Gau-Wi-di-Ne and Go-Hay, Winter and Spring
(Iroquois Legend)
The snow mountain lifted its head close to the sky; the clouds wrapped around it their floating drifts which held the winter’s hail and snowfalls, and with scorn it defied the sunlight which crept over its height, slow and shivering on its way to the valleys.
Close at the foot of the mountain, an old man had built him a lodge “for a time,” said he, as he packed it around with great blocks of ice. Within he stored piles of wood and corn and dried meat and fish. No person, animal, nor bird could enter this lodge, only North Wind, the only friend the old man had. Whenever strong and lusty North Wind passed the lodge he would scream “ugh-e-e-e, ugh-e-e-e,” as with a blast of his blusterings he passed over the earth.
But North Wind came only seldom to the lodge. He was too busy searching the corners of the earth and driving the snow and the hail, but when he had wandered far and was in need of advice, he would visit the lodge to smoke and counsel with the old man about the next snowfall, before journeying to his home in the north sky; and they would sit by the fire which blazed and glowed yet could not warm them.
The old man’s bushy whiskers were heavy with the icicles which clung to them, and when the blazing fire flared its lights, illuminating them with the warm hues of the summer sunset, he would rave as he struck them down, and glare with rage as they fell snapping and crackling at his feet.
One night, as together they sat smoking and dozing before the fire, a strange feeling of fear came over them, the air seemed growing warmer and the ice began to melt. Said North Wind:
“I wonder what warm thing is coming, the snow seems vanishing and sinking lower in the earth.” But the old man cared not, and was silent. He knew his lodge was strong, and he chuckled with scorn as he bade North Wind abandon his fears and depart for his home. But North Wind went drifting the fast-falling snow higher on the mountain until it groaned under its heavy burden, and scolding and blasting, his voice gradually died away. Still the old man remained silent and moved not, but, lost in thought, sat looking into the fire, when there came a loud knock at his door. “Some foolish breath of North Wind is wandering,” thought he, and he heeded it not.
Again came the rapping, but swifter and louder, and a pleading voice begged to come in.
Still the old man remained silent, and, drawing nearer to the fire, quieted himself for sleep; but the rapping continued, louder, fiercer, and increased his anger. “Who dares approach the door of my lodge?” he shrieked. “You are not North Wind, who alone can enter here. Begone! no refuge here for trifling winds; go back to your home in the sky.” But, as he spoke, the strong bar securing the door fell from its fastening, the door swung open and a stalwart young warrior stood before him shaking the snow from his shoulders as he noiselessly closed the door.
Safe within the lodge, the warrior heeded not the old man’s anger, but with a cheerful greeting drew close to the fire, extending his hands to its ruddy blaze, when a glow as of summer illumined the lodge. But the kindly greeting and the glowing light served only to incense the old man, and rising in rage, he ordered the warrior to depart.
“Go!” he exclaimed. “I know you not. You have entered my lodge and you bring a strange light. Why have you forced my lodge door? You are young, and youth has no need of my fire. When I enter my lodge, all the earth sleeps. You are strong, with the glow of sunshine on your face. Long ago I buried the sunshine beneath the snowdrifts. Go! you have no place here.
“Your eyes bear the gleam of the summer stars. North Wind blew out the summer star-lights moons ago. Your eyes dazzle my lodge, your breath does not smoke in chill vapour, but comes from your lips soft and warm; it will melt my lodge. You have no place here.
“Your hair so soft and fine, streaming back like the night shades, will weave my lodge into tangles. You have no place here.
“Your shoulders are bare and white as the snowdrifts. You have no furs to cover them; depart from my lodge. See, as you sit by my fire, how it draws away from you. Depart, I say, from my lodge!”
But the young warrior only smiled, and asked that he might remain to fill his pipe; and they sat down by the fire. Then the old man became garrulous and began to boast of his great powers.
“I am powerful and strong,” said he. “I send North Wind to blow all over the earth and its waters stop to listen to his voice as he freezes them fast asleep. When I touch the sky the snow hurries down and the hunters hide by their lodge fires; the birds fly scared, and the animals creep to their caves. When I lay my hand on the land, I harden it still as the rocks; nothing can forbid me nor loosen my fetters. You, young warrior, though you shine like the Sun, you have no power. Go! I give you a chance to escape me, but I could blow my breath and fold around you a mist which would turn you to ice forever!
“I am not a friend to the Sun, who grows pale and cold and flees to the Southland when I come; yet I see his glance in your face, where no winter shadows hide. My North Wind will soon return; he hates the summer and will bind fast its hands. You fear me not, and smile because you know me not. Young man, listen. I am Gau-wi-di-ne, Winter! Now fear me and depart. Pass from my lodge and go out to the wind.”
But the young warrior moved not; he only smiled as he refilled the pipe for the trembling old man, saying, “Here, take your pipe; it will soothe you and make you stronger for a little while longer;” and he packed the o-yan-kwaA deep and hard in the pipe.
Said the warrior, “Now you must smoke for me, smoke for Youth and Spring! I fear not your boasting; you are aged and slow while I am young and strong. I hear the voice of South Wind. Your North Wind hears, and Spirit of the Winds is hurrying him back to his home. Wrap you up warm while yet the snowdrifts cover the earth path, and flee to your lodge in the north sky. I am here now, and you shall know me. I, too, am powerful!
“When I lift my hand, the sky opens wide and I waken the sleeping Sun, which follows me warm and glad. I touch the earth and it grows soft and gentle, and breathes strong and swift as my South Wind ploughs under the snows to loosen your grasp. The trees in the forest welcome my voice and send out their buds to my hand. When my breezes blow my long hair to the clouds, they send down gentle showers that whisper to the grasses to grow.
“I came not to tarry long in my peace talk with you, but to smoke with you and warn you that the sun is waiting for me to open its door. You and the North Wind have built your lodge strong, but each wind, the North and the East, and the West, and the South, has its time for the earth. Now South Wind is calling me; return you to your big lodge in the sky. Travel quick on your way that you may not fall in the path of the Sun. See! It is now sending down its arrows broad and strong!”
The old man saw and trembled. He seemed fading smaller, and grown too weak to speak, could only whisper, “Young warrior, who are you?”
In a voice that breathed soft as the breath of wild blossoms, he answered: “I am Go-hay, Spring! I have come to rule, and my lodge now covers the earth! I have talked to your mountain and it has heard; I have called the South Wind and it is near; the Sun is awake from its winter sleep and summons me quick and loud. Your North Wind has fled to his north sky; you are late in following. You have lingered too long over your peace pipe and its smoke now floats far away. Haste while yet there is time that you may lose not your trail.”
And Go-hay began singing the Sun song as he opened the door of the lodge. Hovering above it was a great bird, whose wings seemed blown by a strong wind, and while Go-hay continued to sing, it flew down to the lodge and folding Gau-wi-di-ne to its breast, slowly winged away to the north, and when the Sun lifted its head in the east it beheld the bird disappearing behind the far-away sky. The Sun glanced down where Gau-wi-di-ne had built his lodge, whose fire had burned but could not warm, and a bed of young blossoms lifted their heads to the touch of its beams.
Where the wood and the corn and the dried meat and fish had been heaped, a young tree was leafing, and a blue bird was trying its wings for a nest. And the great ice mountain had melted to a swift running river which sped through the valley bearing its message of the springtime.
Gau-wi-di-ne had passed his time, and Go-hay reigned over the earth!
Notes
A Indian tobacco.