Category: Americas

The Boy Who Became a Mink

An old woman teaches her grandson survival skills, gifting him a magical mink skin and protective charms. Disobeying her warning, he explores a forbidden bay, facing supernatural trials, including a vengeful shaman, dangerous creatures, and a monstrous whale. Overcoming each with courage and wit, he ultimately chooses a life of freedom as a mink, blending into the wild yet retaining his unique identity.

Source
Tales from Kodiak Island
collected by F.A. Golder
The Journal of American Folklore
Vol. 16, No. 61, Apr. – Jun., 1903

► Themes of the story

Forbidden Knowledge: Despite his grandmother’s warning, the boy’s curiosity leads him to explore the forbidden bay, uncovering hidden dangers and supernatural challenges.

Trials and Tribulations: Throughout his journey, he faces numerous challenges, including encounters with a vengeful shaman, dangerous creatures, and a monstrous whale, testing his courage and wit.

Magic and Enchantment: The story features magical elements, such as the enchanted mink skin and protective charms, which play crucial roles in the boy’s survival and transformation.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Aleut people

These tales were obtained by the author at Unga Island, Alaska, during a three years’ residence. They were told in the Russian language by Mrs. Reed, Nicoli Medvednikoff, Corneil Panamaroff, all natives of the island of Kodiak where they had heard them, and translated some literally, others more freely. The natives of Kodiak speak Russian almost as freely as they do their mother tongue. They call themselves “Aleuts,” and wherever that word is used, it refers to them, and not to the real Aleuts to the west. The author has but lately returned from Alaska.

In a small barrabara, away from other barrabaras and other people, lived an old woman and her young grandson. While the boy was small, the grandmother supplied both with food and clothing by hunting and fishing. She also taught him how to hunt and fish; and when nearly full grown, she surprised him one morning by telling him that a one-hatch bidarka (which she had made unbeknown to him) was on the beach ready for him.

It was there, sure enough, equipped and ready for hunting. He was supremely happy; for he had obtained that which for years he had been looking forward to. Every morning he went out hunting and fishing, and in the evening returned loaded with fish and game. In a little while he became very skilful in the handling of the bidarka, and daily ventured farther and farther out to sea.

His grandmother called him one morning, and said to him: “Son, you may go anywhere, except into yonder bay, and you will be safe; if you ever go there, you will never return to me. Take this mink skin, put it into your bidarka; this bag containing four tiny bows and arrows keep about your person. Should you ever be in trouble, turn to them, and they will help you.” He promised never to venture inside the bay, accepted the gifts, and disposed of them as he was told.

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In those days, when this boy lived, there were no winds at all; the waters were always smooth and calm. One could go long distances from shore, and not be in danger of the winds and the waves.

Not many days after the promise to his grandmother, the boy, while pursuing a seal, went much farther from shore than one would dare go now, and when he finally stopped paddling, after killing the seal, he found himself at the mouth of the bay.

The interior of the bay looked so inviting and alluring that he laughed at his grandmother’s fears, and steered for the beautiful island in the middle of the bay. He beached his bidarka, took the mink skin, and started for the summit of a hill where he noticed a barrabara. As he began to ascend, large rocks came rolling down, blocking his way and nearly crushing him. The farther up he went the more difficult and dangerous it became. In order to save himself he jumped into a hole. The rocks fell over the hole, covered and blocked it.

He tried vainly to get out; the rocks were too heavy to be pushed off, and the openings too small to crawl through. While thinking over the situation, the mink skin occurred to him. Seizing it, he commenced chewing and stretching it until he pulled it over his head. As he did that, he changed into a mink. By scratching and squeezing, leaping and dodging, he escaped from his prison, and reached the summit, where he was surprised to see that all the rocks came from the barrabara.

Taking off the mink skin and becoming a boy again, he went into the barrabara. On the floor sat a very large woman making mats. When she saw him, she screamed in a loud and angry voice :

“Who told you to come here !”

Reaching behind her, she pulled out a long, sharp spear and threw it at him. Before the spear reached him, he changed himself into a mink; the spear went over his head, sticking into the wall. Quickly assuming his boyish shape, he grabbed the spear, and called to her: “Change and save yourself if you can !” and hurled it at her, cutting her in two.

A loud report and earthquake followed his action. The barrabara trembled, tumbled in, and he was again a prisoner. His mink skin came into good use; by scratching and dodging he managed to crawl out and run down to the shore, and, after pulling off the skin, pushed the bidarka out and started homeward.

He had not gone very far when he heard some one calling, and on looking around saw people on the shore motioning to him. An old man greeted him as he landed, and taking him by the hand, led him into a barrabara where sat several girls. Pointing to one of them, he said : “You can have her for a wife.”

This made him very happy, and glad he did not obey his grandmother. A dish of seal meat was placed before him, and after eating, they all lay down to sleep. The following morning the old man asked him to go to the woods, and bring wood for sled runners. In his position of prospective son-in-law he could not refuse any request of his prospective father-in-law, so he went.

A gruesome sight met his gaze on entering the woods. Human bones and skeletons were scattered everywhere; and he began to fear lest another trap was laid for him. He went about his work, however, and the woods soon rang with the reports of his axe.

A very frightful and horrible noise coming from the interior of the woods made him stop. The nearer it came the more terrible it sounded. “It must be a wild beast coming to eat me up,” he thought.

Soon a very ferocious beast appeared and came running towards him. The boy looked for his mink skin; it was not about him, for he had left it in the bidarka; but still he had his bows and arrows. Quickly pulling them out of the bag, he sent one tiny arrow into the side of the monster, knocking him over; and when another arrow pierced the other side, he ceased kicking. Approaching him to withdraw the arrows, the boy found him dead.

On his return to the barrabara, after finishing his work, the old man looked surprised and uneasy — the old man was a shaman, and had been in the habit of sending strangers into the woods to be killed by the monster, and then eating them —and asked the boy :—

“Did you see or hear anything strange in the woods ?”

“No, I did not,” the boy replied.

The morning of the second day, while the boy was eating breakfast, the old shaman from outside called to him :

“The girls want you to come out and swim with them !”

To refuse would have been unmanly, so he went to the beach, undressed himself, taking, however, the mink skin; for he suspected trouble, and swam after the girls, who were some distance from him. As he advanced, they retreated; and when almost up to them, a big whale appeared between them, and before he knew what to do, he was in the whale’s mouth. In there, the boy put on the mink skin, and when the whale appeared on the surface, the boy escaped through the blow-hole, and swam for the shore.

When the shaman saw him, he was vexed and troubled, saying to himself : “He is the first one that I could not overcome, but I will.”

That evening he had again a supper of seal meat; his bride sat where he could see her, but he dared not talk to her.

Early next morning the old man called him to have another swim with the girls. On the beach was a large whale, and the girls were climbing on his tail. When they were all on, he switched his tail, sending them through the air some distance into the sea.

The girls dared the boy do likewise. Stripping himself, and unnoticed by them —they were quite a distance from him — he took a tiny arrow in each hand. Instead of at once climbing on the tail, he approached the head of the whale. Sticking the arrows into the head, he asked the girls : —

“Am I to get on here ?”

“No, further down,” they answered.

He stuck the arrows into the whale, as he moved down towards the tail, repeating the same question and receiving the same answer. When he finally stood on the tail, it did not move; for the whale was dead. The girls, after waiting some time, swam to the shore to report to the shaman, who returned with them only to find the whale lifeless. Furious was the shaman; and in his heart he swore he would yet eat the boy.

The following morning the old man asked the boy whether he had any relatives, mother or grandmother, whom he would like to go and see before he settled down with them.

“I have a grandmother,” said the boy, and went off that day.

Paddling first on one side of the bidarka, and then on the other, he was making good progress, when all of a sudden the mink skin startled him by calling to him : “Look out, you are in danger !” He looked ahead; there was nothing dangerous there, so he paddled on. Again the mink skin called to him : “Look out, you are in danger !” Ahead everything was safe; but as he looked behind, he was almost overcome with fear; for a huge wave, high as a mountain, was coming his way, and would soon overtake and overwhelm him. As quickly as he could, he shot one of his arrows into the wave, breaking it, and he was once more safe.

Towards evening he steered for the shore, in order to eat and rest there, and when near the shore, a large sea monster appeared and swallowed bim, bidarka and all. He pulled out and put on the mink skin, and when an opportunity offered itself, he escaped through the monster’s gills, and swam to the shore.

His grandmother, who was also a shaman, had been watching the grandson’s doings, though far away, punished the monster by sending two large ravens to peck his eyes out.

Being on shore, and without a bidarka, the boy started to walk home. He did not take off the mink skin, and so was still a mink. On the way he came to a large lake, abounding in fish; there he stopped, fed on the fish he caught, and in a short time became acquainted with the minks of the neighborhood. This easy life pleased him so well that he decided to remain there; and there (in the neighborhood of Kodiak) he is at present. The shamans, only, can tell him apart from the other minks.

