Dinewan the Emu, and Goomblegubbon the Bustard

The story of Dinewan, the emu, and Goomblegubbon, the bustard, highlights themes of jealousy, trickery, and revenge. Goomblegubbon envies Dinewan’s supremacy and deceives her into sacrificing her wings. In retaliation, Dinewan tricks Goomblegubbon into killing her offspring. The tale explains why emus are flightless and bustards lay only two eggs, symbolizing the consequences of deceit and envy.

Source
Australian Legendary Tales
collected by Mrs. K. Langloh Parker
London & Melbourne, 1896


► Themes of the story

Cunning and Deception: Goomblegubbon deceives Dinewan into cutting off her wings by pretending to have none herself, aiming to undermine Dinewan’s supremacy.

Revenge and Justice: After realizing the deception, Dinewan seeks revenge by tricking Goomblegubbon into killing her own offspring, leading to a cycle of retribution between them.

Transformation: The tale explains the transformation of the emu into a flightless bird and the bustard’s behavior of laying only two eggs, attributing these characteristics to the consequences of their actions.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Aboriginal Australians


Dinewan the emu, being the largest bird, was acknowledged as king by the other birds. The Goomblegubbons, the bustards, were jealous of the Dinewans. Particularly was Goomblegubbon, the mother, jealous of the Diriewan mother. She would watch with envy the high flight of the Dinewans, and their swift running. And she always fancied that the Dinewan mother flaunted her superiority in her face, for whenever Dinewan alighted near Goomblegubbon, after a long, high flight, she would flap her big wings and begin booing in her pride, not the loud booing of the male bird, but a little, triumphant, satisfied booing noise of her own, which never failed to irritate Goomblegubbon when she heard it.

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Goomblegubbon used to wonder how she could put an end to Dinewan’s supremacy. She decided that she would only be able to do so by injuring her wings and checking her power of flight. But the question that troubled her was how to effect this end. She knew she would gain nothing by having a quarrel with Dinewan and fighting her, for no Goomblegubbon would stand any chance against a Dinewan, There was evidently nothing to be gained by an open fight. She would have to effect her end by cunning.

One day, when Goomblegubbon saw in the distance Dinewan coming towards her, she squatted down and doubled in her wings in such a way as to look as if she had none. After Dinewan had been talking to her for some time, Goomblegubbon said: “Why do you not imitate me and do without wings? Every bird flies. The Dinewans, to be the king of birds, should do without wings. When all the birds see that I can do without wings, they will think I am the cleverest bird and they will make a Goomblegubbon king.”

“But you have wings,” said Dinewan.

“No, I have no wings.” And indeed she looked as if her words were true, so well were her wings hidden, as she squatted in the grass. Dinewan went away after awhile, and thought much of what she had heard. She talked it all over with her mate, who was as disturbed as she was. They made up their minds that it would never do to let the Goomblegubbons reign in their stead, even if they had to lose their wings to save their kingship.

At length they decided on the sacrifice of their wings. The Dinewan mother showed the example by persuading her mate to cut off hers with a combo or stone tomahawk, and then she did the same to his. As soon as the operations were over, the Dinewan mother lost no time in letting Goomblegubbon know what they had done. She ran swiftly down to the plain on which she had left Goomblegubbon, and, finding her still squatting there, she said: “See, I have followed your example. I have now no wings. They are cut off.”

“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed Goomblegubbon, jumping up and dancing round with joy at the success of her plot. As she danced round, she spread out her wings, flapped them, and said: “I have taken you in, old stumpy wings. I have my wings yet. You are fine birds, you Dinewans, to be chosen kings, when you are so easily taken in. Ha! ha! ha!” And, laughing derisively, Goomblegubbon flapped her wings right in front of Dinewan, who rushed towards her to chastise her treachery. But Goomblegubbon flew away, and, alas! the now wingless Dinewan could not follow her.

Brooding over her wrongs, Dinewan walked away, vowing she would be revenged. But how? That was the question which she and her mate failed to answer for some time. At length the Dinewan mother thought of a plan and prepared at once to execute it. She hid all her young Dinewans but two, under a big salt bush. Then she walked off to Goomblegubbons’ plain with the two young ones following her. As she walked off the morilla ridge, where her home was, on to the plain, she saw Goomblegubbon out feeding with her twelve young ones.

After exchanging a few remarks in a friendly manner with Goomblegubbon, she said to her, “Why do you not imitate me and only have two children? Twelve are too many to feed. If you keep so many they will never grow big birds like the Dinewans. The food that would make big birds of two would only starve twelve.” Goomblegubbon said nothing, but she thought it might be so. It was impossible to deny that the young Dinewans were much bigger than the young Goomblegubbons, and, discontentedly, Goomblegubbon walked away, wondering whether the smallness of her young ones was owing to the number of them being so much greater than that of the Dinewans. It would be grand, she thought, to grow as big as the Dinewans. But she remembered the trick she had played on Dinewan, and she thought that perhaps she was being fooled in her turn. She looked back to where the Dinewans fed, and as she saw how much bigger the two young ones were than any of hers, once more mad envy of Dinewan possessed her. She determined she would not be outdone. Rather would she kill all her young ones but two. She said, “The Dinewans shall not be the king birds of the plains. The Goomblegubbons shall replace them. They shall grow as big as the Dinewans, and shall keep their wings and fly, which now the Dinewans cannot do.” And straightway Goomblegubbon killed all her young ones but two. Then back she came to where the Dinewans were still feeding. When Dinewan saw her coming and noticed she had only two young ones with her, she called out: “Where are all your young ones?”

Goomblegubbon answered, “I have killed them, and have only two left. Those will have plenty to eat now, and will soon grow as big as your young ones.”

“You cruel mother to kill your children. You greedy mother. Why, I have twelve children and I find food for them all. I would not kill one for anything, not even if by so doing I could get back my wings. There is plenty for all. Look at the emu bush how it covers itself with berries to feed my big family. See how the grasshoppers come hopping round, so that we can catch them and fatten on them.”

“But you have only two children.”

“I have twelve. I will go and bring them to show you.” Dinewan ran off to her salt bush where she had hidden her ten young ones. Soon she was to be seen coming back. Running with her neck stretched forward, her head thrown back with pride, and the feathers of her boobootella swinging as she ran, booming out the while her queer throat noise, the Dinewan song of joy, the pretty, soft-looking little ones with their zebra-striped skins, running beside her whistling their baby Dinewan note. When Dinewan reached the place where Goomblegubbon was, she stopped her booing and said in a solemn tone, “Now you see my words are true, I have twelve young ones, as I said. You can gaze at my loved ones and think of your poor murdered children. And while you do so I will tell you the fate of your descendants for ever. By trickery and deceit you lost the Dinewans their wings, and now for evermore, as long as a Dinewan has no wings, so long shall a Goomblegubbon lay only two eggs and have only two young ones. We are quits now. You have your wings and I my children.”

And ever since that time a Dinewan, or emu, has had no wings, and a Goomblegubbon, or bustard of the plains, has laid only two eggs in a season.


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 Story of Magus

Magus had four sons with strange characteristics. After an elk hunt, two sons die from accidents while fetching water, the third while handling the elk’s brisket, and the fourth while cooking the meat. Magus, now alone, travels and kills the children of an evil spirit named Kosetoka. Kosetoka, enraged, attacks Magus, but the latter outwits him, using a trick to kill the spirit. Magus returns home victorious.

Source
Tales of Yukaghir, Lamut, and Russianized Natives of Eastern Siberia
by Waldemar Bogoras
The American Museum of Natural History
Anthropological Papers, Vol. 20, Part 1

New York, 1918


► Themes of the story

Family Dynamics: The narrative centers on Magus and his four sons, highlighting their unique characteristics and the tragic events leading to their demise.

Cunning and Deception: Magus employs clever tactics to deceive and ultimately defeat Kosetoka, showcasing the use of intelligence over brute force.

Revenge and Justice: Following the loss of his sons, Magus embarks on a journey that leads to the defeat of Kosetoka, symbolizing a form of personal renewal and triumph over adversity.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Chuvan people


Told by Mary Alin, a Russianized Chuvantzi woman. Recorded by Mrs. Sophie Bogoras in the village of Markova, the Anadyr country, winter of 1900.

