Letters from the Ancestors

Posted on January 28, 2020 by Haven under Blog, Folklore

Written by: James D. Keyser, Indian rock art of the Columbia Plateau

Rock art is one of the most common types of archaeological site in Oregon, occurring from the Portland Basin to Hell’s Canyon and the high desert canyons along the Owyhee River to far southwestern Oregon’s Rogue River drainage. two spirit home Including both pictographs (paintings) and petroglyphs (carvings), the rock art at these sites was created as early as 7,000 years ago until as recently as the late 1800s. Although petroforms—a third type of rock art composed of outlines cut in desert pavement or boulders laid out in the form of animals or humans—are found elsewhere in North America, none has been discovered in Oregon.

Archaeologists have classified Oregon’s rock art into five traditions, that is, spatially broad-based artistic expressions that were created during a defined period of time. The traditions generally follow Oregon’s aboriginal ethnic/cultural boundaries. Thus, the Columbia Plateau Tradition reflects the art of Sahaptian-speaking tribes such as the Tenino, Nez Perce, Umatilla, and Klamath-Modoc, while the Great Basin Tradition comprises the art of the Numic-speaking bands of the Northern Paiute. In the river valleys of western Oregon, the few sites that are known represent the Columbia Plateau Tradition and a little-known California rock art expression called the Far Western Pit and Groove Tradition, which is the product of Tututni and Kalapuya artists and probably members of other tribes as well.

Cover to book text is from.

Biographic rock art is the sole Oregon rock-art tradition that was made by several distinctly different ethnic groups. Occurring primarily in the canyon country of northeastern Oregon, the art was created by Cayuse, Nez Perce, Umatilla, and Paiute artists to portray the acquisition of horses and guns and the war honors of important men. This art is known only from the 250-year period between about A.D. 1650 and 1900.

The subject matter of rock art in the Columbia Plateau Tradition is primarily humans, animals, and geometric designs, one of the most common of which is tally marks—a horizontally oriented series of three to more than thirty short, vertical, evenly spaced, finger-painted lines. Despite its limited subject matter, Columbia Plateau art functioned in several ways, including as a commemoration of the acquisition of spirit power during a vision quest and as a shaman’s ritual expression of power.

Yakima Polychrome designs and the closely related imagery of the Columbia River Conventionalized Style of the Northwest Coast Tradition served in healing and mortuary rituals and were used to witness mythic beings and places. Some images of animals and hunters in the Columbia Plateau Tradition were painted and carved as hunting magic. In the Klamath Basin, art in the Columbia Plateau Tradition has several stylistic expressions, but current research suggests that all of them were the exclusive purview of shamans.

Columbia River Gorge

Rock art in the Northwest Coast Tradition is limited in Oregon to a site at Willamette Falls, a few sites in The Dalles-Deschutes region, along the lower Deschutes and John Day Rivers, and in one rock shelter near the head of the North Umpqua River. Images are mainly of fantastic spirit beings, represented either by elaborate faces with grinning, teeth-filled mouths, concentric circle eyes, and exaggerated ears and headdresses or by owls, lizards, snakes, and water monsters. These spirit beings include some named beings such as Swallowing Monster, She Who Watches, Cannibal Woman, and Spedis Owl, but the names and identities of many others are lost in time. Ethnographic sources indicate that these images were made by shamans in their curing and mortuary rituals and to witness mythological happenings.

Far Western Pit and Groove Tradition rock art is found from the southern Willamette Valley near Eugene into the Umpqua and Rogue River drainages, where it occurs as cupules—shallow dimples—and simple geometric forms pecked and ground into streamside boulders. Known as Baby Rocks or Rain Rocks, ethnographic sources indicate that these simple petroglyphs were carved both by shamans accessing and using supernatural power to call the salmon and communicate with the gods and by women who wanted to bear a child.

Vantage, WA.

Great Basin Tradition rock art has both the broadest statewide distribution and the greatest number of Oregon sites. Found across the southeastern third of the state and along the Snake River from Ontario, Oregon, to Clarkston, Washington, Great Basin imagery is dominated by abstract symbols such as circle chains, grids, zigzag lines, nucleated and concentric circles, curvilinear mazes, and dot patterns. Many sites also have cupules pecked into rock surfaces. Stick-figure humans and lizards, deer, and mountain sheep are the primary representational images, but these almost always occur as only a few figures at any one site, even those with hundreds to thousands of geometric designs.

