Ziŋtkála Ša, Red Bird, reads in this photo.
The Hero Saved, The Trickster Punished
Shooting Of The Red Eagle
The Hero Saved, The Trickster Punished
Shooting Of The Red Eagle
By
Ziŋtkála Ša (Red Bird)
The
following story, "Shooting of The Red Eagle," comes from Ziŋtkála Ša’s “Old Indian
Legends,” and includes minor edits. D/Lakȟóta
words, when used, are spelled using the Lakota Language Consortium’s standard
orthography.
A man in buckskins sat upon the top of a little
hillock. The setting sun shone bright upon a strong bow in his hand. His face was
turned toward the round campground at the foot of the hill. He had walked a
long journey hither. He was waiting for the chieftain’s men to spy him.
Soon four strong men ran forth from the center thiyúktaŋ (a.k.a. wikiup, wigwam) toward the hillock, where sat the man with the long bow.
“He is the avenger come to shoot the red eagle,”
cried the runners to each other as they bent forward swinging their elbows
together.[1]
They reached the side of the stranger, but he did
not heed them. Proud and silent he gazed upon the cone-shaped wigwams beneath
him. Spreading a handsomely decorated buffalo robe before the man, two of the
warriors lifted him by each shoulder and placed him gently on it. Then the four
men took, each, a corner of the blanket and carried the stranger with long proud
steps, towards the chieftain’s thípi.[2]
Ready to greet the stranger, the tall chieftain stood
at the entrance way. “Háu, you are the avenger with the magic arrow!” he
said, extending to him a smooth soft hand.
“Háu, great chieftain!” Replied the man,
holding long the chieftain’s hand.[3]
Entering the thípi, the chieftain motioned the young man to the right
side of the doorway, while he sat down opposite him with a center fire burning
between them. Wordless, like a bashful Indian maid, the avenger ate in silence
the food set before him on the ground in front of his crossed shins.[4]
When he had finished his meal he handed the empty bowl to the chieftain’s wife saying,
“Mother-in-law,[5] here is your dish!”
“Háŋ, my son!” answered the woman, taking
the bowl.
With the magic arrow in his quiver the stranger
felt not in the least too presuming in addressing the woman as his
mother-in-law.
Complaining of fatigue, he covered his face with
his blanket and soon within the chieftain’s thípi he fell asleep.
“The young man is not handsome after all!”
whispered the woman in her husband’s ear.
“Ah, but after he has killed the red eagle he will
be handsome enough!” answered the chieftain.
That night the star men in their burial procession
in the sky reached the low northern horizon,[6]
before the center fires within the thípi had flickered out. The ringing
laughter which had floated up through the smoke lapels was now hushed, and only
the distant howling of wolves broke the quiet of the village. But the lull
between midnight and dawn was short indeed. Very early the oval-shaped
doorflaps[7]
were thrust aside and many brown faces peered out of the wigwams toward the top
of the highest bluff.
A photo I took of the sun over Dead Buffalo Lake in North Dakota.
A photo I took of the sun over Dead Buffalo Lake in North Dakota.
Now the sun rose up out of the east. The red
painted avenger stood ready within the camp ground for the flying of the red
eagle. That terrible bird appeared! He hovered over the round village as if he
could pounce down upon it and devour the whole tribe.
When the first arrow shot up into the sky the
anxious watchers thrust a hand quickly over their half-uttered “Hinú!”[8]
The second and third arrows flew upward but missed by a wide space the red
eagle soaring with lazy indifference over the little man with the long bow. All
his arrows he spent in vain. “Ah! My blanket brushed my elbow and shifted the
course of the arrow!” said the stranger as the people gathered around him.
During this happening, a woman on horseback halted
her pony at the chieftain’s thípi. It was no other than the young woman
who cut loose the tree-bound captive.
While she told the story the chieftain listened
with downcast face.[9] “I passed him on my way.
He is near!” she ended.
