The Monkey’s Fiddle

Monkey, forced to leave his home due to scarcity, worked for his great uncle, Orang Outang, who gifted him a magical bow and fiddle. Upon returning, Monkey’s hunting skill sparked Wolf’s jealousy, leading to a false theft accusation. Condemned by the court, Monkey used the fiddle to compel the animals to dance until exhaustion. He won freedom, reclaimed his bow, and left triumphant, causing the court to scatter.

Source
South-African Folk Tales
by James A. Honey, M.D.
New York,1910

► Themes of the story

Cunning and Deception: The Monkey uses his cleverness to outwit the other animals, especially when falsely accused by the Wolf.

Magic and Enchantment: The fiddle possesses magical properties, compelling all who hear it to dance uncontrollably.

Revenge and Justice: The Monkey seeks justice for the false accusations by using the fiddle to make the animals dance until they acknowledge his innocence.

► From the same Region or People

South Africa
- Bushmen Lore

Learn more about the Bushmen

Hunger and want forced Monkey one day to forsake his land and to seek elsewhere among strangers for much-needed work. Bulbs, earth beans, scorpions, insects, and such things were completely exhausted in his own land. But fortunately he received, for the time being, shelter with a great uncle of his, Orang Outang, who lived in another part of the country.

When he had worked for quite a while he wanted to return home, and as recompense his great uncle gave him a fiddle and a bow and arrow and told him that with the bow and arrow he could hit and kill anything he desired, and with the fiddle he could force anything to dance.

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The first he met upon his return to his own land was Brer Wolf. This old fellow told him all the news and also that he had since early morning been attempting to stalk a deer, but all in vain.

Then Monkey laid before him all the wonders of the bow and arrow that he carried on his back and assured him if he could but see the deer he would bring it down for him. When Wolf showed him the deer, Monkey was ready and down fell the deer.

They made a good meal together, but instead of Wolf being thankful, jealousy overmastered him and he begged for the bow and arrow. When Monkey refused to give it to him, he thereupon began to threaten him with his greater strength, and so when Jackal passed by, Wolf told him that Monkey had stolen his bow and arrow. After Jackal had heard both of them, he declared himself unqualified to settle the case alone, and he proposed that they bring the matter to the court of Lion, Tiger, and the other animals. In the meantime he declared he would take possession of what had been the cause of their quarrel, so that it would be safe, as he said. But he immediately brought to earth all that was eatable, so there was a long time of slaughter before Monkey and Wolf agreed to have the affair in court.

Monkey’s evidence was weak, and to make it worse, Jackal’s testimony was against him. Jackal thought that in this way it would be easier to obtain the bow and arrow from Wolf for himself.

And so fell the sentence against Monkey. Theft was looked upon as a great wrong; he must hang.

The fiddle was still at his side, and he received as a last favor from the court the right to play a tune on it.

He was a master player of his time, and in addition to this came the wonderful power of his charmed fiddle. Thus, when he struck the first note of “Cockcrow” upon it, the court began at once to show an unusual and spontaneous liveliness, and before he came to the first waltzing turn of the old tune the whole court was dancing like a whirlwind.

Over and over, quicker and quicker, sounded the tune of “Cockcrow” on the charmed fiddle, until some of the dancers, exhausted, fell down, although still keeping their feet in motion. But Monkey, musician as he was, heard and saw nothing of what had happened around him. With his head placed lovingly against the instrument, and his eyes half closed, he played on, keeping time ever with his foot.

Wolf was the first to cry out in pleading tones breathlessly, “Please stop, Cousin Monkey! For love’s sake, please stop!”

But Monkey did not even hear him. Over and over sounded the resistless waltz of “Cockcrow.”

After a while Lion showed signs of fatigue, and when he had gone the round once more with his young lion wife, he growled as he passed Monkey, “My whole kingdom is yours, ape, if you just stop playing.”

“I do not want it,” answered Monkey, “but withdraw the sentence and give me my bow and arrow, and you, Wolf, acknowledge that you stole it from me.”

“I acknowledge, I acknowledge!” cried Wolf, while Lion cried, at the same instant, that he withdrew the sentence.

Monkey gave them just a few more turns of the “Cockcrow,” gathered up his bow and arrow, and seated himself high up in the nearest camel thorn tree.

The court and other animals were so afraid that he might begin again that they hastily disbanded to new parts of the world.

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Origin of the Difference in Modes of Life Between Hottentots and Bushmen

In the tale, a blind man and a hunter discover cattle in a hole, initially mistaken for game. The blind man regains sight, builds a kraal, and anoints himself in traditional fashion. When the hunter tries the same, he is tricked and burned by fire. Banished to the hills, the hunter’s descendants, seeking honey, become the Bushmen.

Source
South-African Folk Tales
by James A. Honey, M.D.
New York,1910

► Themes of the story

Origin of Things: The tale explains the divergence in lifestyles between the Hottentots and Bushmen, detailing how their distinct ways of living came to be.

Transformation: The narrative describes the blind man’s recovery of sight and the hunter’s transition to a life in the hills, highlighting significant changes in their circumstances.

Cunning and Deception: The blind man deceives the hunter by instructing him to throw the ointment into the fire, leading to the hunter’s misfortune.

► From the same Region or People

South Africa
- Bushmen Lore

Learn more about the Bushmen

In the beginning there were two. One was blind, the other was always hunting. This hunter found at last a hole in the earth from which game proceeded and killed the young. The blind man, feeling and smelling them, said, “They are not game, but cattle.”

The blind man afterwards recovered his sight, and going with the hunter to this hole, saw that they were cows with their calves. He then quickly built a kraal (fence made of thorns) round them, and anointed himself, just as Hottentots (in their native state) are still wont to do.

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When the other, who now with great trouble had to seek his game, came and saw this, he wanted to anoint himself also. “Look here!” said the other, “you must throw the ointment into the fire, and afterwards use it.” He followed this advice, and the flames flaring up into his face, burnt him most miserably; so that he was glad to make his escape. The other, however, called to him: “Here, take the kirri (a knobstick), and run to the hills to hunt there for honey.”

Hence sprung the race of Bushmen.

