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Myths and Legends of British North America/Wiske-djak and the Geese (Algonquin)

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WISKE-DJAK[1] AND THE GEESE

Algonquin

WISKE-DJAK was always hungry. One time, in the autumn of the year, he stood on the shores of a lake, when clouds of ducks were flying by overhead. Wiske-djak wanted some of those ducks. He thought for a long time. Then he made a small clearing right there on the lake shore, and built quite a large tepee, with a fire in the center. The grassy floor of the tepee was very smooth, so one could dance well there. Wiske-djak made a birch-bark door, with a long center stick to keep the bark spread, and to prevent the door from opening inward. Now everything was ready.

Wiske-djak went out walking and soon met Duck. "I suppose you will soon be going south," he said. "Yes," said Duck, "and we'll be gone all winter. It's a bit cold up here for us."

"It would be pleasant," said Wiske-djak, "if we all had a dance before you went. Invite your friends, all of them, and Geese and any of the others who go south for the winter. We'll have a dance in my tepee." Duck thought that would be very pleasant.

Wiske-djak went back to his tepee, and sat down in the sunshine outside. He got his drum and rattle and began to sing a song of invitation. He sang:

You will all be gone for a long time.
You will all be gone until it is warm again.
Let us have a dance before you go.

Thus he sang.

Soon ducks and geese came flying by overhead, and they heard his singing. They alighted on the ground very near the tepee.

Wiske-djak called, "Let us go inside and have a good dance," and he opened the door. In went all the ducks. Wiske-djak mended the fire so it would give very little light.

"Now," he said, when he had finished that, "you must all follow the rules of the dance. You must do whatever I call out." So they all began to dance. Geese were there and ducks and a few loons, and Cyngabis was there also. They danced hard, around and around the tepee.

Then Wiske-djak said, "Now close your eyes. Don't open them until I give the order. That is one of the rules of the dance."

The birds all closed their eyes tightly, and as they danced and sang, they made a great deal of noise. Anyone who has seen Indians dance knows that they make much noise. So Wiske-djak caught one fat bird after another, and wrung his neck as he passed him in the dance. No one heard anything at all because of the noise of the dancing.

But after a while Cyngabis thought Wiske-djak was moving around in the dance, so he slipped into a dark corner and opened one eye just a little. At once he saw that Wiske-djak was wringing the neck of the dancers. He called out, "Wiske-djak is killing you! Fly!"

At once the birds all opened their eyes and took wing. They flew very rapidly indeed. But Cyngabis was way over in one corner and he was the very last man to get out. Wiske-djak tried to catch him, but he got away.

Now Wiske-djak began to cook the birds for a feast. He built the fire outside the tepee, after poking the earth loose with a stick. Then he buried his birds in the hot earth, with the hot coals above them. Then he went to sleep.

Now some Indians came around the point in a canoe. They saw the smoke of the fire, and they saw something strange lying beside the fire. Therefore they went nearer.

From "Memoirs, American Museum of Natural History"

Indian Pipes

One Indian said, "Look out, it might be Wiske-djak up to more of his mischief! "But another Indian went ashore, saying, "I'll see who it is and what he is doing." When he came close to the fire, there lay Wiske-djak, sure enough, and sound asleep. But the Indian couldn't see why he should have a big fire on a warm day until he saw ducks' legs sticking out of the earth under the hot coals. At once he went back to his friends and told them all about it.

The Indians all jumped out of the canoe. They said, "Ha! We will take Wiske-djak's ducks and geese and eat them ourselves." With their paddles they dug up all the birds, twisted the legs off, and put the leg bones back in the earth. They looked just as Wiske-djak had placed them. Then the Indians paddled off.

Soon Wiske-djak waked up. He got up and looked all around. No one was there. Everything looked just as it had when he went to sleep. He looked at the dying coals, and said, "I guess those birds are pretty well cooked by this time." He went all around the coals, pulling out the ducks' legs. They came out very easily. He was surprised. "They must be very tender," he thought. He dug around in the earth, but not one thing did he find. Wiske-djak was disgusted.

  1. Popularly called Whiskey Jack, though the word is Indian. It means "meat bird," as this Canadian jay is fond of meat and therefore is a great torment around camps.