There was a man, Magus by name. He had four sons. One of them had legs of grass, another a head of bladder, the third a brisket of leaves, the fourth a voice of hair. Magus said to his sons, “Children! let us go and hunt elks!” They killed a big elk and carried it home. Magus said to the elder sons, “You, Legs-of-Grass I and you, Head-of-Bladder! — go and bring some water from the river.”

They went to the river and put the water tub near the water-hole; but they were so slow in filling it with water, that it was frozen to the moist ice. They tugged at it, but could not move it. Then Legs-of-Grass kicked it with his foot. He broke both of his legs and was dead. Head-of-Bladder was much troubled, and scratched his head. His nails cut through the bladder, and he dropped down dead. The other ones waited and waited, but nobody came: so they went to the river, and found the two dead.

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“Ah!” said their father, “let us arrange their funeral! We will cook a funeral meal. Brisket-of-Leaves go and bring the elk’s brisket from the drying-poles.” He wanted to take it down, but it slipped from his hands and fell down upon his own brisket and smashed it. He also dropped down dead. “Ah, woe! what is to be done?” — “Now, you must go, Voice-of-Hair, and fetch that brisket.” Voice-of-Hair brought it and cooked it; but when he was tasting the meat, his throat of hair burst open, and he died. So Magus remained alone.

“Now, I will depart from here. I will go traveling.” He walked on for several days and came to Kosetoka. The evil spirit was not at home: only his children were there. He killed them all, and cut off their heads. Then he spread a large blanket, and set the heads close to it, in a row. It looked as if they were asleep side by side under the blanket. He also took a large bag and filled it with their meat and bones. He wrapped the bag in his own overcoat, and attached his cap to one end of it. Kosetoka went home carrying some human carrion as food for his children. “Ah!” said he, “they waited so long that they have fallen asleep.” He made a fire and cooked the meat; but when he tugged at the blanket, the heads rolled off and out of the house. Kosetoka was wild with anger. “Who has done this?” He looked about and saw the bag. “Ah! it was you, Magus! it was you!” He rushed at the bag and trampled it down with his heavy feet. All the bones broke, and the blood of the children spurted through the holes. “I have killed YOU!” shouted the spirit; but from underground a voice answered, “I am here.” It was Magus, who had found the underground storehouse and entered it, blocking the entrance behind him. “Ah! where are you?” — “I am here.” The spirit ran out of the house and back again. The entrance was blocked; but he found a round hole, and tried to squeeze himself through it. His body was tightly wedged in and could move neither forward nor backward. Magus said, “O hole! you are round and tight, turn now into a circular knife and cut Kosetoka in halves.” And thus it happened. He took everything he found, and went home.


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A Lamut tale

A Lamut camp is destroyed by mysterious invaders, leaving three sisters as the sole survivors. The eldest sister infiltrates the enemy camp, discovers their weakness—a maggot-infested reindeer liver—and destroys it, killing the invaders, including their shaman leader. She reunites with her sisters, shows them the lifeless enemy camp, and they claim the camp’s resources for themselves, triumphing over their foes.

Source
Tales of Yukaghir, Lamut, and Russianized Natives of Eastern Siberia
by Waldemar Bogoras
The American Museum of Natural History
Anthropological Papers, Vol. 20, Part 1

New York, 1918


► Themes of the story

Cunning and Deception: The eldest sister uses her wit to infiltrate the enemy camp, gain their trust, and uncover their weakness.

Trials and Tribulations: The sisters face the hardship of losing their family and home, testing their resilience and resourcefulness.

Revenge and Justice: The eldest sister’s actions serve as retribution against the invaders, restoring balance and avenging her family’s demise.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Evens (Lamut)


Told by Anne Sosykin, a Russianized Chuvantzi woman, in the village of Markova. Recorded by Mrs. Sophie Bogoras, winter of 1900.

There was a Lamut camp. An old Lamut had three daughters, who were not married. Another family made their camp nearby. I do not know whether they were men or spirits. They attacked the Lamut, and killed all of them. The three sisters fled. The strangers dried the flesh of their victims. They split the bones and extracted the marrow. The sisters were very hungry. The oldest one said, “I will go to them. I am very hungry. Perhaps they will not kill me.”

They bade her welcome and offered her meat. It seems, they gave her flesh of one of her own people, for she could not eat it. The master of the house was the shaman of the camp. In the evening he said to his wife and the visiting girl, “I will sleep this night with both of you.” So they lay down side by side. The shaman copulated first with the one, then with the other. When they lay there tired, the girl asked the mistress, “Do you live on the flesh of those Lamut people?” — “It is so,” she answered.

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The shaman suddenly jumped up. “Ah! my heart is throbbing. It forbodes something.” — “What does it forbode?” asked his wife. “Is there anybody stronger than you are?” — “Lie down!” said the guest, “since you are my new husband.” He lay down. The guest asked again, “Eh, sister, do you ever suffer from any illness?” — “Never,” answered the mistress. “In the valley down there is a reindeer that belongs to my husband. Its liver is full of reindeer fly maggots. Whoever gets this liver kills all of us. This is our only fear.” — “Ah, sister!” answered the guest, “it is time to sleep.”

Soon they slept. The Lamut woman crept out of the tent. She took the bow and arrows, put on her snowshoes, and went to look for the reindeer. She saw it in the valley, close to a group of larch trees. It was spotted, and its antlers stood upright. She tried to approach, but it ran away. At last she came within range of it and killed it. Then she opened it and extracted the liver. It was full of maggots. She destroyed these one by one. Soon there was heard a great lamentation from the camp of the invaders. “Arai, arai.” [in the Lamut language, “Alas, alas!”] She came to the shaman’s tent. He jumped up; but when she destroyed the largest maggot, he fell back dead. Then she went to her sisters. “Ah, sisters! I have killed them all.” — “How is it possible?” said the sisters. “It is not true.” — “Indeed, let us go and look at them!” They arrived at the camp. All their enemies were stone-dead. They carried out the bodies, and took everything in the camp for themselves.

The end.


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The tale of La’la (Anadyr version)

La’la, a strong warrior, seeks revenge after his family is attacked by the Chukchee. With his brother’s help, he defeats the Chukchee and kills hundreds. Following the battle, La’la decides to find a wife. He disguises himself in shabby clothes, is mocked by women, but wins the heart of the youngest daughter of a village chief, eventually marrying her.

Source
Tales of Yukaghir, Lamut, and Russianized Natives of Eastern Siberia
by Waldemar Bogoras
The American Museum of Natural History
Anthropological Papers, Vol. 20, Part 1

New York, 1918


► Themes of the story

Revenge and Justice: La’la seeks retribution against the Chukchee for attacking his family, leading to a confrontation to restore honor and balance.

Transformation: La’la’s brother transforms into a fox as part of their strategy to defeat the Chukchee, highlighting themes of change and adaptation.

Trickster: La’la employs cunning tactics, including disguise and deception, to outsmart his enemies and achieve his goals.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Chuvan people


Told by Mary Alin, a Russianized Chuvantzi woman, and noted down by Mrs. Sophie Bogoras, in the village of Markova, the Anadyr country, summer of 1900.

There were some Chuvantzi people, among them was an old man who had four sons. The middle one was of great strength. His name was La’la. He fought all the time against the Chukchee, and killed a great number of them, hundreds and thousands and more. The Chukchee sought revenge. One time La’la went into the woods to cut down a birch tree which he was going to use for making a new sledge. He took along his youngest brother. The latter climbed to the top of a birch tree and all at once muttered, “Ah! The Chukchee are coming!” La’la asked from beneath, “What are you saying? I cannot hear you.” — “Oh, nothing. I only said ‘Ravens and crows are coming.’” In truth the Chukchee were going to their father’s house. After a while, the youngest brother muttered, “Ah! the Chukchee have attacked father and our brothers!” — “What are you saying? I cannot hear what you say.” — “Oh, nothing. I say that some ravens and crows are attacking one another.”

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After a while he muttered, “Ah! they have killed father and our brothers. They have driven off our herd; and mother is following in the rear, dragging the tent poles like a pack-reindeer.” — “Ah!” said La’la, “let us go home! Oh, oh!” answered the brother, this time you did hear what I said.”

