I have seen this image of a rock formation that looks like a giant elephant dipping it’s trunk into a river many times online, but never heard the myth the locals tell to explain how it came to be. The first thing it made me think about, as a fantasy writer, is how legends about local landforms can help add texture and depth to my invented worlds.
The second thing it made me think about is how modern Americans don’t really have a mythic connection to our land. The stories we tell about our canyons and mountain peaks and winding rivers are geological — just as fascinating, if you like science, but far less personal. I am always intrigued when I learn indigenous stories about geographic features, such as the Legend of Tahquitz, which I heard the first time I visited Idyllwild, Calif., some fifteen years ago. I wonder about the people who first told these stories, and if they really believed them, or if they were just using the stories to teach lessons, and to create a sense of connection with the past and within their own communities.
I tend to think the later, especially when consider the creation of new myths within Modern America — while we maybe don’t make up stories about geography, we do tell stories that take on life of their own, such as Michigan’s Dancing Snow God, who made his way into the world just 50 years ago. Read on to learn more about all these mythic origin stories — I encourage clicking through to read the sources, too (listed at the bottom of each section) because I just couldn’t copy enough to capture the full flavor of each story.
Do you know any mythic stories that are tied to where you live? I’d love to hear them in the comments!
The Emperor’s Elephant
“In the very far past, it seems, the Emperor of Heaven looked down and did not like what he saw. He decided that he would conquer Earth and would lead his army atop an enormous war elephant. He worked the elephant so hard during his campaign that it became exhausted and was close to death.
“It arrived at the confluence of the two rivers and was discovered by local farmers. They slowly nursed the elephant back to full health, despite their lands being ravaged by a famine caused by the Emperor. The elephant was so grateful that it decided to stay with the farmers and help them plough their fields.
“When the Emperor discovered the elephant’s betrayal as punishment he thrust his sword deep in to its back, turning it to stone. The centuries old pagoda on the hill is a symbol of the sword. The grip is visible, the guard and pommel embedded with the blade deep inside the animal.
“Yet this was not the end for the kind-hearted elephant. It vowed, as it turned to stone, to guard over the city and welcome its guests for all time.”
The Banished Shaman
“The way the Agua Caliente band of Cahuillas tells it, shaman Tahquitz first practiced his healing art with good effect, controlling the food supply and weather and curing disease by sucking out the evil with his mouth and blowing it away.
“But gradually and mysteriously, evil seeped into his heart. He began to wreak havoc on his people by causing illness and discomfort and making the animals leave the canyon. Soon his name inspired fear. For using his supernatural powers for harm rather than good, he was banished from the tribe.
“Scaling the granite cliffs, he made his home in a cave at the far end of the canyon, beneath a 1,000-foot boulder that eventually would be called Tahquitz Rock by the Indians and Lily Rock by white settlers in the town of Idyllwild.”
A Dancing Snow God
“Enter David Riutta—a radio DJ in Hancock and one of the region’s many Finnish-Americans. Translating the name of his favorite country singer Hank Snow into Finnish, Riutta came up with a snow god named “Heikki Lunta,” the subject of his novelty song ‘Heikki Lunta’s Snow Dance.’
“‘Now I’ll sing my song to make the snow come down,’ Riutta sings, as Heikki, in an exaggeratedly deep, booming voice. ‘And I’ll do my dance/Whoops, I almost lost my pants!’ Despite the folksy humor, the song is slow and dirgelike, almost like an incantation. No wonder that, according to local legend, snow fell so voluminously after Riutta played his ‘Snow Dance’ that the snowmobile race had to be canceled, leading him to write and record another song called ‘Heikki Lunta Go Away.’ ‘If I don’t stop [dancing]/Look out–here comes a snowball filled with rocks!’ sings Riutta in his thunderous Heikki voice.”