| Category: | Native American Legends |
|---|---|
| Notes: | Plains Tribes |
One sunny afternoon, Coyote, the clever and mischievous trickster, wandered aimlessly through the open plains. The tall grass swayed gently in the breeze, and the world seemed peaceful and quiet. But Coyote, always in search of some new adventure or prank to keep himself entertained, was growing bored. He kicked at the dirt with his paws and sniffed at the wind, hoping to find something—anything—that would liven up his day.
As he strolled along, his sharp eyes caught sight of a large, round rock sitting right in the middle of the path. It was an unusual sight, this solitary boulder, just sitting there as if it had dropped from the sky. Coyote's ears perked up with curiosity, and he trotted over to the rock, his tail flicking playfully behind him. "Well, well, what do we have here?" Coyote murmured, circling the rock slowly. He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, as if expecting the rock to do something interesting.
But, of course, the rock remained perfectly still and silent, as rocks tend to do. Coyote smirked and sat back on his haunches. "What are you doing just sitting here in the middle of the path?" he asked mockingly. "Don't you have somewhere better to be?" When the rock didn't respond, Coyote's grin widened. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue? Or are you just too dumb to speak?"
Feeling even more mischievous, Coyote began to strut around the rock, his paws dancing lightly over the ground as he chattered on. "You're just a big, useless lump!" he sneered, his voice full of mockery. "I'm much stronger, faster, and smarter than you. You're just… a rock!" He jabbed at the rock with a stick he picked up from the ground, poking it as if to make his point. "You can't even move! I could push you off this path with just one paw!"
After a few more taunts, Coyote grew tired of his own words and decided to prove his claim. Planting his paws firmly on the ground, he leaned against the rock and gave it a mighty shove. To his surprise, the rock shifted slightly. Encouraged, Coyote pushed harder. With a rumble and a creak, the rock began to roll forward, teetering at the edge of a small slope.
"Ha! Look at you go!" Coyote laughed, his eyes wide with glee. He bounded after the rock as it slowly picked up speed, rolling down the hill. "I knew I was stronger than you!" he shouted triumphantly, his tail wagging furiously. He hopped and skipped alongside the rock, delighting in his own strength and cleverness.
But as the rock continued to roll, it started to gain momentum. It bounced over small bumps and crashed through the bushes lining the path. Coyote's laughter faltered as he watched the rock rumble faster and faster, its heavy weight causing it to plow through everything in its way. "Whoa… slow down there," Coyote muttered nervously, trotting to keep up.
To his horror, the rock didn't slow down. Instead, it barreled straight down the hill, smashing through saplings and sending up a cloud of dust in its wake. Coyote's eyes widened in panic as he realized where the rock was heading—straight towards his den!
"No, no, no! Stop!" Coyote shouted, sprinting after the runaway rock. But the rock paid him no heed. It rumbled on, crashing through the bushes and careening down the hill. Coyote tried to get in front of it, waving his paws desperately, but the rock was too fast. It rolled on relentlessly, its path unchanging and unstoppable.
With a mighty *crash*, the rock slammed into the entrance of Coyote's den. The ground shook, and debris flew everywhere. The rock settled with a deep thud, blocking the entrance completely and scattering pieces of dirt and branches all around. Coyote skidded to a halt, his paws sliding in the dirt as he stared at the scene in dismay.
His den, his cozy little home where he kept his treasures and rested after his long days of trickery, was completely ruined. The entrance was caved in, and the rock sat there, stubborn and unmoving. Coyote's heart sank, and he let out a long, frustrated sigh. "Great. Just great," he muttered, his ears drooping. "That's what I get for messing with a rock."
He sat down heavily, staring at the ruined entrance of his den, his tail curled around his paws. For a long moment, he just sat there, panting and bewildered. How could a simple rock have caused so much trouble? He thought back to all the times he had bragged about his strength and cleverness, and his cheeks burned with shame. "Maybe I'm not as smart as I thought," he admitted quietly to himself.
After a while, Coyote stood up and dusted himself off. "Well, I guess that's a lesson learned," he said, shaking his head ruefully. "Next time, I'll think twice before bragging about my strength or making fun of something that looks ordinary." With a last glance at the rock, which still sat stubbornly at the entrance of his den, Coyote turned and padded away, his shoulders slumped.
From that day on, Coyote avoided making fun of rocks or anything else that seemed dull or unimportant. He remembered the lesson he learned—that even the most ordinary things can have surprising power and that pride and arrogance often lead to downfall. As he wandered through the plains, Coyote's tail no longer wagged quite so high, and his boasting was a little quieter. But deep down, he knew that it wouldn't be long before his mischievous nature led him into another scheme or prank.
For Coyote was, and always would be, a trickster at heart—curious, playful, and never quite able to resist testing the limits, no matter the consequences. And the rock, still resting in front of his old den, stood as a silent reminder of the day Coyote learned that sometimes, it's best to leave things as they are.