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The “Unnatural Uncle”

In a remote village, a cruel man repeatedly tried to kill his nephew, disguised as a girl to avoid suspicion. Despite several deadly traps involving a log, bluff, and clam, the resourceful boy survived each attempt. Ultimately, the boy exacted justice, rescuing his parents and banishing his uncle. The family found peace and safety in a distant land of eagle people.

Source
Tales from Kodiak Island
collected by F.A. Golder
The Journal of American Folklore
Vol. 16, No. 61, Apr. – Jun., 1903

► Themes of the story

Good vs. Evil: The narrative highlights the struggle between the boy’s innocence and his uncle’s malevolence.

Trials and Tribulations: The boy faces and overcomes a series of life-threatening challenges set by his uncle.

Cunning and Deception: Both the boy and his uncle employ cunning and deceit—the uncle in his murderous plots and the boy in his survival strategies.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Aleut people

These tales were obtained by the author at Unga Island, Alaska, during a three years’ residence. They were told in the Russian language by Mrs. Reed, Nicoli Medvednikoff, Corneil Panamaroff, all natives of the island of Kodiak where they had heard them, and translated some literally, others more freely. The natives of Kodiak speak Russian almost as freely as they do their mother tongue. They call themselves “Aleuts,” and wherever that word is used, it refers to them, and not to the real Aleuts to the west. The author has but lately returned from Alaska.

In a village lived a man, known to his neighbors as “Unnatural Uncle.” When his nephews became a few years old, he would kill them. Two had already suffered death at his hands. After the second had disappeared, his wife went to the mother of the boys, and said: “Should another boy be born to you, let us conceal the fact from my husband, and make him believe the child a girl. In that case he will not harm him, and we may succeed in bringing him up.”

Not long after the above conversation another nephew was born. Unnatural Uncle, hearing that a child was born, sent his wife to ascertain the sex of the child. She, as had been agreed upon, reported the child a girl. “Let her live,” he said.

The two women tended and dressed the boy as if he were a girl. When he grew older, they told him to play with the girls, and impressed upon him that he should at all times imitate the ways, attitudes, and postures of the girls, especially when attending to the calls of nature. Unnatural Uncle watched the boy as he was growing up, and often wondered at his boyish looks. One day the boy, not knowing that his uncle was about and observing him, raised up his parka, and so exposed his body.

► Continue reading…

“Ah,” said Unnatural Uncle to his wife, on reaching home, “this is the way you have fooled me. But I know everything now. Go and tell my nephew I wish to see him.”

With tears in her eyes the poor woman delivered the message to the nephew, told him of the disappearance of his brothers, and of his probable fate. The father and mother of the boy wept bitterly, for they were certain he would never return. The boy himself, although frightened, assured his parents to the contrary, and begged them not to worry, for he would come back safe and sound.

“Did my brothers have any playthings?” he asked before going.

He was shown to a box where their things were kept. In it he found a piece of a knife, some eagle-down, and a sour cranberry. These he hid about his person, and went to meet his uncle. The latter greeted him, and said : “Nephew, let us go and fetch some wood.”

When they came to a large forest, the boy remarked: “Here is good wood; let us take some of it, and go back.”

“Oh, no! There is better wood farther on,” said the uncle.

From the forest they stepped into a bare plain, “Let us go back. There is no wood here,” called the boy. But the uncle motioned to him to come on, telling him that they would soon find better wood. A little later they came to a big log. “Here is what I want,” exclaimed the uncle, and began splitting it. “Here, nephew, jump in, and get that wedge out,” called the uncle to the boy, as one of the wedges fell in. When the boy did so, the man knocked out the other wedges; the log closed in on the boy, and held him fast. “Stay there!” said Unnatural Uncle, and walked off.

For some time the boy remained in this helpless condition, planning a means of escape. At last he thought of his sour cranberry, and, taking it in his hand, he rubbed with it the interior of the log from edge to edge. The sourness of the berry caused the log to open its mouth, thus freeing him.

On his way back to the village, he gathered a bundle of wood, which he left at his uncle’s door, announcing the fact to him : “Here, uncle, I have brought you the wood.” The latter was both surprised and vexed at his failure, and determined more than ever to kill the boy. His wife, however, warned him: “You had better not harm the boy; you have killed his brothers, and if you hurt him, you will come to grief.”

“I will kill him, too,” he savagely replied.

When the boy reached his father’s home, he found them weeping and mourning. “Don’t weep!” he pleaded. “He cannot hurt me; no matter where he takes me, I will always come back.” In the morning he was again summoned to appear at his uncle’s. Before going, he entreated his parents not to feel uneasy, assuring them that no harm would befall him, and that he would be back. The uncle called the boy to go with him after some ducks and eggs. They passed several places abounding in ducks and eggs, and each time that the boy suggested, “Let us take these and go back,” the uncle replied: “Oh, no! There are better ducks and eggs farther on.” At last they came to a steep bluff, and, looking down, saw a great many ducks and eggs. “Go down carefully, nephew, and gather those ducks and eggs. Be quick, and come back as soon as you can.”

The boy saw the trap at a glance, and prepared for it by taking the eagle-down in each hand, between thumb and finger. As the boy took a step or two downward, the uncle gave him a push, causing him to lose his footing. “He will never come back alive from here,” smiled the uncle to himself, as he walked back. If he had remained awhile longer and looked down before going, he would have seen the boy descending gently instead of falling. The eagle-down kept him up in the air, and he lighted at his own pleasure safe and sound. After gathering all the ducks and eggs he wanted, he ascended by holding up the down, as before, and blowing under it. Up, up he went, and in a short time stood on the summit. It was night before he sighted his uncle’s home. At the door he deposited the birds and eggs, and shouted: “Here, uncle, are the ducks and eggs.”

“What! back again!” exclaimed the man very much mortified. His wife again pleaded with him to leave the boy in peace. “You will come to grief, if you don’t,” she said. “No; he cannot hurt me,” he replied angrily, and spent the remainder of the night thinking and planning.

Although he assured them that he would return, the boy’s parents did not have much faith in it; for he found them on his return weeping for him. This grieved him. “Why do you weep?” he said. “Didn’t I say I would come back ? He can take me to no place from which I cannot come back.”

In the evening of the third day the aunt appeared and said that her husband wished the boy. He told his parents not to be disturbed, and promised to come back soon. This time the uncle invited him to go with him after clams. The clams were very large, large enough to inclose a man. It was ebb tide, and they found plenty of clams not far from the beach. The boy suggested that they take these and go back, but the uncle put him off with, “There are better clams farther out.” They waded into the water, and then the man noticed an extraordinarily large clam. “Take him,” he said, but when the boy bent over, the clam took him in. So confident was Unnatural Uncle of his success this time that he uttered not a word, but with a triumphant grin on his face and a wave of his hand he walked away. The boy tried to force the valves apart, but not succeeding, he cut the ligament with his piece of a knife, compelling the clam to open up little by little until he was able to hop out. He gathered some clams, and left them at his uncle’s door as if nothing had happened. The man, on hearing the boy’s voice outside, was almost beside himself with rage. His wife did not attempt to pacify him. “I will say nothing more,” she said. “I have warned you, and if you persist in your ways, you will suffer.”

The next day Unnatural Uncle was busy making a box.

“What is it for?” asked his wife.

“A plaything for our nephew,” he replied.

In the evening the boy was sent for. On leaving his parents, he said: “Do not feel uneasy about my absence. This time I may be away a long time, but I will come back nevertheless.”

“Nephew, here is something to amuse you,” said his uncle. “Get inside of it, so that I may see whether it fits you.” It fitted him, so did the lid the box, and the rope the lid. He felt himself borne along, and from the noise of the waves he knew it was to the sea. The box was lowered, and with a shove it was set adrift. It was stormy, the waves beat over the box, and several times he gave himself up as lost. How long he drifted he had no idea; but at last he heard the waves dashing against the beach, and his heart rejoiced. Louder, and louder did the joyful peal sound. He gathered himself together for the sudden stop which soon came, only to feel himself afloat again the next moment. This experience he went through several times, before the box finally stopped and he realized he was on land once more.

As he lay there, many thoughts passed through his mind: where was he? was any one living there? would he be saved? or would the flood-tide set him adrift again? what were his people at home doing? These, and many other thoughts passed through his brain, when he was startled by hearing voices, which he recognized, a little later, as women’s. This is what he heard:

“I saw the box first,” said one.

“No, I saw it first,” said the other.

“I am sure I saw it before you,” said the first speaker again, “and, therefore, it is mine.”

“Well, you may have the box, but its contents shall belong to me,” replied the other.

They picked up the box, and began to carry it, but finding it somewhat heavy and being anxious to know what it contained, they stopped to untie it.

“If there are many things in there, I shall have some of them,” said the first speaker, who rued her bargain. The other one said nothing. Great was their surprise on beholding him. He was in turn surprised to see two such beautiful girls, the large village, the numerous people, and their peculiar appearance, for he was among the Eagle people in Eagle land. The full grown people, like the full grown eagles, had white faces and heads, while those of the young people, like those of young eagles, were dark. Eagle skins were hanging about all over the village; and it amused him to watch some of the people put on their eagle skins and change to eagles, and after flying around, take them off and become human beings again.

