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Myths of the Cherokee

Long, long ago – hïlahi'yu – there dwelt in the mountains a terrible ogress, a woman monster, whose food was human livers. She could take on any shape or appearance to suit her purpose, but in her right form she looked very much like an old woman, excepting that her whole body was covered with a skin as hard as a rock that no weapon could wound or penetrate, and that on her right hand she had a long, stony forefinger of bone, like an awl or spearhead, with which she stabbed everyone to whom she could get near enough. On account of this fact she was called U`tlûñ'tä "Spear-finger," and on account of her stony skin she was sometimes called Nûñ'yunu'ï, "Stone-dress." There was another stone-clothed monster that killed people, but that is a different story.

Spear-finger had such powers over stone that she could easily lift and carry immense rocks, and could cement them together by merely striking one against another. To get over the rough country more easily she undertook to build a great rock bridge through the air from Nûñyû'-tlu`gûñ'yï, the "Tree rock," on Hiwassee, over to Sanigilâ'gï (Whiteside mountain), on the Blue ridge, and had it well started from the top of the "Tree rock" when the lightning struck it and scattered the fragments along the whole ridge, where the pieces can still be seen by those who go there. She used to range all over the mountains about the heads of the streams and in the dark passes of Nantahala, always hungry and looking for victims. Her favorite haunt on the Tennessee side was about the gap on the trail where Chilhowee mountain comes down to the river.

Sometimes an old woman would approach along the trail where the children were picking strawberries or playing near the village, and would say to them coaxingly, "Come, my grandchildren, come to your granny and let granny dress your hair." When some little girl ran up and laid her head in the old woman's lap to be petted and combed the old witch would gently run her fingers through the child's hair until it went to sleep, when she would stab the little one through the heart or back of the neck with the long awl finger, which she had kept hidden under her robe. Then she would take out the liver and eat it.

She would enter a house by taking the appearance of one of the family who happened to have gone out for a short time, and would watch her chance to stab someone with her long finger and take out his liver. She could stab him without being noticed, and often the victim did not even know it himself at the time – for it left no wound and caused no pain – but went on about his own affairs, until all at once he felt weak and began gradually to pine away, and was always sure to die, because Spear-finger had taken his liver.

When the Cherokee went out in the fall, according to their custom, to burn the leaves off from the mountains in order to get the chestnuts on the ground, they were never safe, for the old witch was always on the lookout, and as soon as she saw the smoke rise she knew there were Indians there and sneaked up to try to surprise one alone. So as well as they could they tried to keep together, and were very cautious of allowing any stranger to approach the camp. But if one went down to the spring for a drink they never knew but it might be the liver eater that came back and sat with them.

Sometimes she took her proper form, and once or twice, when far out from the settlements, a solitary hunter had seen an old woman, with a queer-looking hand, going through the woods singing low to herself:

Uwe'la na'tsïkû'. Su' sä' sai'.

Liver, I eat it. Su' sa' sai'.

It was rather a pretty song, but it chilled his blood, for he knew it was the liver eater, and he hurried away, silently, before she might see him.

At last a great council was held to devise some means to get rid of U`tlûñ'tä before she should destroy everybody. The people came from all around, and after much talk it was decided that the best way would be to trap her in a pitfall where all the warriors could attack her at once. So they dug a deep pitfall across the trail and covered it over with earth and grass as if the ground had never been disturbed. Then they kindled a large fire of brush near the trail and hid themselves in the laurels, because they knew she would come as soon as she saw the smoke.

Sure enough they soon saw an old woman coming along the trail. She looked like an old woman whom they knew well in the village, and although several of the wiser men wanted to shoot at her, the other interfered, because they did not want to hurt one of their own people. The old woman came slowly along the trail, with one hand under her blanket, until she stepped upon the pitfall and tumbled through the brush top into the deep hole below. Then, at once, she showed her true nature, and instead of the feeble old woman there was the terrible U`tlûñ'tä with her stony skin, and her sharp awl finger reaching out in every direction for some one to stab.

The hunters rushed out from the thicket and surrounded the pit, but shoot as true and as often as they could, their arrows struck the stony mail of the witch only to be broken and fall useless at her feet, while she taunted them and tried to climb out of the pit to get at them. They kept out of her way, but were only wasting their arrows when a small bird, Utsu'`gï, the titmouse, perched on a tree overhead and began to sing "un, un, un." They thought it was saying u'nahü', heart, meaning that they should aim at the heart of the stone witch. They directed their arrows where the heart should be, but the arrows only glanced off with the flint heads broken.