Certainly much Great Basin rock art was made by shamans who were acquiring or using supernatural power, and much of the geometric imagery may have been generated in the artists’ minds by stimuli experienced during a trance. Other Great Basin imagery, however, is likely to have been made in conjunction with subsistence activities during the seasonal round of these high-desert hunter-gatherers and likely had a broader function as part of the rituals associated with subsistence.

Soon we will be ghosts.

Posted on January 27, 2020 by Haven under Blog, Folklore

“…. They didn’t sign away their rainy Eden or sell it, die in warfare, or move to reservations, not until twenty-five years after the catastrophes that swept most of them away. It wasn’t smallpox that laid them low. Suddenly most of them were simply gone. The Wapato Lowlands in particular were empty and silent. Did
12697363_1109859742359005_2764864803838113474_o God call them home? The few survivors walked away dazed. Took to speaking other languages. Were replaced by strangers. After a few decades hardly anyone remembered that they had ever been there.”

Read more of “She Who Watches — Tsagaglalal By Rick Rubin” here: http://www.ochcom.org/chinook/

Listen to the story, ‘She Who Watches — Tsagaglalal’, as told by Ed Edmo:

‘Graffiti’ of the old ones

Posted on January 24, 2020 by Haven under Blog, Folklore

“I am now old. it was before I saw the sun that my ancestors discovered the Wah’-tee -tas, the little ancient people who wore robes woven from rabbit’s hair. They dwelt in the cliff. My people saw a little short fellow, like a person.

Alfred A. Monner (1953), warns of a dangerous whirlpool in the eastern Columbia River Gorge.

marking the rocks as you now see them. He walked from rock to rock, hunting the smooth places. You see some of the paintings high up upon the wall. We do not know how Wah-tee -tas got up there to do the work. We see it there; we know that it is true…Sometimes the people would see the Wah’-tee-tas once or twice a year, see them in the evening dim, or in the morning before the sun, while it was yet a little dark. The Wah’-tee-tas were spirits, but not bad.”

- Tokiaken Twi-wash (Yakama) told L.V. McWhorter this story in 1912

The Call of Sasquatch

Posted on January 24, 2020 by Haven under Blog, Folklore

Sasquatch runs deep through my family. My Grandmother use to tell me stories that would make my hair stand on end.

Hunting on Rock Creek near Stevenson, WA. c. 1911

Stories about being spooked out in the backwoods while gathering berries or mushrooms. Or my Uncle Gary’s stories about fishing up near Larch Mountain and having run-ins with the elusive creature.

You can hear my Uncle’s story about ‘the call of Sasquatch’ here:

Chinook – Coyote Builds Willamette Falls and the Magic Fish Trap

Posted on January 19, 2020 by Haven under Blog, Folklore

Coyote came to a place near Oregon City and found the people there very hungry. The river was full of salmon, but they had no way to spear them in the deep water. Coyote decided he would build a big waterfall, so that the salmon would come to the surface for spearing. Then he would build a fish trap there too. First he tried at the mouth of Pudding River, but it was no good, and all he made was a gravel bar there. So he went on down the river to Rock Island, and it was better, but after making the rapids there he gave up again and went farther down still. Where the Willamette Falls are now, he found just the right place, and he made the Falls high and wide. 1471357_704065902938393_808146150_n (1) All the Indians came and began to fish. Now Coyote made his magic fish trap. He made it so it would speak, and say Noseepsk! when it was full. Because he was pretty hungry, Coyote decided to try it first himself. He set the trap by the Falls, and then ran back up the shore to prepare to make a cooking fire. But he had only begun when the trap called out, “Noseepsk!”

He hurried back; indeed the trap was full of salmon. Running back with them, he started his fire again, but again the fish trap cried “Noseepsk! Noseepsk!” He went again and found the trap full of salmon. Again he ran to the shore with them; again he had hardly gotten to his fire when the trap called out, “Noseepsk! Noseepsk!” It happened again, and again; the fifth time Coyote became angry and said to the trap, “What, can’t you wait with your fish catching until I’ve built a fire?” The trap was very offended by Coyote’s impatience and stopped working right then. So after that the people had to spear their salmon as best they could.

Chinook Creation Story

Posted on January 17, 2020 by Haven under Blog, Folklore

A Creation Story

“Long, long ago, when old Man South Wind was traveling North, he met an Old Woman, who was a giant.

“Will you give me some food?” asked South Wind. “I am very hungry.”

“I have no food,” answered the giantress, “but here is a net. You can catch some fish for yourself if you wish.”

George Catlin. 1850

So Old Man South Wind dragged the net down to the ocean and with it caught a little whale. Taking out his knife, he was about to cut the whale and take out the blubber.

But the old giantress cried out, “Do not cut it with a knife, and do not cut it crossways. Take a sharp knife and split it down the back.”