Deegeenboyah the Soldier-Bird

Deegeenboyah, an aging hunter, steals food from the Mullyan tribe to feed his family. After deceiving them into sharing their emu catch, he hides underground but is pursued by Mullyangah, the Mullyan chief. Mullyangah brutally kills Deegeenboyah’s daughters, wives, and finally him, reclaiming the stolen emus. The Mullyans celebrate their chief’s cunning and strength, showcasing a harsh tale of survival and tribal justice.

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

► Themes of the story

Cunning and Deception: Deegeenboyah deceives the Mullyan tribe by falsely claiming to have found an emu nest, aiming to share in their catch.

Revenge and Justice: Mullyangah, the Mullyan chief, exacts brutal retribution on Deegeenboyah and his family for the theft, reflecting a harsh form of tribal justice.

Conflict with Authority: Deegeenboyah’s actions challenge the authority of the Mullyan tribe, leading to severe consequences.

► From the same Region or People

Australia
- Narran Lore

Learn more about the Aboriginal Australians

Deegeenboyah was an old man, and getting past hunting much for himself; and he found it hard to keep his two wives and his two daughters supplied with food. He camped with his family away from the other tribes, but he used to join the men of the Mullyan tribe when they were going out hunting, and so get a more certain supply of food than if he had gone by himself. One day when the Mullyan went out, he was too late to accompany them. He hid in the scrub and waited for their return, at some little distance from their camp.

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When they were coming back he heard them singing the Song of the Setting Emu, a song which whoever finds the first emu’s nest of the season always sings before getting back to the camp. Deegeenboyah jumped up as he heard the song, and started towards the camp of the Mullyan singing the same song, as if he too had found a nest. On they all went towards the camp sing joyously:

Nurdoo, nurbber me derreen derreenbah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah.
Garmbay booan yunnahdeh beahwah ah, ah, ah, ah, ah.
Gubbondee, dee, ee, ee, ee.
Neah nein gulbeejah, ah, ah, ah, ah.

Which song roughly translated means:

I saw it first amongst the young trees,
The white mark on its forehead,
The white mark that before I had only seen as the emus moved together in the day-time.
Never did I see one camp before, only moving, moving always.
Now that we have found the nest
We must look out the ants do not get to the eggs.
If they crawl over them the eggs are spoilt.

As the last echo of the song died away, those in the camp took up the refrain and sang it back to the hunters to let them know that they understood that they had found the first emu’s nest of the season.

When the hunters reached the camp, up came Deegeenboyah too. The Mullyans turned to him, and said:

“Did you find an emu’s nest too?”

“Yes,” said Deegeenboyah, “I did. I think you must have found the same, though after me, as I saw not your tracks. But I am older and stiff in my limbs, so came not back so quickly. Tell me, where is your nest?”

“In the clump of the Goolahbahs, on the edge of the plain,” said the unsuspecting Mullyan.

“Ah, I thought so. That is mine. But what matter? We can share–there will be plenty for all. We must get the net and go and camp near the nest to-night, and to-morrow trap the emu.”

The Mullyan got their emu trapping net, one made of thin rope about as thick as a thin clothes line, about five feet high, and between two and three hundred yards long. And off they set, accompanied by Deegeenboyah, to camp near where the emu was setting. When they had chosen a place to camp, they had their supper and a little corrobborce, illustrative of slaying emu, etc. The next morning at daylight they erected their net into a sort of triangular shaped yard, one side open. Black fellows were stationed at each end of the net, and at stated distances along it. The net was upheld by upright poles. When the net was fixed, some of the blacks made a wide circle round the emu’s nest, leaving open the side towards the net. They closed in gradually until they frightened the emu off the nest. The emu seeing black fellows on every side but one, ran in that direction. The blacks followed closely, and the bird was soon yarded. Madly the frightened bird rushed against the net. Up ran a black fellow, seized the bird and wrung its neck. Then some of them went back to the nest to get the eggs, which they baked in the ashes of their fire and ate. They made a hole to cook the emu in. They plucked the emu. When they had plenty of coals, they put a thick layer at the bottom of the hole, some twigs of leaves on top of the coals, some feathers on the top of them. Then they laid the emu in, more feathers on the top of it, leaves again on top of them, and over them a thick layer of coals, and lastly they covered all with earth.

It would be several hours in cooking, so Deegeenboyah said, “I will stay and cook the emu, you young fellows take moonoons–emu spears–and try and get some more emu.”

The Mullyan thought there was sense in this proposal, so they took a couple of long spears, with a jagged nick at one end, to hold the emu when they speared it; they stuck a few emu feathers on the end of each spear and went off. They soon saw a flock of emu coming past where they were waiting to water. Two of the party armed with the moonoon climbed a tree, broke some boughs and put these thickly beneath them, so as to screen them from the emu. Then as the emu came near to the men they dangled down their spears, letting the emu feathers on the ends wave to and fro. The emu, seeing the feathers, were curious as to how they got there, came over, craning their necks and sniffing right underneath the spears. The black fellows tightly grasped the moonoons and drove them with force into the two emu they had picked One emu dropped dead at once. The other ran with the spear in it for a short distance, but the black fellow was quickly after it, and soon caught and killed it outright. Then carrying the dead birds, back they went to where Deegeenboyah was cooking the other emu. They cooked the two they had brought, and then all started for the camp in great spirits at their successful chase. They began throwing their mooroolahs as they went along, and playing with their bubberahs, or returning boomerangs. Old Deegeenboyah said, “Here, give me the emus to carry, and then you will be free to have a really good game with your mooroolahs and bubberahs, and see who is the best man.”

They gave him the emus, and on they went, some throwing mooroolahs, and some showing their skill with bubberahs. Presently Deegeenboyah sat down. They thought he was just resting for a few minutes, so ran on laughing and playing, each good throw eliciting another effort, for none liked owning themselves beaten while they had a mooroolah left. As they got further away they noticed Deegeenboyah was still sitting down, so they called out to him to know what was the matter. “All right,” he said, “only having a rest; shall come on in a minute.” So on they went. When they were quite out of sight Deegeenboyah jumped up quickly, took up the emus and made for an opening in the ground at a little distance. This opening was the door of the underground home of the Murgah Muggui spider–the opening was a neat covering, like a sort of trap door. Down though this he went, taking the emus with him, knowing there was another exit at some distance, out of which he could come up quite near his home, for it was the way he often took after hunting.

