ahtat.”
Then the big flakes of snow started to fall softly over the earth. When the Anoogne approached his house the snow was up to his knees. His food had frozen and become like paper. The old man and his helpers started to shovel the white blanket, but such great flakes fell this work soon appeared useless. The snow even passed through the roof and filled the barabaras.
Again came the voice from on high, “There you have it.”
All of the island was covered by deep snow for twenty-four months. All living creatures perished. There was no food on land, there were no fish in the sea.
Anoogne began to starve. Greatly did he regret his mistake and his conceit. He called his neighbors and confessed his sin.
Then the voice came again, saying, “Do not speak bad words. Do not curse the food I send you. Do not grumble against fate.”
So ended the story of the richest old man of the ancient village of Nutchek.
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At Eekakhlee, a shaman feigned death to escape his wife and live with two young women far away. Guided by a bird, the wife found him and, in vengeance, killed the women. Transforming into a bear, she confronted her husband and devoured him and his belongings, exacting retribution for his betrayal. Thus ended the shaman’s deceitful life.
Source
Two Aleut Tales
recorded by Rev. T. I. Lavrischeff
American Anthropologist
Vol. 30, Issue 1, January-March 1928
Revenge and Justice: The wife’s actions in seeking out her husband and punishing him for his betrayal highlight themes of retribution.
Transformation: The wife’s metamorphosis into a bear signifies a physical change driven by emotional turmoil.
Love and Betrayal: The narrative is rooted in the husband’s betrayal of his marital bond and the ensuing consequences.
Learn more about the Aleut people
Eekakhlee was the name given in the old days to present Johnstone Point on Hinchinbrook island, and the mountains between there and Nutchek were called Keeliagat.
At Eekakhlee lived an old man with his wife. They existed comfortably, but the old man did not love his spouse and hoped to desert her. As he was a shaman, or sorcerer, it was easy for him to go into a trance and appear as dead.
His wife buried him, according to custom, in a cave on a mountain, and his bows, arrows, clothing and bidarkas were laid beside him in a cavern.
For three days the disconsolate widow came to the cave to weep and wail. When she came on the fourth day she did not find the body nor the bidarkas and clothing. Stupefied, she stood there puzzled by the disappearance of the corpse. Search for traces of it were fruitless and her grief increased.
But a little bird on a tree sang to her:
“Cheer up, thee! up.
“Far beyond the Kiliagat the old man lives.
“Cheer up, cheer up.”
“Far more than before, he enjoys his life.”
At first the woman paid no attention to the bird and went to her house. On the next day she renewed her search, but the bird again sang the same song. The old woman asked it, “Where is my husband?” At this the feathered creature chirped:
“On the top of the mount,
Near the peaceful bay,
The old man lives quietly there.
He does not love thee,
He will not come back;
Two nice girls entertain him there.”
Still skeptical the old woman replied, “If you tell me the truth, take flight to the place where he lives.” Thereupon the bird set out, with the Woman following silently.
It was a long journey across the forest, through brush and over mountains, but from time to time the bird rested, permitting the old woman to catch up with it. Finally they came to the top of a hill near the bay at Nutchek. From this spot the wife saw her husband in a bidarka far out to sea. Just below her on a sandy beach she espied two attractive girls. Quietly descending, the old woman stopped behind a tree to observe them. The girls were cooking soup and when it was ready she stepped out.
“Hello, girls,” the wife exclaimed, “I see you have prepared your soup in the right way. Now I will show you best how to drink it.” With this she seized the pan and turned it over the heads of the girls.
“That is the way the old man used to eat his soup in our birthplace,” she gloated.
When both girls were dead the old woman made the feature of one appear as though she were scolding and the other seem to be laughing. Then she set their bodies on the beach and again hid herself behind a tree.
The old man came back and saw the maidens, one apparently angry and the other laughing.
“Why do you quarrel?” he asked. “Live in peace. I love you both. I have brought two otters as a present for you. Do not fight.”
Upon hearing these words the old woman turned herself into a bear, an easy thing for her to do, as she was also a shaman. Then she sprang upon her husband, exclaiming, “Here am I – your wife. You left me without your care and food. I have suffered very much. Now that I have found you here you shall die. Akcheenkoo.”
And with that she ate up the old man, together with his bidarkas.
Such was the end of the unfaithful husband of old Eekakhlee.
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In a large village, Ughek, a disliked half-witted man, is abandoned by his community. Facing loneliness and the threat of a sea-monster, he devises a plan, using a stone as a trap. The monster is killed, and Ughek cooks its meat. When villagers return, he tricks them into eating the cursed feast, killing them all, and lives alone with his stone forever.
Source
Eskimo and Aleut Stories from Alaska
collected by F.A. Golder
The Journal of American Folklore
Vol. 22, No. 83, Jan. – Mar., 1909
Revenge and Justice: He seeks retribution against the villagers who mistreated and abandoned him.
Conflict with Nature: The confrontation with the sea-monster represents a struggle against natural forces.
