Mythology Feature: Coyote

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I grew up reading every book on mythology I could find at the library, and one of my favorite recurring characters was Coyote. As I continue the task of researching these stories to fuel my own modern reinterpretations, I also enjoy seeing how others have done the same thing. Here are just a few appearances I have enjoyed in many different mediums.

Previous mythology feature: Wendigo

Wendigo Inspiration Feature - Art and GroupsWhen life is stressing me out two of my favorite things to do are research something I've developed an obsession with and think of ways to bring a little happiness into someone else's day.
Back in October I put together a journal I hoped would be educational, a look into the traditional characteristics of the mythological wendigo monster and some ways it has appeared in stories, comics, cartoons, movies, and TV shows. This time I will feature some people here who have added their own interpretations to the growing awareness of this obscure myth.
The first journal providing definitions and examples can be found here http://leonca.deviantart.com/journal/Myth-to-Modern-Media-Wendigo-261540414
Art

As a perfectionist, I can't help but admire people who can create sketches that are so loose and yet so full of life. There is something captivatingly scary about the face and the phrase that goes with it Myth to Modern Media: WendigoAs promised in my last journal, here is the result of my research into how this mythical monster has been interpreted in modern stories. I love seeing how mythology and folk lore impacts modern culture. The wendigo is not as well known as other supernatural beings I have studied in the past, such as werewolves, but the variety of interpretations is just as impressive.
Since this is an essay-like journal I may clean it up later and submit it with more examples as a deviation. Still not sure if there would be any benefit in that. This type of analysis-based writing is fun, so I may continue later with more reviews of the Batman comics I own featuring the Scarecrow.
Different Native American tribes have variations on the wendigo, so all of these features will not necessarily be present in any given story. References are The Manitous: The Spiritual World of the Ojibway (Basil Johnston), Where the Chill Came From: Cree Windigo Tales and Journeys (Howard Norman), and Windigo: An Anthology of

Traditional Stories

Iktome, Coyote, and the Rock www.firstpeople.us/FP-Html-Leg… One of my childhood favorites for the cartoonish nature of Coyote's comeuppance.

Iktomi and the Coyote. web.utk.edu/~gwhitney/tales/in… A "don't count your chickens before they hatch" story.

The Talking Laxative Bulb. hotcakencyclopedia.com/ho.Tric… Possibly the most bathroom-humor packed myth I've ever come across. It shocked and fascinated my little grade-school mind to discover a version of it in one of my lit class textbooks.

Coyote's Name. www.firstpeople.us/FP-Html-Leg… One of many tales collected in Coyote Stories, by Mourning Dove www.amazon.com/Coyote-Stories-…

My balls for your dinner? www.firstpeople.us/FP-Html-Leg… I saw a live action version of this one in some anthology show (possibly on PBS?) when I was a child, but I can't remember the name or find any references to it.

The Eye Trick jaie.asu.edu/sp/V21S2coy.htm Coyote learning how to shoot his eyes out of his head and the resulting disaster of irresponsibility appears in many different versions.

