Episode 162 – The Thunder Rolls – Myths Your Teacher Hated

Episode 162 Show Notes

Source: Cherokee Mythology

This week on MYTH, it’s off to southern Turtle Island for two tales of powerful supernatural creatures. You’ll see that sky gods are assholes, that boiling water is the best medicine, and that gambling is a risky business, even with a magical ace in the hole. Then, in Gods and Monsters, you can’t trust anyone when there’s a shapeshifting ogress around. This is the Myths Your Teacher Hated podcast, where I tell the stories of cultures from around the world in all of their original, bloody, uncensored glory. Modern tellings of these stories have become dry and dusty, but I’ll be trying to breathe new life into them. This is Episode 162, “The Thunder Rolls”. As always, this episode is not safe for work.
This week’s story comes from Myths of the Cherokee, collected by James Mooney in 1902. All the versions of this story I could find seem to be a variation on this one, so we’ll stick with it. It’s part of the cycle of Cherokee stories known as Wonder Stories, all of which feature supernatural characters. Sometimes these entities interact with mortals and in others, such as in our tale today, divine beings representing natural phenomena such as thunder and lightning interact with each other instead. The events here take place in what was originally Cherokee territory – what is now West Virginia, Kentucky, Virginia, North Carolina, Tennessee, South Carolina, Georgia, and Alabama before they were violently forced off their land by the US government in the early to mid 1800s.
As we all know, Thunder lives in the west, or maybe a little south of west near the place where the sun goes down behind the water. In the old days however, he would sometimes journey to the east on his own business. One time after just such a trip, a boy was born in the east, a son of Thunder it was said. As the boy grew into young adulthood, he was plagued with scrofula sores, caused by a bacterial infection of the lymph nodes, bulging from his neck and soon spreading across his entire body. No one knew how to fix this ailment, so the boy’s mortal mother sat him down one day. “Your father is Thunder, and it is said that he is a great doctor. If anyone knows how to cure you, it would be him. You’ll need to journey to his home far to the west to ask for his help.”
He was just about old enough to set out on his own and so, the very next day, the young man embarked on a journey to find his father, Thunder, and be cured. He traveled ever westward, asking everyone he met for directions to his father’s home. Initially, he received only vague nods towards the west but eventually, people began to give more specific directions and tell him it was only a little further on. He followed the indicated path and soon came to Un’tiguhi, which means ‘pot-in-the-water’, which in modern Tennessee, is about 8 miles south of Chattanooga. This spot on the Tennessee River is home to some incredibly deadly whirlpools that, to this day, are said to be haunted.
The south side of the river also happened to be home to Untsaiyi (which means ‘brass’), a renowned gambler. It was said that he had invented the game of skill gatayusti, played with a stone wheel and a stick. Untsaiyi made his living by wagering on gatayusti and other games, frequently challenging anyone who happened to travel near his home on the river. It is said that the wheel and stick the gambler used is still there to this day, now turned to stone on the riverbank along with the groves where the wheel used to roll. As you would expect from a consummate professional, he was extremely good at this game and so he usually cleaned out anyone who agreed to his challenge. On the rare occasions where he started to lose, Untsaiyi had a habit of going all-in. He would bet all of the fine trinkets in his house and if he still lost, he would wager his own life. If he lost that ultimate wager, the winner would be fucked over and left with nothing. You see, our tricksy gambler knew how to change his shape into a wide variety of animals, so he was always able to slip away and avoid paying his debt.
As soon as Untsaiyi saw our young hero coming along from the east, he figured he had his latest sucker to fleece. “Hey there, young man. What’s the hurry? Why not stop and play some gatayusti with me?” The young man stopped only briefly. “I appreciate your kind gesture, but I’m on a rather important journey. I’m looking for my father, Thunder, who is supposed to live somewhere around here.” “You old man is Thunder, huh? Why, he lives in the next house over from mine. I can hear him grumbling and rumbling all the time. You’re practically there, so you’ve got time and if you entertain me with a game or two, I’ll tell you the way and speed you along. We can even make it interesting with a few wagers.”
The young man considered. Surely a couple of games wouldn’t take too long and it would save him a lot of fruitless searching in the wrong places. On the other hand, something about this asshole seemed super shady, so he tried to find a polite way out. “That’s a very generous offer, but I’m afraid I have nothing to bet.” Untsaiyi shrugged. “No big deal. How about we play for those pretty spots all over your body?” The gambler wasn’t being oblivious, he was being actively dickish. He was hoping to anger the young man and goad him into playing the game (and perhaps playing recklessly) but the young man would not be swayed. “I really must find my father. Let me do that first; I can always come back here after to try my hand at gatayusti.”