Community and Isolation: Ughek’s initial isolation and subsequent actions highlight themes of belonging and estrangement.
Learn more about the Aleut people
Karluk story
In a large and populous village lived a half-witted man named Ughek. On account of his meanness he was much disliked by all the people. To the evening parties where the men gathered in the large hall to play, sing and dance in a circle, he was never invited. The women were not permitted to take part in these festivities; but when bringing in the cooked seal-meat, ducks, and berries and oil, for the men, they were allowed to dance in and, after depositing the food, to dance out again. Ughek, who resented the treatment he was receiving, got even with his neighbors by hiding near the dance-hall; and as the women passed, he plucked the dress of one, pinched a second and tripped a third, and in this way made himself thoroughly disagreeable to the community.
The chief determined to put up with him no longer. He therefore called a meeting, which decided to leave the village for a time; but Ughek should not be taken. The next day the village, except for Ughek, was deserted. For two days he did not mind his new situation; but at the end of that time he began to fear lest the schwichileghk (sea-monster, half-human and half beast, which is covered on the body with sea-shells and on the head with kelp) would come out at low tide and eat him, as he had done to others.
On the evening of the third day he gathered all the oil lamps from the other barabaras into his own, filled them with oil, and lighted them. This done, he played on the drum, sang, and danced. Every now and then he turned his head toward the beach, and once his attention was drawn to a stone. He went out to it, and said, “You are here alone, as I am. It is lonely for you. Come with me. In the barabara where I am it is pleasant, many people are dancing. Come with me.” Since the stone made no answer, he attempted to force it to come with him by carrying it, but he could not lift it. He went once more into his hut, continuing his singing. Again he approached the stone, asking it to share his joys, and again the stone refused. The attempt to move it was a little more successful, for he advanced it two steps at least. He went back to his music, and from there to the stone. The third time he transported it as far as the doorstep. He danced and sang a little more, and finally got the stone inside, and said, “I am all alone. The people have gone and left me to starve. I am afraid of the schwichileghk. I will put you over the door, and, if he comes, you fall on him and kill him.”
Having placed the stone over the door, Ughek was free to go on with his entertainment. About midnight his joy was cut short by the odor of kelp, which became stronger with each minute. Ughek had his eyes on the skin door, which fluttered, and through which a moment later a head of kelp was seen, and from it these words came in a roaring voice: “It has been a long time since I have eaten anything, but now I shall have a good feast.” The schwichileghk, for it was he, advanced slowly, but when about halfway in, the stone fell down and killed him.
Ughek raised the stone, cut the monster into small pieces, which he cooked, and filled all the dishes he could find in the village. Not many days later the villagers returned, and Ughek, on hearing them, ran off and hid. Not seeing any trace of Ughek, the chief and his people concluded that he was dead, and celebrated the event with a dance. As the women were advancing with their cooked meats, Ughek sneaked in and played his old tricks on them. One of them ran into the dance-hall, shouting excitedly, “You thought Ughek dead, but he is not. He just now tripped me.” It was decided to call him in, and invite him to tell all that happened to him during their absence. Ughek came in, and began playing on the drum, singing and dancing. That done, he asked permission of the chief to set refreshments before the people. When this was granted, he went out and brought in the cooked schwichileghk. Each person took a piece of meat, chewed and swallowed it, and dropped dead. Ughek himself returned to his hut to live with his stone, and there he is now.
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A young man, struggling as an unsuccessful hunter, defies his mother’s advice and discovers a sinister figure intending to feast on him. Pretending to be dead, he endures pain to maintain his ruse before escaping with a magical sinew rope. This artifact brings him exceptional hunting success, transforming him into a celebrated provider and symbolizing resilience and the rewards of courage.
Source
Eskimo and Aleut Stories from Alaska
collected by F.A. Golder
The Journal of American Folklore
Vol. 22, No. 83, Jan. – Mar., 1909
Transformation: The protagonist evolves from an unsuccessful hunter to a renowned provider, symbolizing personal growth and change.
Cunning and Deception: The young man uses cleverness to feign death and escape from the sinister figure, highlighting the use of wit to overcome danger.
Sacred Objects: The sinew rope serves as a magical artifact that brings the protagonist success, emphasizing the significance of powerful objects in myths.
Learn more about the Aleut people
Kadiak story
There were a great many successful hunters in a certain village; but one there was who had never killed anything, and he and his parents lived off the game secured by others. This humiliated the young man very much. He asked his mother why he in particular was so unfortunate, and what he ought to do to have better luck.
His mother advised him to go to the point of the cape and look about, but under no circumstances to go farther. He set out, and, when reaching the designated spot without seeing anything of note, he decided to go on until something happened. Towards evening he came to a beach, and in the sand he detected fresh human footsteps.
