One day in late autumn a hunter in the Micmac country traveled through
the woods, and he heard in the distance the sound of footsteps beating
on the ground. He hastened to the spot whence the noise came, and found
a man and his wife dancing around a tree. And on the tree, high among
the boughs, was a Raccoon. The man and his wife had danced so long that
they had worn a trench in the earth; indeed, they were in it up to
their waists.

“Why are you dancing in this strange manner?” asked the hunter.

“We are hungry,” they answered, “and we are trying to dance the tree
down to the ground, so that we may catch the Raccoon.”

“If I show you a better way than that,” said the hunter, “will you give
me the Raccoon’s skin?”

“We will give you the skin,” answered the others, “if you will catch
him for us.”

So the hunter took his hatchet, and cut down the tree, and caught the
Raccoon. After which he took the skin and went his way.

He had not gone far along the trail before he met a strange man
carrying on his head a large Birch wigwam of many rooms. The hunter was
astonished and frightened at such a sight. But the stranger stopped,
and putting down the wigwam, seated himself on the ground, and invited
the hunter to smoke and talk with him.

They smoked and talked together for a while. Then the stranger pointed
to the Raccoon’s skin in the hunter’s belt, and said, “That is a fine
skin; where did you get it?”

“I got it from the dancing man and his wife,” replied the hunter.

“Sell it to me,” said the stranger, “and I will give you my belt in
exchange.”

“I will not have your belt,” said the hunter.

“Sell it to me, and I will give you my bow,” said the stranger.

“I will not have your bow,” said the hunter.

“Sell it to me, and I will give you my Birch wigwam,” said the stranger.

“But I cannot carry your wigwam,” replied the hunter.

“Lift it upon your head, and see,” said the stranger.

The hunter lifted the wigwam, and placed it on his head, and found it
as light as an empty basket. So he gave the stranger the Raccoon’s
skin, and, carrying the wigwam, went on his way.

And when night came he set the wigwam upon a grassy ridge by the side
of a stream, and entering he looked about. Every room was hung with
fine blankets and rich furs, and furnished beautifully. The hunter
found one room in which was a bed covered with a White Bear’s skin. Now
this was a magic skin, but the hunter did not know it. As the bed was
soft, and he was weary, he lay down and went to sleep.

And when he woke in the morning he saw to his wonder and delight that
above him hung all sorts of good things to eat-dried Venison and Ducks,
strings of Indian Corn, and baskets of red berries and Maple Sugar.

He stretched out his arms, and gave a spring toward the food, when, lo!
the White Bear’s skin melted away, for it was only a heap of snow. The
wigwam was only a Birch Tree, and the food that hung above were the
early buds of the Birch. The hunter’s arms grew spreading like wings,
his body was covered with feathers, and he flew up to the Birch Tree.
And he was no longer the hunter, but Pulowech the Partridge.

And he had been wintering under the snow, as the Partridge does, and
was now come forth to greet the beautiful Spring and the Summer.

A long time ago the people of the old town of Kanu’ga`lâ’yï
(Briertown), on Nantahala river, in the present Macon county, North
Carolina, were much annoyed by a great insect called U’la`gû’.

U’la`gû’ was as large as a house, and used to come from some secret
hiding place, and darting swiftly through the air, would snap up
children from their play and carry them away. It was unlike any other
insect ever known, and the people tried many times to track it to its
home, but it was too swift to be followed.

They killed a squirrel and tied a white string to it, so that its
course could be followed with the eye, as bee hunters follow the flight
of a bee to its tree. The U’la`gû’ came and carried off the squirrel
with the string hanging to it, but darted away so swiftly through the
air that it was out of sight in a moment.

They killed a turkey and put a longer white string to it, and the
U’la`gû’ came and took the turkey, but was gone again before they could
see in what direction it flew. They took a deer ham and tied a white
string to it, and again the U’la`gû’ swooped down and bore it off so
swiftly that it could not be followed.

At last they killed a yearling deer and tied a very long white string
to it. The U’la’gu’ came again and seized the deer, but this time the
load was so heavy that it had to fly slowly and so low down that the
string could be plainly seen.

The hunters got together for the pursuit. They followed it along a
ridge to the east until they came near where Franklin now is, when, on
looking across the valley to the other side, they saw the nest of the
U’la’gu’ in a large cave in the rocks. On this they raised a great
shout and made their way rapidly down the mountain and across to the
cave.

