Coyote and the Council

Coyote had called yet another council meeting.

I was getting rather disturbed by it all. One can only do so much about the natural order and the food chain. And even Coyote was annoyed by all the meetings; a millennium of punishment for being too much of an incarnation of chaos, and not enough of a clever problem solver, that may or may not disturb the rules set by Father Sun and Mother Moon, was taking its toll. Yes, this is why there are so many names for deities. One word just doesn't sum them up; they're too complicated for that. Their names become some sort of hollow place holder. It's complicated. Coyote once tried explaining it to me, and we ended up debating the nature of what constitutes an egg for six days.

But I digress.

Speaking of eggs, that was the problem. Even personifications of ideal animals have duties, and my mate and I were busy finishing a nest for the eggs that were due at any moment.

And she was having none of this nonsense any more. "You go. I'm tired of the same discussion over and over. It will change nothing. We need to eat, rest, hunt, and feed our soon-to-be nestlings. You can go and represent us both, because these eggs will come at any moment, and I certainly won't lay them at the exposed council plateau!"

We heard a disappointed hissssss in the tree's branches. Black Snake's head poked out from the branches. "Ah, Raccoon and I were taking betsss as to whom could have your firssst laying. Now we will have to sssettle with Foxss, who hasss bet correctly that you would refussse the ssssummonsss."

"And you had better move on, and take the trash panda with you, or you will regret it." My mate can be a bit touchy with eggs making her gravid, and she snapped her bill a few times to drive the point home. There was a shimmer, and the leaves swung back to their original position. Farther to the end of the branch, a second shimmer and leaf rustle showed Raccoon's leaving.

Never mess with my mate when she’s broody.

A hooting chuckle floated down from a higher broken branch, and Owl also vanished. His mate, deep in the cavity left from the branch, was also hoot-muttering imprecations about councils and useless meetings.

Such is life at the World Tree.

I vanished, to appear in my seat in the feathered section of the Council roosts. We used to have to climb the mesa on our own legs, but creatures like Frog and Butterfly and Hummingbird rightfully complained. Coyote did away with that when Bison and Wolf bitterly protested the carts they'd literally been saddled with. I, of course, didn't see the problem till it was pointed out, and agreed to the modifications of tradition. Shrew and Wren hiding on my back, nestled against the feathers, urging Opossum to join them, might have had something to do with it as well.

It was as we guessed, of course. Coyote on his rock, looking exasperated, as Mouse’s tribe covered the whole floor of the open area, sobbing and wailing and crying at the top of their squeaky voices, railing against the natural order. Again.

"You eat too many of us!"

"Even the humans won't share their food with us anymore!"

"Find other food! Fish! Rabbits! Grubs!"

"Bring back the old days, when we were avoided!"

Cougar huffed at that. "What, back when you caused plagues? Is that what you want?"

Bear growled. "If everyone eats fish, fish die out. Your children can cover the open area of the valley end to end."

Monarch Butterfly's voice was tiny, but heard all the same. "You are not endangered. I am. I am not complaining at all the things that eat my children."

Mourning Dove snort-cooed. "I need to have six to eight clutches of chicks a year to produce two that live to adults, and you're complaining about your measly rates?”

Deer growled. “We have been over and over this! Stop calling full Council meetings! We have young to raise! Go away, accept your fate as prey!”

At this, the mice wailed dramatically. A few fainted.

The rumbles and roars from the assembly forced Coyote to stand. “This is getting us nowhere. We will return this winter to the subject, when those who harvest have gathered all and the sleepers have not yet denned. I will talk to many of you individually, at your convenience, through the spring and summer. Mice, return to your nests, and do your best.”

The leader squeaked derisively. “Or we will take this in our own paws!” And he and his followers vanished.

Most animals laughed at the audacity and also vanished, but me and Owl and Fox worked our way down to Coyote to talk.

Coyote was irritated. “What in the world is going on?” he complained. “I have half a mind to eat him next Council, and settle the matter!”

I chuckled at that. “Seems to me I heard the same, long years ago, only you were the one complaining, and Father Sun said the same about you. And so began a punishment that still reaches to today. And I am still suffering my punishment, and cannot help as directly as I would like.”

Fox looked at me askance. “Do I want to know what you’re plotting? That whole sun, moon, and pine needle thing was too far-fetched to work, but it did. What were you thinking?”