After pulling up his boat on the kelp, he threw himself alongside of it, giving the impression of having been thrown up by the waves. He lay there a short time when he heard footsteps followed by a voice saying, “Ha, ha, here is another one! “The young man was carefully examined by the new-comer to make sure that he was dead; then tying a sinew rope about the body, the person swung him on his shoulders and walked off. On the way they passed through alder-bushes; and when a good opportunity offered itself, the young man reached out and gave a strong pull at a bush, almost upsetting the bearer, who called out, “Who is pulling me?”
When they reached a barabara, the young man was conscious of a woman and several children gathered about him in the expectation of a feast. The baby coaxed so much for a piece of meat that the father told the mother to cut off a toe for the child. Painful as the operation was, the young man did not in the least betray his feelings. The man had started a big fire and was sharpening the knives, when his attention was drawn to the choking baby, who had attempted to swallow the toe but could not. While the whole family was assisting the baby, the young man decided it was about time to escape. So he made a dash for the outside, and ran as fast as he could to the beach for the boat. He had barely time to get in it and push out, when the other man came up and said, “Give me back my sinew rope, and I will give you something also.”
The young man, however, refused to have any dealings with him, and pulled away, taking the rope with him. On the way home he killed much game; and as long as he retained the rope he was successful, and in time became a renowned hunter.
Running and expanding this site requires resources: from maintaining our digital platform to sourcing and curating new content. With your help, we can grow our collection, improve accessibility, and bring these incredible narratives to an even wider audience. Your sponsorship enables us to keep the world’s stories alive and thriving. ♦ Visit our Support page
An Aleut hunter deceives his wife, feigning death to join another woman. Guided by a bird’s message, his wife discovers his betrayal, kills his mistress, and confronts him. Overwhelmed by guilt and shame, the man drowns himself in the sea. This myth explores themes of loyalty, deceit, and the emotional toll of betrayal within isolated lives.
Source
Eskimo and Aleut Stories from Alaska
collected by F.A. Golder
The Journal of American Folklore
Vol. 22, No. 83, Jan. – Mar., 1909
Love and Betrayal: The husband’s deceit and abandonment of his wife for another woman highlight themes of infidelity and treachery.
Cunning and Deception: The husband’s feigned death to pursue a new relationship exemplifies deceitful behavior.
Revenge and Justice: The wife’s actions in discovering the betrayal and confronting her husband underscore themes of retribution and the restoration of moral order.
Learn more about the Aleut people
Belkovsky story
At the head of a long bay lived a man and his wife apart from other human beings, of whose existence they were hardly aware. Every pleasant morning the man went hunting, returning in the evening with a bidarka full of seal-meat. One day, however, he failed to come back at the usual time. This made the woman uneasy, and she kept a look-out for him; and when he finally appeared, he had only one small seal. To the numerous questions of the wife he merely replied, “The seals are scarce, and I have to go far to get them.” She believed him. The next day he was again late, and had the same hard-luck story to tell. He looked worried, ate little, and refused to talk. Occasionally he would be gone two and three days at a stretch, returning with but little game.
Finally he told his wife that he was ill and about to die, and made her promise that when that sad day should come, she would dress him up as if he were going hunting, and leave him with his boat and weapons in the open air. A few days after this conversation she found him dead, and she faithfully carried out her promise. In the evening, being exhausted from much weeping and hard work, she went into the hut and fell asleep.
When she woke up, neither husband, nor bidarka, nor weapons were to be seen, but on the beach she discovered tracks made by her husband in carrying the boat to the water. “Ai, Ai, Y-a-h. This is why he died, and asked to be buried in this manner!” For a whole day and night she sat as if stupefied, trying in vain to solve the mystery. After the first shock was over, she did the best she could to adjust her life to the new conditions and accept the inevitable. But one day while she was cutting grass, a little bird perched itself on a bush near her and repeated three times, “Mack-la-cluili woani.” The woman listened attentively, and concluded that the bird meant for her to go in search of her husband. She hurried home to put on her torbasas (soft skin shoes) and belt, and set out. Over hills and valleys she walked before she came in sight of a bay, where she noticed a man in a bidarka fishing, and she suspected him of being her husband. Not far from her was a hut, to which she directed her footsteps; and on going in, she saw a woman around the fire cooking seal-meat. A better look at the woman disclosed the fact that her face was quite flat; there was not even a sign of a nose. Yet she sniffed the air and said, “Fati. I smell a human being. Where did it die, on sea or on land?” — “I died neither on sea nor on land,” said the new-comer, “but came to find my husband.” On the floor was a large knife, which the visitor picked up unperceived, and, watching her chance, attacked the noseless woman and cut her head off. Her body was carried outside, the head replaced, and she was made to look as natural as possible.
This done, the deserted wife hid near by to await the coming of her faithless husband. As he approached, he called, “I am coming!” but receiving no reply, he shouted again, “I am coming!” Still no reply. A third time, “I am coming! Are you angry again today? I did not go anywhere.” When he pulled up his bidarka, he spoke again, “Why are you angry? Here I am.” He went up to his mistress, and, on touching her, the head fell off. Just then his wife appeared, and said, “This is how you died.” He looked at her and then at the mistress, and began to weep. Turning his back on both of them, he got into his bidarka, pulled away a short distance from the shore, turned it over, and drowned himself.
