Real Thirsty Coyote Stories - A Bridge Like a Back

Bill and Susie, on the legends you grow up on

Today I’m going to tell you some of the Coyote stories I grew up with, that I learned from my mother and father and all the aunties and uncles who hung out a certain time in a certain place.

Most of them are from Klamath River country in far northern California, and what is now called Humboldt and Siskiyou counties.

Violet Super, Vina Smith, and Bill Bright recording and transcribing in Karuk, 2004, Orleans, California.

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I first heard these stories late at night, at brush dances, falling asleep in my grownups’ laps— or later at home on my dad’s reel-to-reel tape recorder. They always were old people, speaking and singing, in Karuk and Yurok.

I did not grow up with “Bible stories.” That’s what Protestants do. ;-)

My Irish-American mom did have a family book of gory stories about Catholic martyrs, which I was dutifully impressed by.

I also had piles of “fairy books”— yes the European ones, the Black Forest and Rapunzel’s mother’s cravings for rampion. I wore out the illustrated D’Aulaires’ tomes of Norse and Greek myths.

When you’re really little, when all of language is oral, it seems like everything is one big story with every character at the table.

I routinely got the Icelandic god, Loki, mixed up with Coyote, for example, which makes perfect sense. The sensitive girls in the stories are always talking to the birds and animals in the forests. Sometimes they get taken advantage of.

In the 19th century, European, African, and Asian diaspora legends got sanitized, bowdlerized for readers in Victorian England. Those are the nicey-nice versions I knew well. The original texts, with all the sex, the shit, the perversity, the inexplicable furies— I didn’t see that in my kiddie books. They had long ago been turned into Christian morality tales, where the virtuous were “Snow White” and the villains, one-note.

However, in indigenous legends of the Western continents, white settlers didn’t take an interest in Indian culture, so ironically, they didn’t ruin it!

The 16th-century Spanish wanted to “convert” the first peoples they met in the West, they wanted to enslave them. They believed Indians had souls, if inferior ones.

However, the English settlers didn’t think “souls” were part of the equation— They regarded the first peoples they met as vermin. Kill them, like any other predator.

Oddly, it was only the small group of Russians, among all the outsiders who landed on California shores, who met the native communities and simply wanted to trade, as if they were potential equals in business.

Until nerdy linguists (cue my parents) started showing up in the mid-20th-century, there were no busybodies running around native culture to translate the “exotic” texts into palatable stories.

There were precious few community members still conversing in Karuk, because simply being alive and holding on to one’s language in the first place was so rare, so hidden.

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What I’m trying to tell you, is that Coyote never got a makeover. And the new generation that carried on his stories would never want such a thing. “I yam what I yam” is Coyote’s mating call, his dinner call; it’s his nut. He doesn’t need you to figure him out.

I first heard how “babies are made” because of Coyote’s story. And also about how bad luck can go on and on. And how fools are constantly getting a break. So there’s some good lessons in here after all, if you can remember not to plug up your ass . . .

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The following story was dictated to my father, Bill Bright, by Mrs. Mamie Offield, Nettie Reuben, Julia Starritt, Chester Pepper, mostly at Mamie’s home on the slopes of the sacred Offield Mountain (called Pikxariyá-ttu ysip, literally, ‘spirit-mountain’, in Karuk).

And here’s a quick audio hello from Bill, to get things started, so you will understand how young he was when all this began:

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Below are a few notes to help you get the most (laughs) out of Coyote’s road trip:

• Roasted grasshoppers increase thirst, kind of like salted peanuts.

• A man on a quest for money is supposed to practice sexual self-denial.

• Drinking river-water is taboo

• Sweathouses are subterranean, and entered by a stepladder, which of course Coyote will eat up.

• “Me No Savvy” — here, Coyote is speaking broken Yurok, to try and disguise himself. But he’s not fooling anyone!

  

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THE CENTER OF THE WORLD. Coyote.

