In the realm of ancient Algonquin tales, where the rustling leaves whispered secrets and the rivers hummed with forgotten magic, lived Ableegumooch. Ableegumooch, the Lazy Rabbit, was once a respected figure, a guide of the forest. He possessed an intimate knowledge of the winding paths, the hidden springs, and the sun-dappled clearings. Wayfarers, lost and bewildered within the dense woods, would seek him out. With his keen senses and natural understanding of the terrain, he would lead them safely back to familiar trails, earning their gratitude and the admiration of the forest creatures.
However, the tapestry of time is ever-changing. As seasons turned into years, the world around Ableegumooch, the Lazy Rabbit, evolved. Humans learned to navigate the forests themselves, their understanding deepened by experience and passed down through generations. Animals, too, grew more adept at finding their way, relying on instinct and the subtle signs of the wilderness. The need for Ableegumooch’s guiding services diminished, leaving him with an abundance of idle time.
And so, a transformation began. The once lithe and active rabbit grew plump and indolent. He succumbed to the allure of ease, seeking out only the most effortless and enjoyable activities. If a task required exertion or presented a challenge, Ableegumooch would simply avoid it. This aversion to work extended to the most basic of necessities: providing for himself and his grandmother, Noogumee.
Noogumee, a term of respect among the indigenous people for an elderly woman, was a figure of wisdom and resilience. She shared her wigwam with Ableegumooch, the Lazy Rabbit, and bore the brunt of his growing laziness. Often, it fell upon her aging shoulders to hunt for food, venturing into the forest to secure sustenance for them both. Without her tireless efforts, they would have faced the gnawing pangs of hunger.
Despite Noogumee’s constant scolding and earnest pleas, Ableegumooch remained stubbornly resistant to change. He would offer empty promises, quickly forgotten as soon as a more appealing distraction presented itself. His grandmother’s words, though filled with love and concern, seemed to fall on deaf ears, bouncing off the thick fur of his self-imposed apathy.
Far away, in his majestic lodge perched atop Blomidon, resided Glooscap, a powerful and benevolent figure in Algonquin lore. He possessed a deep connection to the land and its inhabitants, observing their actions and guiding them towards harmony. Glooscap witnessed the rabbit’s descent into idleness with growing concern. He recognized the dangers of unchecked laziness and knew that Ableegumooch needed a strong reminder of his responsibilities.
Without hesitation, Glooscap decided to intervene. In three immense strides, he descended from his lofty lodge to the sandy beach below. He launched his birchbark canoe, a vessel crafted with skill and imbued with magic, and paddled across the vast expanse of the Bay of Fundy. The rhythmic dipping of his paddle propelled him towards the shore near Ableegumooch’s home, carrying him closer to the heart of the problem.
The morning unfolded in a symphony of light and air. The sun painted the sky with vibrant hues, casting a golden glow upon the Maritime Provinces. The air, crisp and invigorating, carried the salty tang of the ocean, a constant reminder of the region’s close connection to the sea.
As Glooscap neared his destination, he spotted Ableegumooch hopping along a forest path, his gait carefree and his voice filled with merriment. The rabbit sang with unrestrained enthusiasm:
"It’s a lovely day to do nothing, nothing, all the day through!"
His attention was completely absorbed by the allure of leisure. He disregarded the plump, juicy leaves and succulent berries that lined the path, potential additions to a much-needed dinner. Instead, he found greater entertainment in observing the industrious efforts of others.
He watched Miko the squirrel, a blur of fur and energy, scamper up the towering maple tree. Miko’s cheeks bulged with the bounty of nuts he was collecting, a testament to his diligent preparation for the coming winter. The squirrel paused only to scold Ableegumooch for venturing too close to his precious storehouse, a clear indication of the rabbit’s unwelcome reputation.
Then there was Mechipchamooech the bumble bee, diligently buzzing around the goldenrod blossoms. He was a tireless worker, gathering nectar to create honey for his hive, a symbol of community and cooperation.
And finally, Ableegumooch observed Teetees the blue jay, soaring through the air with worms clutched in his beak. He was on a mission to feed his hungry family nestled high in the branches of a towering pine tree, a representation of parental devotion.
The scene captivated Ableegumooch, providing him with endless amusement. He settled down beside a stately fir tree, content to simply observe the activities of others. Suddenly, a voice echoed from behind him.
