Soaking the Blues OR Brownnosing

Utina decided to tell the pups a Coyote story: “A long time ago

Bluebird’s feathers were a very dull ugly grey color. He lived near a lake

with waters of the most unchanging delicate blue because no stream

flowed in or out. Because the bird admired the blue water, he bathed

in the lake four times every morning for four days, and every morning

he sang: ‘There the blue water lies. So I go in, and soon I will be blue.’

On the fifth morning he

shed all his feathers and came out in bare skin, but on the sixth morning

blue feathers came out of him.

All the while, Coyote had been watching

the bird. He wanted to jump in and catch it for his dinner, but he was

afraid of the blue water. But on the sixth morning, he said to Bluebird:

‘How is it that all your ugly color has come out of your feathers, and now

you are all blue and sprightly and beautiful? You are more beautiful

than anything that flies in the air. I want to be a beautiful blue, too.’

‘I went in four times,’ replied

Bluebird. And he then taught Coyote the song he had sung.

And so Coyote steeled

his courage and jumped into the lake. For four mornings he did this,

singing the song the Bluebird had taught him, he lost his fur the next day,

and on the sixth day he turned as blue as the bird.

That made Coyote feel relieved.

He was so proud to be a blue coyote that when he walked along,

he looked about on every side to see if anyone noticed how fine and blue

he was. Then he started running along very fast, looking at his shadow

to see if it also was blue. He was not watching the road, and he tripped

on a root that threw him down upon the ground and he became covered

with dust. To this day all coyotes are the color of dust.”

Coyote said, “That was not how it happened.”

“Tell us your story,” the pups

begged.

“All right. I saw a naked bird, with no feathers, near a small lake.

There was a hawk in the sky. The bird begged, ‘Please protect me,

and I’ll tell you the secret of being blue.’ I was a beautiful green,

but considered maybe the blueness might help my daylight hunting

skills. So, all day and night I stood guard over the bird, never flagging,

never failing or falling asleep. That next morning his feathers were bright

blue. To reward me, he told me the secret: ‘Go in 4 days in a row and on

the sixth you will be blue. But, he did not tell me everything. He did not

tell me I had to dry the color first all morning. So, when I went off right

away to show Mole, my first mate, the new colors. As I was walking

along the road, I suddenly tripped over a yellow leg and my fur

was coated with dust that stuck to the blue. I saw a blue flash in the sky,

but could prove nothing. That is what really happened, he just wanted

to keep his secrets,” Coyote sniffed.

Utina said, “Nothing is always as it seems. There is a side to

everything. So, I invited Fric tonight to tell his side of the story.”

A beautiful mountain

bluebird fluttered in and landed on a root above Utina’s head,

and exchanged glares with Coyote.

“I was there. I knew someone was stalking me for a week.

Then I saw a vomit-green beast who grabbed me as I was drying my

feathers, after the change from regal grey to wild two-tone blue. I was

small and edible. When he harassed me and threatened to eat me unless

I told him the secret, a secret we bluebirds had kept for millennia,

that we had to go in the lake once a year—even our females were

the bright blue as the males—I was terrified! What could I do? I told him

what he asked, but not everything he needed to know. I was under

duress. But, that made no difference. He tried to kill me on the sixth day.

I had been under his claw for five days and nights, but I had dug a little

and when he repositioned his fangy mouth, I leapt free and flew. He was

so eager to kill me to keep his secret that he tripped and fell and rolled in

the dirt. That is the truth.”

Utina swallowed Bluebird whole. “There are

many truths of course,” she said, with her mouth full, giving Coyote

a wing, “and we should respect all perspectives and the truths, while

recognizing that family loyalty is more important than bald truth.”

“And that is the origin of the blues,” said Coyote.

He gave some feathers to the pups to play with.

One of the pups, Seed3, whispered, “I heard that once

bluebirds lent their feathers to Coyote so he could fly to top of a mesa.

They climbed up, but then they had to take back the feathers so they

could fly down. Coyote became impatient and tried to jump down,

but got killed. The bluebirds brought him back to life.”

“Do you think,” said Seed4, sneezing first

from his feather allergy, “that he remembers that they could bring him

back to life now if he needed it?”

“No!” and they giggled quietly.