Then She-Who-Creates-by-Speaking-Its-Name said, "Yes, but this Earth is all soft and wet. Who will make it dry for me?" And Wind, who was bored, said, "I will make it dry for you." And she breathed over the hills and valleys and plains for a very long time until they were dry and hard. The fish of the sea wondered what possible use this dry hard place could have, for fish have no understanding of dry places, just as they have no experience of rain.

Then She-Who-Creates-by-Speaking-Its-Name spoke out the names of all the plants and all the animals, and each appeared as its name was spoken. Some went to live in the valleys, some in the mountains, some on the plains. And when Crayfish and Buzzard and Wind saw all this, they were very proud of themselves, believing that these plants and animals had been wrought from their own imaginations, for the power of She-Who-Creates-by-Speaking-Its-Name is not perceived as a waterfall is perceived; rather, it is perceived from within, as a dream is perceived. In their pride, Crayfish and Buzzard and Wind strutted and swaggered and sang of their wisdom and skill. And this is why old men dance the comic dance of Crayfish, Wind, and Buzzard to this day, strutting and swaggering and chanting those bragging songs that make children laugh at their foolishness.

Yet for all their strutting and bragging, in their hearts Crayfish and Buzzard and Wind were vexed because their fine work could not be seen and admired, for the world was wrapped in eternal darkness, as it shall be again at the end of the Allotted Time.

Now, Coyote, the most guileful of the animals, took up the cause of Crayfish and Buzzard and Wind, saying it was a shame that no one could see to admire their fine creation, but in fact Coyote's reason for despising the darkness was that she was a daylight hunter. Hearing Coyote's complaint, She-Who-Creates-by-Speaking-Its-Name whispered into the darkness, saying, "Who will make light for me?" And Star whispered back, "I shall make light for you." And she turned and shone upon the land with all her might, but her glow was feeble, so Coyote still complained that it was not light enough, although Rabbit and Prairie Dog thought things were just fine as they were, for they are daylight prey. Coyote pouted and sulked and wheedled and whined until she got her way, so Star made children upon herself until they were many and many in the sky, and they all shone down with all their might, glittering and twinkling with the effort, but still Coyote grumbled that it was not light enough. So Moon said, "I will help you, Star," and she turned and shone upon the world. But Moon is fickle and inconstant by nature: sometimes only half of her shines, and sometimes only a quarter, and sometimes no part at all, so Coyote pouted and sulked until She-Who-Creates-by-Speaking-Its-Name went to the cave of Sun and begged her to go up into the sky. But Sun loved her splendid pink-and-gold cave and was loathe to leave it, so She-Who-Creates-by-Speaking-Its-Name bargained with Sun, saying that she would not have to shine all the time; she could return to her cave when she was tired of shining, and the darkness she left behind her would be called Night. But still Sun was reluctant to leave her cave, so She-Who-Creates-by-Speaking-Its-Name bargained further, promising Sun that after the Allotted Time was spent, she could return to her cave and leave the land in darkness forever. Finally Sun agreed to go into the sky for half of each day, leaving at dawn and returning at sunset. The growing pink-and-gold you see at dawn is Sun slowly rolling the stone away from the mouth of her glittering cave, and the pink-and-gold of evening fades as Sun slowly pulls the stone back in behind her. But although she had allowed herself to be persuaded to shine on the land, Sun was sad to leave her splendid cave and bitter that Coyote's pouting and sulking had forced her to do it, so she wept sad tears and bitter tears on the morning of that first day, and where her sad tears fell upon the ground they became women and her bitter tears became men, and thus humans became the eternal enemies of Coyote, and sought forever to thwart and destroy her; but, alas, Coyote is too clever. Now the women and men of the tears made children together, and some of these children went to live on the mountains, and some in the valleys, and some on the prairies, but the bravest and the truest of them came to live in the woodlands, and these called themselves the People, but the pale-eyed ones who came to buy furs and steal land called them the Iroquois.

As you have seen, in the Early Time all things-stars, wind, buzzards, animals-spoke the language of She-Who-Creates-by-Speaking-Its-Name, a language that was called the Tongue. Well, so did all the women and men born of Sun's tears. But in punishment for misdeeds too vile to be told, most humans were made to forget the Tongue and were obliged to speak instead many nasty babbles. But the Iroquois people had not indulged in these misdeeds, so they were allowed to continue to speak the ancient and beautiful language of animals and stars and wind and of She-Who-Creates-by-Speaking-Its-Name. In time all the animals, one by one, lost their ability to speak the Tongue, some out of foolishness, some out of naughtiness, and some just from bad luck. There was a story about how each animal lost the Tongue, and these were useful stories meant to teach us the dangers of Carelessness and Greed and Rage and Disobedience and such things, but, alas, these stories have fallen from the tribal memory and now we must learn the harm of Carelessness and Greed and Rage and Disobedience the hard way, by suffering their effects.

Thus did the People come to be the only creatures who could understand She-Who-Creates-by-Speaking-Its-Name and speak to stars and winds and storms and ghosts. And among the People, the tribe that used the Tongue to greatest effect was your own Onondagas, the children of Hiawatha, for we wove the Tongue into tales meant to amuse on top and to teach underneath. Like this one, for instance:

One day, She-Who-Creates-by-Speaking-Its-Name was gazing back across time, reflecting upon the glories of the People, when out of the corner of her eye she saw something in the other direction, towards the future, that made her gasp in dismay. She saw that all living things would soon be threatened by pale-eyed enemies from across the sea. Dispatching Turtle to watch for the invaders' arrival on the shore of the eastward sea, she commanded all the animals to meet for seven days in a great lodge, there to discuss ways of dealing with this menace.

But how, you ask, could all the animals meet together if Turtle was absent? Well, at that distant time, Turtle was not counted among the animals because of her shell's resemblance to a rock.

To avoid the chaos of all the earth's animals meeting in one lodge, She-Who-Creates-by-Speaking-Its-Name ordained that each clan send one representative of its essential nature. Dog would represent all vulgar things, for instance, and Crow all complaining things; and there was greedy Bobcat, and slippery Otter, and sly Coyote, and ill-tempered Bear, and nervous Ground Hog, and haughty Frog, and bewildered Mole, and placid Tree, and many, many others. But why, you ask, was Tree invited to a meeting of the animals? Well, at that distant time, Tree was accepted as one of the animals for a very good reason which, alas, has fallen from the memory of man. Without offense, let me say that we shall move more quickly if you keep your questions to yourself.

At first, no humans were invited to sit in the Great Meeting, for She-Who-Creates-by-Speaking-Its-Name felt that the animals represented the various elements of human nature adequately, be it vulgarity or greed or guile or ill-temper or pride or stubbornness or any other thing. But a senior storyteller of the Onondaga, a man who was called Old because of his age, was commanded to preside over this gathering because he possessed three necessary skills: first, being of the People, he still spoke the Tongue, so he could interpret She-Who-Creates-by-Speaking-Its-Name's will; second, the Onondaga were experienced at smoothing out quarrels and settling disputes; and third, Old understood the many voices of the animals, for he used them in telling stories to the children of his tribe. The first thing Old did was to ask She-Who-Creates-by-Speaking-Its-Name to allow the animals to understand one another, just for the time of the Great Meeting; and so She visited each animal's ear as a soft-voice-that-tickles, and lo, they could understand one another.