Native legends of Little people and mythological creatures Part 3

Native legends of Little people and mythological creatures 

Part 3 

Hi dear friends and followers, in today's instalment we take a look at the Iroquois Cosmogony, a journey back in the time as told by  to the legends and traditions as related by Iroquois traditional story tellers. Have a great read and comments are most welcome. Thank you
cos·mog·o·ny
noun \käz-ˈmä-gə-nē\

plural cos·mog·o·nies

Definition of COSMOGONY

1 : a theory of the origin of the universe

2 : the creation or origin of the world or universe

***************************************

Every society has at least one of these, a way to explain how everything came to be. The Iroquois have theirs.

They also prayed for good crops and celebrated the seasons based on the time and phase of the moon as well as natural occurrences here on Earth. As you read you might see similarities between the Iroquois beliefs and traditions and those of where you live.

How the Iroquois Give Thanks

The Iroquois Red Children are a grateful people. The true Iroquois never rises after eating without saying, “Niaweh,” which means, “I am thankful.” The others reply, “Niuh,” - “It is well.”

The Red Children never pick a flower without thinking how kind the Great Spirit has been, to cause the flowers to grow. They like flowers, and no matter how poor the Indian's cabin, flowers are always to be found nearby.

When the Iroquois pick fruit they give thanks to the Great Spirit. And always do they leave some, for the “little brothers of the wood.”
They do not try to pick every cherry, or berry, or nut or apple for themselves. Fruits grow for the birds and animals as well as for men, and the little brothers of the wood must not be forgotten. Some of everything that grows is left for them.

During the spring and summer, the Iroquois give several thanksgiving feasts. The first is in the early spring, at maple sugar time. As soon as the sap begins to flow, the Maple Feast is called.

The Indians gather about a large maple tree. A fire is lighted nearby, upon which one of their number sprinkles tobacco. As the smoke rises, a prayer of thanksgiving is made to the Great Spirit, for causing the sweet waters of the maple to flow. Then the maple trees are thanked for their service to men, and protection is asked for the trees during the coming year.

When “the leaf of the dogwood is the size of a squirrel's ear,” it is planting time. Then an Indian maid goes into the fields and scatters a few grains of corn, asking the aid of the Great Spirit for the harvest. The Indian always plants his seeds with the growing moon, that it may grow with the moon.

The next feast is the Strawberry Feast and Dance.

The strawberry is one of the best gifts of the Great Spirit to his children. So greatly is it prized that it is thought to grow on the Sky Road that leads to the Happy Hunting Ground. An Indian who has been very ill, near death, will say, “I almost ate strawberries.”

When the strawberry ripens, the Red Children are happy. They sing their praises to the Great Spirit and dance with joy. They remember the Little People who have helped to make the berries beautiful, and they have a song of praise and a dance of thanks for them as well. Without the help of the Little People, the strawberries would not be so sweet and ripe.

At the time of the Harvest Moon comes the last feast of the summer. This thanksgiving lasts for sour days. The Indians not only give thanks for the ripening of the corn, but for every growing thing. Therefore, this feast is longer than the others, since it takes some time to name all of the good gifts of the Great Spirit to the Red Children, and to give thanks for them all.
The following is borrowed from another book, Myths and Legends of the Iroquois, by Harriet Maxwell Converse:

The spirit of the corn is a maiden, and not a handsome young chief, as one of the stories claims. The Corn Maiden was one of three sisters, and was called Ona tah.

The three sister vegetables – the corn, the bean, and the squash – were called the Di o he ko, which means “those we live on,” since they are the life-giving vegetables.
These sisters lived together on a hill and were quite happy there. But one day Ona tah wandered away in search of dews for her kernels.

The Evil Spirit was watching. He seized Ona tah, the Spirit of the Corn, and sent one of his monsters to blight her fields. The killing winds swept over the hill, and the spirits of the squash and the bean fled before them.

Ona tah was held for some time a prisoner in the darkness under the earth, by the Evil Spirit.
At last a sun ray found her and guided her back to her lost hilltop. There she found her sisters had fled. She was alone.

Then Ona tah made a vow that she would never again leave her fields. But she sighs for her lost sisters, and mourns the blight that came upon her beautiful fields. For since the time when Ona tah wandered away from her fields, the corn has not grown so tall or so beautiful as it once did.

Thank you very much my dear friends and followers for your visiting my blog. I would be pleased to have a dialog on this topic, express what you think and feel. Thank you

With love form your Fairy Lady

Native legends of Little people and mythological creatures .

Native legends of Little people and mythological creatures .

Part 2

Hi dear friends and followers, today we resume our journey back in the time to the legends told by the Iroquois story tellers.

Today's installment of Stories the Iroquois Tell Their Children is a piece of wisdom and a warning. It seems to be as appropriate today (to a certain degree) as it was many moons ago.

Story Telling Time

The old time Native folks say that a long, long time ago the Little People made a law that stories must not be told in the summer.