The Mullyans went home and waited, but no sign of Deegeenboyah. Then back on their tracks they went and called aloud, but got no answer, and saw no sign. At last Mullyangah the chief of the Mullyans, said he would find him. Arming himself with his boondees and spears, he went back to where he had last seen Deegeenboyah sitting. He saw where his tracks turned off and where they disappeared, but could not account for their disappearance, as he did not notice the neat little trap-door of the Murgah Muggui. But he hunted round, determined to scour the bush until he found him. At last he saw a camp. He went up to it and saw only two little girls playing about, whom he knew were the daughters of Deegeenboyah.

“Where is your father?” he asked them.

“Out hunting,” they said.

“Which way does he come home?”

“Our father comes home out of this;” and they showed him the spiders’ trap-door.

“Where are your mothers?”

“Our mothers are out getting honey and yams.” And off ran the little girls to a leaning tree on which they played, running up its bent trunk.

Mullyangah went and stood where the trunk was highest from the ground and said: “Now, little girls, run up to here and jump, and I will catch you. Jump one at a time.”

Off jumped one of the girls towards his outstretched arms, which, as she came towards him he dropped, and, stepping aside, let her come with her full force to the ground where she lay dead. Then he called to the horror-stricken child on the tree: “Come, jump. Your sister came too quickly. Wait till I call, then jump.”

“No, I am afraid.”

“Come on, I will be ready this time. Now come.”

“I am afraid.”

“Come on; I am strong.” And he smiled quite kindly up at the child, who, hesitating no longer, jumped towards his arms, only to meet her sister’s fate.

“Now,” said Mullyangah, “here come the two wives. I must silence them, or when they see their children their cries will warn their husband if he is within earshot.” So he sneaked behind a tree, and as the two wives passed he struck them dead with his spears. Then he went to the trapdoor that the children had shown him, and sat down to wait for the coming of Deegeenboyah. He had not long to wait. The trap-door was pushed up and out came a cooked emu, which he caught hold of and laid on one side. Deegeenboyah thought it was the girls taking it, as they had often watched for his coming and done before, so he pushed up another, which Mullyangah took, then a third, and lastly came up himself, to find Mullyangah confronting him spear and boondee in hand. He started back, but the trap-door was shut behind him, and Mullyangah barred his escape in front.

“Ah,” said Mullyangah, “you stole our food and now you shall die. I’ve killed your children.”

Decgeenboyah looked wildly round, and, seeing the dead bodies of his girls beneath the leaning tree, he groaned aloud.

“And,” went on Mullyangah, “I’ve killed your wives.”

Deegenboyah raised his head and looked again wildly round, and there, on their homeward path, he saw his dead wives. Then he called aloud, “Here Mullyangah are your emus; take them and spare me. I shall steal no more, for I myself want little, but my children and my wives hungered. I but stole for them. Spare me, I pray you. I am old; I shall not live long. Spare me.”

“Not so,” said Mullyangah, “no man lives to steal twice from a Mullyan;” and, so saying, he speared Deegeenboyah where he stood. Then he lifted up the emus, and, carrying them with him, went swiftly back to his camp.

And merry was the supper that night when the Mullyans ate the emus, and Mullyangah told the story of his search and slaughter. And proud were the Mullyans of the prowess and cunning of their chief.

Bunnyyarl the Flies and Wurrunnunnah the Bees

The Bunnyyarl and Wurrunnunnah, once relations sharing a camp, lived contrasting lives. The industrious Wurrunnunnah stored honey for harsh times, while the careless Bunnyyarl wasted time, relying on others. Tired of their burden, the Wurrunnunnah left and became wild bees, symbolizing hard work. The lazy Bunnyyarls, left behind, were transformed into flies, embodying idleness and dependence.

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

► Themes of the story

Transformation: The narrative depicts the metamorphosis of the Wurrunnunnah into wild bees and the Bunnyyarl into flies, symbolizing their inherent traits.

Moral Lessons: The tale imparts a lesson on the virtues of hard work and the consequences of laziness, highlighting the importance of diligence.

Cunning and Deception: The Bunnyyarl attempt to rely on the Wurrunnunnah’s efforts instead of contributing themselves, showcasing themes of dependence and exploitation.

► From the same Region or People

Australia
- Narran Lore

Learn more about the Aboriginal Australians

The Bunnyyarl and Wurrunnunnah were relations, and lived in one camp. The Wurrunnunnah were very hardworking, always trying to gather food in a time of plenty, to lay in a store for a time of famine. The Bunnyyarl used to give no heed to the future, but used to waste their time playing round any rubbish, and never thinking even of laying up any provisions. One day the Wurrunnunnah said, “Come out with us and gather honey from flowers. Soon will the winter winds blow the flowers away, and there will be no more honey to gather.”

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“No,” said the Bunnyyarl, “we have something to look to here.” And off they went, turning over some rubbish and wasting their time, knowing whatever the Wurrunnunnah brought they would share with them. The Wurrunnunnah went alone and left the Bunnyyarl to their rubbish. The Wurrunnunnah gathered the flowers and stored the honey, and never more went back to live with the Bunnyyarls, for they were tired of doing all the work.

As time went on the Wurrunnunnah were changed into little wild bees, and the lazy Bunnyyarls were changed into flies.

Bougoodoogahdah the Rain Bird

Bougoodoogahdah, an old woman living with 400 dingoes, lured people into ambushes for her dogs to kill and consume. When her acts were discovered, the tribes retaliated, killing her and the dogs. Her heart birthed a bird that calls “Bougoodoogahdah,” linked to rainmaking. The dead dingoes became snakes, while her two harmless dogs transformed into non-poisonous carpet snakes. White stones mark the victims’ remains.

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

► Themes of the story

Cunning and Deception: Bougoodoogahdah deceives travelers by luring them into ambushes, leading to their demise at the hands of her dingoes.

Transformation: The narrative describes the metamorphosis of Bougoodoogahdah’s heart into a rain bird and her dingoes into snakes, symbolizing change and continuity.

Origin of Things: The story explains the origin of the rain bird’s call and its association with rainmaking in the cultural context.