Running and expanding this site requires resources: from maintaining our digital platform to sourcing and curating new content. With your help, we can grow our collection, improve accessibility, and bring these incredible narratives to an even wider audience. Your sponsorship enables us to keep the world’s stories alive and thriving. ♦ Visit our Support page
An Aleut man abandons his family for another woman, prompting his wife to transform into an eagle and kill him. Their son, aided by magical gifts, braves a perilous river journey and encounters supernatural foes, including a fiery volcano spirit. Through wit and resilience, he survives, ends the threats, and marries a village chief’s daughter, securing peace for his people.
Source
Eskimo and Aleut Stories from Alaska
collected by F.A. Golder
The Journal of American Folklore
Vol. 22, No. 83, Jan. – Mar., 1909
Transformation: The protagonist’s mother transforms into an eagle to confront her unfaithful husband.
Quest: The son embarks on a perilous journey upriver, facing various supernatural challenges.
Supernatural Beings: Encounters with entities like the fiery volcano spirit and other mystical adversaries.
Learn more about the Aleut people
Told as a Nushigak story by a native of Karluk
On the eastern side of a river was situated a populous village; on the western bank there was but one barabara in which lived an old couple with their son. The old people were feeble, and did not think they had long to live; they therefore asked their son to go over to the village and get married. He did as he was bidden, crossed over, married, and came back with a wife. Not long after this event the father and mother died, leaving the young couple alone. At the end of the first year of the marriage a daughter was born, who, after being bathed two or three times, began to talk. Another year passed, and a little boy came to the family. As the children grew up the father became very fond of them, particularly of the boy, who very often went down to the beach to meet him as he returned from his work.
For in order to provide for his little family, the father went out daily in his boat to hunt for sea animals and birds, and always came back well loaded.
But one day the man came home with little game and looking very sad. His wife asked the cause of his unhappiness, and he answered roughly that seals were scarce. From that day on, the poor woman could not depend with any regularity on his home-coming. Sometimes he would not put in an appearance until late in the night, and frequently he stayed away two or three days together. He brought so little game that the family had barely enough to live on. When at home, he was dejected and could hardly be made to talk. His wife’s questions were generally cut short by brutal answers.
Things kept going from bad to worse, and the climax was reached when the man disappeared altogether. Days and weeks passed without bringing any tidings of his whereabouts. In looking over a basket filled with various objects, the woman came across the head and claws of an eagle which had been given her when she was a girl. These she shook and worked on until she made a large eagle’s skin, which she put on herself and flew away to find her husband, who, she feared, was starving or lying ill somewhere. She flew a long time, and came to the outskirts of a large village, alighting near a barabara alongside of which bubbled a spring to which the women came for water. From where she was, the eagle could see a bidarka with her husband in it coming towards the shore. At the same time her attention was drawn to a young woman running to the spring to fetch some water, and, after leaving it in the hut, hurrying down to the beach to greet her faithless husband. Following her rival, the eagle swooped down on the man, and, snatching him in her claws, flew with him into the clouds, from whence she dropped him into the sea.
From this tragedy the eagle flew home to her children, whom she found safe. To the boy she gave a feather and a pebble to eat, which he did. Up to this time all those who had gone up the river failed to return, no one knowing just what had become of them. The boy, when he grew up, told his mother that he had made up his mind to go upstream. She tried in vain to dissuade him from his enterprise by pointing out the dangers and citing cases of strong and brave hunters who had lost their lives in the undertaking. Seeing that he was determined, she yielded, and gave him to take with him a needle and this advice: “If you are in trouble, think of the feather; should no help come from that, remember the pebble; and if very hard pressed, make use of the needle.” The next morning he got into his boat and paddled upstream until he came to a cave into which the tide was setting with such force that he was unable to keep out of it. In the cave he felt a current of warm air and saw a smooth beach, on which he pulled up his bidarka. Pretty soon afterwards he became aware of some one approaching, and great was the boy’s fright when he saw near him a large old man breathing fire. There was, however, no harm done him, except that the old man asked him to follow. They marched into the interior, passing through dark and hot places, gradually ascending to lighter and cooler atmosphere, until they stood on the summit of a mountain whose sides sheered straight down into the sea. “If you wish to live with me,” said the old man, “you must jump off this bluff;” and with this he gave him a push, and the boy felt himself going down, down. He thought of his mother’s advice about the feather, and by doing so became a feather and was carried by the wind back to the top of the mountain. There he resumed his human shape, and went back to his boat and proceeded in his ascent of the river, coming to a bay partly inclosed by steep black walls. In the distance, at the head of the bay, a barabara was visible, and thither the boy pulled and landed. He went in and found a very stout old woman and a young girl, who began to weep when she saw him.
