Last Updated: Approximately nineteen years ago, this tale unfolds, chronicling the escapades of a clever and opportunistic Raccoon. This is a story passed down through generations, a testament to the wit and cunning often attributed to this masked creature.
The narrative begins with Raccoon, driven by the primal urge of hunger, traversing the verdant banks of a meandering stream. The sun, perhaps, cast long shadows as he diligently searched for sustenance, his keen nose twitching, attempting to detect any sign of a potential meal. Alas, the stream yielded nothing. His stomach rumbled, a persistent reminder of his empty state, fueling his determination to find food.
His journey eventually led him to a secluded water hole, a small oasis carved out by the persistent flow of water. The edges of the pool were imprinted with tracks, subtle clues left by previous visitors. Intrigued, Raccoon followed these telltale signs, his lithe body moving with a quiet purpose. The tracks guided him towards a wigwam, a dwelling constructed with natural materials, a testament to human ingenuity and adaptation.
The wigwam, a dome-shaped structure, piqued Raccoon’s curiosity. He paused, his innate caution urging him to proceed with care. He approached the dwelling silently, his paws making no sound on the forest floor. He peered through the entrance, his eyes adjusting to the dim interior. Within the wigwam, he observed three elderly women, their faces etched with the wisdom of age, tending a crackling fire. The scene was domestic, yet the air was thick with an aura of mystery. He noticed that all three of them were blind.
A flicker of fear momentarily gripped Raccoon. The unknown can often be unsettling, and three individuals, even if elderly, could pose a threat. However, the enticing aroma emanating from the cooking pots quickly dispelled his apprehension. The savory scent of simmering food filled the air, a powerful lure that overwhelmed his caution. He circled the wigwam, his mouth watering in anticipation, before cautiously returning to the entrance.
He observed the women removing the steaming pots from the fire, carefully transferring the contents into two large wooden bowls. The sight of the prepared food intensified Raccoon’s desire. He watched as the women, seemingly oblivious to his presence, glanced in his direction. He didn’t know they were blind. He interpreted their lack of reaction as a sign of kindness, a silent invitation to partake in their meal. In his mind, he formulated a plan. "If anyone else arrives," he thought, "I’ll hide behind their bundles." With a stealthy movement, he crept inside the wigwam, snuggling close to the warmth of the fire and the promise of food.
The old women, their voices laced with the gentle cadence of time, began to reminisce about their younger days, sharing anecdotes and laughter. The atmosphere within the wigwam was one of comfortable familiarity. One of the women eventually declared, "Well, I must feed my husband." She carefully placed a small dish of food near the wall, a ritualistic act of devotion. Another woman echoed her sentiment, repeating the same gesture.
Raccoon, ever the opportunist, wasted no time. He immediately approached the offerings and devoured both meals with gusto. The food, undoubtedly delicious, satisfied his gnawing hunger and fueled his mischievous spirit.
After a period of silence, the third woman inquired, "Well, did your husbands eat their dinners?" A wave of anticipation hung in the air as the women awaited confirmation. The first woman reached for the dish she had prepared and felt around. "Oh! No kidding, that food is gone!" she exclaimed in surprise. The second woman mirrored her actions and echoed her astonishment. "Oh, indeed! That is no joke, my food is gone too!"
The old women were perplexed. They could not fathom how the food had disappeared. Their blindness prevented them from seeing the culprit. They surmised that a man must have surreptitiously entered the wigwam and consumed the meals. Determined to catch the intruder, one of the women retrieved a ceremonial net, traditionally used by the women of the Fish clan to ensnare men during their rituals. They positioned the net over the door and began to sweep it through the wigwam, hoping to trap the unseen thief.
Raccoon, quick-thinking as always, seized the opportunity to deceive them. He strategically placed one of their clay pots in the path of the net, allowing it to become entangled. The women, feeling the weight of the captured object, rushed towards it with sticks, striking it repeatedly until it shattered into pieces.
"Alas," cried one of the women, her voice filled with sorrow, "We have broken up our earthen pot, and it was older than we are." The loss of the ancient pot was a significant blow, a symbol of their history and heritage.
Seizing the distraction, Raccoon darted out of the wigwam and disappeared into the surrounding forest, his belly full and his mind already plotting his next adventure. He pondered how he could regain entrance to the wigwam once the women had calmed down, and still be able to escape. "Oh! Well, no matter," he thought, "Here is the river frozen over. I can play a trick on my brother, Wolf."
He tied a stone to his tail and trotted onto the frozen river. As the stone bounced against the ice, it created a rhythmic sound: "Tum! Tum! Tum! Tum!" Wolf, hearing the unusual noise, approached the riverbank to investigate.