The girls, being the daughters of the village chief, led the boy to their father, each claiming him. When he had heard them both, the chief gave the boy to the older girl (the second speaker). With her he lived happily, but his thoughts would very often wander back to his former home, the people there, his parents; and the thought of his uncle’s cruelty to them would make his heart ache. His wife noted these spells of depression, and questioned him about them until he told her of his parents and uncle. She, like a good wife, bade him cheer up, and then went to have a talk with her father. He sent for his son-in-law, and advised him to put on his (chief’s) eagle skin, soar up high until he could see his village, fly over there, visit his parents, and bring them back with him. He did as he was told, and in a short time found himself in the village. Although he could see all other people, his parents were not in sight.

This was in the evening. During the night he went out to sea, brought back a large whale, and placed it on the beach, knowing that all the villagers would come out for the meat. The first person to come to the village beach in the morning was Unnatural Uncle; and when he saw the whale, he aroused the village, and a little later all, except the boy’s father and mother, were there, cutting and storing up the whale. His parents were not permitted to come near the whale, and when some of the neighbors left some meat at their house. Unnatural Uncle scolded, and forbade it being done again. “I can forgive him the killing of my brothers, the attempts on my life, but I will revenge his treatment of my parents.” With these thoughts in his mind, the eagle left his perch, and flew over to the crowd. He circled over its head a little while, and then made a swoop at his uncle. “Ah, he knows that I am chief, and the whale is mine, and he asks me for a piece of meat.” Saying this, he threw a piece of meat at the eagle. The second time the eagle descended it was still nearer the man’s head, but he tried to laugh it off, and turn it to his glory. The people, however, did not see it that way, and warned him to keep out of the eagle’s clutches, for the eagle meant mischief. When the eagle dropped the third time, it was so near his head that he fell on his face. The fourth time the eagle swooped him, and flew off with him.

Not far from the shore was a high and steep rock, and on its summit the eagle put down the man, placing himself opposite. When he had taken off the skin, and disclosed himself, he said to his trembling uncle : “I could have forgiven you the death of my brothers, the four attempts on my life, but for the cruel treatment of my parents you shall pay. The whale I brought was for my parents and others, and not for you alone; but you took entire possession of it, and would not allow them even to approach it. I will not kill you without giving you a chance for your life. Swim back to the shore, and you shall be spared.” As he could not swim, Unnatural Uncle supplicated his nephew to take him back, but the latter, putting on the eagle skin, and hardening his eagle heart, clutched him, and from a dizzy height in the air dropped him into the sea.

From the beach the crowd watched the fatal act, understood and appreciated it, and, till it was dark, continued observing, from the distance, the eagle. When all had retired, he pulled off the skin, and set out for his father’s barrabara. He related to his parents his adventures, and invited them to accompany him to his adopted land, to which they gladly consented. Early in the morning he put on again his skin, and, taking a parent in each claw, flew with them to Eagle land, and there they are living now.

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

The Grouse-Girl

Two men, an old lame man and a young handsome one, live in isolation, hunting daily. A persistent grouse transforms into a beautiful woman, becoming the old man’s wife after being rejected by the younger. Consumed by jealousy, the younger man kills his partner but is scorned by the woman, who reclaims her grouse form and abandons him to loneliness.

Source
Tales from Kodiak Island
collected by F.A. Golder
The Journal of American Folklore
Vol. 16, No. 61, Apr. – Jun., 1903

► Themes of the story

Love and Betrayal: The younger man’s jealousy leads him to betray and murder his partner, underscoring the destructive power of envy.

Supernatural Beings: The woman’s ability to shift between grouse and human form introduces elements of the supernatural.

Tragic Flaw: The younger man’s envy and impulsiveness result in his ultimate isolation and despair.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Aleut people

These tales were obtained by the author at Unga Island, Alaska, during a three years’ residence. They were told in the Russian language by Mrs. Reed, Nicoli Medvednikoff, Corneil Panamaroff, all natives of the island of Kodiak where they had heard them, and translated some literally, others more freely. The natives of Kodiak speak Russian almost as freely as they do their mother tongue. They call themselves “Aleuts,” and wherever that word is used, it refers to them, and not to the real Aleuts to the west. The author has but lately returned from Alaska.

Two men, the older lame and unattractive, the younger sound and handsome, lived by themselves in a barrabara, far from other human beings. When they arose in the morning, they drank some oil — to keep hunger away the rest of the day — and then went out hunting; one to the hills, and the other to the beach. In the evening one returned with seal meat, while his partner brought bear meat. Many years they lived in this manner without seeing or even knowing that other people existed.

After the usual breakfast one morning, the older man went to the beach to hunt, and the younger man to the hills, and in the evening both returned loaded with seal and bear meat respectively. By rubbing together two sticks of wood, they soon had a fire over which they cooked some meat, and, after eating, put on their parkas and sat outside on the barrabara, with their faces toward the sea. While sitting there, a grouse appeared and lit on the barrabara, near the younger man, and commenced pecking. “Why does the grouse come here?” the man asked, and pushed her away. She flew up, but returned a moment later to the place occupied before. Seeing her there again, the handsome fellow said to the other one: “What is the matter with the bird? Her home is on the hills, and yet she is bothering here.”

► Continue reading…

He drove her off, but she, not discouraged, came back to him.

“What does she want?” he exclaimed impatiently, and forced her away rather roughly.

When she descended the fourth time, it was by the side of the lame man who took her in his hand, began stroking her, and finally decided to keep her as his pet. Before retiring, the lame man made a nest for the bird near him, and then all turned in for the night.

The next morning the men went hunting as usual. As they approached the barrabara in the evening, they were greatly surprised to see smoke coming out of it, and on entering to find it clean, a warm supper waiting for them, and a pair of new torbarsar (shoes made of sealskin) garters hanging over the lame man’s bed. “Somebody has been here today,” said the younger man; and although they looked outside and inside, they found no one. The grouse was on her nest, her head hidden under her drooping wings, and looked altogether tired. Perceiving her condition, the lame man remarked: “The bird has had nothing to eat or drink the whole day; she must be both hungry and thirsty.”

This little excitement did not prevent them from enjoying their supper, nor did it disturb their sound sleep during the night; and the next morning they proceeded with their daily occupation. As the evening before, they found their home in order, the meat cooked, and a pair of new torbarsars hanging where the garters hung the day previous. The grouse was on her nest, her head under the drooping wings, but no one else was to be found, although they searched a long time. After eating their supper, the older man fed and played with the grouse, and then they all went to sleep.

On account of the stormy weather, the several days following the men remained at home. During that time the bird tried once more to gain the good grace of the handsome man, but he treated her roughly, and would not let her come near him, and she avoided him after this. The first favorable day the two men went in different directions to hunt. As soon as the younger man was out of sight, the lame man squatted down, saying: “I will watch to-day and see who cleans and cooks for us, and makes torbarsars for me.” Slowly and cautiously he crawled back quite close to the barrabara, and waited. The morning passed without giving him a clue, but towards evening he saw smoke coming out of the smoke hole. He crept still closer, and heard footsteps within. While he lay there, guessing who it might be, a young and beautiful girl stepped out. Her face was white, hair and eyebrows black, the parka was of white grouse feathers, and the leggings of the fur seal torbarsars were white with various trimmings. He gazed at her, and when she went in, he followed her, watched her a moment at her work, and then seized her.

“Ai-Ai-Y-a-h!” she exclaimed. “You scared me. Let me go.” Instead he drew her fondly to him, and when he did so, her face reddened with blushes.

“I will not let you go,” he said; but when he noticed a grouse skin on the nest, he freed her, and although she begged to have the skin back, he took it outside, and hid it.

The handsome man was both scared and amazed, but he asked no questions. Since it was customary for a newly married man to stay at home with his wife for a certain time, it was a long time before the old man went out hunting again. When he did so, he always returned before his partner, and generally found a pair of torbarsars or some other present waiting for him; but the younger man found nothing.

Though the younger man asked no questions, and knew not who the girl was and where she came from, he did a great deal of thinking. It puzzled him to know why the girl preferred a lame, old man to him a young, handsome man. She did not like him, he knew, for she never made anything for him, while the lame man had presents forced on him. He finally decided to take matters in his own hands, and make the girl his wife. One night, when the married couple were asleep, he arose and killed the lame man. Going back to his bed, he called to the girl to leave her dead husband, and be his wife. This she refused to do. “You cannot go away from here,” he said; “you will have to be my wife.”

“I will never be your wife,” she answered; and getting up, she searched for the grouse skin among her husband’s things, and found it in his tool bag. This she hid under her parka. When he called her again, saying, “Come, you are my wife,” she replied: “I came here to be your wife, but you did not take me. Three times I came to you, and three times you chased me away. The last time you hurt me. I will not be your wife now.” While speaking, she pulled out the grouse skin, shook it three times, and, when she had finished, pulled it on herself, and flew out through the smoke hole, leaving the young, sound, and handsome man wifeless and partnerless.

