i 6 BIRDS IN ^LEGEND 



The Chitimacha Indians of northern Lousiana used to 

 relate that a great deluge came, whereupon the redheaded 

 woodpecker went up to the sky and hung by his claws 

 to escape drowning, but his tail hung down into the dirty 

 water and was stained black, as you now see it. The 

 Pimas and other tribes of Arizona tell similar stories of 

 certain birds, one clan of Pueblo Indians putting it on the 

 turkey. They say that a flood was produced by the god 

 Baholi Konga to punish tribal wickedness. The good 

 persons in the community escaped this punishment by 

 means of the fact that Baholi Konga had clothed them in 

 turkey-skins, enabling them to fly to the high mountains. 

 They flew too low, however, and the tails of their dresses 

 dragged in the water, the stain of which is still visible. 



With one more and a rather pretty tale from the tradi- 

 tions of the Paiute Indians, whose home is in the region 

 of the Grand Canyon of the Colorado, I must close this 

 glance at aboriginal legends of a deluge here in America. 

 These Indians relate that formerly the whole world was 

 under water save the summit of Mt. Grant, on which 

 existed a fire. It was the only fire in the universe, and it 

 would have been extinguished when the wind blew hard 

 and the waves were dashed against the peak had not the 

 sage-hen settled down there and fanned away the water 

 with her wings; but while doing this inestimable ser- 

 vice to mankind the heat of the precious flame scorched 

 her breast, and that accounts for its present blackness. 



A curiously similar story, which illustrates the primi- 

 tive savage's perception that obtaining fire was the most 

 important, the first, thing to do in beginning or recon- 

 stituting a habitable world, appears in the folklore of the 

 Arawaks of British Guiana, and may well be told among 

 deluge myths. They assure you that the world was once 