The nest had the entrance below with tiers of cells built up one above
another to the roof of the cave. The great U’la’gu’ was there, with
thousands of smaller ones, that we now call yellow-jackets. The hunters
built fires around the hole, so that the smoke filled the cave and
smothered the great insect and multitudes of the smaller ones, but
others which were outside the cave were not killed, and these escaped
and increased until now the yellow- jackets, which before were unknown,
are all over the world.

The people called the cave Tsgâgûñ’yï, “Where the yellow-jacket was,”
and the place from which they first saw the nest they called A’tahi’ta,
“Where they shouted,” and these are their names today.

They say also that all the fish and frogs came from a great monster
fish and frog which did much damage until at last they were killed by
the people, who cut them up into little pieces which were thrown into
the water and afterward took shape as the smaller fishes and frogs.

The Grouse used to have a fine voice and a good halloo in the ballplay.
All the animals and birds used to play ball in those days and were just
as proud of a loud halloo as the ball players of today.

The Turkey had not a good voice, so he asked the Grouse to give him
lessons. The Grouse agreed to teach him, but wanted pay for his
trouble, and the Turkey promised to give him some feathers to make
himself a collar. That is how the Grouse got his collar of turkey
feathers.

They began the lessons and the Turkey learned very fast until the
Grouse thought it was time to try his voice. “Now,” said the Grouse,
“I’ll stand on this hollow log, and when I give the signal by tapping
on it, you must halloo as loudly as you can.” So he got upon the log
ready to tap on it, as a Grouse does, but when he gave the signal the
Turkey was so eager and excited that he could not raise his voice for a
shout, but only gobbled, and ever since then he gobbles whenever he
hears a noise.

A grandmother and granddaughter were living together. They had a skin
blanket, ut it was old and a good deal of the hair was worn off.

The two women went to the forest to camp and cut wood, and they carried
the blanket to cover themselves with at night. They had been in the
forest only a few days when they found hat their skin blanket was alive
and was angry. They threw the blanket down and ran toward home as fast
as they could go. Soon they heard the skin following them.

When it seemed very near the grandmother began to sing and her song
said, “My granddaughter and I are running for our lives.”

When the song ended, the women could scarcely hear the skin following
them, but not long afterward they heard it again. When they reached
home, the skin, now a bear, was so near that as they pushed open the
door it clawed at them and scratched their backs, but they got in.

The old woman and her granddaughter were chipmunks. Since that time
chipmunks have stripes on their backs, the result of the scratches
given by the bear.

Winged creatures of all kinds are classed under the generic term of
aninâ’hilidâ’hï (flyers). Birds are called, alike in the singular and
plural, tsi’skwa, the term being generally held to exclude the domestic
fowls introduced by the whites.

When it is necessary to make the distinction they are mentioned,
respectively, as inägëhï (living in the woods), and uluñni’ta (tame).
The robin is called tsiskwa’gwä, a name which can not be analyzed,
while the little sparrow is called tsikwâ’yä (the real or principal
bird), perhaps, in accord with a principle in Indian nomenclature, on
account of its wide distribution.

As in other languages, many of the bird names are onomatopes, as
wa`huhu’ (the screech owl), u’guku’ (the hooting owl), wagulï’ (the
whippoorwill), kâgû (the crow), gügwë’ (the quail), huhu (the yellow
mocking-bird), tsï’kïlï’ (the chickadee), sa’sa’ (the goose). The
turtledove is called gulë’-diska`nihï’ (it cries for acorns), on
account of the resemblance of’ it cry to the sound of the word for
acorn. (gulë’)

The meadowlark is called näkwïsï’ (star), on account of the appearance
of its tail when spread out as it soars. The nuthatch (Sitta
carolinensis) is called tsulie’na (deaf), and is supposed to be without
bearing, possibly on account of its fearless disregard for man’s
presence. Certain diseases are diagnosed by the doctors as due to
birds, either revengeful bird ghosts, bird feathers about the house, or
bird shadows falling upon the patient from overhead.