“Why do you weep?” said the old woman. “Who is dead or drowning at sea?” — “I am not drowned. I died neither on land nor on sea,” answered the boy. “If you are alive, come in; but if dead, stay out.” — “I am alive,” he replied, and went in.
When a few questions had been asked and answered, the old woman proposed that the young couple should marry, which was done. The young wife did not love her husband, and begged the old woman to have him killed for fresh meat, but the latter put her off by saying that he was not fat enough. At last the old woman consented to have him killed, and for this purpose told him to go to the top of the hill, to the home of her brother, and there take a bath. He suspected treachery, and was on the lookout.
At the top of the hill a stout old man waited for him to take him to the bath-house, and urged him to hurry with his bathing, for he had a hot roasted codfish waiting for him. When the boy went in, the old man closed up all openings and poured hot oil on the heated rocks in order to smother him; but the boy changed himself into a pebble, and remained so until the door was opened and fresh air blew in. On seeing him come out unharmed, the old man exclaimed, “Ah, you are different from the others!” After having eaten his roasted fish, the old man proposed to the young one to take a run along the edge of the cliffs. This proposition was accepted on condition that the old man take the lead. They started off; and when they reached a steep and dangerous place, the boy shoved his companion off, and he disappeared out of sight. From here he returned home, where he found his wife sitting near the fire and the old woman soundly asleep. His wife he called outside and shot her with the needle his mother gave him, and then he shot the old woman with the same weapon.
Having had enough adventure, he started down the stream to where his mother was; and to her and others he related all that had happened to him. The chief of the village was so delighted that he gave him his daughter in marriage. After that time no harm came to those who went upstream; but they must not approach the cave at flood-tide, for they will be drawn in.
Each volcano has a master. He breathes fire, and he it was who met the boy in the cave. This old man of the volcano does not like rivals, and kills all who come in his way.
Running and expanding this site requires resources: from maintaining our digital platform to sourcing and curating new content. With your help, we can grow our collection, improve accessibility, and bring these incredible narratives to an even wider audience. Your sponsorship enables us to keep the world’s stories alive and thriving. ♦ Visit our Support page
An Aleut husband fakes his death, abandoning his wife and children to live with another woman. Guided by a bird’s warning, the wife discovers his betrayal, murders the rival, and dons a bear skin. When confronted, the husband’s pleas for forgiveness fail. Consumed by rage, she kills him, her children, and retreats to the wilderness, becoming a savage bear.
Source
Eskimo and Aleut Stories from Alaska
collected by F.A. Golder
The Journal of American Folklore
Vol. 22, No. 83, Jan. – Mar., 1909
Love and Betrayal: The narrative centers on the husband’s deceit and abandonment, leading to the wife’s feelings of betrayal.
Revenge and Justice: In response to her husband’s infidelity, the wife seeks vengeance by killing his new partner, him, and eventually her own children.
Family Dynamics: The story delves into complex familial relationships, highlighting the impact of the husband’s actions on his wife and children.
Learn more about the Aleut people
Kadiak story
On the bank of a river lived a man with his wife and several small children. One day the husband told his wife that he was ill and going to die, and requested her that when dead she should leave him on the ground uncovered, with his bidarka and bow and arrows near him.
The next morning she found him dead, and she did with him as he had asked. For three days the body rested where she had left it, and around it she with her children sat weeping. But on the morning of the fourth not a sign of the body or boat was to be seen. She puzzled over the matter for a time, but the calls of her children for food kept her from brooding over it too long.
Not many days after this mysterious disappearance, a little bird settled on the barabara and sang. Although the woman listened attentively, she could not make out what it said. About the same time on the succeeding day the little bird sang again; but this time the woman thought she heard the bird say, “Your husband is not dead. He is living with another woman at the mouth of the river.” This same song was repeated on the third morning. Hearing this sad news, the woman felt very bitter towards her husband, and she wept a great deal. She spent the rest of the day in preparing food for her children to last them three days, and early next morning set out for the mouth of the river. From the top of every hill she searched diligently for signs of habitation. Towards noon she sighted a hut, to which she walked and went in.
There she was greeted by a very beautiful woman, whose skin was white, and who sat on the floor (with the knees under the chin) making mats. The new-comer inquired of the white-skinned woman whether she was married. “Yes, my husband is hunting and will be back this evening.” As the hostess knew nothing at all of the history of her visitor, she treated her hospitably, setting food before her, and for a time they chatted very pleasantly. In the course of the conversation the white-skinned woman asked the other one what she did to make her cheeks look red. “That’ s very simple,” replied the visitor; “I boil a pot of water, and hold my face over it until it turns red.”
“I think I will do that, too; it will make my husband love me more,” said White-Skin. She boiled a pot of water and held her face over it. Red-Skin encouraged her in this, telling her how beautiful she was becoming, but at the same time advised her to bend over a little more. Not suspecting treachery, she leaned over; and Red-Skin, who stood directly behind her, pushed the face of the woman into the boiling water and kept it there until life was gone. The dead woman was then fixed up in a sitting posture.