But South Wind did not take to heart what the old woman was saying. He cut the fish crossways and began to take off some blubber. He was startled to see the fish change into a huge bird. It was so big that when it flew into the air, it hid the sun, and the noise of its wings shook the earth. It was Thunderbird.

Thunderbird flew to the north and lit on the top of Saddleback Mountain, near the mouth of the Columbia River. There it laid a nest full of eggs. The old

Saddle Mountain, Oregon

giantress followed the bird until she found its nest. She broke one egg, but it was not good. So she threw it down the mountainside. Before the egg reached the valley, it became an Indian.

The old giantress broke some other eggs and then threw them down the mountainside. They too became Indians. Each of Thunderbird’s eggs became an Indian.

When Thunderbird came back and found its eggs gone. it went to South Wind. Together they tried to find the old giantess, to get revenge on her. but they never found her, although they traveled north together every year.

That is how the Chinook were created. And that is why Indians never cut the first salmon across the back. They know that if they should cut the fish the wrong way, the salmon would cease to run.

Always even to this day, they slit the first salmon down the back, lengthwise….

My heart lives here

Posted on January 15, 2020 by Haven under Blog, Folklore, Musings

My heart lives here, amongst the rivers and restless winds. The hills and snowy peaks, wild flower and ancient tree. My bones rest here, in stone, and mud, and stories yet told.

Family at Celilo, 189?

I wander here in dream, and re-live the lore of old, and wake to it’s ghost, slowly fading into the calm waters of a once wild stream.

“My generation is now the door to memory. That is why I am remembering.” Joy Harjo

Many of us River People speak about still hearing those waters fall. Like a longing at the doors of our dreams. Or a remembering that we know in the beating of our hearts. Each pump a drum of longing to be home, amongst the joyful jumping of Salmon. A familiar smoke drifting from shacks holding old stories. The repeating patterns of metaphor, and the sound of Echoes of Water Against Rocks.

Watch the documentary, Echoes of Water Against Rocks, here:

Chinook – Coyote

Posted on October 17, 2018 by Haven under Blog, Folklore

Coyote was coming. He came to Gôt’a't. There he met a heavy surf. He was afraid that he might be drifted away and went up to the spruce trees. He stayed there a long time. Then he took some sand and threw it upon that surf: “This shall be a prairie and no surf. The future generations shall walk on this prairie.” Thus Clatsop became a prairie. The surf became a prairie.

coyote At Niâ’xaqcê a creek originated. He went and built a house at Niâ’xaqcê. He went out and stayed at the month of Niâ’xaqcê. Then he speared two silver-side salmon, a steel-head salmon, and a fall salmon. Then he threw the salmon and the fall salmon away, saying: “This creek is too small. I do not like to see here salmon and fall salmon. It shall be a bad omen when a fall salmon is killed here; somebody shall die; also when a salmon is killed. When a female salmon or fall salmon is killed a woman shall die; when a male is killed a man shall die.” Now he carried only the silver-side salmon to his house. When he arrived there he cut it at once, steamed it and ate it. On the next day he took his harpoon and went again to the mouth of Niâ’xaqcê. He did not see anything, and the flood tide set in. He went home. On the next day he went again and did not see anything. Then he became angry and went home. He defecated and said to his excrements: “Why have these silver-side salmon disappeared?” “Oh, you with your bandy legs, you have no sense. When the first silver-side salmon is killed it must not be cut. It must be split along its back and roasted. It must not be steamed. Only when they go up river then they may be steamed.” Coyote went home. On the next day he went again and speared three. He went home and made three spits. He roasted each salmon on a spit. He had three salmon and three spits. On the next day he went again and stood at the month of the creek. He did not see anything until the flood tide set in. Then he became angry and went home. He defecated. He spoke and asked his excrements: “Why have these silver-side salmon disappeared?” His excrements said to him: “I told you, you with your bandy legs, when the first silver-side salmon are killed spits must be made, one for the head, one for the back, one for the roe, one for the body. The gills must be burnt.” “Yes,” said

Grays River, WA.