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

The Two Inquisitive Men

Achayongch and Achgoyan, two aloof yet inquisitive men, embark on perilous journeys to investigate mysterious figures. Laden with peculiar belongings, they confront hostile adversaries and endure surreal challenges. On their final venture, tricked by an old man on an island, they are capsized, transforming into two capes. Their restless spirits symbolize the turbulence that now defines those coastal regions.

Source
Tales from Kodiak Island
collected by F.A. Golder
The Journal of American Folklore
Vol. 16, No. 60, Jan. – Mar., 1903

► Themes of the story

Quest: The protagonists embark on journeys to investigate mysterious figures, driven by their inquisitiveness.

Transformation: Their final journey results in their transformation into two capes, altering their existence.

Cunning and Deception: They are deceived by an old man on an island, leading to their downfall.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Aleut people

These tales were obtained by the author at Unga Island, Alaska, during a three years’ residence. They were told in the Russian language by Mrs. Reed, Nicoli Medvednikoff, Corneil Panamaroff, all natives of the island of Kodiak where they had heard them, and translated some literally, others more freely. The natives of Kodiak speak Russian almost as freely as they do their mother tongue. They call themselves “Aleuts,” and wherever that word is used, it refers to them, and not to the real Aleuts to the west. The author has but lately returned from Alaska.

There were two men; the name of one was Achayongch, the name of the other Achgoyan. They lived together, but spoke and looked at each other only when really compelled to do so. Anything happening at other places was known to them, and they generally went there to investigate. They went, looked, said not a word, did not a thing, and returned. One day, as they were sitting in their barrabara around the fire, their backs toward each other, and eating shell-fish, Achgoyan pulled out a feather from his hair, threw it from him, and said, “Achayongch, what shall we do? There is a man living over there on the other side. He hunts every day with his sling.”

Achayongch was silent for awhile, then he scratched his ear, and said, “I do not know what is the matter with me. There is much whistling in my ear.”

Silence for a long time; finally Achgoyan, pulling out another feather from his hair, and throwing it from him, said, “Achayongch, what shall we do? There is a man living over there on the other side. He hunts every day with his sling.”

After scratching his ear, Achayongch replied, “I do not know what is the matter. There is much whistling in my ear.”

► Continue reading…

A third time Achgoyan threw away a feather, saying, “There is a man living on the other side whose name is Plochgoyuli. He hunts every day with his ‘plochgo’ (sling). We will go and see.”

They set about preparing for the trip. On the canoe was piled the barrabara, the bugs and insects of the barrabara (they, being considered personal property, went with the house and person), the grave and remains of their wife. Achgoyan then thought that the canoe was sufficiently loaded; but on launching it was discovered too heavily loaded on one side; and in order to have it equally heavy on both sides, they dug up a little hillock, and put it on, and when they had filled hollow reeds with fresh water, started off.

Coming close to the other shore, they saw Plochgoyuli hunting ducks with his sling. He saw them too, knew the nature of their visit, and on that account threw rocks at them so as to destroy them. The first rock hit close to the canoe, and made Achgoyan, exclaim, “Ka! Ka! Ka! Ka! It nearly hit.” The second rock hit still closer, and he exclaimed again, “Ka! Ka! Ka! Ka!” and as the rocks continued coming, they steered their canoe around, but not before Plochgoyuli had damaged the canoe. On returning home, all the things were replaced.

A few days later they were sitting in the barrabara around the fire, their backs toward each other, eating shell-fish. Achgoyan pulled out a feather, and throwing it from him, said, “Achayongch, there is a man living on an island. He heats a bath, and catches codfish every day.”

Achayongch scratched his ear, and replied, “I do not know what is the matter; but there is much whistling in my ear today.”

A pause; then Achgoyan pulled out another feather, saying, “Achayongch, there is a man living on an island in the middle of the sea whose name is Petingyuwock. He heats a bath, and catches codfish every day.”

“I do not know what is the matter; but there is much whistling in my ear today,” answered Achayongch.

Silence for a long time; finally Achgoyan, pulling out a third feather, spoke up, “Achayongch, there is a man living on an island in the middle of the sea, whose name is Petingyuwock. He heats a bath, and catches codfish every day. Let us go and see.”

They paddled off in the canoe, loaded with barrabara, bugs, grave, and hillock. On reaching the island, they beached the canoe, and went into the barrabara. An old man who was sitting there exclaimed, “Futi ! where is the man-smell coming from?”

“We came to see because we heard that there is a man living here who heats a bath, and catches codfish every day.”

“The bath is ready,” said Petingyuwock, and Achayongch and Achgoyan went in to take a bath. While they were bathing, the old man tied together a lot of thin, dried kelp, which he had kept to make clothes, into a long rope, and fastened one end of it to the canoe. That done, he roasted a codfish and gave it to the men when they came out of the bath. “There is a strong wind blowing. You had better hasten back,” suggested the old man.

The men pushed off against a strong sea-breeze; and when quite a distance from the shore, the old man commenced pulling his end of the rope, gradually drawing them back, and when he had them close to the shore, asked them why they delayed, since the wind was freshening up every moment. A second time they started. This time they went about half way across before Petingyuwock, who was in the barrabara, began hauling in the rope until the canoe was on shore again. He then came out, and demanded to know why they did not go while there was yet time. The third time they paddled against such a strong breeze that with great difficulty headway was made at all. When half way across, the old man pulled again the rope, but the wind upset the canoe.

The grave of their wife became a porpoise. Achayongch and Achgoyan were cast on the shore, where they became two capes; and since then quiet and peace are unknown on capes; for the men were inquisitive.

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

Light

In a time when light was scarce and hoarded by one village, a persistent raven undertook a daring quest to bring illumination to all. Using cunning and determination, he tricked the guardians of light, releasing the moon, stars, and sun into the sky. His triumph earned him glory, marriage to the chief’s daughters, and a place in myth as a symbol of ingenuity and perseverance.

Source
Tales from Kodiak Island
collected by F.A. Golder
The Journal of American Folklore
Vol. 16, No. 61, Apr. – Jun., 1903

► Themes of the story

Creation: The tale explains the origin of celestial bodies—moon, stars, and sun—illuminating the previously dark world.

Trickster: The raven embodies the trickster archetype, using his wit to deceive the guardians and achieve his goal.

Quest: The raven embarks on a journey to obtain light for all, facing challenges along the way.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Aleut people

These tales were obtained by the author at Unga Island, Alaska, during a three years’ residence. They were told in the Russian language by Mrs. Reed, Nicoli Medvednikoff, Corneil Panamaroff, all natives of the island of Kodiak where they had heard them, and translated some literally, others more freely. The natives of Kodiak speak Russian almost as freely as they do their mother tongue. They call themselves “Aleuts,” and wherever that word is used, it refers to them, and not to the real Aleuts to the west. The author has but lately returned from Alaska.

Light was not so universal formerly as now. Its cheering influences were then cast over one village only; and even there it depended on the caprices of the chief, who regulated and guarded it jealously. All other villages lived in darkness, although aware of the existence of light in that village.

They made many attempts to get possession of it : some, after a few efforts, gave up in despair; others, not so easily discouraged, continued a longer time with the same empty result; and one village, owing to the persistent character of its chief, would never own itself defeated, and persevered in spite of past failures.

Here, in the village hall, the people gathered daily to discuss the all-important question of light, and concluded to call for volunteers to go in quest of it. To the fortunate one the following reward was held out — eternal glory, and the hand of the chief’s beautiful and favorite daughter.

Considering the inducements, there were no lack of volunteers at first, but, as none of these returned, not even to tell the story of the failure, the list became small and smaller, and after a time weeks would pass without any one offering himself.

► Continue reading…

What became of these eager seekers after light was a mystery. It was generally supposed that some dropped by the wayside, and the others, on reaching the land of light, and finding the task too arduous, decided to remain there always rather than go back without light. The chief, however, was undaunted, and continued calling the meetings and for volunteers regularly.

At one of these the raven was present. He listened attentively to all the speeches, and heard the chief’s call for volunteers, and when a considerable time had elapsed without any one indicating his desire to go, he rose and addressed the assembly. Sad to say, his speech has been lost in the dark ages, except the last and memorable words: “I will bring you light.” This was followed by such loud peals of laughter and mocking hoots that the building almost shook. The chief, who was deep in thought during the raven’s harangue, was aroused from his revery by this sudden outburst of laughter, and inquired the cause of it. With much derision the speech and boasts of the raven were repeated to him. Although he may have had as little faith in the words of the raven as the others, he was yet too wise a man to let any opportunity, no matter how slim, of obtaining light — the great object of his life — go by unembraced. Instead of joining in the laughter, he mildly reproved his followers, and then addressing himself to the raven, congratulated him on his noble resolution, encouraged him to persevere, and ended by reminding him of the prize that awaited him whose efforts should be crowned with success.

With this the meeting dissolved. The raven, satisfied with the present and rejoicing in the future, flew home to make ready for the expedition. Joyfully he related the events of the day to his grandmother, a woman. “Caw! caw! caw! Grandmother, tomorrow I start after the light; and on my return with it I shall marry the chief’s beautiful daughter and become famous. Make all things ready, for I leave early in the morning. Caw! caw! caw!”