With a friendly if slightly troubled wave, the young man continued on. Word of his arrival spread among the locals and soon made its way over to Thunder. No idea if he actually was in the next house over or if Untsaiyi was exaggerating to convince his mark to play, but I suspect the latter. Thunder considered the news that a young man had come claiming to be his son. “I have traveled to many lands and have many children in many places, so it is entirely possible.” Sky gods, in addition to being assholes, are often fuck boys. “Bring him to me and we shall soon know the truth of this matter.”
The people went and fetched the young man, leading him to the supernatural entity’s home. Thunder sat his maybe-son down on a long bench covered in a blanket. The young man sat, unaware that this was a test. You see, the blanket concealed the sharp thorns of the honey locust (a type of tree) with all the points directed up to bite deep into the unsuspecting ass of anyone unlucky enough to sit there. The young man felt nothing, sitting quite comfortably on his torture implement of a seat, and so Thunder knew that this was indeed one of his children. “It is good to see you, my son. Why have you come?” “As you can see, sir, I have sores all over my body. My mother said that you were a magnificent doctor and could heal what no one else has been able to.” Thunder nodded. “She is right. This I can do.”
Thunder asked his wife (who he very clearly sleeps around on) to fill a large pot in the corner of the room with water and put it over the fire to heat up. Once it was boiling, he cut up roots and herbs, tossing them into the roiling water. That done, he picked up his son and tossed him in the boiling water as well. The young man didn’t even have time to yelp before he was dunked in the lethal water. Except that, being a son of Thunder in this magical place, he was actually totally fine. He stayed in the water until it seemed like his very flesh should have sloughed off his bones. Finally, Thunder told his wife to take the pot and throw it in the river with the boy still in it. This she did, which created the wild whirlpool from earlier, which is why it is called Un’tiguhi or pot-in-the-water.
On the bank where the boiling pot was thrown stood a service tree and a calico bush. When hot water met cold, a great cloud of steam erupted, leaving streaks and blotches on the bark which remain to this day. When the steam finally cleared, the young man could be seen clinging to the tree’s roots where they crept into the river, his skin now clean of any lesions or boils. Thunder’s wife helped the young man out of the river and onto the bank, escorting him back to the house. “When we go inside, your father will put a new dress on you, and when he opens his box and tells you to pick out your ornaments, make sure to grab them from the very bottom. After that, he’ll send you to play ball against his other sons. There is a honey locust tree in the front yard; as soon as you start to get tired, strike that tree. Thunder will stop the game because he doesn’t want the tree to get damaged.”
They reached the house before the young man could ask any follow up questions. The old personification of nature was thrilled to see his son looking so clean and healthy. “I knew I could cure you with a bit of effort. Now we should see about getting you dressed.” Thunder brought out a fine suit of buckskin, complete with belt and headdress, which the young man put on. While he was dressing, his father pulled out a wooden box and opened it. “Now pick out your necklace and bracelets.” The young man looked inside and was horrified to see that it was filled with writhing snakes. There were serpents of all shapes, sizes, and colors, some absolutely venomous. They were crawling all over each other in a huge tangled mass, and many of them had turned their heads up to look at the disturbance happening overhead.
Steeling his nerve, the young man reached inside the box. Remembering what Thunder’s wife had said, he drove his hand all the way to the bottom, deep beneath the living mass of snake flesh. He drew out an enormous rattlesnake, which he settled around his neck for a necklace. He then reached in four times and pulled out four copperheads, twisting them around his wrists and ankles as bracelets. His bravery was rewarded and the snakes lay obediently in place, not biting him as most snakes definitely would in this situation.
Smiling, Thunder handed his son a war club. “Now it’s time for you to play a ball game with two of your older brothers. They live beyond here, out in the Darkening Land, but I have sent for them to meet us at the field.” As we saw with the tale of the hero twins back in Episodes 151A-F, ball games were often used as a stand in for combat. In this case, the situation is more literal. There may or may not have been a ball bouncing around somewhere on that field, but this was really a fight for the young man’s life. The two men from the Darkening Land were older and stronger than our hero, but he was brave and clever. He leapt out into the fray, war club flying. Lightning sizzled from every strike and thunder rolled across the land in answer. You see, the two elder brothers were young Thunders but our hero was Lightning (a fact which he hadn’t realized before today).
