This article was written by our previous editor, Phyllis Doyle Burns, and all rights are reserved. For inquiries and comments, please contact the current editor, Jane Winkler.
A short story by P.D.BurnsCoyote was dozing under the Joshua tree far out in the desert. He had had a very long night telling Grandmother Moon stories and all his woes. Now as he tried to catch a few winks before Grandfather Sun came up he kept hearing a voice calling out, a sad voice.
Coyote sat up, rubbed his eyes and looked around. He could see no one. "Maybe I was dreaming," he scratched his head and curled back up to try to sleep. He had only another hour or so before Grandfather Sun peeked over the hills. At that time he would have to get up and start his daily rounds of looking for food and doing all those mischievious things tricksters are famous for.
As Coyote sighed and snuggled down to slumber the voice came to his ears again. He reached up with one paw and briskly rubbed an ear, trying to shake out the noise as if it were a flea. But, he could not be rid of it. The voice was constant and would not be still.
After a few more minutes of trying to find different positions to curl up in and ignore the voice he jumped up, his eyes glazed with the yearning for sleep. He looked around to find something to plug his ears with but could find nothing. So, he began combing himself briskly with a branch of the tree, trying to gather enough fur to stuff his ears with. After filling both ears with fur, he cocked his head and listened - he could hear nothing.
After a good yawn and a lazy stretch he lay back down, curled his tail around his belly and closed his eyes. After one big satisfied sigh the voice started up again and Coyote flipped over on his back, staring up at the stars as if to say, "Why me?"
Knowing he would now get no sleep till he found out where the voice was, he unplugged his ears, scratched them gently and got up, stretching and yawning again. His fur was all ruffled from tossing and turning. He shook himself out and listened to hear where the voice was coming from.
Looking around Coyote could see nothing but it seemed like the voice was coming from over the little hill to the east. Tired and grumpy he walked over to the top of the hill and peered down. He saw a dark shape on the sand down there. It looked like a rock, rounded with a smaller rock on top of it. Slowly he walked towards it.
Suddenly the voice rose up again and Coyote jumped, frightened that rocks would speak so loudly. He crouched down low and crawled over to sniff the rocks. When he got close enough he realized that these were not rocks - it was man. An old man, sitting hunched over on a blanket. What he thought was a smaller rock was the man's head.
When he realized the man was crying he spoke to him. "Grandfather, why are you out here alone and crying. Why are you not at your village sleeping?" Grandfather opened his eyes and stared at him. "Aho, Brother Coyote. Why are you not sleeping?" Coyote looked at him and was about to say something sarcastic, but the look on the old man's face saddened him and his anger over being disturbed from slumber was forgotten. "I am not sleeping, Grandfather, because I am concerned about you. Why are you so sad?"
Grandfather told Coyote a long story, of how he was the last of the Elders who remembered the old ways of the Ancestors and there would be no one to carry on some traditions after he walked on. "What about the younger men and women? Will they not keep the heritage?" asked Coyote.
"No - they are too busy with learning new things in big schools." Grandfather sighed. Coyote scratched his chin and looked around, his eyes roaming the hills, thinking. "Grandfather," he said, "take me to your village, if you will." Grandfather stood and said, "But you are a trickster, how can I trust you? You may frighten the people." Coyote promised he would not play any tricks and told Grandfather he could shoot him with his arrows if he did.
Grandfather agreed and together they walked, a long walk, back to the village. When they arrived at the village Coyote told Grandfather to sit near the fire pit in the center of the village, facing East. Grandfather did this while Coyote ran around the village gathering all the little children, nudging them with his nose towards Grandfather. "Grandfather," Coyote said, "tell these little ones your stories. Tell them about the Ancestors and the old ways. Tell them about the Sacred plants and ceremonies. And tell them about me and how great a trickster I am. Tell them the Creation myths and legends of your people. These are the ones who will carry on the traditions after you walk on."
"Yes, Grandfather," all the children cried out, "tell us some stories!" Grandfather smiled and nodded to Coyote. As Coyote turned to leave he heard Grandfather's voice begin, telling of the old days and how it was.
That night, after a long day of looking for food and prowling around, Coyote slept well while Grandmother Moon smiled down upon him. He dreamed about Grandfather and the children.
In his dream he also heard Grandmother Moon say, "You have done well today, Brother Coyote. You have reminded the people that the Elders are our link to the ancestors. They are Keepers of the Heritage, care for them well. The children are our hopes for the future, teach them well."
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Kokopelli banner retrieved from First People web site free clip art.