► From the same Region or People

Australia
- Narran Lore

Learn more about the Aboriginal Australians

Bougoodoogahdah was all old woman who lived alone with her four hundred dingoes. From living so long with these dogs she had grown not to care for her fellow creatures except as food. She and the dogs lived on human flesh, and it was her cunning which gained such food for them all. She would sally forth from her camp with her two little dogs; she would be sure to meet some black fellows, probably twenty or thirty, going down to the creek. She would say, “I can tell you where there are lots of paddy melons.” They would ask where, and she would answer, “Over there, on the point of that moorillah or ridge. If you will go there and have your nullahs ready, I will go with my two dogs and round them up towards you.”

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The black fellows invariably stationed themselves where she had told them, and off went Bougoodoogahdah and her two dogs. But not to round up the paddy melons. She went quickly towards her camp, calling softly, “Birree, gougou,” which meant “Sool ’em, sool ’em,” and was the signal for the dogs to come out. Quickly they came and surrounded the black fellows, took them by surprise, flew at them, bit and worried them to death. Then they and Bougoodoogahdah dragged the bodies to their camp. There they were cooked and were food for the old woman and the dogs for some time. As soon as the supply was finished the same plan to obtain more was repeated.

The black fellows missed so many of their friends that they determined to find out what had become of them. They began to suspect the old woman who lived alone and hunted over the moorillahs with her two little dogs. They proposed that the next party that went to the creek should divide and some stay behind in hiding and watch what went on. Those watching saw the old woman advance towards their friends, talk to them for a while, and then go off with her two dogs. They saw their friends station themselves at the point of the moorillah or ridge, holding their nullahs in readiness, as if waiting for something to come. Presently they heard a low cry from the old woman of “Birree gougou,” which cry was quickly followed by dingoes coming out of the bush in every direction, in hundreds, surrounding the black fellows at the point.

The dingoes closed in, quickly hemming the black fellows in all round; then they made a simultaneous rush at them, tore them with their teeth, and killed them.

The black fellows watching, saw that when the dogs had killed their friends they were joined by the old woman, who helped them to drag off the bodies to their camp.

Having seen all this, back went the watchers to their tribe and told what they had seen. All the tribes round mustered up and decided to execute a swift vengeance. In order to do so, out they sallied well armed. A detachment went on to entrap the dogs and Bougoodoogahdah. Then just when the usual massacre of the blacks was to begin and the dogs were closing in round them for the purpose, out rushed over two hundred black fellows, and so effectual was their attack that every dog was killed, as well as Bougoodoogahdah and her two little dogs.

The old woman lay where she had been slain, but as the blacks went away they heard her cry “Bougoodoogahdah.” So back they went and broke her bones, first they broke her legs and then left her. But again as they went they heard her cry “Bougoodoogahdah.” Then back again they came, and again, until at last every bone in her body was broken, but still she cried “Bougoodoogahdah.” So one man waited beside her to see whence came the sound, for surely, they thought, she must be dead. He saw her heart move and cry again “Bougoodoogahdah” and as it cried, out came a little bird from it. This little bird runs on the moorillahs and calls at night “Bougoodoogahdah.” All day it stays in one place, and only at night comes out. It is a little greyish bird, something like a weedah. The blacks call it a rain-maker, for if any one steals its eggs it cries out incessantly “Bougoodoogahdah” until in answer to its call the rain falls. And when the country is stricken with a drought, the blacks look for one of these little birds, and finding it, chase it, until it cries aloud “Bougoodoogahdah, Bougoodoogahdah” and when they hear its cry in the daytime they know the rain will soon fall.

As the little bird flew from the heart of the woman, all the dead dingoes were changed into snakes, many different kinds, all poisonous. The two little dogs were changed into dayall minyah, a very small kind of carpet snake, non-poisonous, for these two little dogs had never bitten the blacks as the other dogs had done. At the points of the Moorillahs where Bougoodoogahdah and her dingoes used to slay the blacks, are heaps of white stones, which are supposed to be the fossilised bones of the massacred men.

Goonur, the Woman-Doctor

Goonur, a clever doctor, revived her son after his wives tricked him into near-death. Though the son feigned trust in his wives, he secretly plotted revenge, ultimately leading to their demise. Goonur revived them too, demanding peace among them. They lived harmoniously until Goonur’s death, marked by a celestial sign. The wives became stars, their red hue linked to their wounds, immortalized in the sky.

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

► Themes of the story

Cunning and Deception: The two wives deceitfully lure their husband, Goonur, into a trap, leading to his near-death.

Resurrection: Goonur’s mother revives her son after his apparent death, showcasing a literal return from death.

Revenge and Justice: After being revived, Goonur secretly plots and executes a plan to punish his treacherous wives, leading to their demise.

► From the same Region or People

Australia
- Narran Lore

Learn more about the Aboriginal Australians

Goonur was a clever old woman-doctor, who lived with her son, Goonur, and his two wives. The wives were Guddah the red lizard, and Beereeun the small, prickly lizard. One day the two wives had done something to anger Goonur, their husband, and he gave them both a great beating. After their beating they went away by themselves. They said to each other that they could stand their present life no longer, and yet there was no escape unless they killed their husband. They decided they would do that. But how? That was the question. It must be by cunning.

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At last they decided on a plan. They dug a big hole in the sand near the creek, filled it with water, and covered the hole over with boughs, leaves, and grass.

“Now we will go,” they said, “and tell our husband that we have found a big bandicoot’s nest.”

Back they went to the camp, and told Goonur that they had seen a big nest of bandicoots near the creek; that if he sneaked up he would be able to surprise them and get the lot.

Off went Goonur in great haste. He sneaked up to within a couple of feet of the nest, then gave a spring on to the top of it. And only when he felt the bough top give in with him, and he sank down into water, did he realise that he had been tricked. Too late then to save himself, for he was drowning and could not escape. His wives had watched the success of their stratagem from a distance. When they were certain that they had effectually disposed of their hated husband, they went back to the camp. Goonur, the mother, soon missed her son, made inquiries of his wives, but gained no information from them. Two or three days passed, and yet Goonur, the son, returned not. Seriously alarmed at his long absence without having given her notice of his intention, the mother determined to follow his track. She took up his trail where she had last seen him leave the camp. This she followed until she reached the so-called bandicoot’s nest. Here his tracks disappeared, and nowhere could she find a sign of his having returned from this place. She felt in the hole with her yarn stick, and soon felt that there was something large there in the water. She cut a forked stick and tried to raise the body and get it out, for she felt sure it must be her son. But she could not raise it; stick after stick broke in the effort. At last she cut a midjee stick and tried with that, and then she was successful. When she brought out the body she found it was indeed her son. She dragged the body to an ant bed, and watched intently to see if the stings of the ants brought any sign of returning life. Soon her hope was realised, and after a violent twitching of the muscles her son regained consciousness. As soon as he was able to do so, he told her of the trick his wives had played on him.