Summer is a time for work. Bees must store their honey. Squirrels must gather nuts. Men must grow their corn, and trees and plants must grow leaves, flowers, and bear their fruits.

If stories were told, plants, birds, animals, and men would stop their work to listen. This would mean poor crops and hungry people. Animal;s would forget to grow their winter coats and lay by their winter stores. Birds would fail to start to head south in time.

The old Indians say that the storyteller who disobeys this law of the Jo gah oh will suffer some misfortune. Winter is the time to tell stories, for then the work of animals, plants, and men is done – and the Little People are fast asleep.

No, it is not safe to tell stories in the summer. No one knows when a bird, bee, or butterfly might be listening and tell the chief of the Little People. Should the chief of the Little People take offense, he might cause something dreadful to happen to the storyteller.

Last summer the writer of these stories (Mabel Powers) came very near to being changed into an animal – or something worse – just for telling stories. So an old Indian said. She does not know how she (Mabel Powers) escaped. She thinks it must have been because she was a White Indian, one accepted by the Indians as a storyteller. This is how it happened.

It was at the time of the Harvest Moon. Yeh sen no wehs spoke for one of the tribes at their council house, and she told some of these wonder stories.

All went well until the middle of the night. Then a very old Indian came to warn her of her danger. It seems that he had been at the council that evening and he had heard the stories told, many of which he knew.

He told Ye sen no wehs he had expected her to change into something else right then and there. He said that he would not dare to tell a story. “no, no, me 'fraid, evil come!” he said.

Then he wanted to know if Ye sen no wehs was a real Indian. He had been told that she was a White Indian but when he heard her tell the stories, he said, he thought she was a real Indian.

When Ye sen no wehs told him that she had not a drop of Indian blood running in her veins, he looked very solemn. At last he spoke. He told the interpreter to tell her, - for he spoke but a few words of English,- that the Great Spirit made a snake a snake; a fox, a fox; a muskrat, a muskrat; a coon, a coon; a bear, a bear; an Indian, an Indian; a White Indian, a White Indian, as long as he lived. Each must be himself.

Then the old man asked what disease Yeh sen no wehs had, that made her go around with a feather in her hair, acting like a real Indian if she were a White Indian.

Ye sen no wehs made no answer. And she does not know to this day (this conversation took place sometime before 1917), what saved her from being changed into a rabbit, a katydid, or something worse, by the chief of the Little People. She knows, however, that she is very glad that she is telling the stories to you in the winter time!

Thank you very much my dear friends and followers for reading this introduction on the Native American storytellers . I would be pleased to have a dialog on this topic, express what you think and feel. Thank you

With love form your Fairy Lady

Fairies of This World

Hi my dear friends and followers, today is poem day, time to sit back a relax once more and take a journey into fairy land. I would truly love to hear your thoughts on this poem. Thank you. 

  

Fairies of This World

Have you ever wondered why

do so few ever see them?

Do you believe they exist

hidden from our view?

Never will they reveal

in the realities where human eyes can see.

The fairies only appear

as fleeting shadows in the foliage of the land,

blending with shadows,

of forest and glade and the mountains on high,

far from man,

where rivers untouched

flow in places where man will not go.

Is there any doubt that harm would befall them,

at the hands of the beast?

Fairies see intentions that we do not or cannot

In realities beyond our own.

So the beasts called “human” would no doubt destroy

what they do not know and fail to understand.

This beast appears to kill at will, with impunity!

So this is why the fairies hide

from the prying eyes of humans.

The domains for them to roam shrink day by day.

As the believers in the human reality

are once again beginning to awaken

to this lost reality of the faie.

'tis an ancient place where even humans once lived,

a place of emerald green and golden sunlight.

Fairies hide from prying, human eyes.

So fairies live where humans

almost never go.

But I believe

they will come back.

Do you?

Written by me, Cindy  ©

 I am pleased to see you here on  my blog, thank you again for visiting  and hope you have enjoyed the poem. 

❤With love from your Fairy Lady❤

Welcome to Frizzy Lizzy's Place

Hi dear friends and followers well another week has gone by once again. Happy Saturday to everyone and please do take a minute, relax and enjoy my new instalment of our friend Frizzy Lizzy

"I don't know why the cable TV people aren't in jail for theft," grumbles Lizzy as she clicks the remote to shut off the TV. “The cable company says that they give you 150 channels to watch. What they don't tell you is that of that 150, 50 are in a language that you don't speak and the other 100 are just repeats of one another in standard and high definition, in three time zones. I don't need reruns of 'Who's the Boss,' 'The Golden Girls,' and 'Judge Judy.' I already know that I'm the boss around here, golden girl or not and I'm the best judge of that.”

Uncrossing her legs she sets her pink fuzzy slippered feet on the floor, muttering something about the movie “Planet of the Apes” not being very far from the truth. "If anyone doubts that monkeys could be the next in charge, well don't look now, I think it's already started." "Look at Congress. On second thought, don't look at Congress. At least monkeys have a purpose."