Even for a young demigod, single combat against two stronger, more experienced foes was exhausting. Lightning knew that he couldn’t win, but that was never really the point. He’d proved his mettle, and so now it was time to end things. Remembering again the advice of Thunder’s very helpful wife, he maneuvered around until he was aiming a lightning strike for his two opponents that was sure to strike the honey-locust tree that was standing right behind them. Worried about his beloved tree, Thunder called an end to the “ballgame”, afraid that the young man’s lightning would split the tree clean in half. Young Lightning had proven himself brave and strong, and that was the important bit (as our young hero had surmised).
As they all sat down to relax after the day’s excitement, Lightning told his father how Untsaiyi had challenged him to wager on a ballgame, offering to play for the spots on his skin. Thunder laughed, deep and booming. “Yes, he does that. He’s an incorrigible gambler who makes a living by challenging others and cheating when things don’t go his way. It could be fun to turn the tables on him. I can give you a tiny advantage.” He brought out a small gourd with a hole bored through its neck, tying it to his son’s wrist. Inside was a string of beads; one end hung out the top of the gourd but there appeared to be no end to the string coiled up inside.
“Take this and go back to challenge Untsaiyi. He won’t be able to resist playing for the beads. He’s got an insatiable desire for trinkets and shiny baubles. He’s very hard to beat, but this time he will lose every round. When he calls a timeout to get a drink, that’s the cue that he’s getting desperate. When he does that, strike the rock with your club to create a fountain of fresh water so that you don’t have to stop playing. When he keeps losing, he will be forced to bet his life to avoid losing everything. When he loses again, immediately send your two brothers to kill him or he will slip away like he always does. He’s a tricksy bastard, so be quick.”
Lightning took up his new war club and his gourd of beads, setting back out on the long road home. It didn’t take him long to reach the gambler’s house again. “Hey there, friend! Giving up on your search already? Why not play a game so the day’s not a total waste?” He noticed the gourd spilling over with beads. “Ooh, those are real pretty. How about we bet those on the game?” Shrugging, Lightning began pulling the beads out of the gourd. Like the endless handkerchiefs up a magician’s sleeve, they just kept coming and coming and coming. By the time he finally reached the end of the string, the beads completely circled the playing field. “Alright, here’s my stake for this game – you match it from your stash.”
They started with the old classic gatayusti, the game of wheel and stick. It was a tough-fought match, but Lightning came out ahead (probably with some supernatural assistance from old man Thunder). Unstaiyi was discouraged but he’d been so close to winning that he was sure he could win it all back in a second bout. They played over and over with Lightning just eking out a win in every match until noon. By that time, the sly gambler had lost almost everything he had. What’s more, he was exhausted and demoralized. “Hey friend, how about a timeout, yeah? It’s hot out and I’m super thirsty. Let’s get a drink.” Lightning, warned by his father not to relent, shook his head. “No, we play on.” Taking his war club, he struck a large stone, calling forth a gout of clear water.
Unnerved but unable to walk away while he was so far behind, Unstaiyi drank his fill and then play continued. It hadn’t been nearly enough of a break for him, and his play got worse. He lost and lost until he had given up his buckskins, his beadwork, his eagle feathers, his ornaments, and even his own wife. With literally nothing left to his name but his own naked skin, Unstaiyi offered to stake his life on one final match. “If you win, you can kill me. If I win, I get all of my stuff back and we walk away with what we walked in with.” It was a terrible deal but Lightning agreed. And, as Thunder had promised, he won yet again.
“Alright, alright, I know when I’m licked. You beat me fair and square so you get to kill me. Just let me go tell my wife the news first: both that I bet her and lost and that I’m about to die so that she’s expecting you to take my place. After I bet her without her knowledge, she probably won’t be too upset about that. After that, I’ll come back and my life is forfeit.” Unstaiyi headed into his house, and Lightning waited outside for him to return. And he waited. And he waited. And he waited. Frustrated, the young man poked his head inside to see that, unlike most houses in that time and place, this one had two doors. The gambler had slipped out the back and escaped. By the time Lightning came looking, he was running his ass off towards the east and was almost out of sight over the horizon.
Remembering his father’s words, Lightning hurried for Thunder’s house and relayed everything that had happened as quickly as he could. “Come and help me track down this debt dodger, brothers!” Grabbing their dog, the Great Horned Beetle, the trio hurried after the fleeing gambler. Unstaiyi hadn’t waited for all of this to transpire, so he was quite naturally out of sight by this time. The brothers followed eastward as fast as they could and soon came to an old woman who was busy making pottery. “Have you seen Unstaiyi the gambler? He’s trying to welch on a debt again.” “Sorry youngsters, I haven’t seen anyone like that come by.” “Are you sure? He had to have come by this way – it’s the only path!” “Then he must have passed by in the night. I’ve been out here all day, so I surely would have seen him. Or maybe he went a different way, lost you somewhere. Sorry, boys.”