A man lived there,
	he had many strings of shell-money,
		Coyote saw him there, 
			he saw him measuring shell-money,
				that person there.
And then Coyote said,
	"Where do you find it, 
		that money?"
And then that person said,
	"At Klamath Falls."
And then Coyote, 
	he went home.
And then he thought,
	"I'll make some string!
"I have to go to Klamath Falls!
"I'll go get that money, 
	I like it so much." 
And he made a lot of it, 
	that string.

GOING UPRIVER. Coyote.

So he tied it in a bundle, that string.
And then he thought,
	"Now I'll start out!"
And then he hurried upriver, 
	the string in a pack, 
		the little bits of string,
			what he was going to string it with, that money.
When he had packed it up, 
	he carried it upriver, 
that string.

UPRIVER COUNTRY. Coyote and the Raccoons.

Finally he had gone far upriver.
And he looked upstream, 
	a tree was standing there.
He saw ten raccoons were sitting there.
And he said, "Aha, good!
"I'll make new pants, 
	and a shirt for myself, 
		and a quiver, 
			and shoes for myself."
And he ripped them apart, 
	his clothes.
And he tore them to bits, 
	little bits.
And he threw them downslope.
And he stood naked.
And so then he said,
	"Now I'll shoot one!"
	and he missed.
And the raccoon jumped away downslope.
And again he shot at one, 
	again it jumped down.
And he missed every one of them.
And he felt BAD.
And he crept away downslope.
And he collected them, 
	all his torn-up clothes.

UPRIVER COUNTRY. Coyote and Lizard.

So he mended his clothes.
And he'd been carrying a lot of string, 
	that's what he was going to string it with, 
		his money.
And he put his clothes on.
And he hurried upstream.
And he traveled a long time.
And he got thirsty,
	VERY thirsty.
And his tongue was very dry.
And he saw a sweathouse was standing there.
And he saw a man was sweating himself there, 			
	he was singing.
And Coyote was terribly thirsty.
And he saw two baskets of gooseberry juice there.
And he said, "Good!
	I'll drink Nephew's juice.
"T'll just take a little taste!"
And again,
	"I have to drink just a little more!"
And he drank up both bowls.
And he said, "Nephew, 
	you mustn't be angry at me!" 
And then he hurried upstream.

© Andrew Griffin

UPRIVER COUNTRY. Lizard.

And so when Lizard came out, 
	came out of the sweathouse, 
		then he thought, "Ah!
			I bet Coyote's been around here!
"He's drunk up that juice of mine.
"May he be thirsty!"
And he thought,
"He likes those things, 
	roasted grasshoppers."
And he said,
	"May there be a brushfire,
		up ahead of him!"

UPRIVER COUNTRY. Coyote and the Grasshoppers.

Coyote went on upstream, 
	there had been a big brushfire.
And he looked around,
	there were lots of roasted grasshoppers.
"I won't eat them."
Finally he went a little ways.
And he thought,
	"I’ll just gather a few of them, 
		those roasted grasshoppers."
There he was going to gather them.
And then he thought.
	"I wonder why it is, 
		I'm not getting full."
And he thought,
	"I think they're coming out my rear, 
		while I'm eating them."
And he thought,
	"I'll plug up my ass!"
So he gathered pitch,
	and he plugged up his ass with it.
And he thought, "There, 
	now I'll get full.
I've plugged up my ass."

UPRIVER COUNTRY. Coyote.

So he ate them—
but there had been a BIG brushfire.
And he was sticking his butt all around there.
And he thought,
	"I think I'm getting there,
		to Klamath Falls"—
			he heard it,
				the thundering,
					he heard it like that, 
						it sort of said HUHUHUHUHU.
And he thought,
	"I'm getting there, to Klamath Falls"—
		all he could hear was that HUHUHUHUHU.
It was really his ass, 
	there it was burning.
It was really the pitch, 
	what he had plugged it with, 
		there it was burning.
What could he do?
He slid all around there, 
	on the ground, in the sand.
And he was just saying "ATUHTUHTUHTUHTUH!"
So finally his ass stopped burning.
And he thought,
	"Now I'll never eat them again, 
		those roasted grasshoppers.
That's enough, I won't eat them!"

UPRIVER COUNTRY. Coyote and the Creek Water.

