Coyote and the Locust (Campfire Story)

In the days of the ancients, south of Zuni, there lived an old Coyote, with his wife and his great big family of children. And not far away, in the bank of a steep arroyo, there lived an old Locust.

One fine sunny day, Coyote went out hunting. And the old Locust crawled up out of his hole in the ground, and climbed up a crooked old pinon tree, and hooked his feet into the bark of a bare branch. And he began to sing, and to play his flute.

LOCUST SONG!

And along came Coyote. And he stopped, and sat down on his haunches, and pricked up his ears. 'Oh, delight of my senses!' said Coyote. 'How beautifully you play your flute!'

'Do you think so?' said the Locust, and went on singing. LOCUST SONG!

'Oh, yes! What a song! Please, teach it to me. I want to take it home and dance my children to it. I have a very large family.'

'All right,' said the Locust. 'Listen.' And he sang it again. LOCUST SONG!

'Delightful! Now, let me try.' And in a hoarse, gruff voice, half growling and half singing, and getting a few words wrong, Coyote sang it back. COYOTE!

'Ha! I've got it, haven't I?'

'Well,' said the Locust, 'fairly well.'

'There! Didn't I tell you?' And without another word, Coyote whisked his tail and ran off toward home, singing the song over and over to himself so he wouldn't forget it, with his nose up in the air. COYOTE! COYOTE!

And because he had his nose up in the air, he didn't see the Gopher's hole in the trail. And down he went, head over heels, into the hole! He sneezed. He coughed. He rubbed the sand out of his eyes. And when he climbed out, he had forgotten every word of the song.

'That fat-cheeked old Gopher! Digging holes where people walk! Well, I'll just go back. If that Locust can sit there singing to himself, he can sing it to me.'

So back he ran. And there was the old Locust, still singing on his branch. LOCUST SONG!

'My friend! A lucky thing you're still here. That fat old Gopher dug a hole right in my path, and I fell in, and I was so startled I forgot your song. Sing it for me again?'

'Very well,' said the Locust. 'Be more careful this time.' LOCUST SONG!

'I'll never forget it now!' And off ran Coyote again. 'What a fine thing this will be for my children! Now, how does it go?' COYOTE!

And right then, a whole flock of pigeons burst up out of the bushes at his feet. Whirrrrrr! Coyote jumped so high he nearly fell over. 'You gray-backed, good-for-nothing birds!' he yelled. And he was so frightened and so angry that he forgot the song again.

Now, the old Locust had figured this would happen. And he didn't like Coyote very much. Because he'd heard that coyotes aren't always so friendly to locusts. So he decided to play a trick on Coyote, and teach him to mind his own business.

He held tight to the bark. And he swelled himself up, and strained, and strained, until his back split right open. And he crawled out of his old skin. Then he went down the tree and found a pale little stone, the same color as himself, and he put it inside his empty skin, and stuck the back shut with a little pine pitch. And he left it there on the branch, looking exactly like himself. And he flew away to another tree.

And back came Coyote. 'Whew! All this running back and forth. Ah, I see you're still there, my friend. Some miserable pigeons flew up under my feet and made me forget the song. Will you sing it for me once more?'

No answer.

'What's the matter? Don't you hear me? I said, I lost my song. Will you sing it again?'

No answer.

Coyote's lips curled back. 'Look here. Do you see my teeth? I'm going to ask you four more times. And if you don't sing, I'll snap you up. Will... you... sing... for me? That's once. Will you sing for me? Twice. Will you sing for me? Do you see these teeth? Only once more! WILL... YOU... SING... FOR ME?'

No answer.

'Well, you're a fool!' And Coyote leaped up and snapped that locust off the branch, and bit down on it as hard as he could.

CRUNCH!

It was the stone. And it broke his teeth. The ones in the middle of his jaw. Some were pushed so far down into his gums you could hardly see them, and the others were shoved out sideways like tusks. Coyote dropped the stone, and rolled in the sand, and howled, and ran off with his tail between his legs.

And when he came to a stream and bent down to drink, to soothe his aching mouth, he saw in the water what you and I can still see in the mouth of every coyote: the teeth behind the long fangs are all pushed down and broken.

Because in the days of the ancients, Coyote didn't mind his own business, and couldn't hold his temper. And all his children's children have had his broken teeth ever since. And to this day, when the locusts come out on a sunny morning to sing, they sometimes leave their empty skins on the trees, just to be safe.

Thus shortens my story.