Outside the house of tules, the saibi toni, wintry winds blew and swirled. Dust and fragments of brush streaked across the low, rocky shoulder of land and blasted into the dwelling's sides. It was night and the wintry chill had several of the elder people wondering if snow would greet them at sunrise. All the occupants were very glad that Grandpa had carried larger rocks and placed them against the dwelling's foundation, just a few days before. When the wind bore down from the duck country, above, it was always savage and unmerciful.

The circular enclosure, about fifteen feet across, housed a man and a woman, both in their middle twenties, and Grandpa, now beyond forty years of age. There were also two children, about eight-to-ten years. All had finished dinner, with relish; it had been a hearty stew of mashed kangaroo rat, thickened with fresh pinenut meal and flavored nicely with sage, sweatened with a small dollop of honey. Baskets and other implements had been put away and everyone in the dwelling was sitting or lying, staring forward into the glowing embers of fire, in the center of the floor, warmly wound up in their rabbit-skin blankets. The tule mat, lashed to the outside of the doorway passage, shuddered in the powerful wind. Beyond the sound of the wind, one could hear only the occasional raucuous chatter of a duck, down in one of the ponds below the hillside. But later, if the wind let up, there would be the usual howls of coyotes, calling to each other and organizing themselves for a night of hunting.

The embers threw a warm red light around the inside of the dwelling and slightly illuminated the inner walls so that one could see the closely thatched tules, golden brown. Father and Grandpa had cut the tules from the slough, past the salty spring, in late summer, and the whole family had worked on restoring the covering, renewing the lashing on the overlapping willow foundation posts and replacing all of the tule dome. The sides were well closed against the wind and dust, though the whole hemisphere almost pitched a little in the gusts.

Grandpa sat close to the fire ring and his face glowed in the amber light which showed a little sparkle in his dark eyes. He was happy to be asked to tell a story on a wintry night like this, and the children attended carefully. At nighttime, it seemed as though the entire world reduced itself to the narrow confines of this light sphere, and Grandpa's stories remained the only thing that could lift the sides of the dwelling and reveal other people in distant worlds and old times.

". . . so Coyote had been carefully cutting strips from cured rabbit pelts and he had now turned to twisting these long strips into thick fur threads. They would make a fine woven blanket for the coldest of winter's nights. But suddenly, a woman's face popped inside his cave and looked around. Both were startled, and she quickly pulled away and went on. Coyote was taken with her right away so he jumped out of his cave, leaving his rabbit skins behind, and followed along. Pretty soon, he was scrambling up a rocky hillside and he was really impressed by her rapid progress. But she was finally stopped by a large lake, and Coyote caught up, asking her loudly if he could come along where she was going. . ."

The children thought about the big lake that they visited with their family, the previous summer. They had stayed many weeks nearby and Father had built a good wind shelter of branches which they had wound in and out of small tree trunks. They had been fully fed on fish and Mother's stews had plenty of fresh green watercress in them. Sometimes, they'd eaten berries out of a large basket that Mother passed around. They enjoyed cooking and eating outside, looking up into the snowy grey peaks far above.

". . . so after Coyote had won the woman's heart with several ducks that he had freshly hunted, the woman accepted Coyote's proposals and took him as her husband. She was a powerful and mysterious woman, who did not make love easily, but Coyote was very cautious, even uncanny. And the woman became pregnant. So, as it turned out, one fine spring day, the woman and Coyote were gathering near a lowland stream and Coyote was playing on some smooth rocks that made a slide into the waterway. The woman went into pains of childbirth and, before Coyote knew it, she was delivering more children than he could imagine! And the children were getting up and running off toward other parts of the country. Coyote hollered that he'd be there to take charge of the children; but by the time he got to where she was only the 'scrubby-looking ones' were left. But that was all right. These were our people; and whatever they lacked in beauty they made up for, abundantly, in skill and intelligence and bravery."

