Native American Legends
Ableegumooch, The Lazy Rabbit
An Algonquin Legend
In the Old Time, Ableegumooch the rabbit was Glooscap's
forest guide, and helped wayfarers lost in the woods. However, as
time went on, the people and animals learned to find their own way
in the forest and didn't need the rabbit's services as much.
Ableegumooch grew fat and lazy. If there was something easy and
fun to do, he did it. If a thing were difficult or tiring, he did
not. But that is no way to keep a wigwam stocked with food.
Often, poor old Noogumee (a term of respect amongst Indians for
any elderly female), his grandmother, with whom he lived, had to
hunt for food herself, or they would have gone hungry. And no matter
how much she scolded him, Ableegumooch refused to change his ways.
Glooscap, far away in his lodge on Blomidon, saw that the rabbit
was becoming a thoroughly useless creature. He must be warned against
the dangers of laziness. So, wasting no time, Glooscap descended
from his lodge to the beach in three huge strides, launched his
canoe, and paddled across the Bay of Fundy to the shore near the
rabbit's home.
It was a fine bright morning, the air cool and tasting of salt,
as it always does in the Maritime Provinces. And presently along
hopped the rabbit, singing with fine spirit:
"It's a lovely day to do nothing, nothing, all the day through!"
He paid no attention to the tasty leaves and berries he might have
been gathering for dinner. He was much more interested in watching
other people work. There was Miko the squirrel scampering up the
big maple tree, his cheeks bulged out with nuts, pausing only long
enough to scold Ableegumooch for coming too near his storehouse.
There was Mechipchamooech the bumble bee, busy at the goldenrod,
gathering honey for his hive. And there was Teetees the blue jay,
flying worms to his family in the big pine. It was all so interesting
that Ableegumooch stopped beside a stately fir tree to enjoy the
scene. Suddenly behind him, he heard a voice.
"Ableegumooch, be careful!"
The rabbit jumped and whirled about, but there was nobody there.
The voice spoke again, from somewhere over his head.
"Take care, Ableegumooch, or your lazy ways will bring you
pain and sorrow."
The rabbit looked up and saw the fir tree shake like a leaf in
a storm, yet not a breath of wind stirred. Frightened out of his
wits, he ran--and he never stopped running until he was safe at
home, where he told his grandmother what had happened.
"Glooscap has given you a warning," said his grand mother.
"Be sure to obey him, grandson, or you will be sorry."
The rabbit's legs were still trembling from fright and exertion,
and he promised at once that he would take care to mend his lazy
ways in future. And indeed, for a while, he went busily about his
hunting and kept the wigwam well stocked with food. But, when autumn
came, he grew lazy again and went back to his old careless ways.
"It's a lovely day to do nothing, nothing, all the day through!"
So sang Ableegumooch as he sauntered through the glory of autumn
trees. Noogumee begged and scolded and pleaded, but he continued
to spend more time visiting his neighbors than gathering food. One
day, when winter had come to the land, he came to the wigwam of
Keoonik the otter. Keoonik politely asked him to dine, and the rabbit
promptly accepted. Keoonik turned to his elderly house keeper and
addressed her in the usual native's fashion:
"Noogumee, prepare the meal."
Then he took some fishhooks and went off, the rabbit hopping along
behind, curious to see what he was going to do. Keoonik sat on the
snowy bank of the river and slid down an icy path into the water.
In a moment, he reappeared with a string of eels which he carried
to his grandmother, and she promptly cooked them for dinner.
"Gracious!" thought Ableegumooch. "If that isn't
an easy way to get a living. I can do that as well as Keoonik,"
and he invited the otter to be his guest at dinner on the following
day. Then he hurried home.
"Come," he said to his grandmother, "we are going
to move our lodge down to the river." And in spite of all she
could say, he insisted on moving it. Noogumee reminded him that
the wigwam was empty of food, and he ought to be out hunting, but
Ableegumooch paid no attention. He was busy making a slide like
Keoonik's. The weather was cold, so all he had to do was pour water
down the snowy bank, where it soon froze, and there was his fishing
slide. Early next day, the guest arrived. When it was time for dinner,
Ableegumooch said to his grandmother:
"Noogumee, prepare the meal."