“Ai-Ai-Yah !” she exclaimed. “Better ones than you have tried and failed, and how will you, a raven, get it? Why do you want to marry? Who will marry such a one as you? You smell too strong.”

This was too much for him. “You old hag!” he screamed with rage, “Who is asking your opinion or advice ? How does my smell concern you? You will not sleep with me. To spite you I will marry, and the chief’s daughter at that. Even if I am a raven, I will do what I promise; and you do what I tell you, or you will be sorry.”

She was sorry there and then, for he went at her with claws and bill till she begged for mercy, and promised to be more considerate in the future.

Early the next morning he left the village, and after several days of flight in the darkness it lightened up faintly. The farther he went, the lighter it became; and when he reached the village, the light was so strong that it almost blinded him. It was a large and cheerful village; the chief’s large barrabara, where the lights were kept, was in the centre. Close by was a spring of water, and there the raven alighted and eyed sharply the women as they came for water. Not noticing the chief’s daughter among them, he began to wish that she would appear. A moment later he saw her coming towards him; and when she had dipped out some water, he murmured, “I wish she would drink some of it.” The words had barely been said when she bent over to drink. Instantly he changed himself into a tiny piece of down, and, unnoticed, she gulped it down with the water.

She conceived, and in due time gave birth to a son, a raven. Being the first child of an only child, he was fondled and nursed tenderly. The chief was especially devoted to him, and loved him even more than his daughter. He was indulged and humored in all his wishes. Whatever he saw he called for; whatever he called for had to be given to him; and if it was not given him immediately, he cawed, cried, pestered, clawed, and pecked until he got it. In this manner he handled everything on the premises that might possibly contain the lights, except three little caskets on an out of the way shelf. These he noticed one day, and asked for them. The chief was asleep, and as no one else dared touch them, the request was denied. But he would have them, and he commenced such a cawing, scratching, and hawing that the chief awoke. Not waiting to learn the cause of all this disturbance, he shouted angrily, “O, give him anything he wants, and shut him up!” and went to sleep again.

The caskets were handed him, and he opened them one by one. In the first was night; the second contained the moon and stars; and in the third the sun was shining. He looked at them awhile, and then thrust them aside as worthless. But a few days later, when no one was about, he flew upon the shelf, grasped the two boxes containing the precious lights, and flew out with them. Some of the people outside noticed him, and raised the cry: “A raven flew out of the chief’s barrabara with two boxes in his mouth! “When the chief discovered his loss, the raven was miles away.

He flew many days; and each day it grew darker and darker until he was in darkness altogether. After suffering some hardships he arrived in the village, reported himself to the chief, and requested that the people be called together. When all were assembled, he addressed them, congratulated them, reminded them of the last meeting, the promises made, and concluded by saying: “I have brought you light.” In the presence of all he opened one of the caskets, and instantly the moon and stars were visible in the sky. The people and chief were almost wild with joy; and the latter kept his promise, and bestowed on him his favorite daughter.

On the morrow the raven called on his father-in-law, and asked what he had to offer for a still better light than even the moon and stars. “My other daughter,” replied the chief. “Call the people, and you shall have it,” said the raven. If the villagers were wild with joy on seeing the moon and stars, imagine their emotions on beholding for the first time the sun. Since that memorable day the sun, moon, and stars have illuminated the whole world. The crow married the two daughters of the chief, with whom he is living very happily to this day.

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

The Girl Who Married the Moon

Two cousins, enchanted by the moon, declare their love and play under its light until one is whisked away by a mysterious moon-man to become his wife. Curious and defiant, she disobeys his warnings, discovers celestial secrets, and faces consequences that bind her to share the moon’s labor. Thus, myth explains the moon’s waxing and waning.

Source
Tales from Kodiak Island
collected by F.A. Golder
The Journal of American Folklore
Vol. 16, No. 60, Jan. – Mar., 1903

► Themes of the story

Forbidden Knowledge: The girl is cautioned against looking behind certain curtains but succumbs to curiosity, uncovering hidden aspects of the moon’s existence.

Origin of Things: The tale provides an explanation for the moon’s waxing and waning phases, attributing them to the shared labor between the moon and the girl.

Love and Betrayal: The initial affection between the girl and the moon-man is tested by her disobedience, leading to a complex dynamic in their relationship.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Aleut people

These tales were obtained by the author at Unga Island, Alaska, during a three years’ residence. They were told in the Russian language by Mrs. Reed, Nicoli Medvednikoff, Corneil Panamaroff, all natives of the island of Kodiak where they had heard them, and translated some literally, others more freely. The natives of Kodiak speak Russian almost as freely as they do their mother tongue. They call themselves “Aleuts,” and wherever that word is used, it refers to them, and not to the real Aleuts to the west. The author has but lately returned from Alaska.

Two girls, cousins, lived in a large village; and those evenings when the moon was out they went to the beach to play. Claiming the moon as their husband, they spent the night in gazing and making love to him. For shelter they had a propped-up bidarka (large skin boat), and in the course of the night they changed their positions several times, so as to be face to face with the moon. If on their return to their homes in the morning their parents questioned their whereabouts, they replied that they watched the moon till he passed from sight. Many of the people heard them remark on different occasions that they loved the moon, and wished they, too, were moons.

One evening, in company with other young people, they amused themselves on the beach. Night coming on, the others returned to their homes, but these two remained. When during the night the moon withdrew from sight, one of the girls complained:

“Why does the moon hide himself so suddenly? I like to play with him, and have light.” “I, too,” said the other. Although they thought it was close on to morning, and that the moon had vanished for the night, it was yet midnight with the moon behind the clouds.

► Continue reading…

Up to this time they had not noticed their dishevelled hair, and when they now began to put it in order, they were startled by hearing a noise close to them, followed immediately by a young man. He looked at them for a moment, and then said: “You have been professing love for me since a long time. I have watched and observed you, and know you love me, therefore have I come for you. But as my work is hard, I can take only one of you, the more patient one.”

As each claimed superiority in that virtue, he said, “I will decide this point myself; I will take both of you. Now close your eyes, and keep them closed.” So saying, he grabbed each by the hair, and the next moment they were rushing through the air. The patience of one was soon exhausted, and, on peeping, she dropped down, down, down, leaving her hair behind her in his hands. In the morning she found herself near the bidarka, from which she had parted not long since. The other girl, however, kept her eyes closed, and in the morning found herself in a comfortable barrabara, the home of the moon. There as his wife she lived for a time, apparently happy in loving him. Generally he slept during the day, and was out during the night; but frequently he went away in the morning and returned in the evening; at other times he left in the middle of the day, and when he returned, it was night. His irregular going-out and coming-in puzzled her much; but he never offered to explain to her where he went and what he did in his absence.

This silence and indifference piqued her not a little. She bore it as long as she could, and then called him to account.

“You go out every day, every evening, every morning, and every night. Where do you go? What do you do? Who knows the kind of people you associate with, while I am left here behind.”

“I do not associate with the people here, for there are none of my kind here,” said he. “I have work to do, and cannot hang around you all the time.”

“If it is so hard, why don’t you take me with you to help you sometimes,” she asked.

“I have too much hard work to be bothered with you,” he replied.

“I brought you up here because I had no rest when you were down there. You and your lovely cousin were always staring and staring at me. No matter where I looked, your grins always met me. Now stop being foolish and wishing to go with me; for you cannot help me. Stay home, and be a good girl.”

“You don’t expect me to stay home all the time,” she said, weeping. “If I cannot go with you, may I not go out by myself occasionally?”

“Yes, go anywhere you like, except in the two barrabaras yonder. In the corner of each there is a curtain, under which you must on no account look.” Saying this, he left the barrabara, and that night he looked paler than usual.

Shortly after she went out for a walk; and although she went far and in different directions, she could see no people and only the three barrabaras aforementioned. Short trails there were many. Some of them she followed, and in each case stumbled on a man stretched out face down. It gave her much pleasure to kick them, which she invariably did. On being so disturbed, each would turn on her his one bright sparkling eye, and cry out : “Why do you kick me? I am working and am busy.” She kicked them till she was tired and then started home.

The two barrabaras were on her way, and of course, she had to look in. With the exception of a curtain in the corner, the first barrabara was bare. She could not resist the desire to look under the curtain, and when she did so, she beheld a half-moon, a quarter of a moon, and a small piece of a moon. In the second barrabara, she found a full moon, one almost full, and another more than half full. After thinking it over, she could see no harm in trying one on just to see how well it would become her. The one almost full pleased her best, so she put it on one side of her face, and there it stuck. Notwithstanding she cried, “Ai, Ai, Y-a-h’, Ai, Ai, Yah’,” tugged, and pulled it would not come off. Fearing her husband would arrive on the scene, she hastened home, threw herself on the bed, and covered up her face.

There he found her on his return, complaining that her face was paining her. He, however, suspected the real cause, and went out to investigate. On his return, he questioned her about the missing moon. “Yes,” she admitted; “I tried it on just for fun; and now I cannot take it off.” She expected him to fly into a rage, but he did nothing of the kind. Going up to her, he pulled it off gently. Seeing him in such unusual good humor, she related to him the adventures of the day, especially the sport she had with the one-eyed people scattered over the sky.