{the creation of the Paiute people, adapted from Steward, Julian H. "Myths of the Owens Valley Paiute" (1936)}

In the story, told above, the central theme and the real tension of Paiute origins has been purposely whitewashed. Now, let us look at the real story more carefully. The adapted version reads, "She was a powerful and mysterious woman, who did not make love easily, but Coyote was very cautious, even uncanny." What this actually means is that the woman possessed vagina dentata --- literally, "teeth in her vagina." This primeval person is no "person" at all. She is Korawiní, a monster that has teeth in both

her mouth and her genitalia; she chews up and swallows whatever enters either. The full story about this woman is that she has destroyed all of her male lovers and intercourse with her is very unlikely to be safe. In one of the stories reported by Julian Steward, this accounts for the disappearance of all previous men and sets the stage for Coyote as the creator of the contemporary tribes.

The full story about Coyote, on the other hand, is that he is an insatiable lover who is always after sexual pleasure. So the fact that, when the woman accidentally pops her head into Coyote's dwelling, he takes off after her is scarcely a surprise to the listeners. But, while the woman is scrambling up the rocky slope above him, Coyote views her genitals and recognizes the truth about her. Of course, this doesn't stop Coyote. When he does catch up, at the edge of the lake, he gets her to carry him across the lake on her back. Typical of Coyote, he uses the opportunity to try to fondle her and winds up getting dumped off in the middle of the lake. Nevertheless, not to be discouraged, Coyote hunts and catches enough ducks to bring a feast to the woman and her mother, who live at the opposite end of the lake. After he has won an evening in her bed, Coyote tests out various ways of having intercourse and finally succeeds in tricking her. She becomes pregnant immediately; and, as it always is with Coyote, she produces a litter. Later on, we will examine Coyote's overarching role as a "trickster" character.

The vagina dentata theme is by no means uncommon in the Great Basin region; and it should be viewed in relation to various other origin themes, throughout the West, all of which visualize the origin of human life as a very precarious, perhaps even improbable, process. What these stories seem to say is that life was very difficult in the coming, and we should be respectful of it in the present as well as very careful about sustaining it in the future. In effect, for the Paiutes, people exist just because wile Coyote was capable of tricking a terrifying monster. (Steward, 1936; 358-9 & 365-8)

Origin stories are a very special form of narrative that speak to the creation of earth, plants, animals, humans, and tribal customs. These stories often investigate the natural situation of humans, as well, by telling how death, good, and evil arose. Not all indigenous people of California had stories about all of these events, and the emphasis of subject matter varies from region to region. But there is important work to be done in such stories. At the very least, they help us form attitudes about the present; at best, they give us guidance for the future.

Steward reported three Paiute stories about the origin of earth. All three followed the theme that the world was once only water --- as it turns out, a very common theme in the Western United States. In one story, some dry land is showing; it is the top of Black Mountain. In another, there is a boat. In all, the original creatures present are Coyote or Wolf or Mallard; but these are always creative beings, not merely the animals of contemporary times. In all such stories, dirt is obtained in some way and is spread out on the water, which eventually recedes. The earth is stretched or compacted in some way. (Steward, 1936; 364)

In contrast, the tribes of the Northwestern Coast, like the Yurok, culturally similar to the entire Northwest, did not have stories about the creation of earth, as such, but simply conceived of the earth as continuing in essentially similar states of existence for all time. Their narratives looked backward to a race of human-like spiritual beings who inhabited and organized the earth prior to the coming of people. These narratives convey the important organizational principles that the tribes attempted to restore through their annual World Renewal rituals.