Then they caught the Utsu'`gï and cut off its tongue, so that ever since its tongue is short and everybody knows it is a liar. When the hunters let it go it flew straight up into the sky until it was out of sight and never came back again. The titmouse that we know now is only an image of the other.

They kept up the fight without result until another bird, little Tsï'kïlilï', the chickadee, flew down from a tree and alighted upon the witch's right hand. The warriors took this as a sign that they must aim there, and they were right, for her heart was on the inside of her hand, which she kept doubled into a fist, this same awl hand with which she had stabbed so many people. Now she was frightened in earnest, and began to rush furiously at them with her long awl finger and to jump about in the pit to dodge the arrows, until at last a lucky arrow struck just where the awl joined her wrist and she fell down dead.

Ever since the tsï'kïlilï' is known as a truth teller, and when a man is away on a journey, if this bird comes and perches near the house and chirps its song, his friends know he will soon be safe home.

Comments:

This is one of the most noted among the Cherokee myths, being equally well known both east and west. The version here given was obtained from John Ax, with some corrections and additions from Swimmer, Wafford (west) and others. A version of it, “The Stone-shields,” in which the tomtit is incorrectly made a jay, is given by Ten Kate, in his “Legends of the Cherokees,” in the Journal of American Folk-Lore for January, 1889, as obtained from a mixed-blood informant in Tahlequah. Another version, “The Demon of Consumption,” by Capt. James W. Terrell, formerly a trader among the East Cherokee, appears in the same journal for April, 1892. Still another variant, apparently condensed from Terrell’s information, is given by Zeigler and Grosscup, “Heart of the Alleghanies,” page 24 (Raleigh and Cleveland, 1883). In Ten Kate’s version the stone coat of mail broke in pieces as soon as the monster was killed, and the fragments were gathered up and kept as amulets by the people.

There is some confusion between this story of U'tlûñ′ta and that of Nûñ′yunu′wĭ (number 67). According to some myth tellers the two monsters were husband and wife and lived together, and were both alike dressed in stone, had awl fingers and ate human livers, the only difference being that the husband waylaid hunters, while his female partner gave her attention to children.

This story has a close parallel in the Creek myth of the Tuggle collection, “The Big Rock Man,” in which the people finally kill the stony monster by acting upon the advice of the Rabbit to shoot him in the ear.

Far away, in British Columbia, the Indians tell how the Coyote transformed himself to an Elk, covering his body with a hard shell. “Now this shell was like an armor, for no arrow could pierce it; but being hardly large enough to cover all his body, there was a small hole left underneath his throat.” He attacks the people, stabbing them with his antlers and trampling them under foot, while their arrows glance harmlessly from his body, until “the Meadow-lark, who was a great telltale, appeared and cried out, ‘There is just a little hole at his throat!’” A hunter directs his arrow to that spot and the Elk falls dead (Teit, Thompson River Traditions, pp. 33–34).

Uʻtlûñ′ta – The word means literally “he (or she) has it sharp,” i. e., has some sharp part or organ. It might be used of a tooth or finger nail or some other attached portion of the body, but here refers to the awl-like finger. Ten Kate spells the name Uilata. On Little Tennessee river, nearly opposite the entrance of Citico creek, in Blount county, Tennessee, is a place which the Cherokee call Uʻtlûñtûñ′yĭ, “Sharp-finger place,” because, they say, U'tlûñ′ta used to frequent the spot.

Nûñyû′-tlu'gûñ′ĭ – “Tree rock,” so called on account of its resemblance to a standing tree trunk; a notable monument-shape rock on the west side of Hiwassee river, about four miles above Hayesville, North Carolina, and nearly on the Georgia line.