Coyote. On the next day he went again. He killed again three silver-side salmon. When he arrived at home he cut them all and made many spits. He roasted them all separately. The spits of the breast, body, head, back, and roe were at separate places. Coyote, roasted them. On the next morning he went again. He speared ten silver-side salmon. Coyote, was very glad. He came home and split part of the fish. The other part he left and went to sleep. On the next morning he roasted the rest. Then he went again and stood at the mouth of the river. He did not see anything before the flood tide set in. He went home. On the next morning he went again, but again he did not see anything. He went home angry. He defecated and asked his excrements: “Why have these silver-side salmon disappeared?” His excrements scolded him: “When the first silver-side salmon are killed, they are not left raw. All must be roasted. When many are caught, they must all be roasted before you go to sleep.” On the next morning Coyote went and stood at the mouth of the river. He speared ten. Then he made many double spits, and remained awake until all were roasted that he had caught. Now he had learned all that is forbidden in regard to silver-side salmon when they arrive first at Niâ’xaqcê. He remained there and said: “The Indians shall always do as I had to do. If a man who prepares corpses eats a silver-side salmon, they shall disappear at once. If a murderer eats silver-side salmon, they shall at once disappear. They shall also disappear when a girl who has just reached maturity or when a menstruating woman eats them. Even I got tired.”

Willapa Hills, WA.

Now he came this way. At some distance he met a number of women who were digging roots. He asked them: “What are you doing?” “We are digging gamass.” “How can you dig gamass at Clatsop? You shall dig [a root, species?] and thistle [?] roots in this country. No gamass will be dug here.” Now they gathered [a root, species?] and thistle [?] roots. He left these women and spoiled that land. He transformed the gamass into small onions.

Then he came to Clatsop. It was the spring of the year. Then he met his younger brother the snake. He said to him: “Let us make nets.” The snake replied: “As you wish.” Now they bought material for twine, and paid the frog and the newt to spin it. Now Coyote cleaned all the material for twine while the snake was crawling about. Then the frog and the newt spun it. Then Coyote said to his younger brother: “Clean it, clean it. You crawl about all day.” Thus he spoke to the snake. Coyote continued: “You shall make one side of the net, I make the other.” Coyote finished his twine and said to the snake: “Quick! quick! you let me wait. Make your net.” The snake replied: “You let me wait.” Thus he spoke to Coyote. Now, Coyote made his net. He finished it all. The two women made the ropes, Coyote made the net buoys; while the snake crawled about. Coyote said: “Make your net buoys; you let me wait.” Thus he said to the snake. The snake replied: “Make haste! you let me wait.” Coyote finished his net buoys. Then he went to look for stones, and the snake accompanied him. They went for stones to Tongue point. The snake crawled about among the stones, while Coyote carried them down. They went home. After they reached home Coyote went to gather spruce roots. The snake accompanied him. Coyote dug, up the ground and the snake crawled about at the same place. They went home. Coyote split the spruce roots. “Go on; work,” he spoke to the snake; “you let me wait.” The snake replied: “Quick, quick; work! you let me wait.” Now Coyote tied his net to the buoys and laid it down flat on a large mat. Then he tied it to the buoys. The snake crawled about at the same place. Coyote finished his net and hung it up outside. Early the next morning he stepped out of the house, and there hung already the net of the snake. “Oh, brother,” he said, “you got the better of me.” Coyote was ashamed. The snake had won over him. Coyote said: “When a person makes a net, he shall get tired before he finishes it. It would not be well if he would not get tired.” The snake said to him: “I told you that you would let me wait.”