They hurried home. Their father and their brothers lay there murdered. The herd had disappeared; and the ground had been trampled down by the feet of the invaders. “Let us make haste!” said La’la. They hurried along on their snowshoes. After some time they saw the Chukchee caravan. Their old mother, in the very rear, was dragging some heavy tent poles. She looked back and laughed softly. “Ah! now I am safe.” The brothers saw that the Chukchee were stopping for the night. The women scraped the snow from the ground and pitched the tents. The brothers overtook their mother and said to her, “Mother, you stay behind here, and we will go on.” They approached the Chukchee camp. Then La’la said to his brother, “You also stay here, and I shall go round about until I am in front of them. Then I shall come back to you. And when I make a sign with my first finger, thus, you must turn into a fox, and run about in full view of them. In this manner we shall vanquish them.” He made a circuit, and boldly went straight to the Chukchee camp. “Who are you?” — “I live farther away than you. I came too late. I wanted, though to kill La’la.” One man retorted, “La’la has been killed.” Another contradicted, “No, he has not been killed.” An old man said, “I am not sure. His weapons though, have been taken, — his bow, quiver, and arrows.” — “Show them to me!” said La’la. It took six men to bring the bow, so heavy was it, and eight men to bring the quiver. “Ah! here they are!” He took the bow and tried to string it, and then he let it go. “It is too strong. I cannot string it.” All at once he interrupted himself, and pointed at something far ahead. “Look there! What is that there?” It was his younger brother, who had turned into a fox, and was running about in full view of them. All the Chukchee looked at the fox, and forgot everything else. Then La’la seized the bow and shot them. In three hours he had killed five hundred people. Only a few were left. Then he laughed aloud, and said, “Ah! that is enough; but another time do not come here with such evil plans.” The others, who were glad to be spared, immediately broke camp and drove away.

La’la went to his mother, and said, “O mother! now that our brothers are dead, how shall we live? I think I must look for a wife. You are too old. So I am going. Please get an overcoat ready for me of the worst shreds of skin. I want it for my journey.” He put on his best suit of clothes, — trousers of white reindeer legskins, and a coat of spotted fawnskin, all embroidered around the skirts, — and over all this he donned a poor and shabby overcoat made of shreds of skin. He went along on his snowshoes, and came to a river. There was a village there of thirty houses. Near a water-hole he saw a number of women and girls. He went there and lay down close to the water-hole. When the women saw him, they laughed and scoffed at him. “What do you want, you shabby one, you dog of the springtime?” They spat at him, kicked him with their boots, and even poured water over him. Finally, three sisters came there too. The two elder ones also laughed at him, but the youngest did not laugh. They wanted her to ill-use him, but she would not do so. “Ah, ah! scoffed the others, “it seems that you like him! Perhaps you will marry him.” At last they filled their pails and went away. “Who are you?” asked the girl, “and why are you lying here? Better get up and come to our house!” — “And how can I find your house? I do not know the way.” — “Our house is the one farthest away, it stands by itself. It is the highest of all, and its skin cover is dazzling white. My father is the chief of the village. He is the strongest man, and the best hunter. If you want to do so, you may follow me.” She went off, and he followed her. They came to the house. Her father said, “Who is it, so poorly clad, that you bring with you here?” — “He is to be my husband.” — “Ah! if he is to be your husband, bid him welcome.” She made him sit down, and brought reindeer fat and dried tongues. They ate heartily. After that she arranged the bed, and they lay down. He married her.


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 tale of La’la (Kolyma version)

This story is very interesting, because it treats of La’la, the tribal hero of the Chuvantzi, whose name is known to the present day among the last remnants of this tribe, and also speaks of the wars between the Chuvantzi and the Chukchee. It is probably only a fragment of a longer tale. The episodes composing it reappear in several other tales among the Russianized natives, Chukchee, and Yukaghir. The Kolyma version of this story, however, calls La’la and his brother Yukaghir. The interchange of these two tribal names, adds to the probability that the Chuvantzi were a branch of the Yukaghir tribe.

Source
Tales of Yukaghir, Lamut, and Russianized Natives of Eastern Siberia
by Waldemar Bogoras
The American Museum of Natural History
Anthropological Papers, Vol. 20, Part 1

New York, 1918


► Themes of the story

Revenge and Justice: Following the brutal attack on his family, La’la’s journey is driven by a desire for retribution and the restoration of order.

Trials and Tribulations: La’la faces and overcomes a series of challenges, including the loss of his parents and the need to confront the Chukchee aggressors.

Cultural Heroes: La’la emerges as a foundational figure who shapes the narrative of his people, embodying the qualities of a cultural hero.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Yukaghir people


Told by Nicholas Kusakoff, a Russian creole, in the village of Pokhotsk, the Kolyma country, summer of 1896.

La’la was very rich in peltries. Among all the Chukchee people along the border he was known for his costly furs. He was also a great warrior, and lived all by himself; only with his own family. One time the Chukchee said among themselves, “Let us go and make war on La’la! We will take his peltries and kill the people.” They went, and they were more numerous than mosquitoes, all young men and strong. La’la’s father and mother were quite old. He had also a single brother, a mere lad, not yet full grown. This morning La’la walked on snowshoes and broke the one for the right foot. Therefore, after dinner, he went into the woods with his brother to hew out a new board for the broken snowshoe. While he was working the lad climbed a high tree, and was playing among the thin branches near the top. He played there, and looked homeward. From the top of the tree he could see their house and everything around.

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He played there for some time, and said suddenly, “Khadya, [”elder brother”] there are the Chukchee, coming to attack La’la!” La’la looked up, and asked, “What do you say? Ah, nothing! I am only playing with twigs.” After a while he said again, “Khadya, they are coming to La’la’s house.” La’la looked up, and asked again, “What do you say?” — “Ah, nothing! I am playing with twigs.” A third time he said, “Khadya, they are coming!” And indeed, they had come. The old man ran out, and they followed him around the house. He said, “Khadya, they are going to kill him.” Three times they chased him around the house, then one of them seized a piece of a sledge runner of birch-wood and struck the old man on the head. “Khadya,” said the young brother, “they have killed the old man. The old man is gone.” And after a while, “Khadya, they are breaking down the house and are looting the sledges. They are driving a long needle into mother’s tongue and make her drag the tent poles. Now they are gone.”

At last La’la had finished his snowshoes, “Let us go home!” They went home. “Why is it so quiet here? Not a voice is to be heard. And where is the old man? Why, the tent cover is torn off the poles! Are they going to move to another place?” Then he looked at the sledges, and they were empty. He came to the entrance. His father lay there in the house, close to the entrance. The old man’s head was broken, like an egg. The mother was gone. “Ah, sorrow!” said La’la, “was it of this you spoke up in the tree?” — “Just so,” answered the lad. “I saw from the tree, how they killed the old man, and looted the sledges, and drove a long needle through the old woman’s tongue. Then they made her drag the tent poles.” — “Ah!” wailed La’la, “what is to be done?” They thought and thought; but the bow and the quiver, the arrow and the spears, — everything had been carried off. They were unarmed, and he had only the snowshoes which he had mended in the forest. La’la put on the snowshoes, and they set off. His younger brother followed him. They walked on; then they came to a large lake, round and smooth, just like a frying pan. In the middle of it, on the smooth ice, was pitched the camp of the assaulters. They were distributing the spoils among themselves. La’la spoke to his younger brother, and said to him, “Listen! I am going to turn you into a fox. After that I shall go straight to them, and you must stay here and wait. I shall go to them and try to get my bow and quiver. You must watch me; and if I succeed in getting them, at that very moment you must appear, and run within shooting distance. Glide in among the sledges, turn in zigzag directions, and try not to be hit.” — “How shall I do it?” said the young man. “Are you not a Yukaghir?” said La’la. You must know how to avoid arrows and spears. Run down the lake and lure them on, only mind not to lead them too far away, and I shall follow.” He made a circuit around the lake, then he took off his snowshoes and left them behind. He went to the Chukchee camp from the north, along their usual way. He waded in the snow, pretended to stumble, and assumed the air of being very tired. Then he went over the beaten path, and boldly approached the camp. “Here, boys! What about La’la? Have you killed La’la?” — “Oh, yes, we killed him with a piece of wood, just like an old woman. He did not lift a hand in his own defence.” — “Ah, all! I thought he was a great warrior. I came here from afar merely to have a look at him. I was told several times that people would try to assault him, and he would wind in among the assailers like a wet nettle-cord.” — “All, nonsense! he was an old man. He never struck a blow.” “True, he did not, but at least his peltries were numerous.” — “As to that,” said the Chukchee, “there is no mistake about them. The peltries were abundant. We are ever so numerous, and every one of us had a share.” After a while he said again, “See here, brothers! They say his bow and quiver are ever so large, and also his snowshoes. Show them to me! I have come from afar in order to have a look at them, because it is said, ‘La’la’s bow is a three men’s bow.’ Is it really so heavy and imposing?” They suspected nothing, and so brought forth La’la’s arms. Two men were carrying his bow, two others his quiver, and two more his snowshoes. “Ah!” said La’la, “indeed, it is true! They are quite heavy.” He took the bow and pretended to drop it. Then he tried the snowshoes and deftly put them on. At that moment, the small fox started off and ran away. All the young people rushed out, and crossed his path, far ahead of him. So the fox returned to the camp, and hid among the lodges. The Chukchee shot at it (as thick as rain fell the arrows), but nobody could so much as graze it. It turned again and ran away up the trail. The young men followed it, shooting and shouting. Two old men were sitting on a pack-sledge looking on at the chase. One said in his mother tongue, “He, he, he! La’la monia’lo khanidula,” which means, “Be careful, boys! La’la will tear the stomach out of your bodies.” [In dressing the hunting-quarry, the belly is ripped up, and the stomach and other intestines are immediately pulled out.] “Why have you given him the bow and the quiver?” His neighbor, however, nudged him with his elbow. “You fool! Hold your tongue!” The young people, however, did not listen to any one, and ran on. La’la followed in the rear, and one by one he killed the Chukchee, beginning with the one running farthest in the rear. He shot and shot. Not a single arrow missed its aim. After that he turned back to the sledges. These two old men were sitting there. He killed one, — the one: who said, “Be careful, boys!” He struck him on the head with a piece of wood. He took the other one along and married him to his mother. He also turned his brother back into a man. To these three he gave everything he took from the Chukchee.

