 | ||||||
| ||||||
Ableegumooch, the Lazy Rabbit
In the Old Time, as you know, Ableegumooch was Glooscap's forest guide and
helped wayfarers lost in the forest. However, as time went on, Indians and
animals learned to find their own way through the trees and did not need the
rabbit's services so often. Ableegumooch grew fat and lazy. If there was
something easy and pleasant to do, he did it. If the thing were difficult or
tiring, he did not. Now that is no way to keep a wigwam stocked with food.
Often, poor old Noogumee, his grandmother, with whom he lived, had to hunt
for food herself, or they would have gone hungry. And no matter how much she
scolded him, Ableegumooch refused to mend his ways. Glooscap, far away in his
lodge on Blomidon, saw that the rabbit was becoming a thoroughly useless
creature. He must be warned against the dangers of laziness. So, wasting no
time, Glooscap descended from his lodge to the beach in three huge strides,
launched his canoe, and paddled across the Bay of Fundy to the shore near the
rabbit's home. It was a fine bright morning, the air cool and tasting of salt,
as it always does in the Maritime Provinces. And presently along hopped the
rabbit, singing with fine spirit:
It's a lovely day to do
Nothing, nothing
All the day through!
He paid no attention to the tasty leaves and berries he might have been
gathering for dinner. He was much more interested in watching other people
work. There was Miko the Squirrel scampering up the big maple tree, his cheeks
bulged out with nuts, pausing only long enough to scold Ableegumooch for
coming too near his storehouse. There was Mechipchamooech the Bumble Bee,
busy at the golden rod, gathering honey for his hive. And there was Teetees
the Blue Jay, flying worms to his family in the big pine. It was all so
interesting that Ableegumooch stopped beside a stately fir tree to enjoy the
scene. Suddenly behind him, he heard a voice.
"Ableegumooch, be careful!"
The rabbit jumped and whirled about, but there was nobody there. The voice
spoke again, from somewhere over his head. "Take care, Ableegumooch, or your
lazy ways will bring you pain and sorrow." The rabbit looked up and saw the
fir tree shake like a leaf in a storm, yet not a breath of wind stirred.
Frightened out of his wits, he ran--and he never stopped running until he was
safe at home, where he told his grandmother what had happened. "Glooscap has
given you a warning," said his grand mother. "Be sure to obey him, grandson,
or you will be sorry." The rabbit's legs were still trembling from fright and
exertion, and he promised at once that he would take care to mend his lazy
ways in future. And indeed, for a while, he went busily about his hunting and
kept the wigwam well stocked with food. But, when autumn came, he grew lazy
again and went back to his old careless ways.
It's a lovely day to do
Nothing, nothing
All the day through!
So sang Ableegumooch as he sauntered through the glory of autumn trees.
Noogumee begged and scolded and pleaded, but he continued to spend more time
visiting his neighbours than gathering food. One day, when winter had come to
the land, he came to the wigwam of Keoonik the Otter. Keoonik politely asked
him to dine, and the rabbit promptly accepted. Keoonik turned to his elderly
house keeper and addressed her in the usual Indian fashion:
"Noogumee, prepare the meal."
Then he took some fishhooks and went off, the rabbit hopping along behind,
curious to see what he was going to do. Keoonik sat on the snowy bank of the
river and slid down an icy path into the water. In a moment, he reappeared
with a string of eels which he carried to his grandmother, and she promptly
cooked them for dinner. "Gracious!" thought Ableegumooch. "If that isn't an
easy way to get a living. I can do that as well as Keoonik," and he invited
the otter to be his guest at dinner on the following day. Then he hurried
home. "Come," he said to his grandmother, "we are going to move our lodge
down to the river." And in spite of all she could say, he insisted on moving
it. Noogumee reminded him that the wigwam was empty of food, and he ought to
be out hunting, but Ableegumooch paid no attention. He was busy making a
slide like Keoonik's. The weather was cold, so all he had to do was pour
water down the snowy bank, where it soon froze, and there was his fishing
slide. Early next day, the guest arrived. When it was time for dinner,
Ableegumooch said to his grandmother:
"Noogumee, prepare the meal."
