Coyote and the Salmon - Klamath

One day back in the Beforetime, Bear and Eagle came home from their
fishing
with bad news.

"The salmon are gone from the river!" roared Bear.

"We did not see a one," shrieked Eagle in anger.

It was terrible news. Of all the fishes in the river or sea, the
salmon was
the tastiest. In two days the animal people were to have a feast-and
what
was a feast without salmon?

"How can there be no salmon?" cried Crane.

"Someone has stolen them all," Eagle said sadly.

Gloom settled down on the village like a great, gray cloud. The sun
still
shone, the grass was still green, and the hunters came home with
good meat,
but the animal people sighed as they ate, and thought of the feast
to come.

No salmon!

Coyote sighed loudest of all, for he loved salmon more than anything
in the
world. But Coyote was as clever as he was greedy, and so he began to
think.

"Who could steal so many fish?" thought he.

"Not Pelican. Where would he hide them? Not Sea Lion. Not even he
could eat
so many."

Coyote frowned and paced up and down. "It cannot be Fox,' said he to
himself. Fox's den was near a pond, but his pond could not hold even
thirty
salmon. Thirty thousand had vanished. Or more. Then, too, the
animals7 path
to the north passed along Fox's pond's rim. If there were salmon in
it,
someone would have seen.

But there were other ponds. One lay below the waterfall near the
house of
the Ixkareya.

And the two Ixkareya were she-witches.

Coyote grinned, and thought some more, then trotted off to find an
alder
tree.

From the trunk of the alder tree Coyote pulled two large pieces of
bark.
Now, alder bark on the inside is very red, and so when Coyote had
cut them
into the shapes of fish, they looked a little like salmon. Seen from
afar,
they looked very much like salmon. Coyote smeared them with deer
marrow,
wrapped them in leaves, put them in his quiver, and set out for the
witches'
house.

Now, the witches were young and good looking, but did not have many
visitors. So when, as they sat by their cookfire roasting acorns,
they saw
Coyote coming up the trail, they were pleased.

"He is very handsome,' said the elder.

"Such a bright, shiny coat and bushy tail,' whispered the younger.

"A fine evening, Ixkareya," called Coyote as he drew near.

"A fine evening," said the witches, nodding.

And so they talked together of the weather, then gossiped about the
animal
people of the foothills and the plain. As they talked. Coyote took a
sideways look at the pond at the foot of the waterfall. There was no
sign of
salmon.

"Have some of our acorns, Ki-yoo," offered the elder witch as Coyote
seemed
about to go.

The younger held out the basket.

Coyote took a pawful and thanked them politely. "They will go well
with my
supper of fish,' said he. He pulled one elder-bark salmon a little
way out
of his quiver so that they might see, and then pushed it back out of
sight.

The two witches looked at each other as Coyote turned to go.

"Where did he get salmon?" hissed one.

"No one has salmon,' muttered the other. "We should know."

They watched Coyote go, gathering wood on his way. He did not go
far. On a
flat place a little uphill from the house by the waterfall, he built
a fire.

When it had burned down to a bed of bright coals, he speared his
bark fish
on a willow stick.

The two witches watched and whispered and frowned at each other as
Coyote
pretended to roast the fish over the fire. The deer marrow melted
and spit
as it spattered in the fire. The witches ate acorns as they watched,
and
wondered whether Coyote would offer them a share of the salmon.

He did not. And their mouths began to water.

"Since he has salmon, let us fetch some of our own," they said at
last. And
taking woven mats to hold over their heads, they stepped through the
waterfall and vanished.

In a flash Coyote sprang up and dashed to the waterfall's side. He
poked his
head in through the water just far enough to see what lay beyond.

Beyond the curtain of water lay a great cave, and the great cave was
filled
with a pond greater than that which lay out under the sky. Behind
the dam
that made the great pond, the water flashed with thousands of
salmon. There
were so many salmon that the witches, standing at the pond's
rim, "had" only
to dip in their hands to pull out a fat fish.

"Tso!" crowed Coyote to himself. And he hurried back to his campfire.

At nightfall Coyote made a great show of yawning. He smoothed a
place on the
ground near his fire and made a bed of pine needles. Then he lay
down and
pretended to sleep. It was not easy, for he could smell the real
salmon
roasting.

At last, when the witches had eaten, one yawned and said, "I am
sleepy,
too."

"We must be careful," warned the other. "We must keep watch until the
stranger has fallen to the bottom of sleep."

Coyote breathed deeply and sleepily, and all the while he listened.
And all
the while he listened, the witches argued whether he was truly
asleep. So
Coyote began to snore.

"Hai! I told you he was asleep," said the one, and together they
went into
their house.

When the moon went down behind the hill, Coyote slipped down across
the
trail and under the waterfall. There he set to work. He pried out
rocks and
pawed at the earth until he had made a great hole at the end of the
dam. The
water ran out in a rush, and with it the fish. Salmon swam past
Coyote's
legs and leaped over his back in their eagerness to be gone.

Inside the house of the Ixkareya, one murmured in her sleep, "Do you
hear
the waterfall laughing?"

But the laughter was Coyote's.

And ours. For if Coyote had not freed the salmon, there would be
none in the
Klamath River or the sea today.

Back in the Beforetime: Tales of the California Indians [the Klamath
River
region in the north to the inland desert mountains and the southern
coastlands] Retold by Jane Louise Curry, 1987

From Blue Panther Keeper of Stories.