It's -5 right now. The cold somehow finds a way to creep in. I'm in a fleece vest over a long-sleeve shirt, my warmest pair of sweat pants, and heavy wool slippers. Behind me, the furnace is roaring. Soon, I'll grab a coffee and light the fireplace.
Long, long ago, it is said, the people didn't have any such comfort. In fact, on mornings like this one, some died from cold, just froze to death--often the elderly and the very young. The people loved the world they lived in--spring, summer, and fall-- but winter meant death and disaster. They counted their years in winters.
Although they were unaware of being watched, someone outside of their circle saw the children and the old ones dying, and determined that the beings he knew of on top the mountain, those beings, dangerous as they were--the Fire Beings--were gifted with what the people needed, something warm and deep, whose rich voice and bright colors would even be of benefit. The people needed fire. He resolved to get some.
Who was that silent friend? It was Coyote. That's right--coyote. He could be reckless and even dangerous, as some of them knew, but he was somehow just the one who could save the people.
So Coyote climbed the mountain until he found the Fire Beings. There they were, seated comfortably around the flames--monsters, vicious and terrible. Coyote knew that if he were to grab some of that fire, he'd have to do it when they weren't suspecting him. He waited and waited, studied their behavior until he figured he'd have the best chance--the moment they were changing guard. When next that happened, Coyote grabbed a lit stick from the roaring blaze and took off running. He ran and ran and ran though forest and valley, through endless trees and flowing creeks. He tore down the mountain, the Fire Beings in a pack behind him, so close they singed his tail. Even today, the very tip is sooty black.
But Coyote had friends, like Chipmunk. So when it became clear to him that he could run no farther and no faster, he handed that stick of fire to Chipmunk, who took off like a meteor. But the Fire Beings didn't quit. When they got up close to Chipmunk, one of them drew his clawed hand over Chipmunk's back which explains those dark lines down Chipmunk's body.
When Squirrel got the firestick, the Fire Beings bent its back and tail with their strength, but Squirrel passed it along to Frog, who soon lost his tail. Still, Frog got it to Wood, where the Fire Beings stopped on a dime because they couldn't grab the fire from Wood.
And that's how Coyote stole fire from the Fire Beings and saved the people from dying in winter.
On August 12, 1804, the Corps of Discovery spotted a four-legged they didn't recognize on the west side of the Missouri. Clark called it a Prairie Wolf. A couple men went to shore to try to get it--but didn't. Couldn't. They couldn't find him-- blame thing got away.
That was the first time any Euro-American had seen the real wily coyote.
Native people knew all about them, of course. The coyote were wily, and you didn't want to cross them. Still, sometimes they did really wonderful things, like the time, you know, when they brought fire down the mountain to the people who were dying in winter.
In ten years out here on the edge of town, we've seen only one coyote. But we know they're here because sometimes at night, when the windows are open. . .well, you know, they're out there.
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