Whiteside mountain – This noted mountain, known to the Cherokee as Sanigilâ′gĭ, a name for which they have no meaning, is one of the prominent peaks of the Blue ridge, and is situated southeast from Franklin and about four miles from Highlands, or the dividing line between Macon and Jackson counties, North Carolina. It is 4,900 feet high, being the loftiest elevation on the ridge which forms the watershed between the tributaries of the Little Tennessee and the Chattooga branch of Savannah. It takes its name from the perpendicular cliff on its western exposure, and is also known sometimes as the Devil’s courthouse. The Indians compare the appearance of the cliff to that of a sheet of ice, and say that the western summit was formerly crowned by a projecting rock, since destroyed by lightning, which formed a part of the great bridge which U'tlûñ′ta attempted to build across the valley. Lanman’s description of this mountain, in 1848, has been quoted in the notes to number 13, “The Great Yellow-jacket.” Following is a notice by a later writer:

“About five miles from Highlands is that huge old cliff, Whitesides, which forms the advanced guard of all the mountain ranges trending on the south. It is no higher than the Righi, but, like it, rising direct from the plain, it overpowers the spectator more than its loftier brethren. Through all the lowlands of upper Georgia and Alabama this dazzling white pillar of rock, uplifting the sky, is an emphatic and significant landmark. The ascent can be made on horseback, on the rear side of the mountain, to within a quarter of a mile of the summit. When the top is reached, after a short stretch of nearly perpendicular climbing, the traveler finds himself on the edge of a sheer white wall of rock, over which, clinging for life to a protecting hand, he can look, if he chooses, two thousand feet down into the dim valley below. A pebble dropped from his hand will fall straight as into a well. On the vast plain below he can see the wavelike hills on which the great mountain ranges which have stretched from Maine along the continent ebb down finally into the southern plains” – Rebecca H. Davis, Bypaths in the Mountains, in Harper’s Magazine, LXI, p. 544, September, 1880.

Picking strawberries – For more than a hundred years, as readers of Bartram will remember, the rich bottom lands of the old Cherokee country have been noted for their abundance of strawberries and other wild fruits.

My grandchildren – As in most Indian languages, Cherokee kinship terms are usually specialized, and there is no single term for grandchild. “My son’s child” is ûñgini′sĭ, plural tsûñgini′sĭ; “my daughter’s child” is ûñgili′sĭ, plural tsûñgili′sĭ. The use of kinship terms as expressive of affection or respect is very common among Indians.

Taking the appearance – This corresponds closely with the European folk-belief in fairy changelings.

To burn the leaves – The burning of the fallen leaves in the autumn, in order to get at the nuts upon the ground below, is still practiced by the white mountaineers of the southern Alleghenies. The line of fire slowly creeping up the mountain side upon a dark night is one of the picturesque sights of that picturesque country.

The song – As rendered by Swimmer, the songs seem to be intended for an imitation of the mournful notes of some bird, such as the turtle dove, hidden in the deep forests.

Pitfall – The pitfall trap for large game was known among nearly all the tribes, but seems not to have been in frequent use.

Chickadee and tomtit – These two little birds closely resemble each other, the Carolina chickadee (Parus carolinensis) or tsĭkĭlilĭ being somewhat smaller than the tufted titmouse (Parus bicolor) or utsuʻgĭ, which is also distinguished by a topknot or crest. The belief that the tsĭkĭlilĭ foretells the arrival of an absent friend is general among the Cherokee, and has even extended to their neighbors, the white mountaineers. See also number 35, “The Bird Tribes,” and accompanying notes.

Her heart – The conception of a giant or other monster whose heart or “life” is in some unaccustomed part of the body, or may even be taken out and laid aside at will, so that it is impossible to kill the monster by ordinary means, is common in Indian as well as in European and Asiatic folklore.

In a Navaho myth we are told that the Coyote “did not, like other beings, keep his vital principle in his chest, where it might easily be destroyed. He kept it in the tip of his nose and in the end of his tail, where no one would expect to find it.” He meets several accidents, any one of which would be sufficient to kill an ordinary creature, but as his nose and tail remain intact he is each time resurrected. Finally a girl whom he wishes to marry beats him into small pieces with a club, grinds the pieces to powder, and scatters the powder to the four winds. “But again she neglected to crush the point of the nose and the tip of the tail,” with the result that the Coyote again comes to life, when of course they are married and live happily until the next chapter (Matthews, Navaho Legends, pp. 91–94).

In a tale of the Gaelic highlands the giant’s life is in an egg which he keeps concealed in a distant place, and not until the hero finds and crushes the egg does the giant die. The monster or hero with but one vulnerable spot, as was the case with Achilles, is also a common concept.

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