The snow mountain lifted its head close the sky; the clouds wrapped around it their floating drifts which held the winter’s hail and snowfalls, and with scorn it defied the sunlight which crept over its height, slow and shivering on its way to the valleys.

Close at the foot of the mountain an old man had built a temporary lodge – “for a time”, he said, as he packed it around with great blocks of ice. Within he stored piles of wood, corn, dried meat and fish. No person, animal or bird could enter this lodge, only North Wind, the only friend the old man had. Whenever strong and lusty North Wind passed the lodge he would shriek, “Ugh-eeeeeeee! Ugh-eeeeeeee! Ugh-eeeeee!” as with a blast of his blustering breath he blew open the door and, entering, would light his pipe and sit close by the old man’s fire and rest from his wanderings over the earth.

But North Wind came only seldom to the lodge. He was too busy searching the corners of the earth and driving the snows and the hail, but when he had wandered far and was in need of advice he would visit the lodge to smoke and counsel with the old man about the next snowfall before journeying to his home in the north sky … and they would sit by the fire which blazed and glowed yet could not warm them.

The old man’s bushy whiskers were heavy with the icicles which clung to them, and when the blazing fire flared its lights, illuminating them with the warm hues of the summer sunset, he would rave as he struck them down, and glare with rage as they fell snapping and crackling at his feet.

One night, as they sat together smoking and dozing before the fire, a strange feeling of fear came over them; the air seemed to be growing warmer and the ice began to melt. Said North wind, “I wonder what warm thing is coming; the snow seems to be vanishing, sinking lower into the earth.” But the old man cared not and was silent. He knew his lodge was strong, and he chuckled with scorn as he bade North Wind abandon his fears and depart for his home. And North Wind went, drifting the fast-falling snow higher on the mountain until it groaned under its heavy burden and, scolding and blasting, his voice gradually died away. Still the old man remained silent and moved not and, lost in thought, sat looking into the fire. Suddenly there came a loud knock at his door, “Some foolish breath of North Wind is still wandering,” he thought, and he heeded it not.

Again came the knocking, louder still, and a pleading voice begged to come in.

Still the old man remained silent and, drawing nearer to the fire quieted himself for sleep. But the rapping continued, louder, fiercer, and he became angrier. “Who dares approach the door of my lodge?” he called. “You are not North Wind, the only one who can enter here. Begone! No refuge here for trifling winds. Go back to your home in the sky!” But as he spoke, the strong bar securing the door fell from its fastening and the door swung open. A stalwart young warrior, straight, tall and handsome, stood before him, shaking the snow from his shoulders as he quietly closed the door.

Once within the lodge, the warrior did not heed the old man’s anger and, with a friendly greeting, drew near the fire, extended his hands to its ruddy blaze. A glow as of summer lit the lodge up, but the kindly greeting and warm glow of light served only to make the old man angrier still and, rising, he ordered the young warrior to leave.

“Go!” he exclaimed. “I know you not. You have entered my lodge bringing a strange light. Why have you forced entry here? You are young, and youth has no need of the fire’s warmth. When I enter my lodge, all the earth sleeps. You are strong, with the glow of sunshine on your face. Long ago I buried the sun beneath the snowdrifts. Go! You have no place here!

“Your eyes bear the gleam of the summer stars … North Wind blew out the summer starlight many moons ago. Your eyes dazzle my lodge; your breath does not smoke in chill vapors but come from your lips soft and warm – it will melt my lodge. You have no place here! Go!

“Your hair, so soft and fine, streaming back from your face like a summer breeze, will weave its tresses into my lodge. Go now! You have no place here!

“Your shoulders are bare; you have no furs to cover them and neither do you have need of them. Depart from my lodge! See, as you sit by my fire, how it draws away from you. Depart, I say, from this place … go back to whence you came!”

But the young warrior only smiled and asked that he might remain to fill his pipe, and they sat down by the fire where the old man became garrulous and began to boast of his great powers.

