Sunday morning….not exactly thundering….certainly no thunderstorms….but I thought I would post about Thunderbirds….
To Native Americans, the Thunderbird was usually a friend to humans, a benevolent spirit being seen as the source of wisdom. The Anishinaabe stated that the eyes of the Thunderbird flashed with fire, his glance engendered lightning, and the flapping of his wings produced thunder. The Algonkian tribes (the Ojibwa among them) believed the Thunderbird to be a benign nature spirit. The Kwakiutl said the Thunderbird taught them how to build houses. The Assiniboine claimed the wise old Thunderbird never harmed or killed anyone. The Thunderbird features prominently in Native American art. In the 1970s Canada issued several postage stamps depicting traditional Native American images of the Thunderbird.
From http://www.pibburns.com/cryptost/thunderb.htm.
From http://chanchanchepon.blogspot.com/2007_03_01_archive.html.
From http://www.printfection.com/isadorewadow.
Various Thunderbird themed paintings by Norval Morrisseau (appropriate as his name was Copper Thunderbird) , fromhttp://norvalmorrisseaublog.blogspot.ca/2010_04_24_archive.html.
From http://ppaintinga.com/norval-morrisseau-paintings/.
Thunderbird by David Morrisseau, fromhttp://www.geocities.ws/claimtoframe/dmorrisseau.html.
Thunderbird by Christrain Morrisseau,http://www.artworldofsherway.com/Featured%20Artists/ChristianM/Collection/23021ChristianM.htm.
From Nanabozhoo And The Thunderbirds written by Mark Sakry:
Once when the earth was very young, the spirit-child Nanabozhoo was born. His father was the wind. His mother walked the earth among human beings, alone. She had powers she did not know. All the earth spirits were afraid, for they knew the powers of Nanabozhoo. His mother disappeared into the air the instant he was born, so Nanabozhoo lived with the old woman he called Grandmother. They lived alone on the shore of Lake Superior. As he grew older, Nanabozhoo helped his grandmother. He brought her fish and mushrooms and wild roots. One day, when he was a young man, Nanabozhoo asked his grandmother; “What is the greatest fish in the lake?” “Do not ask me that question,” she replied, “for he is a very large fish who could do you much harm!” Nanabozhoo asked, “Can he not be killed and eaten like other fish?” “No,” his grandmother replied, “for he lives deep in the water off the edge of that cliff. No one has ever had the wisdom to reach him. He is very powerful!” Nanabozhoo thought a long time about the great fish. He climbed to the top of the cliff and sat for many days. He stared down into Lake Superior. Then, suddenly, one day the Wind spoke, and he climbed back down from the cliff. Nanabozhoo fashioned a great bow of ash and an arrow of cedar to kill the fish. Then Nanabozhoo went to his grandmother and asked, “Grandmother; do you know of any bird whose feathers will make this arrow fly forcefully?” “You are impertinent,” she scolded. “The only bird is one who lives in the sky beyond that cloud. You would have to go there to get the feathers you want.” Nanabozhoo had to have those feathers. He went again to the top of the cliff to find a way to get them. After a time, the shadow of a great eagle-like bird passed over him. It was Thunderbird. Nanabozhoo, being very artful, changed into a small rabbit. The bird swooped to kill him. “Thunderbird, stop!” cried Nanabozhoo. “Am I not truly an artful little creature? Would I not make a good playmate for your fledglings?” Thunderbird landed next to Nanabozhoo. Truly, he was a clever rabbit. He said, “I will not kill you. Instead I will bring you to my children to be their playmate.” Then Thunderbird swept Nanabozhoo away to his nest in the sky. When he got to the nest, Thunderbird said to his fledglings, “I have brought you a very clever rabbit to play with.” And he gave them the rabbit. His wife said, “Do you not know Nanabozhoo the man-spirit is on the earth? Are you so foolish that you bring him here? Why did you bring this rabbit?” Then Nanabozhoo pretended to sleep and he let the fledglings do what they wanted to him. Thunderbird said, “Is he not truly an artful creature, after all? You mustn’t worry about this rabbit.” Thunderbird and his wife were seldom at their nest, as they were hunting food for their children. Nanabozhoo suddenly said to himself one day, “These brats treat me as though I am just a plaything. Don’t they know I have come to take their feathers?” Nanabozhoo changed back to a human being. The little thunderbirds shrieked. Quickly Nanabozhoo stripped their feathers from them. Nanabozhoo actually took more feathers than he needed to make his arrow fly with force. Now the fledglings would never fly. He tied the feathers in a bundle and jumped away from the nest. Because he was a man-spirit, Nanabozhoo was not hurt when he came to the ground. Then he heard the sky open. It was his father the Wind. Suddenly, there was horrible lightning. It was the flashing eyes of the thunderbirds. Thunder boomed over the earth. It was the thunderbirds’ voices. The thunderbirds sped at Nanabozhoo with their talons. Nanabozhoo clutched the bundle of feathers he had stolen. He would never give it up. He ran this way and that to get away from the thunderbirds. Even though he was a man-spirit, Nanabozhoo feared he would die. The booming and flashing, the blowing and crashing, finally caused Nanabozhoo to tire. He grew perplexed. Then, quickly, Nanabozhoo crawled inside a hollow birch tree that had fallen. The talons of the thunderbirds almost got him. The hollow birch tree saved his life. The thunderbirds boomed, “Our king-child, the birch tree, has offered you its protection! Now we cannot touch you!” And, indeed, Nanabozhoo had fled to the protection of one of their very own children. Now he was safe from the thunderbirds. Their eyes flickered off toward the heavens. Their voices faded. The Wind rolled away the clouds and left Nanabozhoo in a wake of tears that was rain dripping from the leaves. Then Nanabozhoo stepped out of the log. He was changed. Nanabozhoo said, “From now on, human beings will find the protection of this tree useful in many ways. Anyone standing under it will find shelter from lightning and storms. “Its bark will make their lodges. “Their food will not spoil in it. “And it will have many more uses. “But,” Nanabozhoo said, “anyone using the bark of the birch tree will make generous offerings to it.” Thus the birch tree was blessed by Nanabozhoo, and he left all the feathers of his bundle inside the hollow log except for those which he needed to fix to his arrow and kill the great fish. Then the man-spirit went to the shore of Lake Superior and killed the great fish. To this day, human beings will find the marks of Nanabozhoo in the tree’s bark. They are little dashes. They will also find patterns of the little thunderbirds.
Many tales centered on Nanabozhoo, a half-human, half-spirit trickster, who was often entangled in humorous scrapes and brought innovations, such as medicine, to humankind from the spirits (Nanabush went by many other names: Nanabush, Naanabozho, Nanibush, Nenabozho, Manabozho, Minabozho, Waynaboozhoo, Wenabozho, Wenabozhoo, Wenebojo, Winabojo, or Winneboshoo).
The Ojibwa word for a thunderbird that is closely associated with thunder isanimikii, while large thunderous birds are binesi.