Indignant at the bold imposter, the wrathful eyes
of the chieftain snapped fire like red cinders in the night time. His lips were
closed. At length to the woman he said, “Háu, you have done me a good
deed.” Then with a quick decision he gave command to a fleet horseman to meet
the avenger. “Clothe him in these, my best buckskins,” he said, pointing to a
bundle within the wigwam.[10]
In the meanwhile strong men seized Iktómi[11]
and dragged him by his long hair to the hilltop. There upon a mock-pillared
grave[12]
they bound his hands and feet. Adults and children sneered and hooted at Iktómi’s
disgrace. For a half-day he lay there, the laughing stock of the people. Upon
the arrival of the real avenger, Iktómi was released and chased away
beyond the outer limits of the camp ground.
On the following morning at daybreak, peeped the
people out of half-open doorflaps.
There again in the midst of the large camp ground
was a man in beaded buckskins. In his hand was a strong bow and red-tipped
arrow. Again the big red eagle appeared on the edge of the bluff. He plumed his
feathers and flapped his huge wings.
"He placed the arrow on the bow," appears in the Bison Book edition of "Old Indian Legends," the Bison Book edition, by Angel De Cora.
"He placed the arrow on the bow," appears in the Bison Book edition of "Old Indian Legends," the Bison Book edition, by Angel De Cora.
The young man crouched low to the ground. He placed
the arrow on the bow, drawing a poisoned flint for the eagle.
The bird rose into the air. He moved his outspread
wings one, two, three times and lo! The eagle tumbled from the great height and
fell heavily to the earth. An arrow struck in his breast! He was dead!
So quick was the hand of the avenger, so sure his
sight, that no one had seen the arrow fly from his long bent bow.
The village was dumb with awe and amazement. And
when the avenger, plucking a red eagle feather, placed it in his black hair, a
loud shout of the people went up to the sky. Then hither and thither ran
singing men and women prepared a great feast for the avenger.
Thus he won the beautiful Indian princess[13]
who never tired of telling to her children the story of the big red eagle.
[1] Pointing, as with one’s index finger,
was considered rude and impolite. To this day the polite Lakȟóta,
points a variety of ways including one’s elbows (as is the case in this story),
by cupping one’s hand and gesturing in the general direction of one’s
attention, by pointing somewhat indirectly with one’s smallest finger, or with
one’s lips, the latter to some mild amusement to those nearby.
[2] A very high honor, to be carried into
the village in this manner.
[3] Shaking hands isn’t generally an
everyday Lakȟóta practice. When the occasion arose
to shake hands it was with the left hand, the hand closest to one’s heart that
was used. When a Lakȟóta shakes hands, it is careful and
light, never a crushing or firm grip.
[4] Before chairs, the Lakȟóta
man sat down upon the ground with crossed legs and straight back. Women sat
upon the ground, knees together, calves tucked beneath their legs, feet
extended behind or off to their side.
[5] Uŋčíši
is “mother-in-law.” As a rule, a man never spoke to his mother-in-law. If a man
took issue with his in-laws, he spoke through his wife, and they in turn spoke
through her. The reverse is true. Not speaking to one’s in-laws was considered
polite and respectful.
[6] The stars, Wičáȟpi, were/are considered to be a nation
of people. When one dies, or takes his or her last journey, his or her spirit
goes to the heavens where he or she is received by all those who’ve gone
before. The brightest stars in the Wanáği
Tȟačháŋku (The Spirit Road, aka the Milky Way) are
said to be the campfires of the spirits.
[7] Thiyópa,
the door or door flap of the thiíkčeya (thípi, tipi, teepee).
[8] An exclamation of surprise, usually
uttered by women.
[10] Ziŋtkála Ša’s use of this word is
probably in reference to what most Americas knew also as a “wikiup,” a
temporary lodge made by bending saplings into a small dome. Sometimes it was
covered with a robe or blanket. The Lakȟóta call this type of temporary
lodging thiyúktaŋ.
[11] The Trickster! He had been masquerading
as the Avenger so that he could marry the chieftain’s daughter!
[12] Ziŋtkála Ša uses an interesting turn
of English words to describe a wičháagnakapi,
or burial scaffold. In this case, the mock scaffold may have been erected to
provide temporary share in the village.
[13] Ziŋtkála Ša uses the term “princess”
to describe the chieftain’s daughter. The Lakȟóta do not have
royalty. The use of the term here reflects when the story was recorded by Ziŋtkála
Ša at the turn of 1900.
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