Other California people possessed well developed beliefs about how the earth, sky, and creatures of the world had come to be. The stories of Southern California tended to be the most abstract, or philosophical, and worked out in detail the origin of things out of a void and power. Stories of the Central Valley usually conceived that the original world was flooded with water, similar to the stories of the Paiutes, and left the earth to be constructed out of mud from the bottom or something found floating, like a bird's nest. Other Central tribes imagined a host of demi-gods who were involved in the creation of life and the achievement of natural balances. The latter are clearly connected to the Kuksu Cult, whose ritual dance societies impersonated these spirits. Since stories, like everything else, traveled along trade routes and migrated through intermarriage, it is little surprise that great variations and combinations occured and that elements of similarity can be discovered within broad regions. (Heizer, HNAI8; 654; and Gifford & Block, 1990; 79-121)

Some origin stories were told in conjunction with special rituals rather than being shared like any other story, around the fire, on an evening. As such, they are considered sacred. The question for us is what that sacred character means. It is quite probable that a story "marked" sacred is off limits to the personal invention or variation of the story teller. Equally well, the story conveys "power" to the listener; that is, it delivers information that is essential to the life of the culture and that is important for personal survival. In the broadest sense, the origin story informs all of the people about their world. Since we all behave according to our understanding of the world we live in, the story is a central piece in the teaching of appropriate behavior. In sum, then, a typical origin story defines the world, identifies and orders the inhabitants, outlines traditional behaviors and relationships, designates the sources of knowledge and wisdom, and rationalizes the path of human life from birth to death, perhaps including also the origins of illness and accident.

This is a big order and the story must achieve all this in a brief and entertaining form. Furthermore, the story must follow a sufficiently simple line of development so that it will be well remembered; and it must contain many "cues" that will invite recollection as people go about their daily business. Obviously, this would all be hard to achieve if complete truthfulness, or realism, were placed on it as a burden. The story must achieve brevity by being fanciful; yet within "fancy" it must be truthful. We have a name for "false truths;" it is metaphor --- something that is descriptively false but, nevertheless, calls forth a truth. In political philosophy, metaphors like this are sometimes called "noble lies" --- that is, descriptively false stories that inform the citizens of the larger truths relating to the origin of political society. Once the right formula has been discovered, it must be protected; surely holding the story sacred was a way of achieving this.

The Cahuilla Origin Story

In order to see some of these points, let us consider the story that is traditionally told by the Cahuilla of Southern California. Since the death of the creator-god, Mukat, is an essential part of the tale, the myth sets the tradition of how the death of any person will be handled; and in doing this, the story creates a sacred place for itself in Cahuilla social tradition. In this tradition, the dead person is cremated and mourned, immediately, but all those who died within a year's time are honored at the end of the year in the Cahuilla's annual celebration-for-the-dead, nukil. At this celebration (lasting one week) the whole creation story is re-told through a cycle of songs, performed in a sacred way so that the lessons of their creation and their relationship with the dead creator-god are renewed. (Bean, 1972; ch. 8)

The celebration of this ritual requires the "big house," as a gathering place for villagers, and the "sacred bundle," containing the ritual materials necessary for this ceremony, as well as a great deal of ritualized charity. It became increasingly difficult for the Cahuilla to maintain these things and, hence, to experience this ceremonial renewal of their heritage. Indeed, it is now extinct, the last celebration having occured in the 1930s. What this means, of course, is that there has been no renewal of the Cahuilla cultural identity since that time --- roughly four generations.

This is a long story so I will only sketch portions of it in very brief fashion here. A good version of it can be found in Kroeber and Hooper's Studies in Cahuilla Culture (1979). The Cahuilla story, typical of the Southern California region and unlike the rest of California, envisioned creation of the earth out of an abstract Darkness. This Darkness was interrupted only occasionally by energy in the form of lightning, and somehow as a consequence of this lightning creation began as the growth of two embryonic sacks. Even at the beginning, though, creation is fragile and the sacks miscarry twice, coming to term only in the third opportunity. At this point, the sacks bear the twin creators of the Cahuilla people, first Mukat and then Tamaioit. There are two of them and this suggests a fundamental duality in the world. Nothing will be perfect in this world; conflict and compromise will determine reality. This duality is mirrored in many ways --- young and old, foolish and wise, imprudent and cautious, male and female, bad and good. Many aspects of this duality are illustrated through the subsequent interactions of Mukat and Tamaioit.