“I am powerful and strong,” said he. “I send North Wind to blow all over the earth, and the waters everywhere stop to listen to his voice as he freezes them so they sleep. When I touch the sky, the snow comes down … the hunters stay home by the lodge fires and the animals stay warm and asleep in their caves. When I put my hand on the land, I harden it, making it still as the rocks – nothing can forbid me or loosen my hold. You, young warrior, though you shine like the Sun, you have no power. Go! I give you a chance to escape me while you still may … I could easily blow my breath upon you and fold around you a mist which would turn you to ice forever!

“I am not a friend to the Sun, who pales, grows cold and flees to the south land when I come – yet I see his glance in y our face, where no winter shadows hide. My North Wind will soon return … he hates the summer and will bind fast its hands.

“I see that you have no fear of me … you smile because you know me not. Listen to me, young man … I am Gau-wi-di-ne, winter! Now fear me and go … leave my lodge and go out to the wind.”

But the young warrior moved not, only smiled as he refilled the pipe for the trembling old man, saying, “Here, take your pipe; it will soothe you and give you strength a little while longer.” And he packed the o-yan-kwa deep and hard into the pipe.

Then the young warrior said, “Now you must smoke for me … smoke for youth and for the springtime! I have no fear of your boasting; you are old and slow; I am young and strong. I hear the voice of South Wind, and your North Wind hears too … Gah-oh is hurrying back to his home. Wrap yourself up good and warm while the snowdrifts cover the earth path, and flee to your lodge in the north sky. I am here now and you shall know me. I too am powerful!

“When I lift my hand, the sky opens wide and I waken the sleeping Sun which follows me, warm and glad. I touch the earth and it grows soft and gentle and breathes strong and swift as my South Wind ploughs under the snows to loosen your hold on the land. The forests welcome my voice – the trees bud to the touch of my hand. When my breezes blow my long hair to the clouds, they send down gentle showers that call the grasses from their sleeping places under the earth.

“I came not to tarry long in my peace talk with you, but to smoke with you, and let you know that the Sun is waiting for me to open the way for him to enter here. You and North Wind have built your lodge strong, but each wind – the North, East, West and the South – has its time for the earth. Now South Wind is calling me – it is her time. And it is your time to return to your big lodge in the sky. Travel swiftly on your way that you may not fall in the path of the Sun. See how even now it is sending down arrows that will weaken you, kill you, if you wait?”

The old man saw, and he trembled. He seemed to be fading, growing too weak to speak, and could only whisper, “Young warrior, who are you?”

In a voice that breathed soft as the breath of wild blossoms, he answered: “I am Go-hay – spring. I have come to rule and my lodge now covers the earth. I have talked to your mountain and it has heard; I have called the South Wind and it is near. The sun has awoken from its winter sleep and summons me now. Your North Wind has fled to his north sky; only you are late in following. You have lingered too long over your pipe, and its smoke now floats far away. Make haste while there is still time, so that you may not lose your trail.”

And Go-hay began singing the Song of the Sun as he opened the door of the lodge. Hovering above it was a great bird whose wings seemed blown by a strong wind, and while Go-hay continued to sing, it flew down to the lodge and, folding Gau-wi-di-ne to its breast, slowly winged away to the north, and when the Sun lifted its head in the east, it could see the bird disappearing in the faraway sky. The Sun glanced down where Gau-wi-di-ne had built his lodge whose fired had burned but could not warm, and a bed of young blossoms now lifted their heads to the touch of the Sun’s beams. Where the wood and the corn, the dried meat and fish had been heaped, a young tree was budding and leafing, and a bluebird was trying its wings for a nest. And the great Ice Mountain had melted to a swift running river, which laughed as it rushed through the valley, bearing its message of the coming of springtime.

Gau-wi-di-ne had passed his time; Go-hay now reined over the earth!

Once, not long ago, four Haudenosaunee hunters spent the winter together trapping in the North. They had good luck. When they brought their furs to the trading post at the end of the season, they had more than enough to buy all the things they needed for their families. In fact, there was just enough left over to buy a new rifle.