It got day. Then they went to catch salmon in their net. They laid the net and caught two in it. Coyote jumped over the net. Now they intended to catch more salmon, but the flood-tide set in. They had caught only two before the flood-tide set in. Now they went home. Coyote said that he was hungry, and he split the salmon at once. They roasted them. When they were done they ate. The frog and the newt were their cousins. The next morning they went fishing with their net. The newt looked after the rope, the snake stood at the upper end of the net, Coyote at the lower end. They intended to catch salmon, but they did not get anything until the flood-tide set in. They went home. Coyote was angry. He defecated and spoke to his excrements: “You are a liar.” They said to him: “You with your bandy- legs. When people kill a salmon they do not jump over the net. You must not step over your net. When the first salmon are killed, they are not cut until the afternoon.” “Oh,” said Coyote, “You told me enough.” On the next morning they went fishing. When they had killed a salmon they did not jump over the net. They laid their net twice. Enough salmon were in the net. Then he ordered the newt: “Bail out the canoe, it is full of water.” She bailed it out. Then they intended to fish again, but the flood-tide set in. They went home and put down what they had caught in the house. In the afternoon Coyote split the salmon. He split them in the same way as the silver-side salmon. He placed the head, the back, the body, and the roe in separate places and on separate double spits. They were done. The next morning they went fishing. They did not kill anything. Coyote became angry and defecated. He said to his excrements: “Tell me, why have these salmon disappeared?” His excrements scolded him: “Do you think their taboo is the same as that of the silver-side salmon? It is different. When you go fishing salmon and they go into your net., you may lay it three times. No more salmon will go into it. It is enough then. Never bail out your canoe. When you come home and cut the salmon, you must split it at the sides and roast belly and back on separate double spits. Then put four sticks vertically into the ground [so that they form a square] and lay two horizontal sticks across them. On top of this frame place the back with the head and the tail attached to it.” He said to his excrements: “You told me enough.” On the next morning they went fishing and killed three salmon. They did not bail out their canoe. Then he said to the newt: “Fetch a stick from the woods. We will make a club.” She went and brought a stick. Then they laid their net again. Again a salmon was in it and he killed it with his club. They intended to continue fishing, but the flood-tide set in. They killed four only. They put down their salmon. In the afternoon Coyote cut them and put four sticks into the ground. Now he did as his excrements had told him. When they were done he broke the backbone at once. On the next morning they went fishing. They did not kill anything before the flood-tide set in. They went home. Coyote was angry and defecated. “Why have these salmon disappeared?” he asked his excrements. “I told you,” they said to Coyote; “do you think their taboo is the same as that of the silver-side salmon? It is different. When you kill a salmon you must never strike it with a stick. When they may be boiled, then you may strike them with a stick. When it is almost autumn you may strike them with a stick. Do not break a salmon’s backbone when they just begin to come. When you have killed a salmon take sand, strew it on its eye, and press it with your fist. Do not club it.” Coyote said: “You have told me enough.” On the next morning they went fishing. Salmon went into the net; three went into the net immediately. He strewed sand on each and pressed each. He killed many salmon. They went home and roasted them. When they were done he distributed them among the people of the town above Clatsop. Now they dried them. On the next morning they went fishing. They tried to fish but did not catch anything before the flood-tide set in. They went home. Coyote was angry. He defecated: “Why have these salmon disappeared?” “I told you. you lean one, with your bandy-legs. There are many taboos relating to the salmon. When you have killed many salmon you must never carry them outside the house. You must roast and eat them at the same place. When part is left they must stay it the same place. When you want to dry them you must do so when the flood-tide sets in on the day after you have caught them.” He said to them: “You have told me enough.” On the next morning they went fishing again. They killed many salmon. They roasted them all. When they were done he invited the people. The newt was sent out. They came to eat in Coyote’s house. They finished eating. Then they left there what they had not eaten. Now it was low water in the morning. They went out early to lay their net, but they did not catch anything. They fished until the flood-tide set in. They did not kill anything. They were unsuccessful. Twice they tried to go fishing early in the morning, but they were unsuccessful; they did not catch anything. Coyote defecated and said to his excrements: “Why have the salmon disappeared?” Coyote received the answer: “I told you, you lean one, that the salmon has many taboos. When you go fishing and it is ebb-tide early in the morning, you must not lay your net before sunrise. The salmon must not be carried outside until a crow takes one and carries it outside. Then it must be distributed raw. No fire must be made until daylight; the breast must not be eaten before the next day. When salmon are roasted at a tire and they are done, water must be poured into the fire.” He said to his excrements: “You have told me enough. The Indians shall always do this way. Thus shall be the taboos for all generations of Indians. Even I got tired.”

Jennie Michel, descendant of the Clatsop Tribe. Ca. 1900

Thus spoke Coyote about the taboos of Clatsop. He said to his cousins: “We will move to the other side.” The newt made herself ready. Then the snake looked at the frog, who was growling. The snake reached her, struck, and killed her.

Now they arrived here on this side. They went fishing and killed salmon. He did the same way as in Clatsop. He strewed sand on the eye of that salmon. He pressed its eye. Then they intended to fish again, but they did not kill anything. They went home. On the following morning they went again fishing, but they did not kill anything On the next morning they went fishing again, but they did not kill anything. Coyote scolded. He defecated: “Why have these salmon disappeared?” “Oh, you foolish Coyote. When you kill a salmon you must kick it. Do you think it is the same here as at Clatsop?” “Oh, said Coyote. On the next morning they went fishing again. They laid their net and caught two salmon. They laid their net again and caught three salmon. He threw one ashore. It fell down head first so that the mouth struck the sand. They tried to lay their net again but they did not kill anything. They tried to fish until the flood tide set in. They had not killed anything. They had caught five only. They went home. In the evening Coyote cut the salmon and roasted them. They were done. The following morning they went fishing, but did not kill anything. Coyote scolded. He defecated: “Why have these salmon disappeared?” “Oh, you foolish Coyote. Do you think it is the same here as at Clatsop? Do not throw salmon ashore so that the head is downward. It is taboo. When you kill a salmon go and pick salmonberries. When you have caught many salmon put salmonberries into the mouth of each.” “Oh, you have told me enough,” he said to his excrements. The next morning they again went fishing. They killed many salmon. He sent the newt to pick salmonberries. The newt brought salmonberries. Now they put those berries into the mouths of those salmon. It got day and they went fishing again. They met fishermen on the water. A short distance down river they laid their net. They laid it several times and went up the river a short distance. They passed the canoes of those fishermen. They laid their net and intended to fish, but they did not kill anything. They were unsuccessful. They went home. Coyote scolded. He defecated: “Why have these salmon disappeared?” “You lean one! When yon kill a salmon, and you have laid your net at one place and you kill one more, you must lay your net at the same place. You must not pass a canoe with fishermen in it. It is taboo.” “Yes,” said Coyote. On the next day they went again fishing. Coyote said: “Even I got tired. The Indians shall always do in the same manner. Murderers, those who prepare corpses, girls who are just mature, menstruating women, widows and widowers shall not eat salmon. Thus shall be the taboos for all generations of people.”