Goonur, the mother, was furious. “No more shall they have you as husband. You shall live hidden in my dardurr. When we get near the camp you can get into this long, big comebee, and I will take you in. When you want to go hunting I will take you from the camp in this comebee, and when we are out of sight you can get out and hunt as of old.”

And thus they managed for some time to keep his return a secret; and little the wives knew that their husband was alive and in his mother’s camp. But as day after day Goonur, the mother, returned from hunting loaded with spoils, they began to think she must have help from some one; for surely, they said, no old woman could be so successful in hunting. There was a mystery they were sure, and they were determined to find it out.

“See,” they said, “she goes out alone. She is old, and yet she brings home more than we two do together, and we are young. To-day she brought opossums, piggiebillahs, honey yams, quatha, and many things. We got little, yet we went far. We will watch her.”

The next time old Goonur went out, carrying her big comebee, the wives watched her.

“Look,” they said, “how slowly she goes. She could not climb trees for opossums–she is too old and weak; look how she staggers.”

They went cautiously after her, and saw when she was some distance from the camp that she put down her comebee. And out of it, to their amazement, stepped Goonur, their husband.

“Ah,” they said, “this is her secret. She must have found him, and, as she is a great doctor, she was able to bring him to life again. We must wait until she leaves him, and then go to him, and beg to know where he has been, and pretend joy that he is back, or else surely now he is alive again he will sometime kill us.”

Accordingly, when Goonur was alone the two wives ran to him, and said:

“Why, Goonur, our husband, did you leave us? Where have you been all the time that we, your wives, have mourned for you? Long has the time been without you, and we, your wives, have been sad that you came no more to our dardurr.”

Goonur, the husband, affected to believe their sorrow was genuine, and that they did not know when they directed him to the bandicoot’s nest that it was a trap. Which trap, but for his mother, might have been his grave.

They all went hunting together, and when they had killed enough for food they returned to the camp. As they came near to the camp, Goonur, the mother, saw them coming, and cried out:

“Would you again be tricked by your wives? Did I save you from death only that you might again be killed? I spared them, but I would I had slain them, if again they are to have a chance of killing you, my son. Many are the wiles of women, and another time I might not be able to save you. Let them live if you will it so, my son, but not with you. They tried to lure you to death; you are no longer theirs, mine only now, for did I not bring you back from the dead?”

But Goonur the husband said, “In truth did you save me, my mother, and these my wives rejoice that you did. They too, as I was, were deceived by the bandicoot’s nest, the work of an enemy yet to be found. See, my mother, do not the looks of love in their eyes, and words of love on their lips vouch for their truth? We will be as we have been, my mother, and live again in peace.”

And thus craftily did Goonur the husband deceive his wives and make them believe he trusted them wholly, while in reality his mind was even then plotting vengeance. In a few days he had his plans ready. Having cut and pointed sharply two stakes, he stuck them firmly in the creek, then he placed two logs on the bank, in front of the sticks, which were underneath the water, and invisible. Having made his preparations, he invited his wives to come for a bathe. He said when they reached the creek:

“See those two logs on the bank, you jump in each from one and see which can dive the furthest. I will go first to see you as you come up.” And in he jumped, carefully avoiding the pointed stakes. “Right,” he called. “All is clear here, jump in.”

Then the two wives ran down the bank each to a log and jumped from it. Well had Goonur calculated the distance, for both jumped right on to the stakes placed in the water to catch them, and which stuck firmly into them, holding them under the water.

“Well am I avenged,” said Goonur. “No more will my wives lay traps to catch me.” And he walked off to the camp.

His mother asked him where his wives were. “They left me,” he said, “to get bees’ nests.”

But as day by day passed and the wives returned not, the old woman began to suspect that her son knew more than he said. She asked him no more, but quietly watched her opportunity, when her son was away hunting, and then followed the tracks of the wives. She tracked them to the creek, and as she saw no tracks of their return, she went into the creek, felt about, and there found the two bodies fast on the stakes. She managed to get them off and out of the creek, then she determined to try and restore them to life, for she was angry that her son had not told her what he had done, but had deceived her as well as his wives. She rubbed the women with some of her medicines, dressed the wounds made by the stakes, and then dragged them both on to ants’ nests and watched their bodies as the ants crawled over them, biting them. She had not long to wait; soon they began to move and come to life again.

As soon as they were restored Goonur took them back to the camp and said to Goonur her son, “Now once did I use my knowledge to restore life to you, and again have I used it to restore life to your wives. You are all mine now, and I desire that you live in peace and never more deceive me, or never again shall I use my skill for you:”

And they lived for a long while together, and when the Mother Doctor died there was a beautiful, dazzlingly bright falling star, followed by a sound as of a sharp clap of thunder, and all the tribes round when they saw and heard this said, “A great doctor must have died, for that is the sign.” And when the wives died, they were taken up to the sky, where they are now known as Gwaibillah, the red star, so called from its bright red colour, owing, the legend says, to the red marks left by the stakes on the bodies of the two women, and which nothing could efface.

Ouyan the Curlew

Ouyan, a man pressured by his mother, Beeargah, to hunt for food, resorts to cutting flesh from his own legs to avoid returning empty-handed. His deception is uncovered by women sent to follow him. Enraged, Beeargah and the women beat Ouyan, cursing him to forever have thin, red legs. Ouyan disappears, but a bird with red legs, crying mournfully, becomes his legacy.

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

► Themes of the story

Sacrifice: Ouyan endures self-inflicted pain by cutting flesh from his own legs to provide food for his family, highlighting the lengths one might go to fulfill familial duties.

Cunning and Deception: Ouyan deceives his mother and the women by presenting his own flesh as emu meat, leading to eventual discovery and consequences.