They had a problem. Although they hunted and trapped together as brothers, for all of them belonged to the Bear Clan, they did not live together. One hunter was from the Nundawaono, the People of the Great Hill, the Seneca. His home was to the West.

One was from the Gueugwehono, the People of the Mucky Land, the Cayuga. His home was to the South near the marshes by the long lakes.

One was from the Onundagaono, the People on the Hills, the Onondaga. His place was in the very center of the lands of the Great League.

One was from the Ganeagaono, the People of the Flint, the Mohawks. His home was to the East. Now that they had finished trapping, each would be returning home.

It was easy to divide provisions among four people, but how could they divide the rifle? Finally it was decided. The man who told the tallest story about hunting would take the gun home.

The Mohawk hunter spoke first. “A man was walking along. He had been hunting all day, but his mind wasn’t on his hunting. He’d used up all of the bullets for his old muzzle loader without hitting anything. As he walked, he ate some cherries he had picked. Eat one, spit the stone into his hand. Eat one spit the stone into his hand. Then he saw, right in front of him, a big, big deer. But he had no bullets left. He thought quickly. He poured powder into the gun, took the cherry seeds, loaded them and fired at the deer’s head. The deer fell down, but it got right up again and ran away.

“Some years later that same hunter went out again hunting in the same place. Again he had no luck. Near the end of the day he saw at the edge of a clearing a tall tree covered with ripe cherries. Ah, this man thought. At least I can eat some cherries. So he put his gun down and began to climb up into the tree. He had reached the lower branches when the tree began to shake back and forth and the hunter had to hold on with both hands. Then the tree lifted straight up into the air and he was thrown out. He looked up from the ground and saw that the tree was growing from between the antlers of a huge deer which shook its head one more time and then ran away into the forest. And that,” said the Mohawk hunter, “is my story.”

Now it was the turn of the Onondaga hunter. “One time my uncle was out hunting. He had only one shot left in his gun and he wanted to make it count. He came to a stream where he saw a duck swimming back and forth, back and forth. Just in front of the duck there was a large trout and it was leaping from the water to catch flies, leaping, leaping, leaping. On the other side of the stream there stood a deer. It had its head up and it was standing still, sniffing the wind. Further back on a small hill was a bear up on its hind legs, scratching its paws on a tree, up and down, up and down. My uncle got down on his belly. He crawled close to the stream, took careful aim and waited. When everything was just right and the trout jumped again he pulled the trigger. His bullet went through the trout and killed the duck. It ricocheted off the water and struck the deer. It went through the deer and killed the bear. My uncle was a good shot. The amazing thing-I know you will find this hard to believe–is that when he went to skin the bear he turned it over and found it had fallen on a fox and killed it.” The Onondaga hunter paused for breath. “And that fox had a fat rabbit in its mouth.”

The Cayuga hunter was next. “Many seasons ago my grandfather was out hunting and saw a deer. He started to chase it so he could get closer for a better shot, but he ran so fast he went right past the deer. When the deer saw my grandfather go by him, it got scared. It turned around, jumped as hard as it could and sailed right over a stream. My grandfather jumped too but when he got halfway over the stream he saw he couldn’t make it to the other side so he turned around in mid-air and jumped back. By now the deer hid behind a hill on the other side of the stream so my grandfather couldn’t see it any more. “Now my grandfather was angry. He wasn’t going to let that deer get away! He put his gun between little maple trees and bent the barrel. The he aimed and shot. The bullet curved right around the hill and struck the deer. “When my grandfather saw the fallen deer he got real excited. It was as if it was the first deer he’d ever shot. He started to skin it right away, But the deer wasn’t dead. Just when my grandfather reached the horns and was about to pull the skin off, the deer jumped up and began to run around. My grandfather tried to grab the deer, but it was too slippery. He chased it around and around. Then the skin got caught on the bark of a hickory tree. The deer backed off and pulled real hard and the skin came right off over its horns! The deer ran away, leaving my grandfather with nothing but its skin.” The Cayuga hunter looked up and took a deep breath. “And if you don’t believe my story, you can just go to my grandfather’s lodge. That skin is still hanging there.”

