Last Updated: Approximately 9 years ago
The transition from the rugged, elevated terrain of the mountains back to his cultivated land was immediate for Big Long Man. Upon his return, his first impulse was to survey his garden, a verdant expanse where corn and melons thrived under the watchful eye of the sun. He had diligently planted a substantial crop, envisioning a bountiful harvest to sustain him through the harsh, unforgiving months of the approaching winter. This garden represented security, sustenance, and the fruits of his considerable labor.
However, the scene that greeted him was far from the comforting image he had held in his mind during his time in the mountains. A wave of dismay washed over him as he observed the devastating scene before him. Roughly half of his corn stalks stood stripped bare, their precious ears pilfered, leaving behind only skeletal remains swaying in the gentle breeze. The melon vines, once laden with plump, juicy fruit, were now noticeably lighter, the largest and most promising melons conspicuously absent.
A palpable anger, a deep-seated sense of violation, surged through Big Long Man. The silent, methodical theft of his carefully cultivated produce was a personal affront, a direct attack on his hard work and preparation for the coming season. His voice, normally a booming resonance that echoed through the valleys, was now reduced to a low, guttural mutter, barely audible above the rustling leaves of the remaining corn stalks.
"Who stole my corn and melons?" he growled, the words laced with a simmering rage. The question hung in the air, unanswered by the cornfield, the melons, or the silent mountains in the distance. "I’ll catch the thief, whoever he is."
The pronouncement was a vow, a declaration of intent. Big Long Man, a man of action and resourcefulness, immediately began to formulate a plan, a scheme to identify and apprehend the culprit responsible for this audacious act. He needed to restore order to his garden and ensure that the remainder of his harvest remained secure.
The following day dawned with a renewed sense of purpose. Big Long Man, fueled by a mixture of anger and determination, set about constructing a fence around the perimeter of his garden. He meticulously gathered sturdy posts and woven branches, creating a formidable barrier intended to deter any further incursions. The fence, a physical manifestation of his resolve, was designed to protect his precious corn and melons from the grasping hands of the thief.
Despite his efforts, the fence proved to be an inadequate deterrent. Each morning, Big Long Man would return to his garden, his heart sinking with each step, to find yet more corn stalks stripped bare, their precious ears vanished into the night. The thief, seemingly undeterred by the newly erected barrier, continued to plunder his crop with impunity. The anger within Big Long Man grew with each passing day, fueled by the thief’s brazen disregard for his efforts.
Driven by frustration and a burning desire for justice, Big Long Man conceived a more elaborate and cunning plan, a strategy designed to ensnare the elusive thief. He resolved to create a decoy, a silent sentinel that would stand guard over his precious corn and melons, luring the unsuspecting culprit into a cleverly constructed trap.
He gathered a substantial quantity of pine pitch, a sticky, resinous substance exuded by pine trees, known for its adhesive properties. With skilled hands, he meticulously molded the pine pitch into the rough likeness of a man. The figure, though crude in its form, possessed a certain imposing presence, a silent guardian intended to deter potential wrongdoers. Once satisfied with his creation, Big Long Man carefully positioned the figure in the heart of his cornfield, its sticky surface poised to capture the unwary. With his trap set, he retreated to his hogan, a traditional Navajo dwelling, to await the unfolding of his plan. This Big Long Man’s Corn Patch needed protection.
Under the cloak of darkness, as the moon cast long, eerie shadows across the landscape, Skunk, a creature known for his opportunistic nature and penchant for a midnight snack, emerged from his den. He had heard whispers, carried on the wind by Badger, that Big Long Man was away in the mountains, leaving his cornfield unguarded. The thought of plump, juicy ears of corn was too tempting to resist.
With a determined waddle, Skunk approached the fence surrounding Big Long Man’s garden. He squeezed his rotund body beneath the barrier, navigating the tight space with surprising agility. Once inside, he made his way towards a particularly promising clump of corn, his senses heightened in anticipation of a delectable meal.
Just as he was about to shuck a fat ear of corn, his eyes caught sight of a figure standing silently by the fence. Skunk, startled by the unexpected presence, instinctively released the ear of corn, his heart pounding in his chest. He squinted, trying to discern the identity of the figure in the dim moonlight. He quickly realized that it was not Big Long Man. Curiosity and a degree of suspicion mingled in his mind.