The brothers turned around to backtrack and look for another way their quarry could have gone. Horned Green Beetle (who despite being called a dog is very much a flying beetle) had been circling around in the air during this conversation, ignoring everyone and everything. As the humans turned to go, the beetle dive bombed the old woman’s head, striking her right in the middle of her forehead. It rang out at the impact like a brass gong. The word ‘untsaiyi’ means ‘brass’, so this was a dead giveaway. The great secret of the gambler, his ability to change shape, had finally been revealed.
The three brothers spun back and leapt at Untsaiyi, but he was quicker, changing back into his true form and sprinting away. He was incredibly fast and, before the three young men could regain their footing and follow after, he was out of sight once more. A little bit of the brass from the gambler’s forehead had rubbed off on Horned Green Beetle’s, and we can see that color on it to this day. They hurried off after the fleeing Untsaiyi and soon came to an old man sitting by the trail carving a stone pipe. “Have you seen Unstaiyi the gambler? He’s trying to welch on a debt again.” “Can’t say I have fellas. Ain’t seen no one come down this road afore you boys.”
His disguise was perfect but Lightning and the two young Thunders were suspicious after their last fake encounter. Moreover, Horned Green Beetle had his quarry’s scent now and would know him in any shape. It once again dive bombed the shape-shifted cheater’s forehead with a great brass clanging, revealing the trickery. The three brothers dove faster this time, getting a hand on the escaping man but he was still too quick for them and he again escaped. He continued his eastward flight until he came to the Atlantic Ocean, stopping him from running any further in that direction. He turned north and kept right on running, knowing damn well he was fleeing for his fucking life.
The three brothers followed in hot pursuit as they raced north of north to the very edge of the world. With nowhere else to go, Untsaiyi was forced to turn inland and flee west. Along the way, he tried every shape he could think of to throw his hunters off the trail, but that damned Horned Green Beetle always gave him away. He ran clear across Turtle Island until he came to the Pacific Ocean where the sun goes down at night. Exhausted and with nowhere left to run, Untsaiyi collapsed. In a flash, the three brothers caught up to him and piled on top of him.
Now that he was finally captured, it was time to punish him for his many welched bets and cheated contests. Lightning and his brothers tied the gambler’s hands and feet down with grapevines and drove a long stake through his chest to hold him down. This they drove into the earth far out over the ocean, in the deep water where no one went so that he was submerged beneath the rolling waves. They set two crows on the end of the stake to guard it, calling the place Kagun’yi, or ‘crow place’.
Being made of brass however, he couldn’t exactly die, even from all of this. At least, not until the world ends. Until then, he is forced to lie there, hanging from the stake in his chest beneath the ocean waves, his face upwards towards the sky through the ocean waters. Sometimes he struggles to free himself (I would assume that his struggles roil the ocean waters, causing either storms or tidal waves but the story doesn’t elaborate). And sometimes, his friends the beavers come to try and gnaw on the grapevines binding him down to help free him. When that happens, the crows shriek out their raucous warning, flapping their wings from atop the pole and screaming ‘ka! Ka! Ka!’ to scare the beavers away.
And that’s where the story ends. We never find out if Lightning returns home or goes to live with Thunder or does some unknown third thing. Given context clues, I assume he goes back home. I have to wonder if Untsaiyi realized that the usual murder techniques wouldn’t work on him, being made of brass and all. I assume not since he tried so hard to get away. I would have expected him to make use of his ability to cheat death, but maybe it still hurts like a motherfucker to have a stake rammed through your chest. Besides, why risk death when you can just shapeshift your way out of your problems? And so, with the tricksy gambler out-tricked, it’s time for Gods and Monsters. This is a segment where I get into a little more detail about the personalities and history of one of the gods or monsters from this week’s pantheon that was not discussed in the main story. This week’s monster is Spearfinger.
U’tlun’ta, whose name means ‘the one with the pointed spear’ is a witch from Cherokee legend. She’s said to live somewhere in the Great Smoky Mountains along the border between eastern Tennessee and western North Carolina. There are several versions of this story out there, but the most thorough one I’ve found comes again from James Mooney’s Myths of the Cherokee. Long ago when the world was young, the Great Smoky Mountains were haunted by a terrible ogress, a witch whose favorite meal was human livers.