The eagle (awâ’hïlï) is the great sacred bird of the Cherokee, as of
nearly all our native tribes, and figures prominently in their
ceremonial ritual, especially in all things relating to war. The
particular species prized was the golden or war eagle (Aquila
chrsætus), called by the Cherokee the “pretty-feathered eagle,” on
account of its beautiful tail feathers, white, tipped with black, which
were in such great demand for decorative and ceremonial purposes that
among the western tribes a single tail was often rated as equal in
value to a horse.

Among the Cherokee in the old times the killing of an eagle was an
event which concerned the whole settlement, and could be undertaken
only by the professional eagle killer, regularly chosen for the purpose
on account of his knowledge of the prescribed forms and the prayers to
be said afterwards in order to obtain pardon for the necessary
sacrilege, and thus ward off vengeance from the tribe.

It is told of one man upon the reservation that having deliberately
killed an eagle in defiance of the ordinances he was constantly haunted
by dreams of fierce eagles swooping down upon him, until the nightmare
was finally exercised after a long course of priestly treatment. In
1890 there was but one eagle killer remaining among the East Cherokee.
It does not appear that the eagle was ever captured alive as among the
plains tribes.

The eagle must be killed only in the winter or late fall after the
crops were gathered and the snakes had retired to their dens. If killed
in the summertime a frost would come to destroy the corn, while the
songs of the Eagle dance, when the feathers were brought home, would so
anger the snakes that they would become doubly dangerous. Consequently
the Eagle songs were never sung until after the snakes had gone to
sleep for the winter.

When the people of a town had decided upon an Eagle dance the eagle
killer was called in, frequently from a distant settlement, to procure
the feathers for the occasion. He was paid for his services from
offerings made later at the dance, and as the few professionals guarded
their secrets carefully from outsiders their business was a quite
profitable one.

After some preliminary preparation the eagle killer sets out alone for
the mountains, taking with him his gun or bow and arrows. Having
reached the mountains, he goes through a vigil of prayer and fasting,
possibly lasting four days, after which he hunts until he succeeds in
killing a deer. Then, placing the body in a convenient exposed
situation upon one of the highest cliffs, he conceals himself near by
and begins to sing in a low undertone the songs to call down the eagles
from the sky.

When the eagle alights upon the carcass, which will be almost
immediately if the singer understands his business, he shoots it, and
then standing over the dead bird, he addresses to it a prayer in which
he begs it not to seek vengeance upon his tribe, because it is not a
Cherokee, but a Spaniard (Askwa’nï) that has done the deed. The
selection of such a vicarious victim of revenge is evidence at once of
the antiquity of the prayer in its present form and of the enduring
impression which the cruelties of the early Spanish adventurers made
upon the natives.

The prayer ended, he leaves the dead eagle where it fell and makes all
haste to the settlement, where the people are anxiously expecting his
return. On meeting the first warriors he says simply, “A snowbird has
died,” and passes on at once to his own quarters, his work being now
finished. The announcement is made in this form in order to insure
against the vengeance of any eagles that might overhear, the little
snowbird being considered too insignificant a creature to be dreaded.

Having waited four days to allow time for the insect parasites to leave
the body, the hunters delegated for the purpose go out to bring in the
feathers. On arriving at the place they strip the body of the large
tail and wing feathers, which they wrap in a fresh deerskin brought
with them, and then return to the settlement, leaving the body of the
dead eagle upon the ground, together with that of the slain deer, the
latter being intended as a sacrifice to the eagle spirits.

On reaching the settlement, the feathers, still wrapped in the
deerskin, are hung up in a small, round hut built for this special
purpose near the edge of the dance ground (detsänûñ’lï) and known as
the place “where the feathers are kept,” or feather house. Some
settlements had two such feather houses, one at each end of the dance
ground.

The Eagle dance was held on the night of the same day on which the
feathers were brought in, all the necessary arrangements having been
made beforehand. In the meantime, as the feathers were supposed to be
hungry after their journey, a dish of venison and corn was set upon the
ground below them and they were invited to eat. The body of a flax bird
or scarlet tanager (Piranga rubra) was also hung up with the feathers
for the same purpose. The food thus given to the feathers was disposed
of after the dance, as described in another place.