Chinook Texts by Franz Boas. [1894] (U.S. Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin, no 20.)

Little Crow and the Bear pt. I | A Contemporary Cowlitz Story

Posted on May 17, 2018 by Haven under Blog, Folklore

Introduction

An unidentified Cowlitz man picking wənàyʼx (Huckleberry).

Since the beginning of time, the sƛpúlmx (Cowlitz old name) People have lived and thrived on the abundance of the land. Fishing the rivers and streams, hunting the prairies and mountains, and picking berries near Lawetlat’la. The sƛpúlmx People came from below, from below the shadows of Volcanoes, where stúqʷpéˑsaʔ (Thunderbird) would summon fire and renewal. This is a small story about a moment in time, a story of change and rebirth.

kʼéˑci skʼàˑkʼa (Little Crow)
Kʼéˑci Skʼàˑkʼa’s (Little Crow)’s Mother had a dream while he laid in her womb, of a boy that was half skʼàˑkʼa (crow), and half séˑɬmʼx (boy). In her dream, Kʼéˑci Skʼàˑkʼa was a storyteller, always telling stories, and talking from his beak. The dreams kept happening while he was growing inside her. She would dream about Kʼéˑci Skʼàˑkʼa learning to fish and hunt, and gather and nurture. She knew he would be a strong spirit, and good to the People. Her last dream, on the night that Kʼéˑci Skʼàˑkʼa was to be born, she dreamt of fire and explosions.

Cowlitz cradle board. Artist: Paul Kane

Kʼéˑci Skʼàˑkʼa spent the first days of his life in his cakʷiIiɬtnʼ (cradle board), watching his relatives fish, dig for roots, picking berries and singing songs. He watched with a careful eye, taking his world in and listening to the stories. He began talking earlier than most of the others. Words would flow from his lips effortlessly, as if he was born to speak.

One Day, the summer sun reigned down on Kʼéˑci Skʼàˑkʼa and stànawi (his mother),his body still strapped to the cakʷiIiɬtnʼ, bobbing to and fro to the rhythm of work songs, as stànaw picked wənàyʼx (huckleberry). Kʼéˑci Skʼàˑkʼa looked up and saw a big sČə̀txʷnʼ (bear) standing on its hind legs.

“Why, hello sČə̀txʷnʼ, how are the wənàyʼx?” Kʼéˑci Skʼàˑkʼa asked.

The sČə̀txʷnʼ looks at Kʼéˑci Skʼàˑkʼa with a look of bewilderment and curiosity, and then replies.

“Goodness child, you are the first to talk to us since you sxamʼálaxʷ (People) forgot your names? And what is your name my child?”

”Kʼéˑci Skʼàˑkʼa!”

The Cowlitz Nation

The child snaps, startling stànawi, bringing her a grin across her ageless face. The sČə̀txʷnʼ, startled as well, ducks behind a wənàyʼx bush, and then peeps up to make eye contact with the child again, and softly whispers,

“Quiet now my child, we need not startle the other sxamʼálaxʷ, for they do not understand our ways of seeing. I must go now, but when you are older, we shall meet again.”

As the sČə̀txʷnʼ turned to walk away, the boy whispers,

“see you later old friend.”

Many moons passed and Kʼéˑci Skʼàˑkʼa was growing into a strong capable man, but many did not want to hunt with him, because he would talk all the time about the animals, and the stories they held. His uncles would snap,

“Kʼéˑci Skʼàˑkʼa, if you hunted as much as you talked, none of us would ever have a lean winter!”