Like our incorrigible gambler from the main tale, U’tlun’ta was a shapeshifter, able to take any form her hunts required, but her natural form looked like an ancient woman with skin as hard as a rock. She was said to be immune to any weapon since none could pierce her thick, stony hide giving rise to her other common name Nun’yunu’wi or ‘stone-dress’. We usually call her U’tlun’ta though because the forefinger on her stony right hand was long and wickedly sharp like a spearhead. She used her literal spear finger to stab her victims as soon as she was able to get close enough (often thanks to her shapeshifting powers).
In addition to these already terrifying powers, U’tlun’ta also had supernatural strength, allowing her to easily lift and carry immense boulders despite her apparently small old woman frame. In fact, she was strong enough to take a boulder in either hand and smash them together, permanently fusing them into one. Her home was desolate and wild and it was a pain in the ass to get around. To make things easier, she decided to use her prodigious strength to build a rock bridge from Nunyu-tlu’gun’yi (or ‘tree rock’) on the Hiwassee River over to Sanigila’gi, or Whiteside Mountain in modern North Carolina. A great lightning strike had shattered the top of the tree rock, scattering stone fragments all along the whole ridge (pieces of which can still be seen today). She used these to begin her construction, but it was a slow process even for her.
During this whole thing, U’tlun’ta of course had to eat. She ranged all over the mountains, especially along the streams and rivers and the dark, narrow passes of the mountains. On the Tennessee side, her favorite stalking ground was a gap on the trail where the Chilhowee Mountain slopes down to the river. Her favorite delicacy was children. If she saw them playing alone, she would creep down in disguise as a harmless old lady. “Hello there, my little grandchildren. Come to granny and let her braid your hair!” If some hapless child ran over to allow this, the ogress would pull them up into her lap, petting and stroking their head until they nodded off to sleep. Then she would stab them through the neck or the heart with her wicked spear finger. The story says she kept her weapon hidden beneath her robes, implying that even when she changes shape, the spear finger is her tell tale giveaway. Once the child had finished shaking and bleeding out, she would carve out their liver and eat it, raw and bloody.
When such easy prey wasn’t available, U’tlun’ta would sneak down into a village and enter an unsuspecting house in the form of a family member she had seen leaving for a while on some errand or other. She would pretend to be this person until she could get someone alone long enough to stab them, carve out their liver, and eat it. In this, she was so skilled and her finger was so sharp that the victim didn’t always know they had been attacked. Her spear finger left no pain and virtually no wound, so the luckless dead man walking would go about his affairs for a few more days, slowly getting sick and weak as the body died without its liver. No one ever survived an attack by U’tlun’ta.
In the fall, the Cherokee people would, according to custom, burn the leaves off the mountain in order to get chestnuts that had fallen to the ground. While they were out gathering these tasty morsels, they were never safe – the old witch was always ravenous and so was ever on the lookout for fresh victims to slaughter. As soon as she saw the smoke rising in the autumn, she knew that the Cherokee were there and so she would creep out to try and find isolated victims to sneak up on. They used the buddy system to try and stay safe and were always cautious about allowing any stranger to approach their camp. Even so, you never knew if she had managed to infiltrate the camp anyway, taking the place of someone who had wandered away to get a drink or take a leak.
When she was not actively hunting, she sometimes wandered the mountains in her own form. Several hunters reported seeing her, an old woman with strange gray skin and an unsettling body horror hand singing to herself a made-up song about how much she liked to eat livers. It was eerily beautiful and all the more chilling for how brutal the subject was. Anyone hearing that terrible song knew that the liver eating witch was in the area, so they had best get the fuck away before she found them.
After a particularly bloody year lived in the shadow of the spear finger, the people called a great council to discuss what to do about the ogress. It was decided that something had to be done to get rid of her before she wiped out all of the people living in the mountains. People came from far and wide to provide ideas and discuss alternatives. At last, a plan was settled on. The people went out and dug a deep, sheer pit across a trail that they knew U’tlun’ta used. It was then carefully covered with thin twigs, earth, straw, and leaves to appear as though it was still perfectly solid earth like the rest of the trail. Once they were satisfied with the pit, a fire was kindled in the leaves and brush to give the impression of chestnut gatherers at work – a favorite target of cruel old Spearfinger.