The eagle being regarded as a great ada’wehï, only the greatest
warriors and those versed in the sacred ordinances would dare to wear
the feathers or to carry them in the dance. Should any person in the
settlement dream of eagles or eagle feathers he must arrange for an
Eagle dance, with the usual vigil and fasting, at the first
opportunity; otherwise some one of his family will die. Should the
insect parasites which infest the feathers of the bird in life get upon
a man they will breed a skin disease which is sure to develop, even
though it may be latent for years. It is for this reason that the body
of the eagle is allowed to remain four days upon the ground before
being brought into the settlement.

The raven (kâ’länû) is occasionally seen in the mountains, but is not
prominent in folk belief, excepting in connection with the gruesome
tales of the Raven Mocker (q. v.). In former times its name was
sometimes assumed as a war title. The crow, so prominent in other
tribal mythologies, does not seem to appear in that of the Cherokee.

Three varieties of owls are recognized, each under a different name,
viz: tskïlï’, the dusky horned owl (Bubo virginianus saturatus);
u’guku’, the barred or hooting owl (Syrnium nebulosum), and wa`huhu’,
the screech owl (Megascops asio). The first of these names signifies a
witch, the others being onomatopes. Owls and other night-crying birds
are believed to be embodied ghosts or disguised witches, and their cry
is dreaded as a sound of evil omen. If the eyes of a child be bathed
with water in which one of the long wing or tail feathers of an owl has
been soaked, the child will be able to keep awake all night.

The feather must be found by chance, and not procured intentionally for
the purpose. On the other hand, an application of water in which the
feather of a blue jay, procured in the same way, has been soaked will
make the child an early riser.

The buzzard (sulï’) is said to have had a part in shaping the Earth, as
was narrated in the genesis myth. It is reputed to be a doctor among
birds, and is respected accordingly, although its feathers are never
worn by ball players, for fear of becoming bald. Its own baldness is
accounted for by a vulgar story. As it thrives upon carrion and decay,
it is held to be immune from sickness, especially of a contagious
character, and a small quantity of its flesh eaten, or of the soup used
as a wash, is believed to be a sure preventive of smallpox, and was
used for this purpose during the smallpox epidemic among the East
Cherokee in 1866.

According to the Wahnenauhi manuscript, it is said also that a buzzard
feather placed over the cabin door will keep out witches. In treating
gunshot wounds, the medicine is blown into the wound through a tube cut
from a buzzard quill and some of the buzzard’s down is afterwards laid
over the spot.

There is very little concerning hawks, excepting as regards the great
mythic hawk, the Tlä’nuwä’. The tlä’nuwä’ usdi’, or “little tlä’nuwä,”)
is described as a bird about as large as a turkey and of a grayish blue
color, which used to follow the flocks of wild pigeons, flying overhead
and darting down occasionally upon a victim, which it struck and killed
with its sharp breast and ate upon the wing, without alighting. It is
probably the goshawk (Astur atricapillus).

The common swamp gallinule, locally known as mud hen or didapper
(Gallinula galeata), is called diga’gwanï’ (lame or crippled), on
account of its habit of flying only for a very short distance at a
time. In the Diga’gwanï dance the performers sing the name of the bird
and endeavor to imitate its halting movements.

The dagûl`kû, or white-fronted goose (Anser albifrons) appears in
connection with the myth of the origin of tobacco. The feathers of the
tskwâyï, the great white heron or American egret (Herodias egretta),
are worn by ball players, and this bird probably the “swan” whose white
wing was used as a peace emblem in ancient times.

A rare bird said to have been seen occasionally upon the reservation
many years ago was called by the curious name of nûñdä-dikanï’, “it
looks at the sun,” “sun-gazer.” It is described as resembling a blue
crane, and may possibly have been the Floridus cerulea, or little blue
heron. Another infrequent visitor, which sometimes passed over the
mountain country in company with flocks of wild geese, was the
gu’wisguwï’, so called from its cry.

It is described as resembling a large snipe, with yellow legs and feet
unwebbed, and is thought to visit Indian Territory at intervals. It is
chiefly notable from the fact that the celebrated chief John Ross
derives his Indian name, Gu’wisguwï’, from this bird, the name being
perpetuated in Cooweescoowee district of the Cherokee Nation in the
West.

Another chance visitant, concerning which there is much curious
speculation among the older men of the East Cherokee, was called
tsun’digwûntsu’`gï or tsun’digwûn’tskï, “forked,” referring to the
tail. It appeared but once, for a short season, about forty years ago,
and has not been seen since. It is said to have been pale blue, with
red in places, and nearly the size of a crow, and to have had a long
forked tail like that of a fish.