Summoning his courage, Skunk waddled closer to the figure, his voice a tentative squeak in the still night air. "Who are you, in Big Long Man’s Corn Patch?" he inquired, his tone a mixture of apprehension and defiance.
The figure remained silent, its form unyielding in the moonlight. It offered no response, no explanation for its presence in the cornfield.
"Who are you?" Skunk repeated, his voice slightly louder this time, his curiosity piqued by the figure’s unwavering silence. He took another step closer, his nose twitching, trying to detect any familiar scent.
Still, the figure offered no answer. It stood motionless, a silent sentinel in the heart of the cornfield.
Skunk, emboldened by the figure’s continued silence, adopted a more assertive tone. "Speak!" he demanded, his voice now laced with a hint of threat. "Or I will punch your face."
The figure remained unmoved, impervious to Skunk’s threats. It did not utter a single word, nor did it betray any sign of emotion.
"Tell me who you are," Skunk persisted, raising his fist in a gesture of defiance. "Or I will punch your face." This was Big Long Man’s Corn Patch, and this strange figure was trespassing!
The figure remained stubbornly silent. The only sound was the gentle rustling of the corn stalks in the night breeze.
Driven by a combination of frustration and a misguided sense of bravado, Skunk lashed out. His fist connected with the figure’s face, sinking deep into the soft, sticky pine pitch. The moment of impact was followed by a shocking realization: his fist was stuck fast, firmly ensnared in the adhesive substance.
"If you don’t let go of my hand," he shouted, his voice rising in panic, "I will hit you harder with my left hand."
But the pine pitch held firm, refusing to release its grip.
In a fit of desperation, Skunk swung his left hand, aiming another blow at the silent figure. His second hand met the same fate as the first, becoming irrevocably trapped in the sticky embrace of the pine pitch. Now, both hands were firmly stuck to the figure’s face.
"Let go of my hands, or I will kick you," Skunk cried, his frustration reaching its peak.
The pine gum man remained unyielding, its silent presence mocking Skunk’s predicament.
With a mighty heave, Skunk delivered a forceful kick with his right foot. To his dismay, his foot became ensnared in the sticky substance, just like his hands.
"I will kick you harder," Skunk threatened, his voice laced with desperation. He kicked again, this time with his left foot, putting all his remaining strength into the blow. The pine gum man held firm, its sticky surface trapping his foot with the same unwavering grip.
Skunk was now completely immobilized, his limbs hopelessly entangled in the pine pitch. Desperate and enraged, he realized he had only one weapon left: his teeth.
"I will bite your throat," he shouted, lunging forward and sinking his teeth into the pine gum throat.
"Ugh!" he gurgled, unable to articulate further words. His tongue and teeth were now firmly stuck in the pine pitch, completing his comical and unfortunate entrapment.
The following morning, as the sun cast its golden rays across the landscape, Big Long Man returned to his corn patch. His eyes widened in amusement as he beheld the sight before him: Skunk, completely ensnared by his ingenious trap, stuck fast to the pine gum man. Only Skunk’s tail remained free, waving back and forth in a futile attempt to escape.
"Ah!" said Big Long Man, his voice filled with a mixture of triumph and amusement. "So it’s you, Skunk, who has been stealing my corn." Big Long Man’s Corn Patch was finally safe.
"Ugh," replied Skunk, his mouth full of pine pitch, his voice muffled and unintelligible.
Big Long Man detached Skunk from the gum figure, tied a rope around his neck, and led him back to his hogan. He placed a large pot of water on the stove to boil, then removed the rope from Skunk’s neck.
"Now, Skunk," he said, "go fetch wood."
Skunk reluctantly shuffled out into the backyard. Just then, Fox happened to pass by, on his way to Big Long Man’s corn patch. Skunk began to cry loudly. Fox stopped running and perked up his sharp ears.
"Who is crying?" he said.
"I am crying," said Skunk.
"Why?" said Fox.
"Because I have to carry wood for Big Long Man. He gives me all the corn I want to eat, but I do not want to carry wood."