He went away from there, and arrived at another village. There he married the pretty daughter of the chief. He lived there with his pretty wife. They had two children, — a boy and a girl. The children were growing up. The girl already could carry water from the river, and the boy could fetch fuel from the woods. One time the father brought home a large heath cock, and said to his wife, “Cook that heath cock!” She cooked it, and they had a meal. After the meal she carried out the bones and the odd pieces in a large frying-pan, and then she vanished. They waited for her, but she never came back. La’la went out to look for her; but she was nowhere to be seen. There were left only traces in the snow, as if a giant bird had brushed it with its wings. From this he knew that someone with wings had carried her off.

One night passed. In the morning, he said to his children, “I will go and look for your mother. You must stay at home and not show yourselves outside. In three days, I shall come back. Whether I find her or not, I shall come to you.” After that he left. On the way, he met a Buzzard. “Here, Buzzard! have you not seen my wife?” — “I will not tell you. Every time you meet me, you shoot at me. Why, then, should I tell you the truth?” After awhile he met a Bluejay. “Here Jay! who carried off my wife?” — “I will tell you. When you lived with your wife, you used to bring home all kinds of meat and other food. When I came and pecked at the food, you would not hinder me; so I will tell you the truth. He who carried off your wife is Raven-Son, with beak of iron, and tail of grass. You must go straight ahead in this direction, then you will find him.” La’la thanked the Jay and set off. He walked straight ahead, and came to a place where there was a round hole in the ground, just like the furrow of a fox. He looked in. A small old woman, wearing an apron of summer skins, was there, skipping about like a grasshopper. As soon as she saw him, she tore off a narrow shred from her apron, cut it into small pieces, — which she put into the kettle. She hung the kettle over the fire; and after a while she took it off and invited La’la to eat, saying, “The meal is ready. Sit down and eat!” He tasted of the food, and it was fat meat of the mountain-sheep cooked with edible roots.

He went on, and after a while he came to another place. Smoke was coming up out of the ground. He looked down the hole. An old woman clad in a coat of autumn skins was skipping about like a jumping hare. As soon as she saw him, she cut off a narrow piece of her coat, chopped it up fine, and put it into a kettle. She cooked it and invited him to partake of the meal. He ate of the food, and it was fat meat of wild reindeer. When he wanted to go away, the old woman said, “Go straight ahead, then you will reach a place where the ground is smooth as ice. There you will see a village. A number of children will be playing near the houses. Many of them will call after you. You must not answer, or go near them. Far off, alone by himself, a small boy will be standing, all covered with scabs. You must go to him. It is your own son.” — “How can it be my son,” shouted La’la. “My son is at home. I left him at home.” “You did,” said the old woman, “but meanwhile the Raven went back there and carried off your boy. You must wait there till sunset. After sunset, in the pale light of the night, when the moon is rising in the sky, Raven will be asleep. Then three women will come out of his house. They will walk around and cry softly in the moonlight. You must go to them. They are his wives, all carried off from their husbands.” La’la went on and found the village. In the evening, when the three women appeared, he went to them. They saw him, and cried more bitterly than before. “Oh, cease crying! Better let us talk over what is to be done! Is there anyway to kill Raven-Son?” — “How can you kill him? His body is iron. Unless, you succeed insetting fire to his house, so that he may burn with the house, being asleep, and unable to wake from fatigue.” — “All right, let us try it!” They went to fetch fuel, and carried it to the house quite noiselessly, like so many mice, — green wood and dry wood, branches and sticks — all kinds of fuel. They surrounded the house with a wall of wood as high as the vent-hole. Then they set fire to it. The whole blazed up, and Raven-Son with it. He had no time to wake up and groaned only once in his sleep. The fire subsided, the coals burned out, and even the ashes grew cold. La’la gathered the ashes and let them fly to the winds. Then he went home, taking along the three women. He kept his own wife and sent the other two away to their former husbands. After some time he gathered all his goods and set off for his own country.

The end.


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Story about the bad merchant

Three brothers lived in isolation, with the youngest managing the household while the elder two hunted. One day, the “Bad Merchant,” known for violence, visited with his workman and a woman. The youngest brother killed the merchant during an altercation, freed the workman, and bound the woman. His returning brothers praised him for ending the merchant’s tyranny.

Source
Tales of Yukaghir, Lamut, and Russianized Natives of Eastern Siberia
by Waldemar Bogoras
The American Museum of Natural History
Anthropological Papers, Vol. 20, Part 1

New York, 1918


► Themes of the story

Good vs. Evil: The narrative centers on the confrontation between the virtuous brothers and the malevolent merchant, highlighting the struggle between opposing moral forces.

Revenge and Justice: The youngest brother’s act of killing the bad merchant serves as retribution for the merchant’s history of violence, aiming to restore justice.

Cunning and Deception: The youngest brother employs strategic thinking to manage the situation with the merchant, showcasing the use of wit to overcome adversity.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Yukaghir people


This story refers perhaps to some real incident. Events like this still happen in northeastern Siberia. However, the manner in which it is told corresponds to the style of local Russian folklore.

Told by Nicholas Kusakoff, a Russian creole, in the village of Pokhotsk, in the Kolyma country, summer of 1895.

Three brothers lived. I cannot tell who they were, whether Russian or Yakut. They lived in a wild place, somewhat after the manner of Lamut nomads. Two of the brothers used to go on hunting trips. The third one stayed at home. None of them knew whether they ever had had father, mother, or sister, or even so much as a relative.

The two elder brothers would come home for a day or two, and then leave again for six or seven days. They used to bring home costly peltries, also reindeer and elk carcasses. They gave everything to the third brother, and they did not even care what happened to their game.

They never asked him, “What are you doing with all these things? Do you store them away, or simply throw them away as rubbish?”

One day these two brothers prepared for a longer trip than usual. So they said to the housekeeping brother, “Perhaps we shall not be back for a long time. Stay at home, and eat of the meat we have brought.” After that they left.