"There is nothing to prepare," said she, sadly. "Oh, I will see to that,"
said the rabbit with a confident laugh, and he took his place at the top of
the slide to go fishing. When he tried to push off, however, he found it was
not so easy. His coat was rough and bulky and dry, not smooth and slippery
like the otter's. He had to wriggle and push with his heels until at last he
slid down and plunged into the water. The cold took his breath quite away,
and he suddenly remembered he was unable to swim. Struggling and squealing,
he thought no more of fishing, for he was in great danger of drowning. "What
on earth is the matter with him?" Keoonik asked the grandmother. "I suppose
he has seen someone else do that," sighed Noogumee, "and he thinks he can do
it too." Keoonik helped the freezing, half-drowned rabbit out of the water
and, since there was nothing to eat, went home hungry and disgusted. But do
you think that cold bath cured Ableegumooch? Not at all. The very next day,
as he ran idly through the forest, he came to the lodge of some female
woodpeckers. He was delighted when these Antawaas invited him to dinner. He
watched eagerly to see how they found food. One of the woodpeckers took a
dish, went up the side of an old beech tree and quickly dug out a plentiful
supply of food, which was cooked and placed before the rabbit. "My, oh my!"
thought Ableegumooch. "How easily some people get a living. What is to
prevent me from getting mine in that fashion?" And he told the Antawaas they
must come and dine with him. On the day following, they appeared at the
rabbit's lodge and Ableegumooch said to his grandmother importantly:
"Noogumee, prepare the meal."
"You foolish rabbit," said she, "there is nothing to prepare." "Make the
fire," said the rabbit grandly, "and I shall see to the rest." He took the
stone point from an eel spear and fastened it on his head in imitation of a
woodpecker's bill, then climbed a tree and began knocking his head against
it. Soon his head was bruised and bleeding, and he lost his hold and fell to
the earth with a tremendous crash. The Antawaas could not keep from laughing.
"Pray what was he doing up there?" "I suppose he has seen someone else do
that," said Noogumee, shaking her head, "and thinks he can do it too." And
she advised them to go home, as there would be no food for them there that
day. Now, sore as he was, you would certainly think the rabbit had learned
his lesson. Yet, a day or two later, he was idling in the woods as usual
when he came upon Mooin the Bear, who invited him to dinner. He was greatly
impressed at the way in which the bear got his meal. Mooin merely took a
sharp knife and cut small pieces off the soles of his feet. These he placed
in a kettle on the fire, and in a short while they enjoyed a delicious meal.
"This must be the easiest way of all to get a dinner," marvelled Ableegumooch,
and he invited Mooin to dine with him next day. Now what the rabbit did not
know was that the bears preserve food on their feet. They press ripe
blueberries with their paws and, after the cakes have dried upon them, cut
bits off to eat. The silly rabbit thought Mooin had actually cut pieces off
his paws! At the appointed time, Ableegumooch ordered his grand mother to
prepare the meal, and when she said there was nothing to prepare, he told her
to put the kettle on and he would do the rest. Then he took a stone knife and
began to cut at his feet as he had seen Mooin do. But oh dear me, it hurt. It
hurt dreadfully! With tears streaming down his cheeks, he hacked and hacked,
first at one foot and then at the other. Mooin the Bear was greatly
astonished. "What on earth is the fellow trying to do?" he asked. Noogumee
shook her head dismally. "It is the same old thing. He has seen someone else
do this." "Well!" said Mooin crossly, "It is most insulting to be asked to
dinner and get nothing to eat. The trouble with that fellow is-- he's lazy!"
and he went home in a huff. Then at last, Ableegumooch, nursing his sore feet,
remembered what Glooscap had said. All at once, he saw how silly he had been.
"Oh dear!" he said. "My own ways of getting food are hard, but others' are
harder. I shall stick to my own in the future," and he did. From then on, the
wigwam of Ableegumooch and his grandmother was always well stored with food,
winter and summer, and though he still sings, his song has changed:
It's a wiser thing to be
Busy, busy
Constantly!
And far away on Blomidon, Glooscap, seeing his foolish rabbit mend his ways
at last, set a light to his pipe and smoked contentedly.
"Throughout the centuries we have projected on to the wolf the qualities we most despise and fear in ourselves."
~ Barry Lopez
Plant a Piece of History
When you visit historical sites across the United States ask your tour guides for permission to take tree seeds as souvenirs. You could some day have a collection of trees from places like Abraham Lincoln’s yard, a Civil War Battlefield, Ladybird Johnson’s garden, or even Elvis Presley’s house.
|