Divine Punishment: Upon uncovering the truth, Ouyan’s mother and the women curse him, resulting in his transformation into a bird with thin, red legs, symbolizing a form of retribution.

► From the same Region or People

Australia
- Narran Lore

Learn more about the Aboriginal Australians

Bleargah the hawk, mother of Ouyan the curlew, said one day to her son: “Go, Ouyan, out, take your spears and kill an emu. The women and I are hungry. You are a man, go out and kill, that we may eat. You must not stay always in the camp like an old woman; you must go and hunt as other men do, lest the women laugh at you.”

Ouyan took his spears and went out hunting, but though he went far, he could not get an emu, yet he dare not return to the camp and face the jeers of the women.

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Well could they jeer, and angry could his mother grow when she was hungry. Sooner than return empty-handed he would cut some flesh off his own legs. And this he decided to do. He made a cut in his leg with his comebo and as he made it, cried aloud: “Yuckay! Yuckay,” in pain. But he cut on, saying: “Sharper would cut the tongues of the women, and deeper would be the wounds they would make, if I returned without food for them.” And crying: “Yuckay, yuckay,” at each stroke of his comebo, he at length cut off a piece of flesh, and started towards the camp with it.

As he neared the camp his mother cried out: “What have you brought us, Ouyan? We starve for meat, come quickly.”

He came and laid the flesh at her feet, saying: “Far did I go, and little did I see, but there is enough for all to-night; to-morrow will I go forth again.”

The women cooked the flesh, and ate it hungrily. Afterwards they felt quite ill, but thought it must be because they had eaten too hungrily. The next day they hurried Ouyan forth again. And again he returned bringing his own flesh back. Again the women ate hungrily of it, and again they felt quite ill.

Then, too, Beeargah noticed for the first time that the flesh Ouyan brought looked different from emu flesh. She asked him what flesh it was. He replied: “What should it be but the flesh of emu?”

But Beeargah was not satisfied, and she said to the two women who lived with her: “Go you, to-morrow, follow Ouyan, and see whence he gets this flesh.”

The next day, the two woman followed Ouyan when he went forth to hunt. They followed at a good distance, that he might not notice that they were following. Soon they heard him crying as if in pain: “Yuckay, yuckay, yuckay nurroo gay gay.” When they came near they saw he was cutting the flesh off his own limbs. Before he discovered that they were watching him, back they went to the old woman, and told her what they had seen.

Soon Ouyan came back, bringing, as usual, the flesh with him. When he had thrown it down at his mother’s feet, he went away, and lay down as if tired from the chase. His mother went up to him, and before he had time to cover his mutilated limbs, she saw that indeed the story of the women was true. Angry was she that he had so deceived her: and she called loudly for the other two women, who came running to her.

“You are right,” she said. “Too lazy to hunt for emu, he cut off his own flesh, not caring that when we unwittingly ate thereof we should sicken. Let us beat him who did us this wrong.”

The three women seized poor Ouyan and beat him, though he cried aloud in agony when the blows fell on his bleeding legs.

When the women had satisfied their vengeance, Beeargah said: “You Ouyan shall have no more flesh on your legs, and red shall they be for ever; red, and long and fleshless.” Saying which she went, and with her the other women. Ouyan crawled away and hid himself, and never again did his mother see him. But night after night was to be heard a wailing cry of, “Bou you gwai gwai. Bou you gwai gwai,” which meant, “My poor red legs. My poor red legs.”

But though Ouyan the man was never seen again, a bird with long thin legs, very red in colour under the feathers, was seen often, and heard to cry ever at night, even as Ouyan the man had cried: “Bou you gwai gwai. Bou you gwai gwai.” And this bird bears always the name of Ouyan.

Goomblegubbon, Beeargaii, and Ouyan

Goomblegubbon the bustard refused to share his grinding stone with his wives, Beeargah and Ouyan. Seeking revenge, they emptied their shared water source, fled with Beeargah’s children, and met two black fellows by a river. The men took them as wives, escaping Goomblegubbon’s pursuit by burning their tracks. Goomblegubbon, unable to cross the river, never saw his family again.

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

► Themes of the story

Cunning and Deception: Beeargah and Ouyan devise a clever plan to escape, including emptying the water source and burning their tracks to prevent Goomblegubbon from following them.

Journey to the Otherworld: The wives’ departure from their home and crossing the river symbolizes a transition into a new phase of life, leaving behind their past.

Loss and Renewal: The story concludes with Goomblegubbon losing his family, while Beeargah and Ouyan find new partners, signifying an end and a new beginning.

► From the same Region or People

Australia
- Narran Lore

Learn more about the Aboriginal Australians

Goomblegubbon the bustard, his two wives, Beeargah the hawk, and Ouyan the curlew, with the two children of Beeargah, had their camps right away in the bush; their only water supply was a small dungle, or gilguy hole. The wives and children camped in one camp, and Goomblegubbon a short distance off in another. One day the wives asked their husband to lend them the dayoorl stone, that they might grind some doonburr to make durrie. But he would not lend it to them, though they asked him several times. They knew he did not want to use it himself, for they saw his durrie on a piece of bark, between two fires, already cooking.

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They determined to be revenged, so said:

“We will make some water bags of the opossum skins; we will fill them with water, then some day when Goomblegubbon is out hunting we will empty the dungle of water, take the children, and run away! When he returns he will find his wives and children gone and the dungle empty; then he will be sorry that he would not lend us the dayoorl.”

The wives soon caught some opossums, killed and skinned them, plucked all the hair from the skins, saving it to roll into string to make goomillahs, cleaned the skins of all flesh, sewed them up with the sinews, leaving only the neck opening. When finished, they blew into them, filled them with air, tied them up and left them to dry for a few days. When they were dry and ready to be used, they chose a day when Goomblegubbon was away, filled the water bags, emptied the dungle, and started towards the river.

Having travelled for some time, they at length reached the river. They saw two black fellows on the other side, who, when they saw the runaway wives and the two children, swam over to them and asked whence they had come and whither they were going.

“We are running away from our husband Goomblegubbon, who would lend us no dayoorl to grind our doonburr on, and we ran away lest we and our children should starve, for we could not live on meat alone. But whither we are going we know not, except that it must be far away, lest Goomblegubbon follow and kill us.”