Finally he traveled far upriver, 
	he really got thirsty, 
		he was just thinking,
			"I can’t drink water,
				I'm going to get money.
And finally he got dry, 
	he really got thirsty.
And then he thought,
"Now I'll drink water, 
	as soon as I see a creek."
And then finally he traveled a long way, 
	he was really bad off, 
		he was so thirsty.
And then he saw the water, 
	where a creek was sounding.
		he thought,
			"I'll drink water,
				as soon as I get there."
And then when he got there, 
he saw it had gone dry, 
		that creek.
And then, "Oh, how thirsty I am!" 
And then he thought,
	"I can't stand it"—
		he was thirsty, 
			he was so dry.
And then he heard it, 
	it was sounding,
		the water was sounding.
And then he sneaked up on it, 
	that water.
And then he got close, 
	he heard that, 
		it was sounding, 
			that water,
				as he sneaked up.
And he saw it, 
	the water,
		where it was flowing, 
			he got really CLOSE.
And then he broke into a run,
	he got there.
He saw it had gone dry.
And he thought,
	"I'm really thirsty!"—
		he was really bad off, 
			traveling like that, 
				far upriver,
					looking downslope
						down there the river was flowing.
And he thought,
	"I wish I could drink that." 
and then oh! he was traveling like that, 
	he was really bad off, 
		he was about to get there, 
			to Klamath Falls.
And there he had traveled far upriver.
And there again he saw the water sounding, 			
	there was a creek.
And again he thought,
	"I can't get there"—
		he was so thirsty.
And then again he sneaked up on it, 
	that creek—
		it was large, a big creek.
And he thought,
	"I’ll crawl up to it."
And then he undid his blanket.
And he wadded it all up.
And he looked,
	there was a lot of water, 
		just close.
and then he broke into a run.
And he threw it in, 
	that blanket
		only dust puffed up.
			the water had gone dry.
And then he thought,
	"Oh, I can't get there,
		I'm really thirsty."
And then he looked downslope, 
down there it was flowing,
	that river.
Oh! then he thought,
	"I'm going to drink that, 
		the river!"

UPRIVER COUNTRY. Coyote and the River.

So he hurried downslope.
And he thought,
	"What a bad thing I'm doing, 
		going to drink water,
		me who's going to Klamath Falls to get money!"
And he went down to the riverbank.
And he looked out to the water.
And he thought,
	"I won't drink right here, 
		by the shore."
And he said,
	"Fall down, you fir tree!"—
		 it fell.
And he walked out over the water on it.
And then he got to the middle of the river.

IN THE RIVER. Coyote and the Girls.

So then he stooped to the water, 
	he stooped a long time, 
		down to the water, 
			he drank a lot.
And when he got up, 
	he'd drunk a lot.
There he fell over backwards, 
	he fell backwards into the river.
And then he floated downriver.
Finally he floated a long ways back downstream.
Finally he floated back here to the center of the world.
And then he looked downriver.
There were young women downriver leaching flour, 
	on the shore.
And then he said,
	"I'll turn into some pretty driftwood!"
And then he turned into some pretty driftwood.
And then he floated down from upstream,
	 he watched them close by.
		while they were leaching flour.
And he said,
	"I'll float to the shore, 
		I'll float to the shore!
I'll keep floating in circles just downslope from them."
And then one girl looked downslope to the river.
And she said, "Look, my dear!"
	Oh, look how pretty, 
		downslope, 
			that driftwood!"
And the other said, "Where?" 
And the first said, 'There, downslope." And the other said, "Oh! my dear, 
	let's hook it out, 
		that driftwood!"
"All right!"
So they ran downslope, 
	they went to look at it,
		where it was floating in circles.
And one said, "Come on, my dear,
	Where's a little stick?
We'll hook it out with that."

THE CENTER OF THE WORLD. Coyote and the Girls.