In the hut the deserted wife came across a piece of skin of a bear’s face with the nose on it. She chewed and stretched it to make it cover her whole body, when she looked and felt like a bear. On each of her sides she put a flat rock, and went outside to wait for her husband, who appeared towards evening with a load of game.
“Come out, my lovely one,” he called, “and see how much game I brought.” No one answered; so he called again, “Why don’t you come out as you always do?” He became angry and walked into the hut, where a painful sight stared him in the face. “I know who did it — my other wife. She shall pay for it.” He took his bow and arrows and started for his former home; but when not far from the hut a bear crossed his path. He said, “It was not my wife after all, but this bear who tore the skin from her face. “Taking aim, he shot an arrow at the heart of the bear, but it rebounded on coming in contact with the rock. All the other arrows were wasted the same way without doing the bear any injury. The bear took off the skin, and the hunter recognized his wife.
“That’s the way you treated me,” she cried. “You made believe you were dead, and left me to provide for the children while you were living with another woman.” She abused him until he begged for pardon and mercy and promised to be faithful in the future. His pleadings were, however, to no purpose. She put on her bear-skin, and thus becoming as savage as a bear, she rushed for him and tore him in pieces. With his blood on her, she ran home and destroyed her children in the same savage manner, and then ran away to the woods to live with other bears.
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An Aleut hunter’s relentless pursuit of bears defies warnings, leading him to confront a fearsome white-faced bear with human origins, cursed by a shaman. Though spared initially, the hunter breaks his promise, joining a hunt against the bear. Recognized despite his disguise, the bear enacts a brutal revenge, destroying the hunter, his allies, and the shaman, before returning to solitude.
Source
A Kadiak Island Story
collected by F.A. Golder
The Journal of American Folklore
Vol. 20, No. 79, Oct. – Dec., 1907
Revenge and Justice: The transformed bear seeks vengeance against those who wronged him, as well as against a hunter who breaks his promise, illustrating the pursuit of retribution and the restoration of personal justice.
Tragic Flaw: The hunter’s hubris and relentless pursuit of bears, despite warnings, lead to his downfall, demonstrating how personal weaknesses can result in tragedy.
Supernatural Beings: The involvement of a shaman and the transformation of a human into a bear introduce elements of the supernatural, emphasizing interactions with mystical forces.
Learn more about the Aleut people
In a village there lived a mighty bear-hunter. For three years he had been constantly hunting and had killed so many bears that his friend tried to persuade him to stop, fearing he would get himself into trouble. For, said his friend, if he persisted in hunting one more year he would come across a very large bear who might kill him. The hunter, however, made light of this advice and said that he would attack every bear he came across. A few days later he went out hunting and saw a bear with two cubs. He decided that this could not be the bear of which his friend had spoken and he attacked the mother and, after some difficulty, killed her. The little ones in the mean time ran away.
On the hunter’s return home, his friend questioned him of the doings of the day, and when told of the adventure, attempted once more to get him to give up hunting, but without success.
Not many days later, while on the way to the hunting-ground, he met a stranger who, in the course of conversation, told him that near his village there were a great many bears. “Many of them,” continued the stranger, “did our hunters kill, but there is one who is invincible, and who has taken the life of many of our men. Each time that he kills a man he tears him, and examines him carefully, as if in search for some marks on the body. He is unlike other bears, in that his head and feet are white.” Here they parted. The stranger continued his way, while the hunter proceeded to the hunting-ground. On his way he stopped near a fish creek, hoping to find game there. He waited all night without seeing any, and in the morning went on farther. First he walked up a high hill, then down until he came to a small bluff. Below was a level tundra on which many bears were to be seen. Not judging it wise to attack so many at once, he concluded to wait until they separated. Among the number he noticed one whose head and feet were white. The words of the stranger then came back to him, and he decided that this must be the dreadful bear of which he had spoken; and so he (the hunter) made up his mind to keep an eye on him, and kill him the first favorable opportunity that offered itself.
The history of the white-faced bear is as follows. At one time he was a human being and a very successful bear-hunter. In fact, too successful for his own good; for he aroused the envy of his friends, who plotted to kill him. They went to a shaman (medicine-man) who lived in the woods and begged him to transform the man into a beast. He advised them to kill the bear and secure the skin up to the joints. This was to be tanned and placed under his pillow, and when he had slept on it he would become a bear. After the skin had been prepared, the shaman with some of the hunters started for the man’s hut, The skin was put under his pillow, then all hid to see the result. In due time he came and went to sleep, but on awaking found himself a bear. The shaman told his companions that the only way to distinguish him from his companions would be by his head and feet, which were white.
Towards evening all the bears that had been on the tundra began to separate except the white-faced bear. He was about the last to move, and, when he did get up, he shook himself three times and acted in every way as if he were deeply enraged. His next move was towards the bluff, where the hunter sat perfectly quiet, hoping he would not be noticed. But the bear approached him, and when face to face asked: — “What are you doing here?”