“They are stars,” he said reprovingly.

When she had concluded, he said to her: “Since of your own free will you put on this moon, wear it from now on, and help me in my hard work. I will begin the month, and go the rounds until the full moon; after that you will start in, and finish out the month, while I rest.” To this arrangement she consented, and ever since then the two have shared the hard work between them.

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

The Girl Who Married a Star

A chief’s sheltered daughter, confined to her barrabara, resists marriage despite suitors. Succumbing to a stranger’s plea, she escapes, only to endure cruelty from deceitful husbands. Rescued by a mystical old woman, she marries a celestial being, births a unique child, and bridges the earthly and cosmic realms. Her story reflects love, transformation, and finding belonging in an extraordinary union.

Source
Tales from Kodiak Island
collected by F.A. Golder
The Journal of American Folklore
Vol. 16, No. 60, Jan. – Mar., 1903

► Themes of the story

Journey to the Otherworld: Her marriage to a celestial being symbolizes a transition from the earthly realm to a cosmic or otherworldly existence.

Trials and Tribulations: The narrative details the various challenges and adversities she faces, highlighting her resilience and endurance.

Love and Betrayal: The story explores themes of romantic relationships, including the complexities of trust and deception.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Aleut people

These tales were obtained by the author at Unga Island, Alaska, during a three years’ residence. They were told in the Russian language by Mrs. Reed, Nicoli Medvednikoff, Corneil Panamaroff, all natives of the island of Kodiak where they had heard them, and translated some literally, others more freely. The natives of Kodiak speak Russian almost as freely as they do their mother tongue. They call themselves “Aleuts,” and wherever that word is used, it refers to them, and not to the real Aleuts to the west. The author has but lately returned from Alaska.

The chief of a very large village had an only daughter whom he never permitted to go outside of her barrabara Two servant girls were at her beck and call, and they attended to her wants.

One lovely summer day, the earth and sky being clear and blue, the air inspiriting, she felt herself irresistibly drawn to the window by the glad sunshine peeping through it, by the joyful shouts of those outside, and by the plaintive notes of the golden-crowned sparrow: and as she stood there, seeing and not seeing, she thought of her own sad life, and wondered why the pleasures of the other people were closed to her. She stood there a long time, and when she turned away, there were tears in her eyes. Her servants were watching her; on noticing it, she sent them away, one for fresh water, and the other after sweet roots. At their departure her imagination and feelings took again control of her. Her past life stood out before her very distinctly, and she groaned when she thought of the numerous proposals of marriage she had received during the last year; for nearly every day one or more men from the neighboring villages came to ask her in marriage from her father. He was unwilling to part with her, especially against her consent; and she, with her very limited knowledge of men and their ways, thought marriage strange and foolish, and rejected all offers.

► Continue reading…

With this subject in her mind, she was interrupted by her servants, who were sent by her father to announce to her that a bidarka with two young men had just arrived to seek her in marriage.

“Oh! why should I marry? Go, and say to them that I have no desire to marry. I am content to live as I am. Here it is warm. Why should I marry when I am not even allowed to go outside?”

One of the servants took the liberty of suggesting that, “One of the fellows is very young and handsome, the other not quite so. You had better marry now.”

“If he pleases you, marry him. I am satisfied and warm here; and why should I marry?” she curtly replied.

“They are waiting for you,” the other servant said, “and you may come outside if you like.”

“Go, bring me the water and roots, and tell them I will not marry.” Saying this, she pushed them outside, and, throwing herself on the bed, had a good cry. When the servants returned with roots and water, they found her in such a state that they feared she was ill. They questioned and tried to pacify her, but she paid no attention to them. “What have we done to you that you should be angry with us. It is not our fault that you please all men, and they desire to marry you. If your father finds out your present condition, he will punish us,” etc.

In the evening she said to the girls, “Go, sleep in the adjoining barrabara; if I need you, I will call you.” When they had filled the stone lamp, fixed her bed, and in other ways arranged for her comfort during the night, they went out.

Unable to sleep, the girl sat up, making sinew thread; and about midnight she heard some one cutting the intestine window, and a man’s voice calling softly, —

“Chit! chit! chit! chit! look this way.” She did not, and went on with her work.

“Chit! chit! chit! chit! just look at me once,” he pleadingly called. If she heard him, she took no notice of him.

“Chit! chit! chit! chit! look at me just once.” For the third time she heard the tempter’s call. This time she looked up, and beheld a very handsome young man, with a face as white as hers, and she asked him, “Why do you ask me to look at you?”

“Come here quick! I wish to marry you,” he whispered.

“What for?”

“Come quick! I am going to marry you. Why spend your days and nights in loneliness here. Come with me and see the world,” he coaxingly said.

Without more ado she obeyed, and with the aid of her lover escaped through the window, and hurried down to the beach. There a bidarka and her lover’s friend were awaiting them, and after stowing her away in the bidarka, they paddled off.

It was daylight when they landed, and she was taken to a nice clean barrabara. Here she lived three days, and during that time she was by turns the wife of both. On the morning of the fourth day she was led to a large, open, cold barrabara, and tied up there. It was in the fall of the year, and the cold wind blew through it, and made her shiver with cold. Her food consisted of bare bones. In this cruel and sure way the men hoped to be rid of her.

The second morning of her imprisonment, and while the men were away hunting, the girl, cold and hungry, heard some one approaching. “Tuck, tuck, tuck, tuck,” it sounded as it drew nearer and nearer until it ceased in the entrance. She raised up the leather door, and a very old, shrunken, shrivelled, and toothless woman, bearing a platter of hot meat, entered and said: “I have brought you some meat, for I know you are hungry. Eat fast.” The girl, being very hungry, ate as fast as she could, but still not fast enough to please the old woman, who continued hurrying her to eat still faster. “Eat faster — they will soon appear — why did you marry them — faster still — they are almost here,” she said almost in one breath. When the girl had done eating, the woman cleaned her teeth, so that no sign of food should be left on the premises, and hastily snatching up her platter, disappeared as mysteriously as she appeared.

“Tuck, tuck, tuck, tuck,” floated back faintly, and died out altogether.

The old woman did not go too quickly; for the men appeared very soon after. “Still she lives; she does not even change color. Somewhat tougher than her predecessors,” they laughingly remarked, and left her. A little later they brought her bones; and the girl went at them as if she were famishing. Noticing that the girl was not the worse from her treatment, and suspecting something was wrong, the men commenced to watch. They would go out a short distance from the shore, and then come right back, and conceal themselves. But during their brief absence the old woman appeared and fed the girl. For several days this spying continued.

Very early one morning, just after the men had gone out in their bidarka, the old woman came, with meat, and speaking rapidly, said, “Eat fast — why did you come here — they have starved many girls before you. If you do not wish to die, come with me. I have a son who desires to marry, but cannot get a wife. This is the last time I come to you — the men have discovered, are aware of my visits. If you come with me, the men shall never find you” —

“I will go with you,” interrupted the girl.

In a twinkle the old woman unbound her, and set her in a large basket, which she put on her back. “Now close your eyes tight, and don’t open them till I tell you,” cautioned the old woman. As they began to move, the girl felt the cold air while they buzzed and whizzed through it. Tiring of keeping her eyes closed, she opened them just a little. “Ai, Ai, Y-a-h,” screamed the old woman, “close them, or we will fall in the water.” The noise and whir of the air. as they rushed through it, was so annoying that she began to unclose her eyes for the second time. “Don’t open them now; we will soon arrive, and then you may look,” pleaded the woman.

When they came to a standstill, the girl found herself in front of a large barrabara. The interior was cozy and clean. A cheerful fire was burning, over which were several pots with seal and duck meat. Spreading out a mat in the front part of the room, the old woman begged the girl to be seated; then she brought her a new pair of torbarsars and a sea-otter parka. While the girl was dressing, the old woman ran outside for a moment, and on her return said to the girl: “Don’t be scared when you see my son; although his appearance is terrifying, yet he is very harmless.” This news had a pensive effect on the girl, for she wondered what she had got into. To distract her from her gloomy thoughts, the old woman placed food, and talked to the girl. Pretty soon she went out again, and hurried back, announcing, “Here comes my son.” The girl, already half-frightened, kept her eyes on the doorway, and when, of a sudden, a lot of willow twigs darkened it, she fell back, screaming, “Ai, Ai, Y-a-h! Ai, Ai, Y-a-h!” The old woman hastened to her, trying to calm her. “Don’t be alarmed,” she said; “this is my son; these are some of his hair.” She stared at him, doubting her own eyes; for he was one-sided. That side, however, was complete, and had all its members in the usual place, except the eye, which was in the forehead, and shone very brilliantly.