Now only the Seneca hunter was left. He looked around at the other three. Then he smiled and shook his head. “Wah-ah,” he said, “I am sorry. None of us Senecas ever tell tall stories about hunting.”

The other three hunters looked at each other. Then, without another word, they handed him the gun.

Often, around the fire in the long house of the Haudenosaunee , during the Moon of the Long Nights, this tale is told.

Three Arrows was a boy of the Mohawk tribe. Although he had not yet seen fourteen winters he was already known among the Iroquois for his skill and daring. His arrows sped true to their mark. His name was given him when with three bone-tipped arrows he brought down three flying wild geese from the same flock. He could travel in the forest as softly as the south wind and he was a skillful hunter, but he never killed a bird or animal unless his clan needed food. He was well-versed in woodcraft, fleet of foot, and a clever wrestler. His people said, ‘Soon he will be a chief like his father.’

The sun shone strong in the heart of Three Arrows, because soon he would have to meet the test of strength and endurance through which the boys of his clan attained manhood. He had no fear of the outcome of the dream fast which was so soon to take. (to fast means to go without food or water)

Three Arrow’s father was a great chief and a good man, and the boy’s life had been patterned after that of his father.

When the grass was knee-high, Three Arrows left his village with his father. They climbed to a sacred place in the mountains. They found a narrow cave at the back of a little plateau. Here Three Arrows decided to live for his few days of prayer and vigil. He was not permitted to eat anything during the days and nights of his dream fast. He had no weapons, and his only clothing was a breechcloth and moccasins. His father left the boy with the promise that he would visit him each day that the ceremony lasted, at dawn.

Three Arrows prayed to the Great Spirit. He begged that his clan spirit would soon appear in a dream and tell him what his guardian animal or bird was to be. When he knew this, he would adopt that bird or animal as his special guardian for the rest of his life. When the dream came he would be free to return to his people, his dream fast successfully achieved.

For five suns Three Arrows spent his days and nights on the rocky plateau, only climbing down to the little spring for water after each sunset. His heart was filled with a dark cloud because that morning his father had sadly warned him that the next day, the sixth sun, he must return to his village even if no dream had come to him in the night. This meant returning to his people in disgrace without the chance of taking another dream fast.

That night Tree Arrows, weak from hunger and weary from ceaseless watch, cried out to the Great Mystery. ‘O Great Spirit, have pity on him who stands humbly before Thee. Let his clan spirit or a sign from beyond the thunderbird come to him before tomorrow’s sunrise, if it be Thy will.’

As he prayed, the wind suddenly veered from east too north. This cheered Three Arrows because the wind was now the wind of the great bear, and the bear was the totem of his clan. When he entered the cavern he smelled for the first time the unmistakable odor of a bear. This was strong medicine.

He crouched at the opening of the cave, too excited to lie down although his tire body craved rest. As he gazed out into the night he heard the rumble of thunder, saw the lightning flash, and felt the fierce breath of the wind from the north. Suddenly a vision came to him, and a gigantic bear stood
beside him in the cave. Then Three Arrows heard it say, ‘Listen well, Mohawk. Your clan spirit has heard your prayer. Tonight you will learn a great mystery which will bring help and gladness to all your people.’

A terrible clash of thunder brought the dazed boy to his feet as the bear disappeared. He looked from the cave just as a streak of lightning flashed across the sky in the form of a blazing arrow. Was this the sign from the thunderbird ?