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One evening, the brother who kept house was singing songs for his own recreation. Then he heard a noise without. He hurried to the entrance; but at this moment entered a man, tall of stature, carrying in his hands a bear lance inlaid with silver. He was clad in beautiful garments embroidered with silk. It was the bad merchant. The young man was much frightened, and receded to a remote corner; but the visitor said gruffly, “Help my workman unload the pack-horses!” The house master hurried out, and saw a man busying himself with nine pack-horses. He helped him take off the loads. While doing this, he heard somebody cough. He looked back, and saw a woman wrapped up in fox garments. He approached her, and asked her with much gentleness to enter the house. Then he opened the door and showed her the way. As soon as she was inside, he helped her lay off her garments. She was middle-aged, but very strong and pretty. The Bad Merchant looked at his doings with much scorn. He sat before the fire, warming his back. All the time he held in his hands the big bear lance inlaid with silver.

After a while the Bad Merchant asked the house master with still more gruffness, “Do you not know of some good pasture here for horses?” “Yes, I know of one.” “Then help my workman to take the horses there.” They had a meal and drank their tea. After that they took the horses to the pasture. When they were going back, the house master asked of the workman, “And who are you, this visitor and the woman?” — “Do you not know him? He is the Bad Merchant. I thought he would kill you at first sight. He has a very bad temper. No house did he ever pass that he did not kill somebody. It is your special luck that you have been spared so far.” The young man ceased asking, and kept his thoughts to himself. They entered the house. The Bad Merchant was sitting, as before, near the fire, lance in hand. The house master hurried to his back room and threw out a great number of furs, sables, gray foxes, black foxes, bears, all kinds of peltries that exist in the world. He threw all this at the feet of the Merchant. The latter, seeing such riches, put the lance on the floor and bent over the heap. The young man, with an innocent face, picked up the lance. “What a beautiful lance!” said he, “and what a shaft! Strong like iron. Even against a bear such a shaft would hold out and never break.” Then he poised it in his hands. Together with the shaft it weighed no less than one pud. [36 pounds avoirdupois] He took the lance by the iron and lifted it, shaft upward, and all at once struck the Bad Merchant on the neck. The woman seized a knife and tried to stab him; but he struck her with the shaft, and she fell down senseless. Then he cried to the workman, “Bring those elk-hide lines there in the corner!” With them he bound him securely. The woman came to herself, but he violated her. Then he said to the workman, “You accompanied him on his travels, and were compelled by him to do his work, and he paid you with blows. You might have expected a violent death at almost any hour. Now that God has brought you here to me, I restore you to freedom. Take his horses and go wherever you wish!” The workman stayed there, however, for five days more. After that the elder brothers came, and saw the Bad Merchant in bonds. The woman was bound likewise. So the elder brothers said, “Ah! it is you! We have heard much about you. So many people of these parts complain of your doings. This time God has given us occasion to overcome you. Now the complaints of the people will cease. They turned to their brother and thanked him heartily: “It is you who caught him and liberated the country.” I do not know, however, what they did to the prisoners. Probably they tortured them to death.

That is all.


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A hunting tale

This tale seems to be composed of mixed elements, Russian and native. The sables that play so prominent a role in it, were quite abundant in the Kolyma country a century ago, but since 1860, not a single track of a sable has been met with in the Kolyma, partly because they have been mercilessly pursued and partly because they have migrated to the south.

Source
Tales of Yukaghir, Lamut, and Russianized Natives of Eastern Siberia
by Waldemar Bogoras
The American Museum of Natural History
Anthropological Papers, Vol. 20, Part 1

New York, 1918


► Themes of the story

Cunning and Deception: The companions’ dishonest division of the sable skins and their subsequent actions underscore themes of trickery and betrayal.

Revenge and Justice: The first hunter’s response to the unfair treatment and the unfolding events reflect the pursuit of justice and retribution.

Moral Lessons: The tale imparts ethical teachings about fairness, honesty, and the consequences of one’s actions.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Yukaghir people


Told by Nicholas Kusakoff, a Russian Creole, in the village of Pokhotsk, in the Kolyma country, summer of 1896.

Three men lived together. I cannot tell to what tribe or clan they may have belonged, — whether they were peasants or cossacks, or Yakut or Yukaghir or something else. They were good hunters, and every fall with the first snow they would set off to hunt sable and red and gray foxes. Each time they would divide the skins into three equal parts.

One year the snow fell very early and it was time to go on the hunt. One of the companions, who was somewhat poorer than the rest went to the others and invited them to go. It seems that he wanted to buy some provisions, and so wanted to make haste to get the means for purchasing them. The other, being richer, wanted to wait a couple of days. He waited two days, but still they were not ready. They asked him to wait a little longer. He waited again.

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Meantime the fallen snow had grown harder. It was the very time to go: so he went to his companions, and said, “See here! Perhaps you are not yet ready, but I shall not wait any longer. You see, the snow has already hardened. We have missed the last time. Further delay will spoil the hunt altogether.”

So he went home, mounted his horse, and called his hunting dog. With these he went, and at once found the tracks of four sables. He had a good dog: so he let him loose, and the dog followed the sables and chased them to an open lake. There on the ice he caught all four of them. He crossed over the lake, and on the other shore made a fire, prepared some food, and skinned the sables. All at once the other two companions arrived and congratulated him on the successful hunt. He thanked them, invited them to pass the night with him, and the next morning to start hunting in common, as was their custom in former times. They consented, and stayed there. The night passed. In the morning they got up and went hunting in different directions. They also chose the halting-place for the next night, and promised to be there in time for the evening meal. The first hunter arrived there, however, the last of all, he was so late. The other two brought eight sables, and he alone also brought eight. They skinned them all and dried the skins. The next morning they proposed to continue the hunt; but the first hunter said, “I must go home for a couple of days. We will divide these skins equally among us; then I will go home, and be back in two or three days.” They had, in all, twenty sable skins, but in distributing them they gave him only five skins, and took fifteen for themselves, and he was the one who had caught more than half of the whole. So he said, “No, that is not fair. Let us share equally. You have given me too little. We must have six sables a piece, and the two sables over are surplus.” They refused to comply, and offered him the former five. He took these five skins and felt wronged: so he departed without any greeting. After some hesitation, they followed him. They rode quite silently for a long time, and then they saw near the trail a house that they had never seen before. Near the entrance stood a birch tree, very thin and high. They wondered at the house and the tree, and asked themselves, “How is it that never before have we seen this house in our neighborhood? Let us enter and see who may live in it!” So they entered, and saw an old man, quite small, and wizened with age. He was so thin that his head was held in place by a single sinew only. His arms and legs were like grass blades, almost ready to break in two. They entered, and saluted the old man. He said, “Sit down, O hunters! Tell me, please, what success have you had in your pursuit?” The two said, “Thank God! fair enough.” The third one replied, “Look here, uncle! We hunted together, and were indeed fairly successful. I caught a little more than they, and in the end they refused to give me even a fair and equal share.” — “How was that,” asked the old man. He told what had happened. “Listen, my friends!” said the old man. “I will tell you a story of a similar kind. I too, in my time, was a hunter, and was always ready to wander about. No kind of game could escape me, but in sharing with my companions, I was too exacting and close-fisted. One time, while traveling alone, I met a young woman, or, rather a girl. She came to me and stretched out her hand and gave me a blow on the ear. At the same time she said, ‘You were a man, now you must be a wolf. For three days, you shall run, and after the third day you shall come here to this very place.’ So I, who had been a man, immediately turned into a wolf. I ran about for three whole days, and then I returned to the same place from which I had started. The woman was already there. She struck me again on the face, and said aloud, ‘You were a wolf, now turn into a man again!’ I turned into a man. She took my hand and led me on to a village. When we were near the village, she struck me again on the face, and said, ‘You were a man, now turn into a bunch of grass.’ So I turned into a bunch of grass and remained motionless at the place where I stood, close to the trail. The people of that village were driving over me, and the runners of the sledges hurt me every time. The people often felt angry at me, and wanted to cut me down, but they neglected to do so. Well, I existed somehow. I felt much pain and fear, and it was only in the depths of the night that I had any respite at all. I cannot tell how long I stayed there, days or months, or maybe years. I was more dead than alive. Then at last the woman came. She kicked me, and said aloud, “You were a bunch of grass, now turn again into a man!” So I turned into a man. I felt quite savage, and wanted to retaliate. She took my hand and led me on. I said to myself, ‘What if I try and do the same to her?’ So I stretched out my hand and gave her a blow on the ear, and said aloud, ‘You were a woman, now you must turn into a birch tree.’ I remembered the incantation; but in my haste I could not think of anything besides a birch tree, so she turned into a birch tree. From that time on, she has been a tree, and I do not know how to restore her to her former human shape. The second part of the incantation has ceased to work. I have tried it again and again; but it has lost its force, I do not know why. So I constructed this small house, and am living here. I say to myself, ‘Let me die at least near this birch tree!’ So you see I am severely punished. My arms and legs have become like grass blades, my body is almost ready to break down, and my head to fall off. I think that God has sent this punishment to me and to the woman, in order to make us a living lesson to other people who pass by on this road. So I say to you two, cease to do wrong to your companion, lest worse luck befall you!”