“I came out to hunt.”
“Is it not enough that you have killed all my family, and just recently you have killed my wife, that you now come to take my life? Had you injured my children the other day, I would now tear you to pieces. I will, however, spare your life this time on the promise that you will hunt bears no more. All the bears you saw to-day are the children of my brothers. Should I ever run across you hunting, I wall tear you to pieces.”
Too glad to get off so easily, the hunter started straight for home, not even hunting on the way. His friend met him and inquired what luck he had, especially, whether he had come across a white-faced bear. When he had replied in the affirmative, the friend cautioned him against attacking. For a whole week the hunter remained at home, and then decided to go again, and begged his friend to go with him, but the latter refused on the plea that he was no bear-hunter and would not know what to do. Six others were, however, persuaded to go along. During two days they hunted at various places without finding anything to kill. On the third day the hunter conducted them to the creek where he had been before, and there they passed the night. In the morning he led them to the bluff, from where many bears were to be seen — but the white-faced bear was not noticeable among them. Thus encouraged the hunter told his companions to follow him. As they advanced one of the men exclaimed,” Look at that strange-looking beast. His face and paws are white.” When the hunter caught sight of him, he ordered his fellows to go back as quietly and as swiftly as they could, as that particular bear had a bad reputation. They went around another mountain where more bears were seen. Here they attacked and killed seven, one for each.
Loaded with their spoil they started homeward. They had advanced but a short distance when they heard a noise behind them, and, on looking around, saw the white-faced bear hurrying after them. As he came closer the hunter aimed, and as he was on the point of shooting his bowstring broke. The others shot, but without producing any effect.
“Why do you shoot at me?” said the bear to the friends of the hunter;
“I never harmed you. This man (pointing to the hunter) has killed my wife and nearly all my family. I warned him that, if I ever found him hunting, I would tear him, and this I shall now do. You may go. I will not harm you.”
Glad to be left alive, the six men hurried away as fast as they could, while the bear turned to the hunter and said: — “You have killed all my family, and I had you in my power and I let you off on the promise that you would never hunt bear any more, and here you are back again. This time I will do to you as you did to mine.”
The man pleaded to be allowed to live one night more, so that he could go home. At first the bear refused, but he finally consented, even to spare his life altogether, if he would tell him who transformed him into a beast. To this the hunter agreed, and it was arranged that on the following evening the two should meet at a certain place and proceed together to the home of the shaman.
On reaching home, the hunter found his six companions there talking excitedly of the day’s events. They were not a little surprised to see him. He told them that he was going back tomorrow, and asked their company. They positively refused, and even attempted to dissuade him from the undertaking; but he kept his word and met the bear at the fish creek as had been previously planned. The two walked a long time until they reached a village in the midst of a forest. A light shone from every barrabara except one, the home of the shaman.
“This is the place,” said the man.
“I will remain here,” ordered the bear, “and you go in and tell him that there is a man outside wishing to speak to him.”
The man set about carrying out the order, but found the skin-door tied; and therefore reported to the bear that the shaman was out. The bear contradicted his statement and sent him back again with instructions to cut the door and walk in. He did so; and on entering heard some one say: “Who is that that dares come in here?”
“It is I,” said the hunter.
“What do you wish?”
“There is a man outside who wishes to speak to you.”
If the shaman had not been sleepy he would have suspected something wrong and would not have gone out, but under the circumstances his mind was not very clear, and he fell into the trap. When the two men came near the bear the old man was very much frightened and was about to withdraw, had not the bear blocked his way, and said: “For a number of years you have tortured me and made my life a burden by keeping me in this condition. I now demand that you give me back my human form immediately, otherwise I shall tear you to pieces.” The shaman promised to do as he was asked if he would follow him into his hut. Before going in the bear told the hunter to meet him in that neighborhood the next day. All night the shaman worked hard with the bear, and by morning succeeded in getting the skin off, so that in place of the bear a human being appeared. The shaman asked for the bear’s skin, which the man gave him, except that of the face and paws, which he cut off and kept. In taking leave, the man-bear told him never to transform any one again for, if he did he would surely come back and kill him.
As agreed upon, the bear-man met the hunter and cautioned him against going out to hunt bear. Among other things he said: “You may hear of people gathering together to hunt and kill me, for I may become a bear once more; but join not with them. If I find you in their company, I shall kill you.”