Owl hooted. “Long shots. Inestimable odds. The one-in-a-million complicated plot that succeeds beyond all comprehension, and the rest of us who conserve our plans and pluck mutter, ‘The lucky bastards.’”

Coyote sighed. “So, what you are you saying? Not direct action, but no overblown plot with so many moving parts that the whole thing collapses under the weight of absurdity? Ah, Owl, some days you are no fun.”

“And you are head of Council, and must be prudent.”

“Hmph. Details, details.” Coyote looked at me, and his eyes narrowed. “What do you know about Mouse? He seems... secretive, for such a tiny thing.”

I coughed, nodded at Fox.

Fox spoke. “I know you do not pay much attention to the humans, but perhaps you should.”

Coyote flicked an irritated ear.

“I am serious. Those humans down river? The ones digging in the earth? They have boxes of stuff that shakes the valley, makes big holes.”

Coyote nodded. “Dynamite. From China, thanks ever so much, Monkey King. Buddha has him imprisoned for the moment, for that and other offenses.”

“But much of their stock of the dy-nah-mite has vanished. Much swearing, hitting each other, calls of laziness and distraction. I have watched Mouse, watching them. And dragging many red stick-things back to his burrow.”

I felt sick. “At the base of the World Tree.”

Coyote’s fur paled. “He wouldn’t – he can’t - “

“Says the one who stole all the water to get revenge, and later was mocked by his own turd. For not being able to catch salmon.”

“Hunh.” I hadn’t spoken much, so they turned to me. I had the spark of an idea. Yes, I am under a punishment, but I can still do... some things. I looked at Fox. “Brother, did you bathe before coming?”

He looked affronted. “Why, no, but-”

“Excellent. Grab some moss, will you? Let’s go to the river-”

Later, we put our plan into action.

We stuffed the moss full of some human food, and staged a rather impressive fight between myself, Fox, and Owl, at the base of the tree. As expected, with all of us “busy” fighting each other, Mouse scurried in and stole the tidbit, and took it into his nest.

We faded into the brush around the tree, or into the lower branches, and waited with all our kin we’d summoned.

Sure enough, Flea and all his kin that we’d gathered from Fox had jumped out of the moss and started biting every mouse they could find. The squeaks reached a frenzied, fevered pitch, and they came tumbling out. They looked more like angry ants than mice.

And we all pounced.

Normally, we do not coordinate attacks like this. My kin and children may be attacked and eaten, because there is a balance, and it must be maintained. But when a mouse threatens to blow up the World Tree because he doesn’t like the balance, well, then rules be damned.

Coyote had agreed, and was watching.

Foxes, fishers, coyotes, wolves were there. Hawks, ravens, herons, owls, even crows and blue jays swooped in, and we fiercely attacked any mice we saw.

It was a war.

And we ate the losers.

Don’t worry, the fleas had already jumped to our legs by the time we ate the mice. That was part of the deal we made with them, to drive them out of their burrow. They could use us as hosts for a few months, if they did so painlessly. When they became a nuisance, we’d use Fox’s trick to remove them – talking a swim with a piece of moss, slowly getting wetter and wetter, moving the fleas up to the moss pad we held in our jaws, till only our nose was showing and they were all on the moss, and then we’d just... let go. And they would get a lovely raft ride, and we’d be flea free. Unless, of course, they jumped off us early and found another host.

Fox trotted up, mouth bloody, panting. “No one’s seen Mouse,” he panted.

My mate croaked from on high, watching alertly. “He never appeared. Either he wasn’t inside, or...”

I snarled. “He’s still inside, planning on somehow lighting the dynamite.”

Flea appeared on my beak. “Oh, he’s still in there, with the lieutenants of his own Council! He’s telling them to stand firm, and soon they will blow us to smithereens!”

Coyote appeared, looking murderous. “Where did he learn such language?” he snarled.

Owl sighed. “Humans, most likely. That box they stare at, all the time, with the noises and glowing moving things, like real life, only small.”

“Hmph. Television. If I find out which one of the trickster gods put that idea in Baird’s head, I will pay them a painful visit. So, how to get them out and away from it?”

A voice came from the grass. “If you do not attack us, we will gladly help. The World Tree is our home, too.”

We stared. A snout poked out, followed by a dark black rippling furry body. Vole.

He and his mate bared their teeth, fury in every line. Their children followed. “Let us go in after them, and let the snakes take them when they appear, but spare us!”

