Treasury of American Indian TalesRessler, Theodore Whitson
General
Treasury of American Indian Tales
Ressler, Theodore Whitson
Indians of North America -- Folklore; Indians of North America -- Juvenile literature
One bright summer day, Flying Owl rose early from his bed and looked out
at the bright warm sun shining down on the green forest and the
blue-green lake at the edge of their village. He thought to himself,
“What a wonderful day this is to go fishing. Only a short way from our
home is the beautiful little hidden lake which my father has shown me.
Surely there must be big fish in that lake. If I could catch some of
them all by myself, my father would be proud of me and we would have a
delicious supper this evening.”
So without any delay, Flying Owl gathered together his fishing tackle
which he and his father had made with such care during the cold winter
nights. Flying Owl was often allowed to go off by himself on short trips
like this, so long as he did not go too far or stay away from his home
after dark. He packed his fishing gear and some food and started out,
waving good-bye to his mother and sister who stood at the entrance to
their wigwam. His mother called to remind him to be back in time for
supper. Flying Owl shouted that he not only would be back before supper
but would bring their supper home with him. Then his mother and sister
watched him trotting from the village until he was out of sight.
Flying Owl ran gaily along the forest paths, thinking that the many wild
creatures had been awake since dawn. Now they were scurrying through the
brush and the tree tops, enjoying the warm sunshine and cool breezes
which blew gently through the forest. Flying Owl’s heart felt very
happy. It was good to be alive, discovering new wonders of nature here
in the forest instead of playing in the village that he knew too well.
And he thought, “Perhaps some great adventure is waiting for me here in
the green forest!”
He hurried on, impatient to reach the secret lake and catch the many
large fish that he was sure were there. At the pace he was keeping, it
was not long before he saw, through an opening in the trees, the
blue-green, shimmering waters of the lake. Running faster, he reached
the lake shore quickly and stopped a moment to look out across the
waters and wonder where he would find the best place to fish.
He saw a tree that had fallen out into the lake, and decided to stand on
the end of the log in the lake. He cast his line into the water and
settled down to await the first nibble. He did not have to wait long.
There was a sharp tug upon his line and he felt the line go taut in his
hands. In fact, it had come so suddenly that Flying Owl was almost
thrown off balance. Bracing the heels of his moccasins against the curve
of the log, he started pulling at the line and brought in a fine fat
fish. The catch now lay on the bank next to him and he was ready to cast
again. In only a few moments, he felt another sharp tug and soon had
landed another plump fish. “This is really fun!” Flying Owl said aloud.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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