All but one person who had agreed to act as bait hid in the bushes nearby, weapons clutched in sweaty hands. U’tlun’ta would be along soon. Sure enough, it wasn’t long after that they spied a hunched old woman shambling down the trail. Some of the wiser warriors wanted to fill her full of arrows right then and there, but she had taken the form of a beloved old woman from the village. The others didn’t want to risk killing an innocent elder on the off chance it was really her. No one really trusted that she was who she seemed, but a mistake here would be lethal and they didn’t want to take the risk.
One hand hidden inside her basket, she shuffled down the trail, eyes locked on the solitary figure of the apparently unaware man gathering chestnuts farther down the trail. She was so focused on him that she wouldn’t have noticed the pit trap even if they hadn’t bothered to disguise it so well. It gave way under her feet and the old woman tumbled into the pit. The warriors leapt out of hiding and hurried over to look down. Gone was the harmless old woman, revealed as the stone-skinned old ogress. She fought like a corned mountain lion, sharp spear finger whipping about in search of someone to stab and vent her fury on. The people had done their job well though, and she couldn’t reach anyone.
They threw their spears and fired their arrows, but it was no use. The weapons all bounced off the impenetrable hide of the cruel witch, shattering to fall uselessly at her feet without so much as scratching her. The entire time, U’tlun’ta laughed and mocked her would-be assailants, threatening to kill them all and eat their livers (no mention of a nice chianti or any fava beans though). She began using the broken weapons scattered around her to try and climb out of the pit. It was slow work, but all could see that she would eventually be free again. Well, shit.
Realizing that they were wasting ammunition and providing her with supplies at the same time, the warriors paused to consider a different approach. It was then that Utsu’gi, the titmouse (a small bird), perched on a branch overhead to survey the scene. It threw back its head and began to sing ‘un, un, un’. As the song echoed off the rocks, it sounded to the humans like u’nahu, which means heart. The warriors took it as a sign from nature that they should concentrate their fire on the witch’s heart. A few fiery young men launched arrows at the spot in her chest where her heart should be, but they simply shattered on her stone skin like every other arrow so far.
Furious, one of the young men caught Utsu’gi and cut out its tongue, leaving it short to this day and earning it a reputation as a liar from then on. As soon as they let it go, it flew away straight up into the air and never came back. I mean, it sounds like that was entirely their mistake, not the titmouse’s. The little bird never even said heart, let alone promised it was a way to kill a seemingly immortal witch. The titmouse that we know today is but a reflection of this progenitor. The warriors scrutinized the witch again, the cleverest of them casting their thoughts back through every story they’d ever heard for some hint of how to defeat U’tlun’ta.
About that time, a different bird – Tsi’kilili, the chickadee – flew down from the sky and alighted on the witch’s spear finger on her right hand. The warriors took this as another sign, this time that they must aim for her clenched fist. One of the arrows flew true and slipped between her tight fingers to the heart that she always kept hidden within (which would mean that the titmouse’s clue about the heart was actually totally accurate, they just misinterpreted it, so I don’t know why he gets branded a liar, poor thing). The arrow nicked her heart, panicking the old ogress. She began dodging arrows instead of just tanking them, leaping about as she desperately tried to escape and/or kill her attackers. At last, a particularly lucky arrow caught her fist at just the right angle, piercing her clutched heart. U’tlun’ta fell down as dead as any of her victims. Ever since, Tsi’kilili is known as a truth-teller. If a person ever went on a journey and their friends heard the little chickadee perch near their house and sing, they knew that their friend would soon return safely.
That’s it for this episode of Myths Your Teacher Hated. Keep up with new episodes on our Facebook page, on iTunes, on TuneIn, on Vurbl, and on Spotify, or you can follow us on Instagram as MythsYourTeacherHatedPod, on Tumblr as MythsYourTeacherHated, on Bluesky as MythsPodcast, and on Mastodon as MythsYourTeacherHated. You can also find news and episodes on our website at myths your teacher hated dot com. If you have any questions, any gods or monsters you’d want to learn about, or any ideas for future stories that you’d like to hear, feel free to drop me a line. I’m trying to pull as much material from as many different cultures as possible, but there are all sorts of stories I’ve never heard, so suggestions are appreciated. The theme music is by Tiny Cheese Puff.
Next time, we’re heading back to the Great White North for some French Canadian folklore. You’ll see that people never seem to learn to invite all the powerful fairies to any important event, that one royal disappearance is a tragedy but two is a disaster, and that foxes are always worth paying attention to. Then, in Gods and Monsters, tragic love will result in a pierced rock in the Gulf of St Lawrence. That’s all for now. Thanks for listening.