WHY
THE NIGHT-HAWK'S WINGS ARE BEAUTIFUL
(Blackfoot)
"Old-man was traveling one day in the springtime; but the weather
was fine for that time of year. He stopped often and spoke to the
bird-people and to the animal-people, for he was in good humor that day.
He talked pleasantly with the trees, and his heart grew tender. That is,
he had good thoughts; and of course they made him happy. Finally he felt
tired and sat down to rest on a big, round stone --
the kind of stone our white friend there calls a boulder. Here he rested
for a while, but the stone was cold, and he felt it through his robe; so
he said:
"'Stone, you seem cold to-day. You may have my robe. I have
hundreds of robes in my camp, and I don't need this one at all.' That
was a lie he told about having so
many robes. All he had was the one he wore.
"He spread his robe over the stone, and then started down the hill,
naked, for it was really a fine day. But storms hide in the mountains,
and are never far away when
it is springtime. Soon it began to snow -- then the wind blew from the
north with a good strength behind it. Old-man said:
"'Well, I guess I do need that robe myself, after all. That stone
never did anything for me anyhow. Nobody is ever good to a stone. I'll
just go back and get my robe.'
"Back he went and found the stone. Then he pulled the robe away,
and wrapped it about himself. Ho! but that made the stone angry -- Ho!
Old-man started to run down the hill, and the stone ran after him. Ho!
it was a funny race they made, over the grass, over smaller stones, and
over logs that lay in the way, but Old-man managed to keep ahead until
he stubbed his toe on a big sage-brush, and fell
down!
"'Now I have you!' cried the stone -- 'now I'll kill you, too! Now
I will teach you to give presents and then take them away,' and the
stone rolled right on top of
Old-man, and sat on his back.
"It was a big stone, you see, and Old-man couldn't move it at all.
He tried to throw off the stone but failed. He squirmed and twisted --
no use -- the stone held him fast.
He called the stone some names that are not good; but that never helps
any. At last
he began to call:
"'Help! -- Help! -- Help!' but nobody heard him except the
Night-hawk, and he told the Old-man that he would help him all he could;
so he flew away up in the air --
so far that he looked like a black speck. Then he came down straight and
struck that rock an awful blow -- 'swow!' -- and broke it in two pieces.
Indeed he did. The blow was so great that it spoiled the Night-hawk's
bill, forever -- made it queer in shape, and jammed his head, so that it
is queer, too. But he broke the rock, and Old-man
stood upon his feet.
"'Thank you, Brother Night-hawk, ' said Old-man, 'now I will do
something for you. I am going to make you different from other birds --
make you so people will always
notice you.'
"You know that when you break a rock the powdered stone is white,
like snow; and there is always some of the white powder whenever you
break a rock, by pounding it. Well, Old-man took some of the fine
powdered stone and shook it on the Night-hawk's wings in spots and
stripes -- made the great white stripes you have seen on his wings, and
told him that no other bird could have such marks on his clothes.
"All the Night-hawk's children dress the same way now; and they
always will as long as there are Night-hawks. Of course their clothes
make them proud; and that is why they keep at flying over people's heads
-- soaring and dipping and turning all the time, to show off their
pretty wings
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