It preyed upon hornets, which it took upon the wing, and also feasted
upon the larva in the nests. Appearing unexpectedly and as suddenly
disappearing, it was believed to be not a bird but a transformed
red-horse fish (Moxostoma, Cherokee âligä’), a theory borne out by the
red spots and the long, forked tail.

It is even maintained that about the time those birds first appeared
some hunters on Oconaluftee saw seven of them sitting on the limb of a
tree and they were still shaped like a red-horse, although they already
had wings and feathers. It was undoubtedly the scissor-tail or
swallow-tailed flycatcher (Milvulus forficatus), which belongs properly
in Texas and the adjacent region, but strays occasionally into the
eastern states.

On account of the red throat appendage of the turkey, somewhat
resembling the goitrous growth known in the South as “kernels”
(Cherokee, dule’tsï), the feathers of this bird are not worn by ball
players, neither is the neck allowed to be eaten by children or sick
persons, under the fear that a growth of “kernels” would be the result.
The meat of the ruffed grouse, locally known as the pheasant (Bonasa
umbellus), is taboo to a pregnant woman, because this bird hatches a
large brood, but loses most of them before maturity. Under a stricter
construction of the theory this meat is forbidden to a woman until she
is past child bearing.

The redbird, tatsu’hwä, is believed to have been originally the
daughter of the Sun (see the story). The huhu, or yellow mockingbird,
occurs in several stories. It is regarded as something supernatural,
possibly on account of its imitative powers, and its heart is given to
children to make them quick to learn.

The chickadee (Parus carolinensis), and the tufted titmouse, (Parus
bicolor), utsu’`gï, or u’stûtï, are both regarded as news bringers, but
the one is venerated as a truth teller while the other is scoffed at as
a lying messenger, for reasons which appear in the story of Nûñyunu’wï
(q. v.).

When the tsïkïlilï’ perches on a branch near the house and chirps its
song it is taken as an omen that an absent friend will soon be heard
from or that a secret enemy is plotting mischief. Many stories are told
in confirmation of this belief, among which may be instanced that of
Tom Starr, a former noted outlaw of the Cherokee Nation of the West,
who, on one occasion, was about to walk unwittingly into an ambush
prepared for him along a narrow trail, when he heard the warning note
of the tsïkïlilï’, and, turning abruptly, ran up the side of the ridge
and succeeded in escaping with his life, although hotly pursued by his
enemies.

The coyote, like his brother the wolf, was a spiritual being. In the
beginning the coyote left his homeland in the Americas and traveled
East-ward across the ocean in the direction of the rising sun. In
distant lands, he acquired a bride and with her had a great number of
children. These children were Indians, the forefathers of the great
tribes that were to inhabit the North and South American continents.

Preparing to return home, the coyote put them all in a wosa, a woven
willow basket jug with a cork. Before his journey, he was instructed
not to open the jug until he reached his country in the Rockies and the
Great Basin.

Being a sly and curious person, and hearing singing and the beating of
drums within the wosa, the coyote thought it would not hurt to take a
peek when he arrived back on the Eastern coast of the American
continent. But when he opened the jug, the children inside jumped out
and scattered in all directions across North and South America.

By the time he got the cap back on, the only two persons who remained
in the wosa were the Western Shoshone and the Paiute. These he brought
home with him. When he reached the Great Basin, he opened the jug, and
out fell the last two children. They, at once, began to fight.

The coyote kicked them apart and said to them, “You two are my
children. Even though the rest got away, you two will be able to fight
against the best and beat them.”

Thus, the Western Shoshone and Paiutes, or the Newe and Numa peoples,
who now live in California, Nevada, Idaho, Utah, and Oregon, began as
allies and populated the Great Basin.

A long time ago, when the Hopi Tribe was emerging from the First World,
their people started to hunt for the land of the rising sun. Moving in
related groups, they thought it fun to play a name game.

When the first band came upon a dead bear, immediately they thought it
a sign for them to become the Bear Clan. Another Hopi band came upon
the same skeleton but saw little gopher holes surrounding the carcass.
They agreed among themselves to become the Gopher Clan.