And so they hooked it out.
And oh! they took a liking to it.
Oh, how pretty it was, 
	the driftwood,
		they took a liking to it!
And then one threw it to another, 
	they played with it, 
		that driftwood,
			the pretty little stick.
And then one girl said, "Ugh!", 
	she said, "Ugh! Maybe it's Coyote,
		they said he drowned in the river, upstream."
And then they threw it back in the river, 
	that driftwood
And they took it up,
their acorn mush, 
	what they were leaching.
Sure enough, in a while, they both were pregnant.
There Coyote floated downstream.
	then he floated ashore downriver from them. 	

THE CENTER OF THE WORLD. Coyote and the Flower-Dancers.

And then he traveled on,
	Coyote did,
		he turned back into a person, 
			he turned back into himself.
And then he saw,
	there they were having a puberty dance.
So he joined the "flower dancing", 
	he carried the girl around, 
		the menstruant girl.
And then she became pregnant.
And then Coyote ran away.
And then they chased him, 
	they said,
		"He's the one that did that mischief."
And then he ran,
	they were about to catch him.
And then he peeled back his foreskin in a hollow tree, 
	he said,
		"You people come out, come out!"
And then ants came out, 
	winged ants,
		that's why they call them that,
			"Coyote-peeling-back-his-foreskin."
And they stopped,
the ones who were chasing him,
	they looked,
		they said, "What's that?"
And by this time Coyote was far away.
And then they were about to catch him again.
And then he urinated in a hollow tree.
And then some came out, 
	they flew out, 
		those birds,
And then the ones chasing him stopped, 
	they looked,
		they said "What's that?"—
			that's why they're called "little-Coyote-urine", 
				wild canaries.
And then he ran downstream to a place uphill from Requa.
And there was a big mountain sitting there.
And then he said,
	"Get little, get little!"
And then he ran down the other side.
And then he crawled indoors, 
	into a sweathouse.
And then they ran down from upstream, 
	the ones chasing him.
And then they looked inside, 
	into the sweathouse.
And then they said,
	"Did you see him anywhere, 
		a person?"
And then Coyote said,
	"Me no savvy."
And then they said,
	"I think he's saying,
		Coyote's already downstream."
And then Coyote jumped out.
And then he ran downhill, 
	he jumped into a boat,
		and he paddled across river.
And then he said,
	"Mice, come here!
	"Gnaw holes in them, 
		those boats."
And then they gnawed holes in them, 
	the boats.
And then they said, 
	the ones chasing him said,
		"I bet that was him, 
			the one sitting in the sweathouse." 
And then they ran back the other way, 
	there he was on the opposite shore.
And then they launched the boats, 
	but they sank,
because the mice had gnawed them.

THE MOUTH OF THE RIVER. Coyote and the Ducks.

Coyote wandered around there, 
	there was a sweathouse standing.
And he looked inside, 
	he saw nobody at all.
And Coyote crawled in.
And when he got inside, 
	when he looked around,
		all the chairs were made of pure grease, 
			their headrests too were of grease,
				and their stepladder too was of grease.
And Coyote was hungry.
And he thought,
"I'll just taste them, 
	those headrests."
And when he took a taste, 
	they were very delicious.
Finally he ate them all up, 
	he ate up their stepladder too.
Then suddenly he sort of heard something.
And he thought,
	"I'd better hide."
And he lay down there behind the woodpile.
And when the men came back in the sweathouse in the evening, 
	as each man crawled in, 
		he fell down.
And they said,
	"I'm thinking,
		Coyote's wandering around here.
"That's who did it, 
	he ate them all up, 
		our headrests."
He just lay there, 
	he heard them,
		when they were talking about him.
And then they said,
	"Let's spend the night away from home, 
		at Long Pond." 
And then he thought,
	Coyote thought,
		"They're talking about my country."
And he jumped out—
	"Nephew, my nephews,
		I'll go along!"
And they said, "All right, 
	but don't open your eyes."
"All right, I'll do that, 
	I won't open my eyes."
And they told him,
	"Get in the boat.
"You'll hear gravel sounding, 
	you'll know we've arrived.
"Then you can open your eyes.
"But if you open them before, 
	we won't get there.
"We'll float right back here."
	—"All right, I'll do that."

THE JOURNEY HOME. Coyote and the Ducks.