Mukat and Tamaioit begin by trying to drive Darkness back and make way for Light, and they do this by creating some strange creatures, like an eery black-and-white lizard, who attempt to swallow or push back the Darkness. When this has largely failed, they decide to have a smoke, and both bring tobacco, pipe materials, and fire out of their hearts. This scene is very important in setting forth the sacred nature of tobacco, fire, and smoking; but it is also very important in demonstrating the creative energy that lives in Mukat and Tamaioit. This energy is alive in their hearts and is in such a pure form that they have merely to draw things out of their hearts at will. Human spiritual energy will be seen as centered in the heart, but human energy will never compete with that of the creators in strength. The story looks back to a "classic" time when creative energy and spiritual power are still very active.

Continuing to bicker about who is older and better, Mukat and Tamaioit, nevertheless, go about making earth and sky and people. These are the First People who will eventually become animals, demigods, and spirits. All of the materials for these creations come from inside Mukat and Tamaioit. When it comes to making human people, Mukat proceeds slowly and with great care and thoughtfulness, but Tamaioit proceeds very rapidly, making snap decisions. Tamaioit's people are double-sided and have strange limbs as well as webbed feet. Mukat ultimately illustrates his wisdom and superiority by constructing people "the way they ought to be" (that is, the way they actually are) by taking time and being careful. As they finish, they begin to argue the merits of their creations and Tamaioit, finally humiliated, takes his retinue into and below the earth, causing a cataclysmic upheaval which Mukat is just able to stabilize. From this time onward, Mukat is alone with his creations and the few of Tamaioit's who remained (Coyote and Duck, among them).

Mukat and the First People live in a Big House, which sets the stage for the Cahuilla tradition of having the chief inhabit a large ceremonial house. While there are many events related to this period, one of the most interesting and important centers around Moon Maiden, Menily, a fine young woman who teaches the people most of their traditional knowledge and institutions, married relations and duties, games, and herbal cures. She also teaches men and women their separate responsibilities in marriage and parenting. Moon Maiden is a model of loving and, in reality, is the creator of society as we know it. But Mukat offends her by "desiring her as his wife," offending against the incest taboo, so she is forced to go away. She is gone for three days (the length of time that the moon is not seen) and then she re-appears in the western sky as the New Moon, beginning her monthly cycle. Thus, the natural cycle of the moon is rationalized and, at the same time, connected with women's menstrual cycle.

The climax of the Cahuilla's story follows in the death of Mukat. Not only had Mukat alienated Moon Maiden by offending against incest taboos, but he had been responsible for giving rattlesnake sharp poisonous fangs and for giving the people bows and arrows with which they had killed and wounded each other. The people decide that Mukat must be destroyed and they contrive to poison him. It is a traumatic event in the creation of the world because, with the death of Mukat, the people are cut off from the classic period of direct seminal power and must achieve change and survival through their own powers and institutions.

As Mukat slowly succumbs, over a course of days, Coyote stays constantly with him; and at the last, Mukat is fearful that Coyote will gain his powers by eating his body. So, under Mukat's instructions, the people keep Coyote away as they prepare Mukat's cremation fire. Not to be foiled, however, Coyote sees the smoke, races back, and jumps over the people's heads just in time to grab Mukat's heart. So spiritual power is transferred from the creator-god to Coyote after all.

With Mukat's death, the people are left to create life on their own. He instructs them in how to use plant and mineral resources and how to cremate their dead. He gives the people the spiritual contents of the Sacred Bundle which remains in the Big House and is used in their annual nukil celebration. And, finally, they go on a very long sojourn throughout all of Southern California, looking for the best place to live. When they arrive at that place, the present homeland of the Cahuilla, they have become the human people of today and the First People, as such, have all withdrawn into the animal and spirit worlds. The song cycle that relates the creation myth was followed by another song cycle which depicts the wandering-of-the-people. This accounts for the spreading of the myth throughout neighboring areas and also provides an opportunity to create a picture of the whole natural world around them in far greater detail than allowed by the central tale. While transmission of these songs from one generation to another has faltered, many of them are now sung by the contemporary group, the Cahuilla Bird Singers.