In the same way, other Hopis found a nest of spiders and they named
themselves the Spider Clan. Far ahead the Bear Clan traveled with Chief
Bahana leading. Always, the Bear Clan seemed to move faster in many
ways.

Spider Clan trailed all the clans because they had so many children.
One day they came upon a friendly spider sitting near her large web.
The Spider Clan encircled her as she spoke to their Chief, “I am Spider
Woman, possessed of Supernatural Power. Since you are named for my
people, I will help you in any way I can.”

“Thank you, Spider Woman,” replied the Chief. “We are traveling to find
the land of the rising sun. Other clans of our Hopi Tribe are much
farther ahead of us. We wish we could travel faster, but we have much
to pack on our backs as we have so many children.”

“Perhaps I can make something to ease your travel,” said Spider Woman.

“What do you have in mind?” asked the Chief.

“First, I need something of yourself,” said Spider Woman. “You must go
into my secret room where you will find a large water jug. You must
wash yourself all over and save the dust and skin that rolls off and
fetch it to me.”

Because of many travel days, the Chief was so hot and dusty that he
made a sizeable ball of dirt, which he gave to Spider Woman. With this
she began her magic creation. She spread a white, fleecy cloth in front
of her, placing the ball in the center. Then she rolled it up carefully
into a white ball.

Spider Woman sang her ceremonial creation song four times, while the
Spider Clan sat in a circle and waited expectantly. Now and then, she
touched the fleecy ball with her magic web and looked to see if any
signs of life were evident within the ball. Again, Spider Woman sang
another magic song four times and behold!–the fleecy, white ball moved
back and forth and rolled about. To everyone’s surprise, through the
fleecy cover emerged a tiny gray animal stretching forth four tiny legs.

Spider Woman called it a burro. At the sight of it, the Spider Clan
knew that it needed to grow much stronger before it could be of any
help to them. Spider Woman kept the young animal warm and gave it some
of her magic food. She spent much time massaging its tiny legs with her
magic salve to make them grow faster.

After only four days, the burro was ready to travel with the Spider
Clan. They packed the sides of the burrow with their excess supplies
and started on their way to the land of the rising sun.

Later, Spider Woman decided to create a man who should know more about
caring for the burro than the Hopis. This she did and sent the man to
catch up with the Spider Clan, to teach them how better to care for the
burro.

But that man was selfish. Instead of helping the people, he ran away
one dark night, taking the burro with him. Even though saddened over
the loss of their helpful burro, Spider Clan continued their trek to
the land of the rising sun, shouldering their heavy packs as before.

Of course, the Bear Clan arrived at their destination first. They set
about establishing their village. Gradually the other Hopi Clans joined
them, making their villages nearby. There the Hopi Tribe grew and
prospered.

But the Spider Clan, which arrived last in the land of the rising sun,
became the largest and most prosperous of all the Hopi Clans, because
they had so many children during the following years.

When Earth-Maker had completed his creation of the world, he looked for
a creature that could watch over his creation. First Earthmaker
appointed Turtle to oversee things, but his legs were so stubby that he
could not see very far at all. So he was recalled. Then Earth-Maker
appointed Kaghiga (Crow/Raven) to oversee the world. Kaghiga could see
far and wide, but he did more than just watch: he gave orders to
everyone, and never was he silent for even a moment. Thus Earthmaker
recalled Kaghiga. Then Earthmaker appointed Bear. Bear could stand on
his hind legs and see well and could even climb trees so that he could
see in every direction. However, Bear had a terrible temper, and soon
frightened the whole of creation. So Earthmaker recalled him as well.

Then Earthmaker appointed Spider to watch over the world. Spider was
without any passion, so no one feared her. Her voice was so small that
only Earthmaker himself could hear her. Because she could climb, Spider
was able to see far and wide. In the beginning, Spider had only two
eyes like everyone else, but just to make sure that she could see
everywhere, Earthmaker gave her six new eyes, one eye for each
direction. Ever since, spiders have had eight eyes.

It was said that Quehualliu was the most handsome Indian of the tribe.
He was always picking up flowers for Pasancana, the beautiful daughter
of the chief. Together they learned how to walk and to play. They
played in the most beautiful places of the mountain.