"Ableegumooch, be careful!"
The rabbit startled, his ears twitching with alarm. He whirled around, searching for the source of the mysterious warning, but found no one. The voice spoke again, seemingly originating from above.
"Take care, Ableegumooch, or your lazy ways will bring you pain and sorrow."
The rabbit craned his neck upwards, his eyes widening in disbelief. The massive fir tree began to shake violently, its branches swaying as if caught in a tempest, yet not a single breath of wind stirred the surrounding leaves.
Terrified beyond measure, Ableegumooch bolted. He ran with unprecedented speed, his heart pounding in his chest, not stopping until he reached the safety of his wigwam. He breathlessly recounted his experience to his grandmother.
Noogumee listened intently, her expression grave. "Glooscap has given you a warning," she said, her voice filled with concern. "Be sure to obey him, grandson, or you will be sorry."
The rabbit’s legs still trembled from the combined effects of fright and exertion. He readily promised to mend his lazy ways, vowing to embrace a more responsible path.
For a short time, Ableegumooch kept his word. He diligently hunted, keeping the wigwam well-stocked with food. He demonstrated a newfound commitment to his responsibilities, earning Noogumee’s approval and a brief respite from her worries.
However, as autumn painted the landscape with vibrant hues of red, orange, and gold, Ableegumooch’s resolve began to waver. The allure of leisure proved too strong to resist, and he gradually reverted to his old, careless habits.
"It’s a lovely day to do nothing, nothing, all the day through!"
He sang the familiar tune as he sauntered through the forest, his steps light and his spirit carefree. Noogumee begged, scolded, and pleaded with him to reconsider, but her words were met with stubborn indifference. He spent more time socializing with his neighbors than gathering food, neglecting his responsibilities and jeopardizing their well-being.
One day, as winter’s icy grip tightened upon the land, he visited the wigwam of Keoonik the otter. Keoonik, a gracious host, politely invited him to dine. Ableegumooch readily accepted the invitation, his stomach rumbling with anticipation.
Keoonik turned to his elderly housekeeper and addressed her in the traditional manner, "Noogumee, prepare the meal."
He then gathered some fishhooks and ventured outside, the rabbit trailing curiously behind, eager to witness the otter’s method of procuring food. Keoonik sat on the snowy bank of the frozen river and slid down an icy path into the frigid water.
In a matter of moments, he emerged from the depths, triumphantly displaying a string of eels. He carried his catch to his grandmother, who skillfully prepared them for a delicious and satisfying dinner.
"Gracious!" Ableegumooch thought to himself, his eyes wide with envy. "If that isn’t an easy way to get a living! I can do that as well as Keoonik."
He promptly invited the otter to be his guest at dinner the following day, determined to replicate Keoonik’s effortless success. Then, he hurried home, his mind buzzing with plans.
"Come," he said to his grandmother, "we are going to move our lodge down to the river."
Despite Noogumee’s protests, he insisted on relocating their home, disregarding her concerns about the empty wigwam and the urgent need to hunt for food. Ableegumooch was completely fixated on creating a slide similar to Keoonik’s, convinced that it would solve all their problems.
The weather cooperated perfectly. The temperatures remained consistently below freezing, allowing him to easily create his fishing slide. He simply poured water down the snowy bank, where it quickly froze into a slick, icy surface. He reveled in his ingenuity, confident that he had discovered a foolproof method of acquiring food.
Early the next day, Keoonik arrived, eager to enjoy the promised feast. When it was time for dinner, Ableegumooch confidently addressed his grandmother, "Noogumee, prepare the meal."
"There is nothing to prepare," she replied sadly, her voice tinged with disappointment.
"Oh, I will see to that," said the rabbit with a confident laugh, as Ableegumooch, the Lazy Rabbit, took his place at the top of the slide, ready to demonstrate his newfound fishing prowess. However, when he attempted to push off, he quickly discovered that it was not as easy as he had imagined. His coat, thick and bulky, lacked the sleekness and suppleness of the otter’s fur.
He had to wriggle and push with all his might, using his heels to gain momentum. Finally, with a desperate heave, he slid down the icy slope and plunged into the frigid water. The shock of the cold took his breath away, and he suddenly remembered a crucial detail: he was unable to swim.