Despite all this, many saw great things in the boy, and the elders would teach him good stories. Stories of nəkʼálʼus (Coyote) and how he brought the cʼáwɬ (Chinook Salmon) to feed the sxamʼálaxʷ. Stories of the wah-tee-tas (the little people) and Skookum. Stories on how stúqʷpéˑsaʔ (Thunderbird) made the Volcanoes, and how they take long sleeps in their craters. While Kʼéˑci Skʼàˑkʼa listened, he would daydream of all the things that use to be, and all the things that were to come.

To be continued…

(Author’s note: This is a story that came to me in a dream awhile ago. I decided to write it out and share. I am currently going to school at the Northwest Indian College, Nisqually campus, studying for my MFA (Masters of Fine Arts). I am in a class called “Language of the Ancestors”, I wrote this as a paper using the Cowlitz language as much as possible. I currently do not know how to speak these words, but I am learning, and one day hope to share this story orally, pronunciation and all.)

A Journey

Posted on December 10, 2016 by Haven under Blog, Folklore

The first thing I saw was Crow. It was almost as if I was looking through a camera, and Crow put his face right up to the lens. He put his eyeball up to the lens, and then his beak, then his whole face, and then he vanished.
The next thing I saw was an enormous, gorgeous, perfect rose, free floating in mid-air. It was very dark pink, almost red, and then it became a lush, deep, dark red. It had petals like a peony, but it was a rose. The rose became larger and larger, and as it grew, it opened to reveal a velvety center of infinite petals.

I was on the edge of a forest. Eagle appeared, in a fierce emanation. I got onto his back.

Thunderbird Petroglyph, Horse thief lake, OR.

Then he and I climbed into the rose and were immediately transported up into the sky on a strong current of wind. Raccoon came running up behind us, and at the last minute grabbed onto the rose and came flying with us. Crow flew up beside us and flew along, by our side. As we climbed high into the sky, I looked down and saw two dead animals at the forest’s edge; a doe and a kit fox. I could see smoke coming from the treetops and I realized there must be a forest fire. It appeared that the doe and the kit fox had possibly died of smoke inhalation.
We were scaling a mountainside. There was a cliff jutting out, way above us. It was above the cloud line. We went through the layer of clouds, very swiftly, and landed on the edge of the cliff. Grandmother Rose was there. She had been waiting for us. There was also a leathery old medicine man. He was half man and half crow, and he called himself Crow Dancer. He had a man’s head and was wearing a crow feather hood with a crow beak. He had crow wings, and he wore a fringed elk hide robe. Rose had been preparing for this retrieval.

First, she pulled out a wonderful medicine blanket that she made for as a gift. It was very long, and when she unfurled it, the length of it tumbled over the cliff for many yards. As she began to gather it back up into a neat roll, she smiled lovingly. She had spent many moons making this blanket, and each stitch contained a prayer. This blanket had very powerful protective medicine. She placed the rolled-up medicine blanket into the saddlebag on the Eagle. Then she handed me a magic compass. The compass was made entirely of quartz crystal. She showed me precisely how to use it for navigation. The face of the compass was completely blank, empty of all markings. It had a clear crystal face, with a quartz crystal needle. The compass would guide us on our journey. Finally, she handed me a key, carved out of jade. I placed the key in my medicine pouch. Crow Dancer danced around and flapped his wings and stomped his feet and made a blessing for the journey, and we were off again.
As soon as we started flying, we were joined by a magnificent phoenix. It came swooping from around the back of the mountain, began flying beside us, and then quickly pulled out in front of us and began to lead the way. We flew downward now, like bullets, and plunged into the ocean with incredible force and speed. We went down down down to the very bottom of the ocean and came to the mouth of a cave.

Paul Kane painting of Loowit (Mt. St. Helens), which was a symbol of rebirth to the Cowlitz People.