“Look at the wife I brought you,” the mother called the son’s attention to the girl. He turned his one eye on her, and, from the way it winked and sparkled, he was well pleased. Probably because he was embarrassed, or perhaps he thought it wise to leave the two women to themselves for a time, he left the room. When he returned, a little later, with seals and several kinds of ducks, he found the bride looking more cheerful. The marriage was not delayed at all. In the course of a very short time a child was born, a boy, who was the perfect image of his father, and “just as pretty,” as the grandmother said. There was happiness and no lack of cheering light in the family, especially when pretty, one-sided baby awoke and opened his little wee sparkling eye. Mamma, as was natural, vowed it was the brightest baby she had ever seen, and it had more expression in its one eye than other babies had in their two eyes and face together, to which statement grandmother readily agreed.

Although a bride of several months, the girl had not yet become well acquainted with her husband and his strange body, as is shown from the following incident: One night being stormy, the husband did not go out as usual, and during the night he asked his wife to scratch his moss-covered head, in which his hair, the twigs, were rooted. Telling him to keep his eye open, so she could see, she commenced the operation with the twigs first. In doing so, she disturbed a mouse, which ran and hid in its hole in the moss. “Ai, Ai, Y-a-h!” she shrieked, and dropped his head; “there are mice in your head.”

“Oh, no !” he declared, “they are mere fleas.”

A year had passed since the happy marriage between the son of the sky and the daughter of the earth took place. The one-sided result of this marriage began to grow and become strong. Motherhood brought with it the desire to see her own parents once more. Permission to do this was granted, and the mother-in-law set about making a basket in which to send her down. When it was done, she called the young mother to the fireplace, around which were four flat rocks, and said: “Raise these rocks, and try and find your father’s village.” Darkness of night was in the first one; the rosy tints of dawn were visible in the second; a grand sunset filled the third; and in the fourth she recognized the village of her father, wrapped in midday splendor. Then she seated herself in the basket, to which a rope was tied; but, before lowering her, the mother-in-law gave her some advice: “Close your eyes tight, and don’t open them, for if you do you will fall. Should you meet with an obstacle on the way, stamp your foot, and it will disappear. A second obstacle may impede your progress; do likewise, and it too will vanish. When for the third time the basket stops, unclose your eyes, and you will find yourself in the home of your childhood. If it does not please you down there, seat yourself in the basket again, pull on the rope, and I will draw you up.”

Placing the child in her arms, the old woman lowered away, and after encountering the enumerated obstacles, the young woman saw in front her native village. To the barrabara of her father she directed her footsteps, and, as she drew near, she noticed a grave close by. For when she disappeared so suddenly, her parents, thinking her dead, made a grave for her, probably to take her place (?). She went in, and when the people there saw her with the queer-looking child in her arms, they ran pell-mell out of there, thinking she returned from the land of the dead.

This reception brought tears to her eyes, and, realizing for the first time the great gulf that separated her from her earthly relatives, and that her real home now was with the father of her child, she walked back to the basket, gave the signal, and a little later was welcomed by her mother-in-law and husband, from whom she parted no more, and with whom she is living to this day.

Her husband is a star. At sunrise each morning he goes to sleep for a few hours; after that he hunts ducks, seals, and other sea animals. If, on his return in the evening, it is cloudy and stormy, he spends the night at home with his family; but if it is clear, he stretches himself out on the sky, and observes the doings of the world below, as any one who takes the trouble to look up can see.

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The Raven and His Grandmother

In a starving village, a raven and his grandmother, outcasts with food, become central to survival. The raven marries twice, despite his repellent nature. After bringing a whale for the village, a gluttonous feast ensues, leading to the villagers’ demise. Only the raven, his grandmother, and one wife survive, highlighting themes of greed, survival, and isolation.

Source
Tales from Kodiak Island
collected by F.A. Golder
The Journal of American Folklore
Vol. 16, No. 60, Jan. – Mar., 1903

► Themes of the story

Trickster: The raven exhibits cunning behavior, negotiating with the chief to marry his daughter in exchange for food, despite his unappealing nature.

Conflict with Nature: The villagers’ insatiable hunger leads them to overconsume the whale provided by the raven, resulting in their demise.

Community and Isolation: The raven and his grandmother live apart from the village due to being disliked, emphasizing their separation from the community.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Aleut people

These tales were obtained by the author at Unga Island, Alaska, during a three years’ residence. They were told in the Russian language by Mrs. Reed, Nicoli Medvednikoff, Corneil Panamaroff, all natives of the island of Kodiak where they had heard them, and translated some literally, others more freely. The natives of Kodiak speak Russian almost as freely as they do their mother tongue. They call themselves “Aleuts,” and wherever that word is used, it refers to them, and not to the real Aleuts to the west. The author has but lately returned from Alaska.

In a barrabara (native home), at the end of a large village, lived an old woman with her grandson, a raven. The two lived apart from the other villagers, for they were disliked by them. When the men returned from fishing for cod, and the raven would come and beg a fish, they would never give him one. But when all had left the beach, he would come and pick up any sick fish or refuse that may have been left there. On this he and his grandmother lived.

One winter was very severe. Hunting was impossible; food became scarce to starvation, and even the chief had but little left. One day he (chief) called all his people together, and urged them to make an effort to obtain food, or all would starve. He also announced that he desired his son to marry, and that the bride would be selected from the village girls, who were requested to wash and dress up for the occasion. For a time hunger was forgotten; and in a short time the girls, dressed and looking their best, were lined up under the critical eye of the chief, who selected one of the fairest for his son. A feast of all the eatables the chief had followed; the village was merry for a short time, and then starved again.

The raven perched on a pole outside, observed and listened attentively to all that passed, and after the feast flew home, and said to his grandmother, “Grandmother, I too want to marry.”

► Continue reading…

She made no reply; and he went about his duties, gathering food for his little home, which he did each day by flying along the beach, and picking up a dead fish or a bird.

He gathered more than enough for two, while in the village the hunger was keener each day. When the famine was at its worst, the raven came to the chief, and asked, “Chief, what will you give me, if I bring you food?”

The chief looked at him a while, and answered, “You shall have my oldest daughter for a wife.” No other reward would have pleased him better; he flew away in a joyful mood, and said to his grandmother: “Clean out the barrabara. Make everything ready. I am going to get food for the people, and marry the chief’s oldest daughter.”

“Ai, Ai, Y-a-h! You are not going to marry. Our barrabara is small and dirty. Where will you put your wife ?”

“Caw! Caw! Caw! Never mind. Do as I say,” he screamed, at the same time pecking her.

Early next morning he flew away, and later in the day appeared with a bundle of “yukelah” (dried salmon) in his talons. “Come with me to the chief’s house, grandmother,” he called to her. He handed the fish over to the chief, and received the daughter in exchange. Telling his grandmother to bring the bride home, he preceded them, and cleared out of the barrabara all the straw and bedding. When the two women arrived, they found an empty barrabara, and the old woman began to scold him : —

“What are you doing? Why are you throwing out everything?”

“I am cleaning house,” was his curt reply.

When the time for retiring came, the raven spread out one wing, and asked his bride to lie on it, and then covered her with the other. She spent a miserable and sleepless night in that position. The odor of his body and the breath of his mouth almost smothered her, and she determined to leave him in the morning. But in the morning she decided to stay and try and bear it. During the day she was cheerless and worried, and when the raven offered her food, she would not eat it. On the second night he again invited her to lay her head on his breast, and seek rest in his arms, but she cried and would not; and only after much threatening did he prevail on her to comply with his wish. The second night was not better than the first, and early in the morning she stole away from him and went back to her father, telling him everything.

On awaking and finding his wife gone, the raven inquired of his grandmother whether she knew aught of her whereabouts. She assured him that she did not. “Go, then,” he said, “to the chief, and bring her back.” She feared him, and did his bidding. When she came to the chief’s house, and as soon as she put her foot into it, she was pushed out. This she reported to the raven on her return.

The summer passed, followed by a hard winter and famine. As in the winter before, the raven and his grandmother had plenty, but the others suffered greatly for lack of food. With the return of the hard times, the grandson’s thoughts turned to love. This time it was a girl, young and beautiful, at the other end of the village. When he mentioned the subject and girl to his grandmother, and asked her to “go and bring the girl here — I want to marry her,” she was quite indignant, and told him what she thought about it.

“Ai, Ai, Y-a-h! Are you going to marry again? Your first wife could not live with you, because you smell so strong. The girls do not wish to marry you.”

“Caw! Caw! Caw! Never mind the smell! Never mind the smell! Go — do as I say.” To impress his commands and secure obedience he continued pecking her until she was glad to go. While she was gone, he was very restless and anxious. He hopped about the barrabara and near-by hillocks, straining his eyes for a sight of the expected bride. At last he saw them coming, his grandmother accompanied by the girl. Hurriedly he began cleaning out the barrabara, throwing out not only the straw, but bedding, baskets, and all. The old woman on her return scolded him, but he paid no attention to it.

The young bride, like her predecessor, was enfolded tightly in his wings, and like her predecessor had a wretched and sleepless night, but determined to endure it if possible; for with him she would have enough to eat, at least. The second night was as bad as the first, but she stayed on, and concluded to do so until spring. On the third day the raven, seeing that she was still with him, said to the old woman: “Tomorrow I will go and get a big, fat whale. While I am gone, make a belt and a pair of torbarsars (native shoes) for my wife.”