Struggling and squealing, he abandoned all thoughts of fishing, consumed by the overwhelming fear of drowning. He flailed wildly, desperately trying to stay afloat.
"What on earth is the matter with him?" Keoonik asked, his brow furrowed with confusion.
"I suppose he has seen someone else do that," Noogumee sighed, shaking her head with resignation, "and he thinks he can do it too."
Keoonik, displaying compassion despite his frustration, helped the freezing, half-drowned rabbit out of the water. Since there was nothing to eat, he departed, hungry and disgusted by Ableegumooch’s foolishness.
But did this near-fatal experience teach Ableegumooch a lesson? Not at all. The very next day, as he wandered aimlessly through the forest, he stumbled upon the lodge of some female woodpeckers. He was delighted when they invited him to dinner.
He watched with intense curiosity as they prepared their meal.
One of the woodpeckers retrieved a dish and ascended the side of an old beech tree with remarkable agility. She quickly excavated a plentiful supply of food, which was then cooked and presented to the rabbit.
"My, oh my!" Ableegumooch mused. "How easily some people get a living! What is to prevent me from getting mine in that fashion?"
He promptly invited the woodpeckers to dine with him the following day, eager to replicate their effortless success.
On the appointed day, the woodpeckers arrived at the rabbit’s lodge. Ableegumooch, adopting an air of importance, instructed his grandmother, "Noogumee, prepare the meal."
"You foolish rabbit," she retorted, "there is nothing to prepare."
"Make the fire," the rabbit commanded grandly, "and I shall see to the rest."
He retrieved the stone point from an eel spear and fastened it to his head, attempting to imitate a woodpecker’s beak. He then climbed a tree and began knocking his head against the trunk with considerable force.
Soon, his head was bruised and bleeding. He lost his grip and plummeted to the earth with a tremendous crash. The woodpeckers could not suppress their laughter.
"Pray what was he doing up there?" one of them asked, struggling to contain her amusement.
"I suppose he has seen someone else do that," Noogumee said, shaking her head in weary resignation, "and thinks he can do it too." She then advised them to go home, as there would be no food for them there that day.
Sore and humiliated, one would think that the rabbit had finally learned his lesson. Yet, a day or two later, he was idling in the woods as usual when he encountered Mooin the Bear, who extended an invitation to dinner.
He was deeply impressed by the bear’s unique method of obtaining food. Mooin simply took a sharp knife and cut small pieces off the soles of his feet. These he placed in a kettle on the fire, and in a short while, they enjoyed a delicious meal.
"This must be the easiest way of all to get dinner," Ableegumooch marveled, and he invited Mooin to dine with him the next day.
What the rabbit did not realize was that bears preserve food on their feet. They press ripe blueberries with their paws, and after the cakes have dried upon them, they cut bits off to eat. The silly rabbit mistakenly believed that Mooin had actually cut pieces off his paws!
At the appointed time, Ableegumooch ordered his grandmother to prepare the meal. When she reiterated that there was nothing to prepare, he instructed her to put the kettle on and assured her that he would take care of the rest.
He then took a stone knife and began to cut at his feet, mimicking Mooin’s actions. But oh dear me, it hurt! It hurt dreadfully! With tears streaming down his cheeks, he hacked and hacked, first at one foot and then at the other. Mooin the Bear was greatly astonished.
"What on earth is the fellow trying to do?" he asked, his voice filled with bewilderment.
Noogumee shook her head dismally.
"It is the same old thing. He has seen someone else do this."
"Well!" said Mooin crossly, "It is most insulting to be asked to dinner and get nothing to eat. The trouble with that fellow is—he’s lazy!" And he went home in a huff.
Then at last, Ableegumooch, nursing his sore feet, remembered what Glooscap had said. All at once, he saw how foolish he had been.
"Oh dear!" he said. "My own ways of getting food are hard, but others’ are harder. I shall stick to my own in the future," and he did.
From then on, the wigwam of Ableegumooch, the Lazy Rabbit, and his grandmother was always well stored with food, winter and summer. Though he still sings, his song has changed, "It’s a wiser thing to be busy, busy, Constantly!"
And far away on Blomidon, Glooscap, seeing his foolish rabbit mend his ways at last, set a light to his pipe and smoked contentedly.
SOURCE: Algonquin Oral Story