One day when they were older, they fell in love. But Pasancana’s father
wanted his daughter to marry another boy in the tribe. This other boy
was an excellent hunter. When Pasancana and Quehualliu heard about
that, they started to cry, and one day the two decided to escape
together.

The next day they were walking in the hills and they made a plan: on
the following day when the first star came out they would run away to
the mountains. They ran away the following day.

When the chief found out that his daughter wasn’t there, he got mad! He
called together a group of men and started looking for the couple.

Pasancana and Quehualliu were tired, so they sat down for a few
minutes. They were just going to sleep when a few men came.

Thanks to the light of the full moon they saw the men coming after them
and asked the Pachamama, the goddess of the land, to hide them. She
took pity on the young lovers and opened a hole in the mountain and hid
them there. The chief shouted! “They can’t hide forever!” So he and his
men stayed there all that night. The next day the lovers had changed
into a cactus, Quehualliu, protected by Pasancana.

When gold was found in Georgia, the government forgot its treaties and
drove the Cherokees to Oklahoma. One fourth of them died on the journey
west. When the Trail of Tears started in 1838, the mothers of the
Cherokee were grieving and crying so much, they were unable to help
their children survive the journey. The elders prayed for a sign that
would lift the mother’s spirits to give them strength. God, looking
down from heaven, decided to commemorate the brave Cherokees and so, as
the blood of the braves and the tears of the maidens dropped to the
ground, he turned them into stone in the shape of a Cherokee Rose.

The next day a beautiful rose began to grow where each of the mother’s
tears fell. The rose is white for their tears; a gold center represents
the gold taken from Cherokee lands, and seven leaves on each stem for
the seven Cherokee clans. No better symbol exists of the pain and
suffering of the “Trail Where They Cried” than the Cherokee Rose The
wild Cherokee Rose grows along the route of the Trail of Tears into
eastern Oklahoma today.

More than 100 years ago, the Cherokee people were driven from their
home mountains when the white men discovered gold in the mountains of
Tears. Some of the people came across Marengo County in West Alabama.
It seems that after they had left the mountains, they came this far
south so not have to climb more mountains.

It was early summer and very hot, and most of the time the people had
to walk. Tempers were short and many times the soldiers were more like
animal drivers than guides for the people. The men were so frustrated
with the treatment of their women and children, and the soldiers were
so harsh and frustrated that bad things often happened. When two men
get angry they fight and once in a while men were killed on the trip.
Many people died of much hardship. Much of the time the trip was hard
and sad and the women wept for losing their homes and their dignity.
The old men knew that they must do something to help the women not to
lose their strength in weeping. They knew the women would have to be
very strong if they were to help the children survive.

So one night after they had made camp along the Trail of Tears, the old
men sitting around the dying campfire called up to the Great One in
Galunati (heaven) to help the people in their trouble. They told Him
that the people were suffering and feared that the little ones would
not survive to rebuild the Cherokee Nation.

The Great One said, “Yes, I have seen the sorrows of the women and I
can help them to keep their strength to help the children. Tell the
women in the morning to look back where their tears have fallen to the
ground. I will cause to grow quickly a plant. They will see a little
green plant at first with a stem growing up. It will grow up and up and
fall back down to touch the ground where another stem will begin to
grow. I’ll make the plant grow so fast at first that by afternoon
they’ll see a white rose, a beautiful blossom with five petals. In the
center of the rose, I will put a pile of gold to remind them of the
gold which the white man wanted when his greed drove the Cherokee from
their ancestral home.”

The Great One said that the green leaves will have seven leaflets, one
for each of the seven clans of the Cherokee. The plant will begin to
spread out all over, a very strong plant, a plant which will grow in
large, strong clumps and it will take back some of the land they had
lost. It will have stickers on every stem to protect it from anything
that tries to move it away.

The next morning the old men told the women to look back for the sign
from the Great One. The women saw the plant beginning as a tiny shoot
and growing up and up until it spread out over the land. They watched
as a blossom formed, so beautiful they forgot to weep and they felt
beautiful and strong. By the afternoon they saw many white blossoms as
far as they could see. The women began to think about their strength
given them to bring up their children as the new Cherokee Nation. They
knew the plant marked the path of the brutal Trail of Tears. The
Cherokee women saw that the Cherokee Rose was strong enough to take
back much of the land of their people.