"Oh! There comes my little brother, Raccoon. Where did you get that thing that makes such a sweet sound?" he asked. "Why do you do it?" Raccoon replied, "Oh! I do it to wake up the fish. Then they come to me. It is easy, you can do it too, Wolf, so I will give it to you."
"Thank you," answered Wolf, "and when the fish gather, how do you manage to catch them?" Raccoon slyly responded, "Feel my belly, I am full of them." "Oh indeed! You have eaten plenty," said Wolf, impressed.
Raccoon, continuing his deception, instructed Wolf, "It is easy enough to catch them, my brother. All you have to do is to run back to the water hole, stick your tail in it, and when the fish take hold of your tail, wait until you have a big load and then pull them all out."
Wolf, eager to acquire a bountiful meal, followed Raccoon’s instructions. He tied the stone to his tail and hurried back to the water hole. He plunged his tail into the frigid water, enduring the sharp pangs of the cold. He mistook the freezing sensation for the bites of fish and remained steadfast, waiting for his tail to be laden with aquatic creatures. As time passed, his tail became completely frozen in the ice.
The old blind women, returning to the water hole for their daily supply of water, stumbled upon Wolf, his tail firmly trapped in the ice. They recognized him as the intruder who had stolen their food. Enraged by his presence, they attacked Wolf with sticks, venting their anger and frustration. Raccoon, witnessing the scene from a safe distance, ran off laughing, the stone on his tail echoing his amusement.
In the spring, Raccoon returned to the vicinity of the old blind women, but upon discovering a man present, he decided to move on. As the weather warmed, he sought a sunny spot in a tree, basking in the warmth before descending, feeling hungry. He encountered an old, decaying fish, riddled with maggots. A cunning idea sparked in his mind. He placed some of the maggots in his eyes and lay down on the riverbank, feigning death.
Two crawfish, passing by, noticed the seemingly lifeless Raccoon. They rushed back to inform their chief. "Oh! Chief, that fellow who ate so many of us last year is dead," they announced. "Let us hold a dance over his body." The chief, overjoyed at the news, summoned all the crawfish to celebrate their enemy’s demise.
The crawfish gathered around Raccoon’s body, dancing and singing a taunting song:
"Well, here you lie now! You great big fuzzy thing!
You ate and crushed us all up, but now we will show you what you did to us!"
They pinched his eyes, nose, and ears, causing him considerable discomfort, particularly when they pinched his buttocks. They continued their jubilant celebration, unaware of the danger they were in.
Finally, Raccoon, deciding that enough crawfish were within reach, sprang to life and devoured them with his powerful jaws. He prevented their escape into the water, crunching and crushing them until his belly was full once more.
After his feast, he washed himself in the river. Some of the surviving crawfish, peeking from their burrows, marveled at his resurrection. Among them was a large, green crawfish. Raccoon lunged at him, but the crawfish retreated into his burrow, seizing Raccoon’s hand in his claw. Raccoon screamed in pain and was left with a limp for several days, a reminder of his encounter with the crawfish.
Eventually, Wolf overcame his anger towards Raccoon and sought to reconcile with his brother. He and his tribe searched for Raccoon to make peace. Meanwhile, Raccoon, during his travels, gathered berries and prepared a cake as an apology to Wolf. They eventually met, and Raccoon placed the cake on the trail. "Where have you been, my brother Wolf?" he asked.
"I have been hunting for food, my brother Raccoon," Wolf replied. Raccoon responded, "Oh! So have I. I haven’t had much luck, but I found some berries. Here is a cake of them pounded up, if you would like to try them."
Wolf accepted the invitation and offered Raccoon some berries, but Wolf had mixed his dung with them. Raccoon ate the berry cake, while Wolf laughed as Raccoon became sick upon discovering Wolf’s trickery.
Raccoon, enraged, cried out, "Listen, Wolf! I’ll get you for this!" Wolf, unafraid, chased Raccoon up a tree. "You have escaped me for now, but I will wait here until you have to come down," Wolf said.
Raccoon fell asleep in the tree and woke to find Wolf asleep below. Raccoon climbed down, gathered sticky tree gum, and plastered it over Wolf’s eyes. He woke Wolf, who bumped into trees, blinded. Raccoon offered help but only reapplied the gum. Wolf, still blinded, followed Raccoon into the water, singing, "How deep am I in the water, Wolf that I am?"
When Wolf was within reach, Raccoon sprang upon him and drowned him. According to the Potawatomi, this is why a two-legged, half-fish, half-human creature, a merman, exists in the water to this day.