The black fellows said they wanted wives, and would each take one, and both care for the children. The women agreed. The black fellows swam back across the river, each taking a child first, and then a woman, for as they came from the back country, where no creeks were, the women could not swim.

Goomblegubbon came back from hunting, and, seeing no wives, called aloud for them, but heard no answer. Then he went to their camp, and found them not. Then turning towards the dungle he saw that it was empty. Then he saw the tracks of his wives and children going towards the river. Great was his anger, and vowing he would kill them when he found them, he picked up his spears and followed their tracks, until he too reached the river. There on the other side he saw a camp, and in it he could see strange black fellows, his wives, and his children. He called aloud for them to cross him over, for he too could not swim. But the sun went down and still they did not answer. He camped where he was that night, and in the morning he saw the camp opposite had been deserted and set fire to; the country all round was burnt so that not even the tracks of the black fellows and his wives could be found, even had he been able to cross the river. And never again did he see or hear of his wives or his children.

Narahdarn the Bat

Narahdarn the bat sought honey by tracking a bee with a feather. Forcing his wives to retrieve it, he cut off their arms when they got stuck, leading to their deaths. Their mother sought justice, rallying her tribe. During a ceremonial corrobboree, Narahdarn was seized and thrown into the fire, avenging the Bilber women and ending his cruelty.

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

► Themes of the story

Cunning and Deception: Narahdarn uses a deceptive method to track the bee by attaching a feather, showcasing his cunning nature.

Revenge and Justice: The mother of the deceased wives seeks justice for her daughters’ deaths, leading to Narahdarn’s punishment during the corrobboree.

Moral Lessons: The tale imparts lessons on the consequences of cruelty and the importance of justice within a community.

► From the same Region or People

Australia
- Narran Lore

Learn more about the Aboriginal Australians

Narahdarn, the bat, wanted honey. He watched until he saw a Wurranunnah, or bee, alight. He caught it, stuck a white feather between its hind legs, let it go and followed it. He knew he could see the white feather, and so follow the bee to its nest. He ordered his two wives, of the Bilber tribe, to follow him with wirrees to carry home the honey in. Night came on and Wurranunnah the bee had not reached home. Narahdarn caught him, imprisoned him under bark, and kept him safely there until next morning. When it was light enough to see, Narahdarn let the bee go again, and followed him to his nest, in a gunnyanny tree.

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Marking the tree with his comebo that he might know it again, he returned to hurry on his wives who were some way behind. He wanted them to come on, climb the tree, and chop out the honey. When they reached the marked tree one of the women climbed up. She called out to Narahdarn that the honey was in a split in the tree. He called back to her to put her hand in and get it out. She put her arm in, but found she could not get it out again. Narahdarn climbed up to help her, but found when he reached her that the only way to free her was to cut off her arm. This he did before she had time to realise what he was going to do, and protest. So great was the shock to her that she died instantly. Narahdarn carried down her lifeless body and commanded her sister, his other wife, to go up, chop out the arm, and get the honey. She protested, declaring the bees would have taken the honey away by now.

“Not so,” he said; “go at once.”

Every excuse she could think of, to save herself, she made. But her excuses were in vain, and Narahdarn only became furious with her for making them, and, brandishing his boondi, drove her up the tree. She managed to get her arm in beside her sister’s, but there it stuck and she could not move it. Narahdarn, who was watching her, saw what had happened and followed her up the tree. Finding he could not pull her arm out, in spite of her cries, he chopped it off, as he had done her sister’s. After one shriek, as he drove his comebo through her arm, she was silent. He said, “Come down, and I will chop out the bees’ nest.” But she did not answer him, and he saw that she too was dead. Then he was frightened, and climbed quickly down the gunnyanny tree; taking her body to the ground with him, he laid it beside her sister’s, and quickly he hurried from the spot, taking no further thought of the honey. As he neared his camp, two little sisters of his wives ran out to meet him, thinking their sisters would be with him, and that they would give them a taste of the honey they knew they had gone out to get. But to their surprise Narahdarn came alone, and as he drew near to them they saw his arms were covered with blood. And his face had a fierce look on it, which frightened them from even asking where their sisters were. They ran and told their mother that Narahdarn had returned alone, that he looked fierce and angry, also his arms were covered with blood. Out went the mother of the Bilbers, and she said, “Where are my daughters, Narahdarn? Forth went they this morning to bring home the honey you found. You come back alone. You bring no honey. Your look is fierce, as of one who fights, and your arms are covered with blood. Tell me, I say, where are my daughters?”

“Ask me not, Bilber. Ask Wurranunnah the bee, he may know. Narahdarn the bat knows nothing.” And he wrapped himself in a silence which no questioning could pierce. Leaving him there, before his camp, the mother of the Bilbers returned to her dardurr and told her tribe that her daughters were gone, and Narahdarn, their husband, would tell her nothing of them. But she felt sure he knew their fate, and certain she was that he had some tale to tell, for his arms were covered with blood.

The chief of her tribe listened to her. When she had finished and begun to wail for her daughters, whom she thought she would see no more, he said, “Mother of the Bilbers, your daughters shall be avenged if aught has happened to them at the hands of Narahdarn. Fresh are his tracks, and the young men of your tribe shall follow whence they have come, and finding what Narahdarn has done, swiftly shall they return. Then shall we hold a corrobboree, and if your daughters fell at his hand Narahdarn shall be punished.”

The mother of the Bilbers said: “Well have you spoken, oh my relation. Now speed ye the young men lest the rain fall or the dust blow and the tracks be lost.” Then forth went the fleetest footed and the keenest eyed of the young men of the tribe. Ere long, back they came to the camp with the news of the fate of the Bilbers.

That night was the corrobboree held. The women sat round in a half-circle, and chanted a monotonous chant, keeping time by hitting, some of them, two boomerangs together, and others beating their rolled up opossum rugs.

