Iktomi y el cervatillo

En uno de sus vagabundeos por las tierras boscosas, Iktomi vio un pájaro raro posado en lo alto de la copa de un árbol. Las largas plumas de su cola en forma de abanico habían captado todos los hermosos colores del arcoíris. Apuesto bajo el reluciente sol de verano estaba sentado el pájaro de plumaje de arcoíris.

Iktomi hurried hither with his eyes fast on the bird. He stood beneath the tree looking long and wistfully at the peacock’s bright feathers.

At length he heaved a sigh and began: "Oh, I wish I had such pretty feathers! How I wish I were not I! If only I were a handsome feathered creature how happy I would be! I’d be so glad to sit upon a very high tree and bask in the summer sun like you!" said he suddenly, pointing his bony finger up toward the peacock, who was eying the stranger below, turning his head from side to side. "I beg of you make me into a bird with green and purple feathers like yours!" implored Iktomi, tired now of playing the brave in beaded buckskins.

The peacock then spoke to Iktomi: "I have a magic power. My touch will change you in a moment into the most beautiful peacock if you can keep one condition."

"Yes! yes!" shouted Iktomi, jumping up and down, patting his lips with his palm, which caused his voice to vibrate in a peculiar fashion.

"Yes! yes! I could keep ten conditions if only you would change me into a bird with long, bright tail feathers. Oh, I am so ugly! I am so tired of being myself! Change me! Do!"

Hereupon the peacock spread out both his wings, and scarce moving them, he sailed slowly down upon the ground. Right beside Iktomi he alighted. Very low in Iktomi’s ear the peacock whispered, "Are you willing to keep one condition, though hard it be?"

"Yes! yes! I’ve told you ten of them if need be!" exclaimed Iktomi, with some impatience.

"Then I pronounce you a handsome feathered bird. No longer are you Iktomi the mischief-maker." saying this the peacock touched Iktomi with the tips of his wings. Iktomi vanished at the touch. There stood beneath the tree two handsome peacocks. While one of the pair strutted about with a head turned aside as if dazzled by his own bright-tinted tail feathers, the other bird soared slowly upward.

He sat quiet and unconscious of his gay plumage. He seemed content to perch there on a large limb in the warm sunshine. After a little while the vain peacock, dizzy with his bright colors, spread out his wings and lit on the shame branch with the elder bird. "Oh!" he exclaimed, "how hard to fly! Brightly tinted feathers are handsome, but I wish they were light enough to fly!"

Just there the elder bird interrupted him. "That is the one condition. Never try to fly like other birds. Upon the day you try to fly you shall be changed into your former self."

"Oh, what a shame that bright feathers cannot fly into the sky!" cried the peacock. Already he grew restless. He longed to soar through space. He yearned to fly above the trees high upward to the sun.

"Oh, there I see a flock of birds flying thither! Oh! oh!" said he, flapping his wings, "I must try my wings! I am tired of bright tail feathers. I want to try my wings."

"No, no!" clucked the elder bird. The flock of chattering birds flew by with whirring wings.

"Oop! Oop!" called some to their mates.

Possessed by an irrepressible impulse the Iktomi peacock called out, "He! I want to come! Wait for me!" and with that he gave a lunge into the air. The flock of flying feathers wheeled about and lowered over the tree whence came the peacock’s cry.

Only one rare bird sat on the tree, and beneath, on the ground, stood a brave in brown buckskins. "I am my old self again!" groaned Iktomi in a shad voice.

"Make me over, pretty bird. Try me this once again!" he pleaded in vain.

"Old Iktomi wants to fly! Ah! We cannot wait for him!" sang the birds as they flew away.

Murmurando votos infelices para sí mismo, Iktomi no había ido muy lejos cuando se topó con un montón de flechas largas y delgadas. Uno a uno se elevaron en el aire y trazaron una línea recta sobre la pradera. Otros se dispararon hacia el cielo azul y pronto se perdieron de vista.

Only one was left. He was making ready for his flight when Iktomi rushed upon him and wailed, "I want to be an arrow! Make me into an arrow! I want to pierce the blue overhead. I want to strike yonder summer sun in its center. Make me into an arrow!"