"There is nothing to prepare," said she, sadly.
"Oh, I will see to that," said the rabbit with a confident
laugh, and he took his place at the top of the slide to go fishing.
When he tried to push off, however, he found it was not so easy.
His coat was rough and bulky and dry, not smooth and slippery like
the otter's. He had to wriggle and push with his heels until at
last he slid down and plunged into the water. The cold took his
breath quite away, and he suddenly remembered he was unable to swim.
Struggling and squealing, he thought no more of fishing, for he
was in great danger of drowning.
"What on earth is the matter with him?" Keoonik asked
the grandmother.
"I suppose he has seen someone else do that," sighed
Noogumee, "and he thinks he can do it too."
Keoonik helped the freezing, half-drowned rabbit out of the water
and, since there was nothing to eat, went home hungry and disgusted.
But do you think that cold bath cured Ableegumooch? Not at all.
The very next day, as he ran idly through the forest, he came to
the lodge of some female woodpeckers. He was delighted when these
woodpeckers invited him to dinner.
He watched eagerly to see how they found food.
One of the woodpeckers took a dish, went up the side of an old
beech tree and quickly dug out a plentiful supply of food, which
was cooked and placed before the rabbit.
"My, oh my!" thought Ableegumooch. "How easily some
people get a living. What is to prevent me from getting mine in
that fashion?" And he told the woodpeckers they must come and
dine with him.
On the day following, they appeared at the rabbit's lodge and Ableegumooch
said to his grandmother importantly:
"Noogumee, prepare the meal."
"You foolish rabbit," said she, "there is nothing
to prepare."
"Make the fire," said the rabbit grandly, "and I
shall see to the rest."
He took the stone point from an eel spear and fastened it on his
head in imitation of a woodpecker's bill, then climbed a tree and
began knocking his head against it. Soon his head was bruised and
bleeding, and he lost his hold and fell to the earth with a tremendous
crash. The woodpeckers could not keep from laughing.
"Pray what was he doing up there?"
"I suppose he has seen someone else do that," said Noogumee,
shaking her head, "and thinks he can do it too." And she
advised them to go home, as there would be no food for them there
that day.
Now, sore as he was, you would certainly think the rabbit had learned
his lesson. Yet, a day or two later, he was idling in the woods
as usual when he came upon Mooin the Bear, who invited him to dinner.
He was greatly impressed at the way in which the bear got his meal.
Mooin merely took a sharp knife and cut small pieces off the soles
of his feet. These he placed in a kettle on the fire, and in a short
while they enjoyed a delicious meal.
"This must be the easiest way of all to get a dinner,"
marveled Ableegumooch, and he invited Mooin to dine with him next
day. Now what the rabbit did not know was that the bears preserve
food on their feet. They press ripe blueberries with their paws
and, after the cakes have dried upon them, cut bits off to eat.
The silly rabbit thought Mooin had actually cut pieces off his paws!
At the appointed time, Ableegumooch ordered his grand mother to
prepare the meal, and when she said there was nothing to prepare,
he told her to put the kettle on and he would do the rest. Then
he took a stone knife and began to cut at his feet as he had seen
Mooin do. But oh dear me, it hurt. It hurt dreadfully! With tears
streaming down his cheeks, he hacked and hacked, first at one foot
and then at the other. Mooin the Bear was greatly astonished.
"What on earth is the fellow trying to do?" he asked.
Noogumee shook her head dismally.
"It is the same old thing. He has seen someone else do this."
"Well!" said Mooin crossly, "It is most insulting
to be asked to dinner and get nothing to eat. The trouble with that
fellow is-- he's lazy!" and he went home in a huff.
Then at last, Ableegumooch, nursing his sore feet, remembered what
Glooscap had said. All at once, he saw how silly he had been.
"Oh dear!" he said. "My own ways of getting food
are hard, but others' are harder. I shall stick to my own in the
future," and he did.
From then on, the wigwam of Ableegumooch and his grandmother was
always well stored with food, winter and summer, and though he still
sings, his song has changed:
"It's a wiser thing to be busy, busy, Constantly!
And far away on Blomidon, Glooscap, seeing his foolish rabbit mend
his ways at last, set a light to his pipe and smoked contentedly.
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