The two greedy ones felt afraid, and they said, “The old man speaks the truth, it is too dangerous.” They shared the sable skins equally, and gave six skins to the first hunter. Two sable skins were left over. They took one for themselves, and gave the other to the first hunter. Then the old man fell down and died, and the birch tree turned into its former self and became a woman. “Who are you?” asked the men. “I am hunting luck,” said the woman. She asked them to help her in burying the old man. The other two hunters refused to do so; but the first hunter said, “I will bury him all alone.” So he dug the grave, and then made a coffin of larch-wood. He buried him in due form, as is the custom. The woman thanked him; and when he departed, she gave him a small pouch made of various shreds of cloth. He took the pouch, and said to himself, “For what is this pouch? It seems of no use.” She answered his thoughts, “Do not say that this pouch is of no use. It will be good all your life.” He went home and opened the pouch. It was full of silver money. He spent the money, but whenever he took out money, the pouch was filled again. So he lived and lived, and could not empty the pouch; and his widow after him also could not spend all the money.


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Yukaghir tale

An old man feigns death to secretly eat an elk he had hidden. After being caught by his wife, who uses a ptarmigan to attack him, he returns home and confesses. The old woman scolds him, ensuring he shares the elk with her. Reunited, they resume their life together, learning the value of honesty and sharing.

Source
Tales of Yukaghir, Lamut, and Russianized Natives of Eastern Siberia
by Waldemar Bogoras
The American Museum of Natural History
Anthropological Papers, Vol. 20, Part 1

New York, 1918


► Themes of the story

Cunning and Deception: Both the old man’s ruse and the old woman’s clever use of the ptarmigan to expose his deceit highlight the use of wit and trickery.

Moral Lessons: The story imparts the value of honesty and the importance of sharing within a family.

Retribution and Justice: The old woman’s actions serve as a form of retribution, ensuring that the old man faces consequences for his selfishness.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Yukaghir people


Told by Katherine Rumiantzev, a Russianized Yukaghir woman, in the village of Pokhotsk, in the Kolyma country, summer of 1896.

There once lived an old man and his wife. They had an only son. They lived together for a long time. One day the old man came home from the woods and said to his wife, “O wife! I am going to die tomorrow morning. Here in the neighborhood is a small abandoned hut. Put my body there; and take with it a kettle and an ax, a strike-a-light, and some food.” The next morning the old man was as if dead. The old woman cried over him; then she put his body, with everything required, upon a sledge, and hauled it to the funeral place. The boy went along, and helped his mother haul it. On the way they came to a brook. The old woman pulled across it with all her might, and at last broke wind. The old man giggled. The boy noticed it, and said, “There, mother, father is laughing!” The old woman grew very angry and struck the boy. “He is dead. How could he laugh?” They continued hauling the sledge, and after a while they came to another brook. Again the old woman pulled with great force and broke wind.

► Continue reading…

The old man giggled again; and the boy said, “See here! father is laughing.” She struck him again. “Why, you liar! our father is dead.” They came to the abandoned hut, and put the old man inside. They shut the door and went away. After a few days the boy passed by the house, and he saw smoke ascending from the chimney-hole. He ran to his mother. “Mother, come! There is smoke over that hut.” She went, and saw the smoke. Then she approached with great caution and looked in. The old man was making a fire. He was cooking some fat meat over the fire. Before he feigned death he had killed a big fat elk, and had hidden it in the hut; and he now was eating it all alone. The old woman went home and said to the boy, “Go and set some snares for ptarmigan. I want some ptarmigan.” The boy set his snares and caught a ptarmigan and brought it to his mother alive. The old woman took the ptarmigan and plucked it well, leaving only the wings. Then she spoke to the ptarmigan as follows: “O ptarmigan! you have wings, and your talons are sharp and pointed. Now fly off to my old man, enter his hut through the chimney hole, and scratch his body with your sharp talons. Draw blood from his body with your talons.” The ptarmigan flew to the hut, and dropped into it through the chimney hole. It attacked the old man and lacerated his body with its sharp talons. The old man was much frightened. He left the hut and ran home to his old woman. He came to the house, but the door was shut tight. He said in the Yukaghir language, “Oh, there, old woman! Open the door!” — “Why should I open it? You are not my old man. My old man is dead.” — “No,” said he, “I am really your old man.” — “How can that be? From which world, then, did you come, — from this one, or from the other one?” — “So help me God! I am really your old man.” She opened the door and then snatched the poker and beat him on the head. “Mind you do not eat alone without your old woman!” The old woman swore that he should never do that again. He brought home the elk carcass, and they continued to live together.

That is all.


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

One-Side

A one-sided hunter who could transform into a handsome man marries a goose-woman after stealing her wings. Their son is later kidnapped by her sisters and mistreated. The hunter finds his son, kills his brothers-in-law and sisters-in-law, and reunites with his family. Eventually, he reveals his true form—a beautiful young man—to his wife, and they live happily together.

Source
Tales of Yukaghir, Lamut, and Russianized Natives of Eastern Siberia
by Waldemar Bogoras
The American Museum of Natural History
Anthropological Papers, Vol. 20, Part 1

New York, 1918


► Themes of the story

Transformation: The hunter possesses the ability to transform into a handsome man, and the sisters can change into geese.

Love and Betrayal: The youngest sister marries the hunter, but her sisters betray her by kidnapping her and her son.

Revenge and Justice: The hunter seeks justice by rescuing his son and punishing his deceitful in-laws.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Yukaghir people


Told by Katherine Rumiantzer, a Russianized Yukaghir woman, in the village of Pokhotsk, in the Kolyma country, in the summer of 1896.

There was a family of Tungus. They lived in a tent. They had three daughters. The girls, when going to pick berries, would turn into female geese. In this form they visited the sea islands. One time they flew farther than usual. On a lonely island they saw a one-sided man. When he breathed, his heart and lungs would jump out of his side. The Geese were afraid and flew home.

After some time, they had nothing to eat, so they went again to the sea islands for berries. Wherever they chose a spot on which to alight, One-Side appeared and frightened them away. At last they found a place full of berries. They descended and laid aside their wings. They picked so many berries that they could hardly carry them all. They went back to the place where they had left their wings. The wings of the youngest daughter were gone. They looked for them a long time. At last, evening came and the sun went down. It grew very dark.

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The two elder sisters reproached the youngest one: “Probably you have taken a liking to One-Side, and you have asked him to hide your wings. Now remain here alone and let him take you!” She almost cried while assuring them that their suspicions were unjust. “I have never seen him and never thought of him.” They left her and flew away. She remained alone.

As soon as they were out of sight, One-Side appeared carrying her wings. “Well, now,” he said, “fair maiden, will you not consent to marry me?” She refused for a long time, then she gave in, and said, “I will!” — “If you are willing,” said One-Side, “I will lead the way.” He took her to his house. It was the usual house, made of wood, with a wooden fireplace. [The type of house generally used among Russian creoles and Russianized natives, a square log cabin, having a fireplace in the corner, with a straight chimney made of wood and plastered with clay, the so-called “Yakut chimney.” It is improbable that this chimney is really a Yakut invention. The ancient type of Yakut house had only an uncovered fireplace, with an opening in the roof above it. However, the “Yakut chimney” is used everywhere among the Yakut, as well as among Russian creoles.] He proved to be a good hunter, able to catch any kind of game. Still he had only one side, and with every breath his heart would jump out. They lived together for a while, and the woman brought forth a son. The young woman nursed the infant. But One-Side did not want to stay at home. He would wander about all the time, and bring back reindeer and elk. They had so much meat that the storehouses would no longer hold it. He was a great hunter. He hunted on foot on snowshoes, for he had neither reindeer, — nor horses for traveling.