“Ai, Ai, Y-a-h! How will you bring a whale? The hunters cannot kill one, and how will you do it?”

“Caw! Caw! Caw! Be quiet, and do what I tell you : make the belt and torbarsars. I will do what I say,” he angrily exclaimed, also using his more effective method of silencing her.

Before dawn next morning the raven flew away over the sea. In his absence the old woman was busily engaged making the things for the young bride, who was watching and talking to her. About midday they espied him flying toward the shore, carrying a whale. The grandmother started the fire, and the young woman tucked up her parka (native dress), belted it with the new belt, put on the new torbarsars, sharpened the stone knife, and went to the beach to meet her husband. As he drew near, he cried: “Grandmother, go into the village, and call the people; tell them I have brought a big, fat whale.” She ran as hard as she could, and told the joyful news. The half-dead village of a sudden became alive. Some began sharpening their knives, others to dress; but most of them ran just as they were and with such knives as they had, to the beach where the whale was. His importance was not lost on the raven, who hopped up and down the whale’s back, viewing the scene of carnage and gorging below him. Every now and then he would take out a pebble from the tool bag which he had about him, and after a seeming consultation put it back. When the chief or any of his relatives came near, he drove them off, and they had to satisfy themselves with watching and feasting with their eyes from the distance, while the others were revelling in fat and even carrying off the blubber to their homes. (Later, in the village, the people shared with the chief.)

The raven’s first wife, the chief’s daughter, had a son by him, a little raven. She had it in her arms on this occasion, and walked in front of the raven where he would have to notice her. “Here is your child, look at it,” she called. But he acted as if he heard not. She called several times, and continued forcing the baby before his eyes until he said, “Come nearer, nearer still;” and when quite close to him, he turned around and excreted on them, almost covering up the child. She turned away, and left him without a word.

Death was the result of the feast. A part of the people ate so much fat on the spot that they died soon after; the rest had eaten so much and filled their barrabaras so full of blubber that during the night they suffocated. In the whole village only three were left, the raven, his wife, and his grandmother, and there they live to this day.

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

The Girl Who Went in Search of Her Lover

A beautiful girl defies her village’s misfortunes to search for her lost lover, only to encounter a cannibalistic shaman who killed him. Through cunning and courage, she outwits the shaman and his flesh-eating sisters, ultimately ending their reign of terror. Her daring journey brings peace to her village, transforming her into a celebrated hero and symbol of resilience.

Source
Tales from Kodiak Island
collected by F.A. Golder
The Journal of American Folklore
Vol. 16, No. 60, Jan. – Mar., 1903

► Themes of the story

Quest: The protagonist embarks on a perilous journey to find her lost lover, demonstrating determination and bravery.

Good vs. Evil: The narrative centers on the struggle between the virtuous girl and the malevolent shaman and his sisters.

Revenge and Justice: By defeating the shaman and his sisters, the protagonist avenges her lover’s death and restores peace to her village.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Aleut people

These tales were obtained by the author at Unga Island, Alaska, during a three years’ residence. They were told in the Russian language by Mrs. Reed, Nicoli Medvednikoff, Corneil Panamaroff, all natives of the island of Kodiak where they had heard them, and translated some literally, others more freely. The natives of Kodiak speak Russian almost as freely as they do their mother tongue. They call themselves “Aleuts,” and wherever that word is used, it refers to them, and not to the real Aleuts to the west. The author has but lately returned from Alaska.

A terrible misfortune befell the people of a very large village. Of all the hunters that left the village not one ever came back, nor was it known what became of them. In that village lived a very beautiful girl, who loved and was beloved by a brave young hunter and joyfully consented to become his wife; but the parents objecting, the marriage never came off. The disappointed lover decided to drown his grief in hunting, and, although cautioned by the old men, insisted on going and went. A week, a month, passed, and when he did not return, he was given up as lost. Not so the girl; she could not believe him dead, and concluded to go and search for him.

Secretly she made preparations, and one night, when all the other villagers were sleeping, stole out quietly, and, taking her father’s one-hatch bidarka and kamalayka (waterproof shirt made of intestines), started off. After going some distance from the village, she ceased paddling, closed her eyes, and began to sing. She sang a verse, then opened her eyes, and on noticing that the bidarka was drifting with the current, shut her eyes again and continued singing. At the end of the second verse, she looked about again, and, seeing the bidarka drifting as before, only faster, closed her eyes and sang a long time.

► Continue reading…

When she looked around the next time, the bidarka was going very, very fast. Becoming alarmed, she tried unsuccessfully to change its course. The speed of the boat increased each moment; and soon she heard the mighty roar of falling waters.

Her life without her lover was not worth living, so closing her eyes, she resigned herself to her fate and awaited death. Very swiftly the boat rushed now; the roaring waters became dreadful; and her heart almost stopped beating when she felt herself going down, down, down, and suddenly coming to a standstill. She was not hurt, but could neither come out nor move. The bidarka was fast.

Dawn was approaching as she lay there, wondering what would become of her and what became of her lover. When it was broad daylight, she saw a bidarka, with one man in it, coming toward her. On coming closer, the man exclaimed, “Ha! Ha! I have another victim,” and placed a bow and arrow, having a two-edged knife on the end, near him for immediate use. But as he came a little nearer, he put back his weapons, saying to himself, “Seems to me that is a woman. No, it cannot be,” he added a moment later, and picked up his bow and arrow again, only to replace them, and crying out, “If you are a woman, speak up, and I will not kill you; for I do not kill women.” She assured him that she was a woman, and he came and took her out of the bidarka, seated her in his, and paddled off with her.

Reaching his home, a small barrabara, and occupied by him alone, she noticed many human heads; and in one, not yet badly decomposed, she recognized her lover’s. She did not say a word, but swore vengeance. The man told her that he would have her for his wife, and ordered her to cook something for him to eat, which she did of deer and seal meat. At bedtime, he pointed to a corner of the barrabara, telling her to lie there, while he slept in the opposite corner. Although this arrangement seemed queer to her, she obeyed without questioning.

The following morning he led her to a little small barrabara, and showed her a number of headless human bodies. “These,” said he, “I do not eat; but I have three sisters, living some distance from here, who eat human flesh only. It is for them that I killed these people. Each day I take one of these bodies to a different sister.” He then lifted up a corpse, and, taking his bow and arrow, walked off. The girl followed him to the place where the road forked. One path led to the right, another to the left, and the third continued straight before her. Noticing which he took, she returned to the barrabara, and busied herself the rest of the day, removing two of the posts from one of the walls, and digging an underground passage out. All the dirt she removed and dumped into the sea, and cunningly concealed the passage. Towards evening she cooked supper, and when he returned, they ate it in silence and then retired; she in her corner and he in his.

After breakfast the next morning, he carried away another corpse. She, taking the bow and arrow which he left behind, followed him secretly. Where the road divided, he took the path to the left, while she followed the one in the middle. After keeping it for a while, she cut across to the left path, and by hurrying managed to reach the home of his sister and kill her before he came there. From there she ran to the homes of the other sisters, killing them, and then back to the barrabara. He, coming to his sister’s, and finding her dead, hastened to the homes of the other sisters, and finding them dead also, suspected the criminal, and determined to kill her.

She was sitting on the barrabara when he came. “You killed my sisters and I will kill you,” he cried. He rushed for his bow and arrow, but they were not in their places, and when he discovered them in her hands, he began begging them of her, promising to do her no harm. At first she refused, but he pleaded and promised until she, trusting in his promises, gave them to him. As soon as he had them, he shouted, “Now you shall die,” and shot at her. But she, dropping through the smoke hole, was out of sight before the arrow could reach her; and while he was looking for the arrow, she crawled out through the underground passage, and perched herself anew on the barrabara. This sudden appearance was a mystery to him, since the door was closed. Again and again he shot at her, and each time she disappeared and appeared in the same mysterious manner. At last, seeing that he could not hurt her, he said, “Since I cannot kill you, take these, and kill me.”

“I do not want to kill you,” she said, “But I am afraid that you will kill me some day, when you think of my doings.”

He swore never to hurt her, and she came down. They ate supper, and retired in the usual manner; but as he was about to fall asleep, she moved close to him, and commenced talking to him, keeping him awake the whole night. Five days and nights she tortured him in this way, giving him no opportunity to sleep. On the sixth day, in spite of all that she could do, he fell into a deep sleep. Although she pulled and pinched him, he could not be aroused. She then brought a block of wood from outside, and, placing it under his neck, cut his head off with a knife which she stole from one of his sisters.

In his bidarka she put his bow and arrow and knife, and, seating herself in it, started on her homeward journey by way of the falls. But the falls were there no more; for they existed through the evil power of the man, who was a shaman; and when he died, his influence ceased; the river flowed smoothly and steadily in the old channel. Her bidarka she found drifted on the beach, and after repairing and placing his weapons in it, paddled away, and in good time came home.

When the people of the village learned her adventures, and that she killed the shaman, they rejoiced exceedingly. The old men decreed that the shaman’s weapons, which the girl had brought along, should be thrown on the garbage pile, where they would be polluted.

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