Lizzy toddles off towards the kitchen, reaches up to the radio on the shelf, tunes-in some music then turns, wiggling her backside to the beat of the music as she makes her way to the sink. Rattling a few dishes around she finds the cleanest cup, rinses it out and pours herself a coffee. She pulls the stool over and sets with her back toward the sink and slides her feet below the bottom rung.

"I thought I figured out why Election Day in America is in November. It's because that's the best time for picking out your turkey. But with the way things have been going over the past six years I'm not too sure about that any more. I mean, in what month are jackasses in season?”

"Politics! That's enough of that! It can drive you batty trying to figure out who the good guy is and who the bad guy is. After a few years in Washington they all begin to remind me of my first ex: Horny and after a fast buck.”

“Speaking of sex, I'm no different from anyone else, you know. I like sex. My idea of a sex life is pretty simple. All I want is a guy who will do what I want him to do, when I want him to do it, for as long as I want him it, and then just go away, sort of like a Dust Buster: plugged-in, charged-up and ready to go where I want him to."

“I'd better get moving. Get groceries, buy gas, go to the vet for the dog...or was that buy groceries and get gas and find a dog of a vet? Anyway, thank you for stopping-in. See you later!”

Thank you for dropping by, hope you enjoyed your stay, have a great day

With love from the Fairy Lady

Native legends of Little people and mythological creatures

Native legends of Little people and mythological creatures 

Hello, dear friends, and thank you for sharing your time with me. I am grateful that you are here visiting my blog. 

Hi dear friends and followers.

I am in the process of piecing and putting together some of the histories on North American Native legends of the Little people and other mythological creatures as they were related by the old storytellers of the day.

Yesterday I posted some Native American stories about the Little People, the Jagonah, as some called them. One of the major sources for my post is a work by Mabel Powers called Stories The Iroquois Tell Their Children. Her book was copyrighted in 1917 and is now in the public domain so I do not have any qualms about presenting the stories and wisdom that she has gathered to you in this, my humble blog. This is the dedication from her book:

To all the Children who ask

How and Why,

especially those Red Children

who see with wonder eyes,

and those Paleface Children

who yet believe in fairies

these stories are lovingly dedicated

I will retell the stories that she has retold in her book in my own words, hewing as closely as I can to her original text. I wish that I could do the same for the illustrations from the book. They are beautiful.

With one or two exceptions that I will note later the stories came directly from the Iroquois people themselves. The stories were reviewed by Ga wa so wa neh, also called Arthur C. Parker.

HOW THE STORIES CAME TO BE

Out of the moons of long ago, the stories have come. Back then every tribe of the Iroquois had its storyteller.

When the Old Man of the North came out of his lodge and turned the forests and rivers of the Red Children frozen and white with his breath, the storytellers wandered from wigwam to wigwam.

They would sit on warm skins next to the fire and exclaim, “Hanio!” This meant “Come, gather round, and I will tell you a story.”

Then all the Red Children would cry, “Heh,” and draw close to the fire. This meant that they were glad to hear the story. And as the flames leaped and chased one another over the logs, they would listen to these wonder stories of the Little People, of the trees and flowers, of birds, of animals, and of men. When the storyteller had finished, he said, “Na ho.” This meant, “It is the end.”

The Earth was very young when the Red Children first learned how everything came to be and just why it is that things are as they are. They told these wonderful things to their children and their children in turn told them to their children; and those children again told them to theirs, that these things might not be forgotten.

Now, but few of the Red Children know these stories that the grandmothers and old men of the tribe used to tell. The storyteller is no longer seen wandering from wigwam to wigwam.

Iroquois Little People

Stories about "Little People" are quite often found in many collections of Iroquois folk tales. Haudenosaunee Little People are called Jo gah oh, and these fairy-like nature spirits come in several different categories.

One type are the Gahongas, which means Stone Throwers or Stone Rollers, who live in rocky places such as caves and riverbeds. Though they are only three to four feet tall, they are incredibly strong and can rip a tall tree straight out of its roots. Rockfalls, and other natural events that move the earth, are said to be caused by them.

A friendly form of nature spirit are the Gandayah. Their name means Drum Dancers, which is due to the fact that they are invisible, so the only way that the Iroquois people knew of their presence was by the sound of their drums. If the Gandayah are pleased, they will help the Iroquois farmers, and crops will grow more successfully. They are guardians of nutritious plants, such as fruit and grains.

The third type of Little People in Iroquois lore are the Ohdows. They are similar to dwarves in European folklore in that they live underground. Their job is to keep underground creatures like snakes, and more fearsome creatures of legend, under control.

This is the introduction to more posts so I will stop here for now. My next post will be about the proper time for telling stories.

Again, my thanks for allowing me to share these stories with you.

Thank you very much dear friends and followers for reading this introduction. I would truly be grateful to hear some thoughts and suggestions on these new upcoming new blog posts. Thank you

With love form your Fairy Lady