The Maidu Origin Stories

The Maidu origin stories offer other opportunities to illustrate the ways that origin stories order and describe the world. The Maidu represent for us one of the sub-groups of Central California narratives. Versions of the Maidu myth were collected by Roland B. Dixon and published in 1912, in Maidu, with a rough dictionary; these have recently been rendered in fine English translations by William Shipley. The Maidu creation story is quite specific in naming obvious features of the landscape in the region of the Feather River; it also establishes the reason for death, the traditions of ancestry, and the relationship of the doorway to the sun's path. Coyote is introduced as a trickster character, connected with both truth and falsehood, joy, humor, and sadness; but he is powerfully involved in the explanation of human mortality. (Dixon, 1982; and Shipley, 1991; 1-64)

Like the Cahuilla, the Maidu pictured a primordial universe that was prior to the earth as we know it. It was water, all water, with no air, earth, light, or darkness. And in the beginning we find an individual who is called Earthmaker and who is responsible for the creation of earth as well as most other things that ultimately come to inhabit earth. Interestingly, Earthmaker never literally makes earth himself but always works through others. In one version of the story collected by Dixon, Earthmaker and Coyote are floating on a raft somewhat anxiously, singing songs which they hope to use in securing some land, where they hope to gain some food. They discover Meadowlark's nest and they stretch it out to form the beginnings of earth. This process proceeds through several stages, with Meadowlark's cooperation, and Coyote's ingenuity. Finally, Earthmaker has land that is big enough to travel about in. (Shipley, 1991; 18-23)

In another Maidu story, also collected by Dixon, Turtle and Father-of-the-Secret-Society are floating on a raft when Earth-Initiate descends to them. Earth is ultimately made when Turtle is sent under water at the end of a very long rope and finally emerges, six years later and covered with green slime, with mud under his nails. Earth-Initiate makes the mud into earth by scraping it out into a ball and allowing the ball to grow into the earth as we know it. (Thompson, 1966; 24)

Living just north of the Maidu, the Achumawi, in a story collected by C. Hart Merriam, conceived of two deities, Tikado Hedache and Annikadel, the former appearing to be a somewhat abstract deity principle and the latter serving the practical roles of creation and arrangement. Annikadel, like the others in these related creation stories does not make earth himself but works through another character, in this case, Apponahah, who becomes the First Person. In this conception, Apponahah forms the earth by capturing some floating foam and causing it to dry out. (Merriam, 1992; 1-3)

After the earth has been created, including the sky, sun, and moon, Earthmaker begins the creation of creatures. He creates them in pairs and he creates them in various shapes and colors. And since he is traveling through the world during this process, he creates them with the distinct intention that they will adopt each of these regions as their particular homes. The creatures are placed in these regions in some nacent form, like seeds, which will grow, through many seasons, and finally be born as male and female and have the capability of giving birth to their own offspring. In a way, this establishes for human society the puberty initiation as the true birthtime of the human person. But it also establishes, in mythical time, a period when humans are only potential and the earth is inhabited only by the First People. Finally, Earthmaker gives songs to his creatures.

There follows a period when Earthmaker and Coyote argue about the nature of the world and, in particular, the idea that humans will enjoy immortal life. Coyote thinks Earthmaker foolish to suggest this and insists that humans should die and stay dead. Earthmaker sets the creatures of the world against Coyote and there follows a period of pursuits from which Coyote always escapes successfully. As the final episode in this duel, Earthmaker contrives to flood the earth and instructs his creatures to make boats for their escape and not to allow Coyote to escape with them. But when the wile Coyote fools them all and escapes with them, Earthmaker gives up and admits his defeat. Earthmaker retires to a far away place in the east from which he never returns.