Suddenly the air was filled with a fearful sound. A shrill shrieking came from the ledge just above the cave. It sounded as though mountain lions fought in the storm; yet Three Arrows felt no fear as he climbed toward the ledge. As his keen eyes grew accustomed to the dim light he saw that the force of the wind was causing two young balsam trees to rub violently against each other. The strange noise was caused by friction, and as he listened and watched fear filled his heart, for, from where the two trees rubbed together a flash of lightning show smoke. Fascinated, he watched until flickers of flames followed the smoke.

Three Arrows had never seen fire of any kind at close range nor had any of his people. He scrambled down to the cave and covered his eyes in dread of this strange magic. Then he smelt bear again and he thought of his vision, his clan spirit, the bear, and its message. This was the mystery which he was to reveal to his people. The blazing arrow in the sky was to be his totem, and his new name – Blazing Arrow.

At daybreak, Blazing Arrow climbed onto the ledge and broke two dried sticks from what remained of one of the balsams. He rubbed them violently together, but nothing happened. ‘The magic is too powerful for me,’ he thought.

Then a picture of his clan and village formed in his mind, and he patiently rubbed the hot sticks together again. His will power took the place of his tired muscles. Soon a little wisp of smoke greeted his renewed efforts, then came a bright spark on one of the stick. Blazing Arrow waved it as he had seen the fiery arrow wave in the night sky. A resinous blister on the stick glowed, then flamed.

Fire had come to the Six Nations!

http://www.indigenouspeople.net/fire6nat.htm

Once upon a time the porcupine was appointed to be the leader of all the animals. Soon after his appointment he called them and presented the question, “Shall we have night and darkness, or daylight with its sunshine?”

This was a very important question, and a violent discussion arose, some wishing for daylight and the sun to rule, and others for continual night.

The chipmunk wished for night and day, weeks and months, and night to be separate from the day, so he began singing, “The light will come; we must have light,” which he continued to repeat. Meanwhile the bear began singing, “Night is best; we must have darkness.”

While the chipmunk was singing, the day began to dawn. Then the other party saw that the chipmunk was prevailing, and were very angry; and their leader, the bear, pursued the chipmunk, who managed to escape uninjured, the huge paw of the bear simply grazing his back as he entered his hole in a hollow tree, leaving its black imprint, which the chipmunk has ever since retained. But night and day have ever continued to alternate.

(IROQUOIS: Smith, Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology, ii, 80)

Tales of the North American Indians, by Stith Thompson [1929] and is now in the public domain’

When Deganawidah was leaving the Indians in the Bay of Quinte in Ontario, he told the Indian people that they would face a time of great suffering. They would distrust their leaders and the principles of peace of the League, and a great white serpent was to come upon the Iroquois, and that for a time it would intermingle with the Indian serpent as a friend. This serpent would in time become so powerful that it would attempt to destroy the Indian, and the serpent is described as choking the life’s blood out of the Indian people.

Deganawidah told the Indians that they would be in such a terrible state at this point that all hope would seem to be lost, and he told them that when things looked their darkest a red serpent would come from the north and approach the white serpent, which would be terrified, and upon seeing the red serpent he would release the Indian, who would fall to the ground almost like a helpless child, and the white serpent would turn all its attention to the red serpent. The bewilderment would cause the white serpent to accept the red one momentarily. The white serpent would be stunned and take part of the red serpent and accept him. Then there is a heated argument and a fight.

And then the Indian revives and crawls toward the land of the hilly country, and then he would assemble his people together, and they would renew their faith and the principles of peace that Deganawidah had established. There would at the same time exist among the Indians a great love and forgiveness for his brother, and in this gathering would come streams from all over – not only the Iroquois but from all over – and they would gather in this hilly country, and they would renew their friendship. And Deganawidah said they would remain neutral in this fight between the white and red serpents.

At the time they were watching the two serpents locked in this battle, a great message would come to them, which would make them ever so humble, and when they become that humble, they will be waiting for a young leader, an Indian boy, possibly in his teens, who would be a choice seer. Nobody knows who he is or where he comes from, but he will be given great power, and would be heard by thousands, and he would give them the guidance and the hope to refrain from going back to their land and he would be the accepted leader. And Deganawidah said that they will gather in the land of the hilly country, beneath the branches of an elm tree, and they should burn tobacco and call upon Deganawidah by name when facing the darkest hours, and he will return.