Coyote nodded. “We agree, little fierce ones. Good luck in battle!” The voles grinned, showing their nasty teeth, and swarmed down the hole.

Silence.

Screams!

Shrieks, wails, squeaking. Those of us who had to suffer through so many Councils knew those voices, hated them. Black Snake, Rattlesnake, Indigo Snake, Corn Snake, and so many others waited at the entrance, coiled in such a way that spoke death to what would appear.

And we heard them come.

The snakes were very, very careful. They picked their targets meticulously, selecting the gray-furred bodies and letting the black-furred ones go. Small wonder lightning strikes were shown as snakes in the Old Ones’ paintings, because that’s exactly what it looked like. Flash, snap, and a mouse was coiled in a deadly grip that ended with fangs.

My mate croaked a warning.

Of course Mouse would try to flee by a side hole.

I flap-jumped, pumping my wings furiously. Coyote was right behind me as I wheeled around, spinning in air, feeling for the drafts that spiraled up the slope the World Tree had wrapped around itself. Sure enough, a tufted tail, wiggling frantically, a mouse, larger than the others, pulling a smooth red stick out of the burrow with its teeth.

I dove, beak first.

A loud squeak, then nothing.

Coyote tried to warn me as Mouse’s body slid down my throat, but it was too late. Now, I know why eating the other leaders is forbidden.

I had all of Mouse’s knowledge, all of his memories.

I knew. I should not know. I should...

Coyote nosed me gently. “I am sorry, Raven. I should have warned you. I wanted to take that burden for myself, because I may have done this very thing a time or two before. It will fade, but it will take long and long. Eventually another Mouse will appear, be born, but be different. Better, we hope.”

I was lost in dual memories, mine, and Mouse’s. Odd thoughts swam around. “Oh, that Irish thing with the salmon, this-”

“Yes, this. It will get easier to bear. Give yourself time.”

I had a very sudden urge to eat some dry seeds.

Another thought. “Will I be punished?” I whispered.

“Isn’t what you’re experiencing punishment enough?”

“Fair.” So disorienting. I wanted to run from myself, hide in the tall grass.

Coyote tapped a wing to bring it to my attention. “Fly up to your mate, Raven. Sleep, if you can. I will deal with the mess down here, and tonight I will send Barn Owl to soothe your dreams. You are strong, and you will not let this destroy you. You are of the skies, not the ground, and you will learn to love the clouds once more.” I nodded as he nudged me to fly, and I flapped awkwardly to my mate and her beautiful nest. She preened my neck as I settled beside it, fighting with everything I had to not burrow into the twigs.

We watched from above. Vole directed his people, and they slowly, so carefully, brought out the sticks of dynamite. Coyote shifted his shape to something human-like, gathered them all in a sack that appeared out of nowhere, and slung the laden bag over his shoulder to return them to the camp. “Or not,” he shrugged. “Mother Earth doesn’t need more holes. Perhaps I will do something with them myself...” And off he went, looking like a were-Claus.

Vole was licking his chops delightedly. “We got the pups as our share!” he shrilled, and the gathered creatures thanked him for his people’s help. And gave him some distance, because his kind are quite bloodthirsty.

My mate made an odd noise. “I wonder what punishment Mouse will face, for doing these things?”

I contemplated my own fate. “Using human things to destroy the World Tree and all the creatures in and around it, holding the Council hostage, and attempting to disrupt the natural order given to us by Father Sun and Mother Moon... I would not want to be him, and in a way, I am him. It is more than enough.”

“But you will get better, and we will raise these nestlings well. I laid eight, you know.”

“Eight!” We will have quite a full nest!

She cocked her head at me. “We will get through this. I have stayed with you through your punishment, and this is no worse. I know you, my clever guardian. When you have gotten some balance, you will nibble away at those memories and glean what information you can, and it will help our people. Likely all peoples, knowing you. For now, if you do most of the sitting, I will do the hunting. But you will become like your old self soon, my tricksy mate. Give it time.”

I saw Coyote return from his dynamite errand. We nodded to each other, like old war veterans.

Is that what we’ve become? Old?

I stared at Father Sun. Is that how he feels?

The only answer I received was a sudden strong beam of light that washed over me, and was gone.

I felt a little better.

Barn Owl would come, but in the meantime, I just may take a nap in the sun.