Big fires were lit on the edge of the scrub, throwing light on the dancers as they came dancing out from their camps, painted in all manner of designs, waywahs round their waists, tufts of feathers in their hair, and carrying in their hands painted wands. Heading the procession as the men filed out from the scrub into a cleared space in front of the women, came Narahdarn. The light of the fires lit up the tree tops, the dark balahs showed out in fantastic shapes, and weird indeed was the scene as slowly the men danced round; louder clicked the boomerangs and louder grew the chanting of the women; higher were the fires piled, until the flames shot their coloured tongues round the trunks of the trees and high into the air. One fire was bigger than all, and towards it the dancers edged Narahdarn; then the voice of the mother of the Bilbers shrieked in the chanting, high above that of the other women. As Narahdarn turned from the fire to dance back he found a wall of men confronting him. These quickly seized him and hurled him into the madly-leaping fire before him, where he perished in the flames. And so were the Bilbers avenged.

The Gwinerboos the Redbreasts

Gwineeboo and Goomai, two women gathering mussels, kill a kangaroo pursued by hunters Quarrian and Gidgereegah, hiding it from them. Despite the hunters’ suspicions, the women deny any knowledge of the kangaroo. Eventually, the hunters catch the women cooking it and refuse to share the meat. Angered, the women invoke a deadly storm, transforming the hunters into birds and later into stars alongside the kangaroo.

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

► Themes of the story

Cunning and Deception: Gwineeboo and Goomai deceive the hunters by hiding the kangaroo they killed and denying any knowledge of it.

Conflict with Authority: The women’s actions challenge the hunters’ authority over their prey, leading to a confrontation.

Transformation: The hunters are transformed into birds and later into stars as a result of the women’s invocation.

► From the same Region or People

Australia
- Narran Lore

Learn more about the Aboriginal Australians

Gwineeboo and Goomai, the water rat, were down at the creek one day, getting mussels for food, when, to their astonishment, a kangaroo hopped right into the water beside them. Well they knew that he must be escaping from hunters, who were probably pressing him close. So Gwineeboo quickly seized her yam stick, and knocked the kangaroo on the head; he was caught fast in the weeds in the creek, so could not escape. When the two old women had killed the kangaroo they hid its body under the weeds in the creek, fearing to take it out and cook it straight away, lest the hunters should come up and claim it.

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The little son of Gwineeboo watched them from the bank. After having hidden the kangaroo, the women picked up their mussels and started for their camp, when up came the hunters, Quarrian and Gidgereegah, who had tracked the kangaroo right to the creek.

Seeing the women they said: “Did you see a kangaroo?”

The women answered: “No. We saw no kangaroo.”

“That is strange, for we have tracked it right up to here.”

“We have seen no kangaroo. See, we have been digging out mussels for food. Come to our camp, and we will give you some when they are cooked.”

The young men, puzzled in their minds, followed the women to their camp, and when the mussels were cooked the hunters joined the old women at their dinner. The little boy would not eat the mussels; he kept crying to his mother, “Gwineeboo, Gwineeboo. I want kangaroo. I want kangaroo. Gwineeboo. Gwineeboo.”

“There,” said Quarrian. “Your little boy has seen the kangaroo, and wants some; it must be here somewhere.”

“Oh, no. He cries for anything he thinks of, some days for kangaroo; he is only a little boy, and does not know what he wants,” said old Gwineeboo. But still the child kept saying, “Gwineeboo. Gwinceboo. I want kangaroo. I want kangaroo.” Goomai was so angry with little Gwineeboo for keeping on asking for kangaroo, and thereby making the young men suspicious, that she hit him so hard on the mouth to keep him quiet, that the blood came, and trickled down his breast, staining it red. When she saw this, old Gwineeboo grew angry in her turn, and hit old Goomai, who returned the blow, and so a fight began, more words than blows, so the noise was great, the women fighting, little Gwineeboo crying, not quite knowing whether he was crying because Goomai had hit him, because his mother was fighting, or because he still wanted kangaroo.

Quarrian said to Gidgereegah. “They have the kangaroo somewhere hidden; let us slip away now in the confusion. We will only hide, then come back in a little while, and surprise them.”

They went quietly away, and as soon as the two women noticed they had gone, they ceased fighting, and determined to cook the kangaroo. They watched the two young men out of sight, and waited some time so as to be sure that they were safe. Then down they hurried to get the kangaroo. They dragged it out, and were just making a big fire on which to cook it, when up came Quarrian and Gidgereegah, saying:

“Ah! we thought so. You had our kangaroo all the time; little Gwinceboo was right.”

“But we killed it,” said the women.

“But we hunted it here,” said the men, and so saying caught hold of the kangaroo and dragged it away to some distance, where they made a fire and cooked it. Goomai, Gwineeboo, and her little boy went over to Quarrian and Gidgereegah, and begged for some of the meat, but the young men would give them none, though little Gwineeboo cried piteously for some. But no; they said they would rather throw what they did not want to the hawks than give it to the women or child. At last, seeing that there was no hope of their getting any, the women went away. They built a big dardurr for themselves, shutting themselves and the little boy up in it. Then they began singing a song which was to invoke a storm to destroy their enemies, for so now they considered Quarrian and Gidgereegah. For some time they chanted:

“Moogaray, Moogaray, May, May,
Eehu, Eehu, Doongarah.”

First they would begin very slowly and softly, gradually getting quicker and louder, until at length they almost shrieked it out. The words they said meant, “Come hailstones; come wind; come rain; come lightning.”

While they were chanting, little Gwineeboo kept crying, and would not be comforted. Soon came a few big drops of rain, then a big wind, and as that lulled, more rain. Then came thunder and lightning, the air grew bitterly cold, and there came a pitiless hailstorm, hailstones bigger than a duck’s egg fell, cutting the leaves from the trees and bruising their bark. Gidgereegah and Quarrian came running over to the dardurr and begged the women to let them in.

“No,” shrieked Gwineeboo above the storm, “there was no kangaroo meat for us: there is no dardurr shelter for you. Ask shelter of the hawks whom ye fed.” The men begged to be let in, said they would hunt again and get kangaroo for the women, not one but many. “No,” again shrieked the women. “You would not even listen to the crying of a little child; it is better such as you should perish.” And fiercer raged the storm and louder sang the women:

“Moogaray, Moogaray, May, May,
Eehu, Eehu, Doongarah.”

So long and so fierce was the storm that the young men must have perished had they not been changed into birds. First they were changed into birds and afterwards into stars in the sky, where they now are, Gidgereegah and Ouarrian with the kangaroo between them, still bearing the names that they bore on the earth.