Deganawidah said that as the choice seer speaks to the Indians that number as the blades of grass, and he would be heard by all at the same time, and as the Indians are gathered watching the fight, they notice from the south a black serpent coming from the sea, and he is described as dripping with salt water, and as he stands there, he rests for a spell to get his breath, all the time watching to the north to the land where the white and red serpents are fighting.

Deganawidah said that the battle between the white and the red serpents opened very slowly but would then become so violent that the mountains would crack and the rivers would boil and the fish would turn up on their bellies. He said that there would be no leaves on the trees in that area. There would be no grass, and that strange bugs and beetles would crawl from the ground and attack both serpents, and he said that a great heat would cause the stench of death to sicken both serpents.

And then, as the boy seer is watching this fight, the red serpent reaches around the back of the white serpent and pulls from him a hair which is carried toward the south by a great wind into the waiting hands of the black serpent, and as the black serpent studies this hair, it suddenly turns into a woman, a white woman who tells him things that he knows to be true but he wants to hear them again. When this white woman finishes telling these things, he takes her and gently places her on a rock with great love and respect, and then he becomes infuriated at what he has heard, so he makes a beeline for the north, and he enters the battle between the red and white serpents with such speed and anger that he defeats the two serpents, who have already been battle weary.

When he finishes, he stand on the chest of the white serpent, and he boasts and puts his chest out like he’s the conqueror, and he looks for another serpent to conquer. He looks to the land of the hilly country and then sees the Indian standing with his arms folded and looking ever so noble that he knows that this Indian is not the one to fight. The next direction that he will face will be eastward and at that time he will be momentarily blinded by a light that is many times brighter than the sun. The light will be coming from the east to the west over the water, and when the black serpent regains his sight, he becomes terrified and makes a beeline for the sea. He dips into the sea and swims away in a southerly direction, and shall never again be seen by the Indians.

The white serpent revives, and he too sees the light, and he makes a feeble attempt to gather himself and go toward that light. A portion of the white serpent refuses to remain but instead makes its way toward the land of the hilly country, and there he will join the Indian People with a great love like that of a lost brother. The rest of the white serpent would go to the sea and dip into the sea and would be lost out of sight for a spell. Then suddenly the white serpent would appear again on the top of the water and he would be slowly swimming toward the light. Deganawidah said that the white serpent would never again be troublesome to the Indian People. The red serpent would revive and he would shiver with great fear when he sees that light. He would crawl to the north and leave a bloody, shaky trail northward, and he would never be seen again by the Indians. Deganawidah said as this light approaches that he would be that light, and he would return to his Indian People, and when he returns, the Indian People would be a greater nation than they had ever been before.

From Native American Prophecies by Scott Peterson

Leon Shenandoah Speaks. Supreme Sachem of the Iroquois, Successor to the Original Tododaho, Speaker of the Hotinoshonee (Haudenosaunee) Confederacy.

From Wisdomkeepers by Steve Wall and Harvey Arden

It’s prophesied in our Instructions that the end of the world will be near when the trees start dying from the tops down. That’s what the maples are doing today. Our Instructions say the time will come when there will be no corn, when nothing will grow in the garden, when water will be filthy and unfit to drink. And then a great monster will rise up from the water and destroy mankind. One of the names of that monster is “the sickness that eats you up inside” – like diabetes or cancer or AIDS. Maybe AIDS is the monster. It’s coming. It’s already here.

Our prophet Handsome Lake told of it in the 1700s. He saw Four Beings, like four angels, coming from the Four Directions. They told him what would happen, how there would be diseases we’d never heard of before. You will see many tears in this country. Then a great wind will come, a wind that will make a hurricane seem like a whisper. It will cleanse the earth and return it to its original state. That will be the punishment for what we’ve done to the Creation.