A Traditional Tohono O'odham Story

BUTTERFLIES

One day the Creator was resting, sitting, watching some children at play in a village. The children laughed and sang, yet as he watched them, the Creator's heart was sad. He was thinking: "These children will grow old.  Their skin will become wrinkled. Their hair will turn gray. Their teeth will fall out. The young hunter's arm will fail. These lovely young girls will grow ugly and fat. The playful puppies will become blind, mangy dogs. And those wonderful flowers - yellow and blue, red and purple - will fade. The leaves from the trees will fall and dry up. Already they are turning yellow." Thus the Creator grew sadder and sadder. It was in the fall, and the thought of the coming winter, with its cold and lack of game and green things, made his heart heavy. 

Yet it was still warm, and the sun was shining. The Creator watched the play of sunlight and shadow on the ground, the yellow leaves being carried here and there by the wind. He saw the blueness of the sky, the whiteness of some cornmeal ground by the women. Suddenly he smiled. "All those colors, they ought to be preserved. I'll make something to gladden my heart, something for these children to look at and enjoy."

The Creator took out his bag and started gathering things: a spot of sunlight, a handful of blue from the sky, the whiteness of the cornmeal, the shadow of playing children, the blackness of a beautiful girl's hair, the yellow of the falling leaves, the green of the pine needles, the red, purple, and orange of the flowers around him. All these he put into his bag.  As an afterthought, he put the songs of the birds in, too.

Then he walked over to the grassy spot where the children were playing.  "Children, little children, this is for you," and he gave them his bag.  

"Open it; there's something nice inside," he told them. The children opened the bag, and at once hundreds and hundreds of colored butterflies flew out, dancing around the children's heads, settling on their hair, fluttering up again to sip from this or that flower. And the children, enchanted, said that they had never seen anything so beautiful.

The butterflies began to sing, and the children listened smiling. But then a songbird came flying, settling on the Creator's shoulder, scolding him, saying: "It's not right to give our songs to these new, pretty things. You told us when you made us that every bird would have his own song. And now you've passed them all around. Isn't it enough that you gave your new playthings the colors of the rainbow?" "You're right," said the Creator. "I made one song for each bird, and I shouldn't have taken what belongs to you."

So the Creator took the songs away from the butterflies, and that's why they are silent. "They're beautiful even so!" he said.
From American Indian Myths and Legends, Richard Erdoes and Alfonso Ortiz, editors. Copyright © 1984 by Richard Erdoes and Alfonso Ortiz.
From Blue Panther Keeper of Stories

Tale about How Juanita Came to the Desert Museum - Papago

Benjamin, the shyest of the six coyote children, at last spoke up. "I know it is Guillermo's turn for a second tale, but I'd like to hear once more the story about how you came to the Museum, mother. However, only if Guillermo agrees?" Benjamin said, lowering his head and afraid to look Guillermo in the face.

"Okay, okay," Guillermo said, just a little irritated.  "Tell the story that will make poor little Benjamin happy.  Maybe then he won't sulk and feel sorry for himself."

"Each of us has different personalities," Juanita said gently. "The humans think we are all the same because, to them, all coyotes look and act the same. Little do they know how different we can be, and that's what the second tale is all about.”  With that prologue, Juanita began her tale.

"Once upon a time, many moons ago, when I was very young and inexperienced I had my only other litter of pups.  My husband at that time was a surly older coyote named Nicholas.  Unlike your father, Walter, Nicholas was not a kind parent.  He growled at our children constantly and forced me to do all the hunting while he lounged away in the den and did nothing.  One day, because I had not returned with enough food to suit him, Nicholas bit me on the ear and began picking up my pups and started shaking them. I was fearful that he was actually going to eat them. That very night when he was sound asleep the children and I left quickly and followed a stream so it would hide our
scent."

"What did you do then, mother?" Benjamin asked, quivering with fear even though he was safe and was only listening to a story.

"We traveled for three days and nights without stopping, except to rest briefly and eat a few water beetles," Juanita continued.  "Travel by day can be very dangerous for a mother coyote and her siblings.  We have our enemies, as I've told you.  Mountain lions, like Victor, or a wandering bear or a large bobcat would consider small coyotes to be a hearty meal.  But, thanks to the Great Coyote God in the sky who lives behind the moon, we all reached a remote area under the stream's bank.  There was a den close by."

"That's when you met Mario, the widowed coyote," Benjamin inserted because he knew the story so well.

"Yes.  Mario showed us his den and told us the tale of his dead wife, Sarah.  Sarah had been killed by a hunter who used one of those flaming tubes."

"Rifle, mother," Tomas corrected.

"Thank you, Tomas. Yes, a rifle.  Anyway, Mario was everything Nicholas was not. He was kind and patient.  He hunted with me and later trained my children to hunt, too. But Mario was an old coyote and, as will happen to all of us, one moonlit night he told me, 'Juanita, dearest, I am very tired.
I am going out into the thicket and lie down and rest.'"

"That's the animal way of saying, 'I am going to die'," Benjamin said.

"That is the usual way, children.  All of us eventually get called to the coyote heaven of stars from whence we came," Juanita said gently.

"Skip to the part about how you came here, mother," Guillermo said
impatiently.

Juanita did not appreciate this interruption.  However, she only sighed and said, "It is getting quite late, and I am beginning to get tired," Juanita said with a yawn.

"Mother, you're not going to die, are you?" Benjamin howled in alarm.

"No, Benjamin. Life here at the Museum is much easier on a coyote, and I expect to live to see more passing moons."

All six coyote children sighed and snuggled in closer to their mother.

"As I was saying, once my children were raised and out on their own and I had endured the winter of ice and snow, I decided to take what the humans call 'early retirement.’  From the top of a hill just west of here, I saw one moonlit night that there was a coyote exhibit. I spied Walter pacing back and forth and knew that he was lonely. I thought to myself, 'Juanita, how can you join him? You cannot just trot up to the admissions window and ask for a ticket.’  So, I thought and I thought and I thought. The answer was right before my very eyes, but it took me a long time to see it. The next moonlit night I crept to the cyclone fence near where the keepers store their work clothes. I sat, pointed my nose toward the sky, and began to howl. I prayed that the humans would know how to capture me. I prayed and prayed they would not shoot me with one of their rifles."

"That is when you had some great coyote luck," Stephanie said, unable to restrain herself. "The keeper on duty that night was Martin Lopez, the very keeper of our exhibit."

"Stephanie, do you wish to finish my tale, or shall I?" Juanita asked, waiting for an answer.

"I'm sorry, mother." Stephanie bowed her head. "Please continue."

"Well, I will continue, but just with the conclusion to the tale. Mr. Lopez is a Tohono O'odham Indian and knows more about coyotes than any human being I have ever encountered. He let himself outside the gate and approached me slowly and with soothing words. He slipped a leash around my neck, and I let him lead me inside to an area I later learned was called the animal quarantine. For a month, I was given various shots and many medical tests.  At long last, I was taken to Walter and properly introduced. We courted and fell in love. It took a while, but I finally had my second litter of pups.  When you are grown, you will be taken to other places where you will prosper
as I have here."

"We are so glad you are our mother," Benjamin said.

Benjamin and Alfred, Stephanie and Guillermo, Benita and Tomas approached quietly and each, in turn, gave their mother a coyote kiss.  Outside the den, the howling started as Walter began reciting his own coyote tale to the Coyote God behind the moon.

Martin Lopez, newly promoted to foreman of all the keepers, looked down on his coyote clan and smiled. He knew the tales they were sharing even though he had never heard them from Juanita's or Walter's mouths.