There follows a period in which Coyote goes to the east where Earthmaker now lives and continues to pursue various issues dealing with life and death and how the earth will be. In many ways this is an opportunity to develop Coyote's character, as a liar, trickster, glutton, and lecher, but it is also, more importantly, a time to lay the mythological foundation for the way the world is --- neither wholly good nor wholly bad, a world in which life has moments of joy as well as moments of pain. There are two clear cases in which this is seen. First, Coyote, who is greatly attracted to some young women in Earthmaker's village boasts that he could sleep with them without ever responding to them. Of course, late into the night, Coyote responds, making his boast a lie, and they disappear. And, second, Earthmaker finally gives up maintaining for immortality and, coincidentally, Coyote's own son is the first to die, having been bitten by rattlesnakes. It will be a world of treachery and death.

Earthmaker and Coyote separate permanently at this point; it is the mythological end of the First People and the beginning of the human era of earth. And it is Coyote's practicality, wile nature, and uncomfortable combination of good and bad that sets the tone of that era. The First People become the real animals of today, and various landmarks remain from these primal events.

The Pomo represent another sub-group of the Central area, one of those who followed the Kuksu religion. While the origin of these people from water, or a great flood, is a predominant theme and while various animals figure heavily into the characterization of the First People, the origin stories associated with Kuksu differ somewhat in possessing a cast of anthropomorphic beings who create the world and establish various traditions. It is these beings, Kuksu himself, for instance, who come to be immitated by members of the secret societies and through whom sacred time is re-created and re-enacted on earth in ritual dance.

The Yurok Origin Stories

As a final example, I want to consider stories of the Yurok people. But these stories differ somewhat from the stories we have just reviewed in that they do not deal with the creation of the earth or of life itself. Like other origin stories, however, they do deal with a time prior to human habitation and with the important events among spiritual beings that must be known in order for humans, now, to effectively order their world. Rather than speculating on how the earth was formed and how the animals and humans were created, the Yurok simply looked backward into the past and saw the world as being essentially as it is today, physically the same world only inhabited by a race of immortal First People who achieved the proper balance of all things and found the way to stabilize the natural world order.

The First People, the wo'gey, were different from the Yuroks themselves, however, and their departure is coincident with the coming of human beings and confusion of the world order. In the Yurok mind this event is never viewed as being too far distant in time; the Yuroks, in other words, saw themselves as recently acquiring the position and responsibility of maintaining the world order, adjusting relationships of humans in the natural balance. Hence, it is through these stories and to the First People that the Yurok must always return in order to renew the world in its healthy and balanced form. These creation stories stand at the roots of the World Renewal rituals. (Keeling, 1992; ch. 3)

An important village in Yurok prehistory was Kenek which is where World Maker fashioned the sky, like a giant fishing net which he threw up into the heavens. Quite near to Kenek was a sky ladder which could be climbed to reach "sky country." But most important to the Yurok was the notion that the sky canopy met the ocean well within the boundaries of the total universe so that another world lay beyond the horizon, where sky and ocean met. In Yurok thought, the ocean's swells were timed so that there was a periodic opening, or "sky hole," at this junction of sky and ocean, which one could pass through in order to come into that other world. Far across the ocean in this other world was where several great spirits lived in plank houses like those of the Yurok. The first among these was Wohpekemeu who possessed the amazing power of being able to will things into reality by impress of his own imagination. Wohpekemeu was impatient, rapacious, and highly sexual; in Yurok mythology he came to live in the ocean beyond the sky hole because he made love with a female skate, Nospeu, who tricked him by clasping him tightly and swimming him out of the world.