The cave was guarded by a blue dragon. The phoenix approached the dragon and requested permission to enter the cave. The dragon asked the phoenix what business he had in the cave, and the phoenix replied that he had come to “get his boy.” The dragon gave him three challenges. He challenged him to a game of chinese checkers. The phoenix won. He challenged him to a fire breathing contest. The phoenix won. And finally, he asked the phoenix to guess his name. The phoenix went up to the dragon and whispered something in the dragon’s ear. The dragon looked at him, utterly astonished, and granted entry. The dragon breathed fire up into the ceiling above the entry of the cave, and a trap door opened. We all went in. We found ourselves in a very narrow, tight tunnel. It was so narrow and tight that we barely had room to move. The only way was for us to make ourselves smaller and to keep moving, otherwise we would get stuck. I couldn’t see a thing. There were so many twists and turns that it made me dizzy. I remembered the magic compass. As soon as I pulled it out of my medicine pouch, the needle on the compass began to glow and pulse. The needle quivered for a moment and then pointed very strongly in a particular direction, which we followed. After that we were fine. We just followed the glowing compass needle through the labyrinthine tunnels and eventually came out into a part of the cave that had a large central clearing. There were several openings and cave mouths all along the perimeter. However, the compass showed us precisely where to go. We followed it’s guidance to one particular little cave entrance, with its door locked up tight. I took out the jade key and placed it in the lock. It fit perfectly, and with one turn of the key, the door flew open and there we found a little boy. He was curled up in a corner, lying on his left side, with his arms around his knees, huddled up against the cold, wet corner of the cave. He had his face to the corner of the cave and his back to us, and even though he heard us come in, it took a long time for him to stir.

Crow teachers. Public domain photo

He looked to be around seven years old. He had long dark hair, and he looked terribly sad. His eyes were large and melancholy and he would not make eye contact. Crow went up to him to try to make eye contact. Then he hopped up onto the boy’s left shoulder and told him that we were here to take him home, if he would like to come with us. The boy just sat there as if he hadn’t heard a word. Crow asked the boy if he liked it there, in the cave. The boy shook his head slowly. “No, not really.” said the boy. “Would you like to come home?” asked Crow. “I don’t know.” Crow explained to the boy that things were different now, and that he would be safe. He told the boy that he had been missed and that he was loved, and that he would be welcomed back home with open arms. The boy indicated that he would like to come with us. I reached into the saddlebag for the medicine blanket, and wrapped it around the boy. He knew who had made it. I didn’t have to say a word. Now, when I looked at his face, he looked older, closer to maybe eleven years old or so. After this, his face would change, and his features would become those of a younger boy, then an older boy. But he was always somewhere between seven and eleven years old.

Crow stayed on his left shoulder. Phoenix stepped forward so the boy could climb onto his back. I followed with Eagle and we quickly exited the dank cave. As we left, Phoenix dropped a colorful tail feather, as an offering to Dragon, and Dragon picked it up and waved. We shot back up through the ocean, just as we had shot down, and we found ourselves back at the cliff. Grandmother Rose was there. Crow Dancer was there. Grandmother Rose embraced the boy for a long time. She pulled him onto her lap and rocked him and kissed him and hummed to him. She pulled the medicine blanket snugly around him and sighed. Crow Dancer placed a breastplate of porcupine quills on the boy and gave him his elk skin robe. Grandmother Rose took the boy’s long hair and divided it into three sections. She made three braids, and then braided those three braids into a single braid. She talked about the power of three, that three was the number to keep in mind. Crow Dancer placed three big shiny black crow feathers in the boy’s hair. Phoenix placed more feathers in the boy’s hair, magnificent feathers of brilliant hues; red, orange, yellow, violet, blue, green…He gave the boy a walking stick on which was carved: “NOW IS THE MOMENT OF POWER.” Grandmother Rose told the boy that it was important to forget the past, and to not worry about the future. “Life is short,” she said. “All we have is this moment.” Spider made an appearance and wove a cloak of scintillating light around the boy. It sparkled and shined with a pure radiance. She said that all he ever needed to do, if he ever got scared, was to ask Spider for a cloak of light, and she would weave something up for him. He will always have access to protection. All he has to do is ask.

There were embraces and acknowledgements and blessings, and then it was time to say goodbye. We climbed down a ladder made of rainbow light and came to an open, grassy field. It was just outside the same edge of forest from which our journey had begun. Many animals began to appear and quickly disappear; Raccoon, Red Tailed Hawk, Bighorn Sheep, Unicorn, Coyote. As we landed on the grassy field, we joined a fire ceremony that was being held in the boy’s honor. The boy stood at the fire, wearing a white mask. Raccoon came up to him and took off the boy’s mask and tossed it into the fire, where it was consumed. There was another mask underneath. Again, Raccoon took off the mask and tossed it into the fire. This went on and on, mask after mask. The first masks were completely opaque, but as they continued to be peeled away they became more transparent. I could see through the final mask, and I saw that the boy was weeping. Raccoon stood there and looked at the boy with great compassion. Raccoon was not going to take off the final mask. The boy wept for a long time at the fire. Finally, he reached up and slowly removed the final mask, and placed it quietly into the flames. The boy’s face softened and he stopped crying. Everyone laughed and cheered and came over and embraced the boy. He was glad to be home.

Gathering the Stories

of place.

Category Archives: Folklore