One time he set off to hunt as usual. Then his wife’s sisters suddenly came and carried the youngest sister and her little son off to their own country. The small boy, while carried on high, shouted, “O father! O my father! We are being carried by aunties to their home, to their home.” One-Side ran home as fast as he could, but he came too late. They were out of sight. Only the boy’s voice was heard far away. Then he shot an arrow with a forked head in the direction whence the voice seemed to come, and the arrow cut off one of the boy’s little fingers. One-Side found the arrow and the finger, and put them into his pouch.

Then he started in search of his boy. He walked and walked. A whole year passed. Then he arrived at a village. A number of children were playing “sticks” [a game of Russian provenience much in use among the Russianized natives]. He looked from one to another, thinking of his boy. There was one poor boy who was dressed in the poorest of clothing. His body was mangy, and his head bruised and covered with scars. First, One-Side paid no attention to him, but when he finally looked at this boy he saw that the little finger on his left hand was missing. He snatched the finger out of his pouch and placed it beside the hand, and indeed it fitted! The poor boy was his son! “Whose boy are you?” asked One-Side. “I am mamma’s boy.” — “And where is your father?” — “I have no father: I used to have one, but now I have none.” — “I am your father.” The boy refused to believe it, and only cried bitterly. “If my father were alive, we should not be so wretched, mother and I.” The elder sisters had married and made their youngest sister a drudge in the house. “Why is your head so bruised and scarred?” asked One-Side. “It is because my aunts order me to enter the house only by the back entrance, and every time I try to go in by the front entrance, they strike my head with their heavy staffs.”

[This passage is interesting, since it shows that perhaps some of the native peoples on the Kolyma River had houses with two entrances, and that some members of the family were not allowed to pass through the main entrance. This recalls the type of house of the Maritime Koryak and Kamchadal, with its different entrances for winter and summer. Among the Koryak, as well as among the Kamchadal, in former times, women and children, also transformed shamans, often entered, even in the winter time, by the rear entrance from the storage room, while men considered it beneath their dignity to do so. It is quite certain that this tale, though it mentions the Tungus, must have referred, not to the nomadic reindeer-riding Tungus, with their light tents of curried reindeer skin, but to the people living more or less sedentary lives along the Kolyma River or on the seacoast near its mouth. On the Bear Islands, for example, were found remnants of some houses, deserted long ago. The people living along the Kolyma were chiefly Yukaghir; and along the seacoast, also the little known Ca’achet and Shelags. At the present time, among the Russian creoles and the Russianized natives on the Kolyma, several type of houses are in use; but the ancient type of house cannot be ascertained, because of the preponderant influence of the Russian log cabin with its wooden chimney of so-called “Yakut” type.]

“Let us go to your house.” They arrived at the house. The boy went ahead and One-Side followed him. They came to the front entrance. As soon as the boy tried to go in, his eldest aunt jumped up and struck him with her iron staff. Then the woman saw the boy’s father, and felt so much ashamed, that she fell down before him.

He entered the house. They hustled about, brought food of every kind, and prepared tea. They ate so long that it grew very late and it was time to go to bed. On the following morning, after breakfast, he said to his brothers-in-law, “Let us go and try which of us can shoot the best with the bow! You are two, and I am only one.” They made ready their bows and arrows and began to shoot at each other. The elder brother-in-law shot first; but One-Side jumped upward, and the arrow missed him. The second brother-in-law also shot. One-Side jumped aside and dodged the arrow. “Now I shall shoot,” said One-Side, “and you try to dodge my arrows.” He shot once, and hit his elder brother-in-law straight through the heart. With the second shot he killed his other brother-in-law. Then he went back to the house, killed his wife’s sisters, and took home his wife and his son.

One time he set off, as usual, to look for game. When he was out of sight of his wife, he took off the skin that disguised his true form and hung it up on the top of a high larch tree. He became a young man, quite fair and handsome, just like the sunrise. He went home and sat down on his wife’s bed. While he was sitting there, he was about to take off his boots. The woman began to argue, “Go away from here! My husband will be here soon, and he will be angry with me. He will say, ‘Why have you let a strange man sit down on your bed?’” “I am your husband,” said he. “Why do you try to drive me away?” “No,” said the woman, “my husband is one-sided, and you are like other men.” They argued for a long time. At last he said, “Go and look at that tree yonder. I hung up my one-sided skin on it.” She found the tree and the one-sided skin, and now she believed him. Then she caught him in her arms and covered him with kisses. After that they lived happier than ever.

The end.


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The sly young man

Two brothers, one married and the other unmarried, lead separate lives. The unmarried brother discovers his sister-in-law with a strange man, and the married brother unknowingly kills him. The unmarried brother secretly disposes of the body, which leads to a series of events involving a wolf shaman, deception, and vengeance, ultimately resulting in the death of the sister-in-law and the acquisition of new wives.

Source
Tales of Yukaghir, Lamut, and Russianized Natives of Eastern Siberia
by Waldemar Bogoras
The American Museum of Natural History
Anthropological Papers, Vol. 20, Part 1

New York, 1918


► Themes of the story

Revenge and Justice: The married brother’s act of killing the adulterer reflects a pursuit of personal justice for the betrayal.

Family Dynamics: The interactions between the brothers and the sister-in-law highlight complex familial relationships and tensions.

Love and Betrayal: The sister-in-law’s infidelity introduces themes of romantic betrayal and its consequences within the family.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Yukaghir people


This tale represents a mixture of some Russian and Yakut episodes adapted to the ideas and customs of the tundra inhabitants. Some details are curious enough; such, for instance, as nails driven into the flesh of the heel, which undoubtedly represent spurs, etc.

Told by Innocent Karyakin, a Tundra Yukaghir man, on the western tundra of the Kolyma country, winter of 1895.

There were two brothers, one married, the other unmarried. The married one lived in one place; the unmarried one, in another. They did not want to live together. One time the unmarried brother wanted to visit the married one. When he approached his house, he listened, and thought, “Why, my brother and his wife are talking and laughing quite merrily.” When he came nearer, however, he noticed that the man’s voice was not that of his brother. So he crept along the wall very cautiously, and then looked through a rent in the skin covering. A strange man was having quite a merry time with his sister-in-law. They were hugging and kissing, and talking and playing with each other. He thought, “My brother is not here. Probably he is off hunting wild reindeer.” The others meanwhile took off their breeches [women also wear breeches among the Chukchee, the Lamut, the Yukaghir etc.] and made love right before him, though unaware of his presence. At the most critical moment the young man entered the house. The woman, however, shook herself free, swifter than a she-ermine, and in a moment the man too was hidden beneath the blanket. The young man said nothing. He simply sat down and waited for the evening. The other man, the one hidden under the blanket, having nothing else to do, also waited. Late in the evening, the married brother came home.

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The unmarried brother said nothing to him about the strange man hidden in the house, the woman also said nothing; but both were silent and very anxious. The married brother said, “Listen, wife! Our brother has come to visit us. Cook plenty of the best meat and reindeer-fat, and we will have a hearty meal. The visiting brother said nothing, and waited, as before. The woman cooked some meat, and taking it out of the kettle, carved it with great care and spread the meal. The married brother said, “Come on! Let us eat!” The other answered, “How can we eat, since a strange man is hidden in our house?” The married brother said, “Then I shall look for him in every corner, and certainly I shall find him.” He did so, searching all through the house, but found nothing. Then he said again, “So it was a joke of yours. Come on! Let us have a meal!” The unmarried brother said, as before, “How can we have a meal? A strange man is hidden in the house.” The same happened three successive times. At last the unmarried brother said, “Leave me alone! How can we have a meal? A strange man is hidden in your bed, and covered with your own blankets.” The married brother pulled off the blanket. The strange man was lying there, face downward. His head was under the pillow. The married brother felt very angry. He drew his knife and with a single blow, cut off the head of the adulterer. Then he came to himself and said with great sorrow, “Oh, brother! — and you, woman! You ought to have warned me in time. Now, what is to be done? I have killed a man. What will happen to us?” He sat down and cried most wretchedly. The other brother said, “What of it? There is no need of crying. He has been killed, and we cannot change it. It is better that I carry off the body and dispose of it.”