And so they paddled off, 
	they told Coyote,
		"Lie face down in the boat!"
So Coyote lay face down.
So they paddled off.
Finally he got tired,
	Coyote did,
		lying face down.
And he thought,
	Coyote thought,
		"I'm going to peek out!"
Then when he peeked out, 
	right then they floated ashore, 
		at the shore of the ocean.
Then they told him,
	Coyote,
		"Now you won't go with us again."
And Coyote said,
	"This time I won't do it again, Nephew."
		—"All right, let's go."

THE CENTER OF THE WORLD. Coyote.

So Coyote went with them again.
And finally he had kept his eyes closed for a long ways.
Suddenly they paddled ashore.
And they said,
	"We've arrived."
And then he jumped up,
Coyote did.
And then he said,
	"My country!"
And he kicked dirt out into the river.
And he kicked it out from Camp Creek, 
	he kicked it out from Kattiphirak,
		he kicked it out from Ullathorne Creek,
			Coyote was so happy, 
				when he returned, 
					back to his country.
That's why he kicked it out.

PRAYER.

Kupannakanakana!

Young brodiaea plant,
you must come up quickly, 
	hurry to me!
Spring salmon, 
	shine upriver quickly, 
		hurry to me!
My back has become like a mountain ridge, 
	so thin, 
		so hungry.

Kupannakanakana!— THAT is what you say at the end of such a story, which is properly told in winter, when food is scarce. ¹

Like today in America.

My back has become like a mountain ridge

So thin,

So hungry.

Get well cards to my dad from students in Terry Supahan's class at Orleans Elementary school. 2004. He didn’t make it. I’ll always cherish these.

Bill wrote:

The Karuk hold that the earth has once been inhabited by a pre-human race— the ikxaréeyavs, translatable as 'First People.’ Karuk histories describe the adventures, the loves, and the misfortunes of these people during a period of time which ends with the spontaneous emergence of the human species.

At that point, the First People are transformed into animals, plants, inanimate objects, or intangible spirits— -often after an announcement that, "When human beings come, they will live in such-and-such a way'.

The most famous of all the First People is Coyote, who plays the same paradoxical (but all-too-human) combination of roles as he does in the literature of other tribes: lawgiver and hero, but also trickster, buffoon, and shitstirrer.

Karuk legends are told in different ways by different individuals— and, indeed, in slightly different ways even by individuals. A narration which is told as a complete legend by one person may be only an episode in a longer story told by another person.

Nevertheless, some of the best-known Karuk stories deal with a famous journey, in which Coyote travels from the 'Center of the Earth' far to the north, upriver to Klamath Falls, to seek shell-money—but fails, floats or is chased downstream, all the way to the river-mouth at Requa. He finally 'hitch-hikes' back to his home at Panámniik (modern Orleans).

An outsider might wonder if there’s an original or complete version of Coyote's Journey. Nope.

Episodes are combined, detached, or modified by individual story-tellers over a period of many centuries. My father typed his arrangement of incidents into the single narrative which appears above— he didn’t suggest Karuk narrator put elements together in exactly the same way. That wouldn’t make sense.

Me, Andre, Leaf, Jon, burying Daddy’s ashes in Orleans. I remember all of us who were there.

Bill’s poem. We made tshirts out of it. And I think Andre Cramblit’s notes!

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NOTES ON THE TRANSLATION & METER

From Bill’s original book, American Indian Linguistics and Literature:

“My motive is to offer a sample of Coyote's adventures, translated in a style which aims to preserve as much as possible of Karuk literary structure, while still being accessible to English-speaking readers.

The bases of this translation are like much American Indian oral literature which has the structure of meter or rhyme, but in terms of pause-points, sentence initial particles ("So ...", "And then ..."), and morpho-syntactic structure.

Note the following:

Verses begin at the left-hand margin, and each ends with a major pause.

1. Lines within a verse are successively indented, and each ends with a minor pause.

2. Divisions of the narrative into 'acts' and 'scenes'-corresponding to changes of locale and participant, respectively— are indicated by headings; but these are provided by the translator, not by the narrator.

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1. If you would like to hear some of my dad’s original teachers, teaching and sharing stories, here is a language learning collection.