With this understanding they parted; and for the three or four weeks following the hunter remained at home, apparently intending to keep his promise. But one day he met two young men from a far-off village who had come to beg assistance. They said that about their village there were a great many bears, of whom many had been killed by the hunters. But there was one bear, whose head and feet were white, whom the hunters could not destroy, although all the hunters of the village had attacked him at once. Realizing their helplessness, it was decided to ask aid from the other villages. This bit of news excited the hunter very much. He knew at once who the bear in question was, and was therefore eager to hunt him; yet at the same time fear restrained him from any hasty action. He finally hit on the plan of changing his clothes and painting his face so that his former foe would not know him. In this disguise he arrived at the village, where he saw a great many hunters making ready for the grand hunt. Some were making new bows and arrows, others were repairing the old ones, and all were excitedly talking about the bear. The morning after his coming a large crowd of men, including the hunter, set out on the trail of the bear, whom they found without much difficulty. On seeing them approach, the bear raised himself, then shook himself, his hair stood up straight, giving the impression of great anger. This whole performance he repeated a second time, frightening very much the hunters, who said, “We are all in great danger and cannot escape; but must stay here and fight.”
These actions over, the bear made a jump, stopping before the hunter, whom he accused of perfidy and ungratefulness, tore him in pieces, pawed out a hole and covered him up. The others were terrified more than ever on hearing the bear talk, and at the same time were too excited to do anything. Before they could collect themselves he turned on them, accusing them of attacking him without cause, and proceeded to revenge himself. He chased them back to the village, tearing them up as he went along, not resting until he had them all, including the old shaman. This done he turned back to the woods and fields to rest undisturbed.
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In the village of Igagik, an Aleut girl, dishonored by a young man, seeks revenge by crippling him. Believing her brother died from a hunting accident, she mourns by reanimating him with a song, but they flee together, transforming into otters. Their parents, heartbroken, mourn their loss as their children become sea creatures, giving rise to the sea-otters.
Source
The Songs and Stories of the Aleuts
collected by F.A. Golder
The Journal of American Folklore
Vol. 20, No. 77, Apr. – Jun., 1907
Revenge and Justice: The sister seeks retribution against the young man who dishonored her.
Resurrection: The sister brings her deceased brother back to life through a ritualistic song and dance.
Origin of Things: The story provides an explanation for the existence of sea otters in Aleutian belief.
Learn more about the Aleut people
Unga story
On the southern side of Unalaska Island, opposite the village of Chernovsky, there was once a village named Igagik. In that village lived a well known Aleut who had only two children, a son and a daughter. The son, when full grown, was a quick and bold hunter; the daughter, who was just reaching womanhood, was a model in her way. The parents and all other relatives could not rejoice sufficiently on looking on the young people, and considered themselves very fortunate; but a dreadful calamity, never heard of before nor since, befell them, and of a sudden destroyed their happiness. When the girl reached puberty she (according to the custom) was placed in confinement in a small barrabara, and no one besides her servant was allowed to go near her.
Her brother, about this time, used to go out nearly every night bird hunting.
While yet in seclusion, and at night when the fire was already out, a certain young man commenced to visit the girl, and passionately made illicit proposals; she, fearing to disgrace her relations, would by no means consent. Finally, not being able to obtain his end by fair means, the young man obtained it by force. The girl, dishonored, determined to revenge herself, and she did it in a most cruel and degrading way. When leaving the barrabara (through a hole in the roof) the girl cut the sinews of both his legs right under the knees, and the unhappy youth, moaning, crawled away from there.
The following morning the girl’s parents sent to tell her that her beloved brother, while out hunting on the preceding night, fell on sharp rocks, cutting the sinews of his legs, and died immediately. This terrible news threw the girl for a short time into some kind of a stupor. She then ordered the servant to dress her in her very best clothes, i.e. to put on her the necklace, the bracelets, the earrings, the nose ornaments (made of wood), and to paint her cheeks; then she herself put on her very best parka (trimmed with fur seal and bills of small ducks, etc., and which is sewed like a long shirt without an opening in front) and tore it in front from top to bottom. Dressed in this fashion, she went, followed by her servant, to her father’s house, where her brother lay.
Her brother was really dead, and lay on the floor in the front part of the barrabara, his parents and friends around him weeping and lamenting. Instead of mourning, she began to sing a song in a very joyful strain: “You brother, brother of mine, come get up, get up and look on that on whose account you have deprived yourself of sleep!”
While singing this song she approached the corpse, shaking the folds of her torn parka and uncovering herself. When she had approached her brother in this manner his toes began to move; as she repeated her song and dance a second time the color came into his face; and at the end of the third performance he jumped up and tried to embrace her. She escaped him and ran outside, he after her, and after him his astonished parents and friends. The girl ran in such a way that her reanimated brother could not reach her, neither could his pursuers come up with him. At last, driven to the cliffy beach, and seeing no other way of escape, they threw themselves into the sea.
Their pursuers waited a long time, not taking their eyes off the spot, and, as it were, waiting for them to emerge. After a long time they appeared on the surface and were even alive; not as human beings, however, but as otters, and slowly swam from the shore, one going east, the other west. The broken-hearted parents followed their course with their eyes, crying and saying : —
“You children, our children, was it for this that we nursed and reared you, that you should shame us with your guilt, and that you should become wild beasts! We were hoping that you would support and bring peace and happiness to us,” etc.
In this manner did the parents mourn for their children all their lives; and from that time appeared in the sea sea-otters.
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Dreamtime Whispers 
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