He took the body and carried it off. After sometime he found the tracks of the killed man and followed them up. He came to a beaten road, and then to a large village. It had numerous houses, some of them Tungus, and some Yakut. They had herds of reindeer and also of horses. In the middle of the village stood a large house just like a hill. It was the house of the chief of the village. The unmarried brother arrived there in the night time and soon found the house of the killed man. He entered at once, carrying the corpse on his back. The parents of the killed one, an old man and an old woman, were sleeping on the right hand side of the house. The bed of their son was on the left hand side. He went to the bed, put down the body, and covered it with a skin blanket. He tucked in the folds with great care, and then placed the head in its proper place, so that he looked just like a man sleeping. The old man, and the old woman heard a rustling sound and thought, “Ah, it is our son! He has come home.” Then the father said, “Ah, it is you! Why are you so late?”

In another corner slept the elder brother of the killed man and his wife. He also said, “Why are you so late? You ought to be asleep long ago.” The man who had carried in the corpse crept softly out of the house and went home. He came to his married brother, who said, “Ah, it is you! You are alive. And what have you done with the body?” — “I carried it to the house of his parents and put it down on his own bed. He ought to have slept on it long ago.”

After that they had a meal. Then the unmarried brother said again, “I will go back and see what happened to the dead body.” — “Do not go! This time they will surely kill you.” — “They will not kill me. I shall go and see.” He would not listen to his married brother, and went back to the house of the dead man. He approached, and heard loud wailing. The relatives of the killed man were lamenting over the body. He entered and saluted the old man. Then modestly he sat down at the women’s place. The old man said, “I never saw such a face in our village. Certainly, you are a stranger, a visitor to our country.” — “I am,” said the young man. “And why are you lamenting in this wise?” — “We have good reason for it,” said the old man. “Two sons we had, and now we have lost one of them. He used to walk in the night time, heaven knows where. Then he grew angry with us and in that angry mood he cut off his own head. After that he lay down, covered himself with a blanket, and then he died. So you see we have good reasons for lamenting.”

They had a meal and then some tea. After that the old man said, “We have no shamans in our village, although it is large. Perhaps you know of some shaman in your own country?” — “Yes,” said the young man, “I know of one.” He lied once more. He did not know of any shaman. “Ah!” said the old man, brightening up, “if that is so, go and bring him here.” He asked them for two horses, — one for himself, and another for the shaman whom he was to bring. “I will ride one horse, and the other I will lead behind with a halter for the shaman.” He rode off without aim and purpose, for he knew of no shaman. After a long while he came to a lonesome log cabin. Some wolflings were playing before the entrance. He entered. An old wolf-woman was sitting on a bench. Her hair was long, it hung down and spread over the floor. A young girl was sitting at a table. She was quite fair, fairer than the sun. This was the Wolf-girl. The wolflings outside were her brothers. The old woman looked up and said, “I never saw such a face in our own place. No human beings ever came here. Who are you, — a human creature, or something else?” — “I am human.” — “And what are you looking for, roaming about?” — “I am in great need. I am looking for a shaman, having been sent by a suffering person.” She repeated her question, and he answered the same as before. The old woman held her breath for some time. Then she said, “I am too old now. I do not know whether I still possess any power, but in former times I used to help people.” He took hold of her, put her upon his horse, and rode back to the old man’s home.

He took her into the house, and said, “This is the shaman I have brought for you.” They treated her to the best dainties, and all the while she was drying over the fire her small, strange shaman’s drum. After that she started her shamanistic performance. According to custom, she made the man who had taken her there hold the long tassel fastened to the back of her garments. “Take care!” said the old woman, “do not let go of this tassel!” He grasped the tassel, and the old woman wound herself around like a piece of birchbark over the fire. The house was full of people, housemates, guests, onlookers. After a while the young man said, “I feel very hot. Let somebody hold this tassel for a little while, and I will go out and cool myself.”

He went out of the house. The moon was shining brightly. A number of horses were digging the snow for some tussock-grass. He caught them all. Then he cut down some young willow and prepared a number of willow brooms — one for each of the horses. He tied the brooms to the tails of the horses. Then he set them afire, and set the horses free. Seeing the glare and scenting the smell of fire, they ran away in every direction. He went back and took hold of the tassel again, as though nothing had happened. Then some other person went out, and hurried back, shouting, “O men! the country all around is aflame!” And, indeed, the horses were galloping about, waving high their tails of fire. “Who lighted this fire?” said the people. “Perhaps the spirits.” Everyone left the house. They stood outside, staring upon that living fire fleeting by. “Ah, ah!” said some of them. “It is our end. This fire will burn us down.” Not one of them thought any more of the old woman. The young man, however, quietly slipped back into the house.

The old woman was drumming more violently than ever. She was so full of inspiration, that she had noticed nothing at all. He looked about. No one was there. The old woman drummed on. Then he lifted from the ground a big kettle full to the brim of ice-cold water and all at once he overturned it over the old woman’s head. After that he put the kettle over her head and shoulders. The old woman shuddered, and fell down dead, as is the way of all shamans when frightened unexpectedly. The young man left the house, and mingled among the people outside, looking most innocent.

After some time, however, he said, “Why are we standing here looking at this blaze, and meantime we have left the shaman alone in the house? That is wrong.” They hurried back, and the wolf shaman was lying on the ground, wet and stone dead, half hidden in the kettle. The old man was in great fear, and wailed aloud, “Alas, alas! I lost a son, and that was bad enough; but it is much worse that this Wolf-woman has died in our house. Her children will surely come and wreak vengeance upon our heads. We are already as good as dead. O God!” he continued, “we are in a bad plight. Somebody must go and carry the Wolf-woman to her own house.”

The people were full of fear and nobody wanted to go. Then the old man tried to induce the young visitor to convey the body of the Wolf-woman to her family. The young man said, “How can I do this? They will tear me into bits.” The old man had a young daughter who was very pretty. He said, “Please toss this old woman away! If you come back alive, you may marry this young girl as your reward.” — “All right,” said the young man, “but still I am not sure. Perhaps, even if I come back alive, you will break your word and give me nothing.” — “No, never!” said the old man, “I will deal honestly with you.” — “So be it,” said the young man. “Now please kill for me two ptarmigan, and give me their bladders filled with fresh and warm blood.” He took the bladders and placed them under his armpits. Then he drove some iron nails into his heels, into the very flesh. He took the old woman and put her upon the saddle. Then he bound her fast, though not very strongly. She looked, however, quite like a living person riding a horse. They set off and reached the house of the wolves. “Oh,” the wolflings raised a yell, “Mamma is coming, mamma is coming! “Easy,” said the young man. “My horse shies easily. Take care lest you cause some great misfortune.” And he secretly spurred his horse with the nails of his feet. The horse reared and threw him down. The other horse did the same. The body of the wolf-mother fell down like a bundle of rags. The bladder burst, and all the blood was spilled. They lay there side by side, swimming in blood. The wolf-children said, “O brother! our mother is dead; but that is as nothing. We have killed that stranger by our imprudence. He is near unto death, and no doubt his brothers and sisters, and all his kith and kin, will come here to have revenge.”

They went near and looked at him. The blood was streaming down his arms and legs. “Oh, oh!” said the wolf-children, “How can be live?” In despair they took him by the hands and feet and shook him and said to him, “Please, man, do not die here! We will give you our pretty sister.” They worried him, howled over him, and entreated him, and by and by he acted as though feeling a little better. He sighed low, “Oh, oh!” In the end he fully revived and came to. “Ah!” said the wolflings to their sister, “see what good luck we have. A man was dying, and we said, ‘We will give you our sister,’ and he revived.”

So he took the girl and went home. “Be sure,” said the wolf children on taking farewell, “when you return to your own place, not to tell your kinsmen that we had nearly killed you!” — “I will not tell,” assured the man, and galloped off with his bride. They came to the old man. “I have come back and am alive!” shouted the young man. “Where is the girl?” — “Here she is,” said the old man. “Thank god, you have come back safe!” He took the other girl, and went back to his brother with two women and three horses. The brother said, “How long it is since you were here! I thought you were dead but I see you have brought some girls.” — “I have,” said the young man. He entered the house, and without much ado, cutoff the head of his sister-in-law. “There you are!” said he. “You shall have no more paramours.” He gave his brother the old man’s daughter and took for himself the old woman’s daughter. After that they lived on.


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