Little Brother Fieldmouse - Hopi

by Kathleen Hanna

(Retold from the Hopi Legend)

A long time ago the animals lived just like we do and they had a common language. They could all understand each other and us, too. The animal clan had a really nice puebelo on top a large flattop mesa. They grew everything they needed there to feed their tribe. But there came a time when thieves were stealing their corn...and they grew the best corn in the whole area. The animals needed the corn to make the winter, so they got really hot about someone stealing it.

A council was called and all the animal elders voted to track down the thieves and make war on them. They wanted to get their corn back before the thieves ate it all up. It was so good and sweet, they knew if the thieves took one bite----TOO BAD! All the corn would be gone.

The next morning, before the sun had shown its face, the warriors of the animal tribe all assembled to go after the enemy, to punish them and take back their corn. Little Brother Field Mouse was there, too, in his best feathers and warpaint. The night before, he had said his prayers to the setting sun and had danced all around the kiva while the elders and braves made their war talk. His bow had a brand new plaited string on it and all his arrows were sharp. Coyote looked at the little mouse and laughed.

"Where do YOU think you're going?" He sneered.

"I'm going to help my tribe get back our winter stores,"

Little Brother Fieldmouse said, surprised someone should ask - Was he not a member of the tribe, too? But Coyote gave him a shove and said,

"You must stay here. You are too small---someone might step on you! You can help the old ones and the mothers and babies. You would just be in the way if you went with us."

Shamed, and not wanting anyone to see his tears, Little Brother Fieldmouse ran over to a hill where he liked to play. He wanted to hide. As he lay there in the dark, he began to hear voices. There were many bad human beings hiding there with fast horses and plenty of weapons. The mouse crept closer and turned his big ears toward the talkers. They spoke softly but he could hear every word.

"Let us sleep until the sun rises, and as soon as it is light we will ride down and take all the harvest in the fields and what the animals have stored for winter. It's ridiculous for a bunch of animals to have better food than we people have to eat! Ho-hum! A little sleep will be nice while the animal braves go on down the trail."

The other men laughed and agreed; and all rolled up in their blankets to sleep for awhile.

The little mouse didn't know what to do! If he ran after the braves, all the food would be gone by the time they got back. If he didn't do anything, everybody would starve when winter came. Then Brother Field Mouse got MAD.

" I may be small but at least I am in the right place,"

he thought." I may not be a raiding party but I can do something!"

He ran in and chewed holes in all their moccasins and gnawed the lacings that held them on. He chewed their bowstrings in two and nibbled the feathers on the arrows so they would not fly true; He ruined the thongs that held up their breechclouts and even chewed up the straps that held their hair out of their faces. Then he ran to the horses and chewed all their hobbles and groundstraps. He nipped their tender ankles with his sharp little teeth, and the ponies ran away in the darkness. They didn't stop until they were back at home. Because his was a righteous cause, Great Spirit heard Mouse's prayers and granted him strength and speed. He managed to chew holes in or ruin everything that mattered and to frighten the ponies so they ran away.

When the sleeping braves heard their horses screaming and running away, they jumped to their feet to rush out and do battle, certain that the animal braves had doubled back to surprise them. Their moccasins fell off their feet, and worse than that, their breechclouts fell down around their ankles. Their hair spilled into their eyes and they couldn't see what they were doing, so of course, they ran madly into thier own tribesmen. Thinking they were the enemy, the men flailed wildly at one another with their broken weapons, and rolled around on the ground hitting each other. By the time the sun came up and they could see clearly, the whole bunch was black and blue.

There was nothing to do but trudge homeward, holding up their clothing and limping on feet that were sore from the holes in their mocs allowing thorns and sharp rocks to cut them. They hid whenever the animals came back perplexed at not finding the enemy at their camp. The defeated braves spread a story in all directions about ghost warriors who protected the animal tribe at night and they were safe. Nobody in their right mind wanted to tangle with night spirits.

And so, the smallest member of the clan wound up being the one to save it. Although he was not very strong, he used the gifts he had-those of excellent hearing, speed, planning and above all, his sharp, strong teeth.

So, boys and girls, you may be small and not too strong,

but never let anybody tell you that you cannot make a difference. Stand up for what you know is right and do your part to protect our loved ones from harm. The Great Spirit will give you strength and confuse your enemies, and like in Little Brother Fieldmouse's case, the battle can be won by the least of the tribe.