The far distant home of Wohpekemeu was also home to Nepewo, headman of the salmon, and Pelintsiek, or Great Dentalium. But all of the immortal First People and monsters had originally lived within the Yurok territories, and this included The Thunders, Sun, Moon, Porpoise, and Earthquake. There was also a bearded dwarf named Megwomits who provided acorns and vegetables. But aside from Wohpekemeu, the most powerful and monstrous creature was Pulekukwerek who was covered with horns and spines and smoked tobacco incessantly. Quite the opposite of Wohpekemeu's high level of sexuality, Pulekukwerek seems to have had nothing to do with females. (Keeling, 1992; 41-47)

The Yurok geography, prepared by Waterman in 1920, showed many locations identified by Yurok informants as specific physical manifestations of both the wo'gey's and various monsters' habitation. These had practical, as well as mythic significance; for instance, an especially important salmon fishing area on the Klamath was also recognized as Wohpekemeu's favorite fishing spot. (Waterman, 1920; 227-272)

Yurok stories utilized this incredible cast of prehistoric characters to assert models of behavior, to suggest how staple foods came to be given to their people, and to account for diverse attributes of their natural environment. Of greatest importance, however, these stories described how various monsters, natural features, and First People had come to terms with their mutual coexistence and how they had discovered the secrets of balancing the world order. The era was viewed as "classic time," that is, as the heroic time when everything was in the right order. Indian life was viewed as a recent corruption of this time; thus, the stories and the hierarchies they portrayed were indicative of how the Yurok people must strive to correct their corrupting influence and right the world.

One of the most important food resources to the Yurok was the seasonal spawning migration of salmon; but the Yurok's sense of corruption and diminished power, kept them on guard to adjust the balances essential to the salmon's maintenance. The chief ritual connected with this was the First Salmon Rite and several stories about salmon were associated with this as its legitimation. The power of the salmon and the sensitivity relating to taking the salmon were deeply respected. The ritualist had usually sweated many times in preparation and had probably avoided any sexual relations. After eating the first salmon of the season, he would probably eat no more salmon until much later in the year. He would approach the netted salmon in the water and talk to it, questioning it over its willingness to be taken and to be eaten in different ways. The salmon, in return, would answer by floating in certain patterns. All the spirits of the great river would watch as the ritualist carefully lifted the first salmon from the net, using a specially crafted hazel-bark twine, strung through the fish's gills. On land, he would carefully lay the salmon on its belly and split it down the backbone with a sharp stone blade. The meat was roasted by a fire and eaten entirely. If all etiquette had been properly performed by the ritualist, not only would the people have received permission to fish for salmon through the season, now upon them, but the spirits of the river and Nepewo, himself, would provide an ample harvest. Nepewo's (salmon) nature as a mythic character is essential because his immortal reality guards the salmon's annual return. Nepewo speaks in stories, saying, "I shall not be taken. I shall travel as far as the river extends. I shall leave my scales on nets and they will turn into salmon, but I myself shall go by and not be killed." (Keeling, 1992; 51-3; also see Kroeber, 1976; esp. 218-23)

This concludes our discussion of origin stories as some of them are told. It is important to all of us to have a sense of how we began; but I have tried to suggest more than this, in particular, that the way in which we view where and how we began is also essentially tied to who we are in the present, as well as who we will become. It is important to have an anchor; but having a rudder is of even greater value. I want to turn, now, to another kind of story. It is what archaeologists tell us about our origins.

Bibliography

Gifford, Edward W. and Gwendoline Harris Block. California Indian Nights (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1990; based on the original 1930 edition)

Heizer, Robert F. "Mythology: Regional Patterns and History of Research" in HNAI, 8

Keeling, Richard. Cry for Luck: Sacred Song and Speech among the Yurok, Hupa, and Karok Indians of Northwestern California (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1992)

Kroeber, A. L. Yurok Myths (University of California Press, 1976)

Kroeber, A. L. and Lucile Hooper. Studies in Cahuilla Culture (Morongo Indian Reservation: Malki Museum Press, 1978)

Merriam, C. Hart (ed.) Annikadel: The History of the Universe as Told by the Achumawi Indians of California (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1992)

Steward, Julian H. "Myths of the Owens Valley Paiute" in University of California Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology, Vol. 34, No. 5 (1936)

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Thompson, Stith. Tales of the North American Indians (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1966)

Wallace, William J. "Comparative Literature" in HNAI, 8