"Can you keep a condition? One condition, though hard it be?" the arrow turned to ask.

"Yes! Yes!" shouted Iktomi, delighted.

Acto seguido, la delgada flecha lo golpeó suavemente con su afilado pico de pedernal. No había Iktomi, pero dos flechas estaban listas para volar.

"Now, young arrow, this is the one condition. Your flight must always be in a straight line. Never turn a curve nor jump about like a young fawn," said the arrow magician. He spoke slowly and sternly. At once he set about to teach the new arrow how to shoot in a long straight line. "This is the way to pierce the Blue overhead," said he; and off he spun high into the sky.

Mientras él no estaba, pasó trotando una manada de ciervos. Detrás de ellos jugaban juntos los jóvenes cervatillos. Jugaban como gatitos. Rebotaban a cuatro patas como pelotas. Luego se lanzaron hacia delante, pateando los talones en el aire.

The Iktomi arrow watched them so happy on the ground. Looking quickly up into the sky, he said in his heart, "The magician is out of sight. I’ll just romp and frolic with these fawns until he returns. Fawns! Friends, do not fear me. I want to jump and leap with you. I long to be happy as you are," said he.

Los jóvenes cervatillos se detuvieron con las patas rígidas y miraron fijamente a la flecha parlante con grandes ojos marrones asombrados.

"See! I can jump as well as you!" went on Iktomi. He gave one tiny leap like a fawn. All of a sudden the fawns snorted with extended nostrils at what they beheld. There among them stood Iktomi in brown buckskins, and the strange talking arrow was gone.

"Oh! I am myself. My old self!" cried Iktomi, pinching himself and plucking imaginary pieces out of his jacket. "Hin-hin-hin! I wanted to fly!"

The real arrow now returned to the earth. He alighted very near Iktomi. From the high sky he had seen the fawns playing on the green. He had seen Iktomi make his one leap, and the charm was broken. Iktomi became his former self. "Arrow, my friend, change me once more!" begged Iktomi.

"No, no more," replied the arrow. Then away he shot through the air in the direction his comrades had flown.

En ese momento, los cervatillos se juntaron alrededor de Iktomi. Le asomaron la nariz tratando de saber quién era.

Iktomi’s tears were like a spring shower. A new desire dried them quickly away. Stepping boldly to the largest fawn, he looked closely at the little brown spots all over the furry face.

"Oh, fawn! What beautiful brown spots on your face! Fawn, dear little fawn, can you tell me how those brown spots were made on your face?"

"Yes," said the fawn. "When I was very, very small, my mother marked them on my face with a red hot fire. She dug a large hole in the ground and made a soft bed of grass and twigs in it. Then she placed me gently there. She covered me over with dry sweet grass and piled dry cedars on top. From a neighbor’s fire she brought hither a red, red ember. This she tucked carefully in at my head. This is how the brown spots were made on my face."

"Now, fawn, my friend, will you do the same for me? Won’t you mark my face with brown, brown spots just like yours?" asked Iktomi, always eager to be like other people.

"Yes. I can dig the ground and fill it with dry grass and sticks. If you will jump into the pit, I’ll cover you with sweet smelling grass and cedar wood," answered the fawn.

"Say," interrupted Iktomi, "will you be sure to cover me with a great deal of dry grass and twigs? You will make sure that the spots will be as brown as those you wear."

"Oh, yes. I’ll pile up grass and willows once oftener than my mother did."

"Now let us dig the hole, pull the grass, and gather sticks," cried Iktomi in glee.

Así con sus propias manos ayuda a hacer su tumba. Después de cavar el hoyo y cubrirlo con hierba, Iktomi, murmurando algo sobre manchas marrones, saltó dentro. A lo largo, boca arriba, yacía.

While the fawn covered him over with cedars, a far-away voice came up through them, "Brown, brown spots to wear forever!" A red ember was tucked under the dry grass. Off scampered the fawns after their mothers; and when a great distance away they looked backward.

Vieron un humo azul ascendiendo, retorciéndose hacia arriba hasta desaparecer en el éter azul.

"Is that Iktomi’s spirit?" asked one fawn of another. "No! I think he would jump out before he could burn into smoke and cinders," answered his comrade.