New Stories
Coyote MagpieDon't you try to say I didn't warn you.
You ignored the coyote's howl,
ignored the cracking of twigs behind you.
Will I see your blood shining in the trees
at the next black crow moon?
I may be a coward
but so are you.
Coyote mother—
wandering and weary thing—
gives fading winter a smile,
laughs at the valleys of the earth that feed her
with a mouth full of teeth
clean with bone-crunching.
I could be a train
with the way that cities
all start to look the same,
with the way I spend my mornings
like a magpie
gathering map pieces in my claws.
I keep a witch's cupboard,
a magpie's nest full of strings.
One night when you slept
I threaded a red one into your chest
and if I wanted it to
my string would bring your heart back to me—
warm and beating in your chest
or otherwise.
Don't you try to say I didn't warn you.
I remember days
that don't belong to me.
I remember houses on the river—
a day in May that was too pale a yellow:
much too windy
and not quite warm enough.
Like Coyote and the SunSit yourselves down for a tale about Coyote and how he tricked the Sun into making the Moon and the Stars.
Now as you well know Coyote is the king of tricksters.  Every creature has its own story of how it was cheated, fooled and swindled by the old dog, but one day Coyote grew bored.  After all he had cheated fooled and swindled everyone, who was left for him to test his wits against, who to give his cunning a challenge?  Looking up to the sky he opened his mouth to ask the creator, the Sun, but his cry died stillborn and a fierce grin spread across his pointed teeth.
"Who better to test my mettle against than a God?" thought Coyote to himself and panting a laugh he loped off to hatch his scheme.
As the Sun fell beyond the horizon, his daily trip drawing to an end and every part of the world having been observed, there came a curious howling.  Echoing mournful across the hills and rattling the boughs of old Tree the Sun paused, curious and expec How Brush Wolf became CoyoteShe Wolf sat on a ridge overlooking the forest. She had recently given birth to a litter of cubs, but one of them fell prey to an eagle that morning, and She Wolf blamed herself for what happened. The wind blew through the grasses and made the pine trees rustle and the wild flowers shimmer, but above the soft rustling there was the sound of whimpering. She Wolf followed it until she came to a burrow, and in it lay a little pup. It looked like the young of a wolf, yet it was much smaller. It looked up at her with half-closed eyes, and began to whine.
"Sorry, little one," said She Wolf. "You are not a wolf, so therefore I must kill you." But it looked so helpless, just like her own children, that She Wolf could not bring herself to kill it. Instead, she gently gathered it in her jaws and brought it back home.
"What is that?" The other wolves gathered round the tiny creature and sniffed it with their wet, black noses. "It looks rather runty to me."
But First Wolf - the leader of the pack Coyote and the StarsThe sky was dark and the moon hung low in the sky over the desert landscape. The few trees were bare now, the world was entering winter, and a few patches of snow clung to the ground under the under the scarce blades of grass.
Coyote trotted along the path, his ears perked and tail high. The chill in the air didn't bother him and the breeze brought a familiar scent floating to his nose. He stopped in his tracks, and turned his head toward the smell to take a deep whiff. Beaver. He'd seen head nor tail of Beaver since the last time they'd played tricks. And the thought that he may have caught the scent of Beaver's den made his blood race. It was, after all, his turn to make Beaver look a fool. Coyote turned his nose to the ground and followed the trail.
Lost in Beaver's scent, he traveled off the path and deep into the desert. He moved around a few bushes and was nearly stabbed by a low growing cactus, but never veered far enough to lose the odor of his friendly foe. Soon he'd lost trac Coyote's LoverJacob followed the music into a bar. He'd been exploring downtown Phoenix and found himself walking an area that seemed mainly to be inhabited by artsy types. That's where he'd heard the music coming from the open door of a bar called the Navajo Blanket. It was some kind of combination of alternative rock and traditional Native American drum music, and the woman singing had one hell of a voice.
On his way in, he noticed an amateurish poster taped up next to the door. It was printed in black-and-white, but on fuchsia paper, with a picture of what was probably the band—only recognizable because of their basically human shapes. The band name, "Coyote Told Me Stories" blazed across the top in one of those fonts that was supposed to look like handwriting. Below the picture was a schedule of gigs and the words, "Storytelling in the Great Oral Tradition!"
As a talent manager, Jacob had been in thousands of bars, and this one looked just like all the others: bar along one wall, scuffed ch The Story of Sad CoyoteHot Cat, the desert orphan, was raised by Marianne's granmama in the years before he learned to speak the proper language of the valley.  She said to him, in the hisses and grunts of his foreign land,  “come to my house so that I can raise you like a proper desert boy.”
When Hot Cat came to her hovel, she told him the story of Sad Coyote, who was a hyena when you told the story in the hot plains, and a fox when you told it in a cold place.  The story was never told in the deep jungle.
Sad Coyote was brought up in a normal family.  He was taught to stalk the slowest squirrels, and how to trick a bear, and how to grin mischievously.  All these duties he performed well, because he was a good coyote.  He was a faithful son, so he snuck from his den to find women while his parents pretended not to see.  He became very quiet and waited on quail runs, just to spook proud bobcat.  He ate fermented berries

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