Fox was hungry. He knew that if he stole corn, he was likely to get caught. "What an easy way to get corn," he thought. "I would not mind carrying wood."
Out loud, he said, "Cousin, let us change places. You go home, and I will carry wood for Big Long Man. I like the job. Besides, I was just on my way to steal an ear of corn down at the field."
"All right," said Skunk. "But don’t eat too much corn. I have a stomachache." He felt his fat stomach and groaned. Then he waddled happily away. Fox gathered up an armful of piñon wood. He hurried into Big Long Man’s hogan. Big Long Man looked at him in surprise.
"Well, well, Skunk, you changed into a fox, did you? That’s funny."
Fox did not say a word. He was afraid he might say the wrong thing and not get any corn to eat. Big Long Man took the rope that had been around Skunk’s neck and tied it around Fox’s neck.
Fox sat down and waited patiently. Soon the water in the big pot began to bubble and steam. At last, Fox said, "Isn’t the corn cooked yet, Big Long Man?"
"Corn?" asked Big Long Man. "What corn?"
"Why, the corn you are cooking for me," said Fox. "Skunk said you would feed me all of the corn I could eat if I carried wood for you."
"The rascal," said Big Long Man. "He tricked you, and he tricked me. Well, Fox, you will have to pay for this." So saying, he picked up Fox by the ears and set him down in the boiling water. It was so hot that it took off every hair on his body. Big Long Man left him in the pot for a minute and then he pulled him out by the ears and set him free outdoors.
"Don’t be thinking you will ever get any of my corn by tricks," said Big Long Man.
Fox ran yelping toward his den. He was sore all over. Halfway home, he passed Red Monument. Red Monument is a tall slab of red sandstone that stands alone in a valley. On top of the rock sat Raven eating corn that he had stolen from the corn patch. At the bottom was Coyote, holding onto the rock with his paws. He was watching for Raven to drop a few kernels. He glanced behind him when Fox appeared. He did not let go of the rock, however, because he thought Fox might get his place. He was surprised at Fox’s appearance.
"Where is your fur, Fox?" he asked over his shoulder.
"I ate too much corn," said Fox sadly. "Don’t ever eat too much corn, Coyote. It is very painful." Fox held his stomach and groaned. "Corn is very bad for one’s fur. It ruined mine."
"But where did you get so much corn, cousin?" asked Coyote, still holding onto the rock.
"Didn’t you hear?" asked Fox. "Why, Big Long Man is giving corn to all the animals who carry wood for him. He will give you all you can eat and more too. Just gather an armful of piñon sticks and walk right into his hogan."
Coyote thought a moment. He was greedy. He decided to go to Big Long Man’s hogan, but he did not want Fox to go with him. He wanted everything for himself.
"Cousin," he said, "will you do me a favor? Will you hold this rock while I go and get a bite of corn from Big Long Man? I am very hungry, and I do not dare leave this rock. It will fall and kill somebody."
"All right," said Fox, smiling to himself. "I will hold the rock. But do not eat too much." He placed his paws on the back side of the rock, and Coyote let go. The next minute, Coyote was running away as fast as he could toward Big Long Man’s hogan. Fox laughed to himself, but after a bit, he became tired of holding the rock. He decided to let it fall.
"Look out, Cousin Raven," he shouted. "The rock is going to fall." Fox let go and jumped far away. Then he ran and did not look behind. He was afraid the rock would hit his tail. If Fox had looked behind him, he would have seen the rock standing as steady as a mountain.
Presently, along came Coyote, back from Big Long Man’s hogan. He was running at top speed and yowling fearfully. There was not a hair left on his body. When he came to Red Monument, he saw Raven still sitting on his high perch, nibbling kernels of corn.
"Where has Fox gone?" howled Coyote, who was in a rage.
Raven looked down at Coyote. "Fox?" he said. "Why, Fox went home, I suppose. What did you do with your hair, Coyote?"
Coyote didn’t answer. He just sat down by the foot of the rock, and with his snout up in the air, waited for Raven to drop a few kernels of corn.
"I’ll get Fox some other day," he muttered to himself.
