Fog Woman and Trickster Raven: A Love Story
One fine day in the Very Long Ago, Trickster Raven was strolling down the beach overturning stones and beach rubble in search of tasty morsels left behind by the receding tide. He’d just chortled happily over an unidentified but tasty bite, when in the distance a sunbeam flashed off a long beautiful tail slapping the waves. Trickster Raven’s eyebrows popped up and he ruffled up his shiny white feathers, preened them a bit and sauntered toward the shoreline. He watched, a pleased smirk on his beak as the most stunning creature cavorted in the waves surrounded by the fattest, juiciest, mouth-watering-est salmon leaping about Fog Woman. Trickster Raven could not recall a time in his long and eventful life when he’d ever seen a more appetizing scene: a gorgeous Salmon Woman with deep, come-hither black eyes, a rosebud mouth, sleek black hair rippling over her shoulders, round hips shimmering with opalescent scales, a wide and deeply curved tail…OHHH, Trickster Raven’s cheeks were beginning to hurt from smiling so hard—and all about her, just imagine, fat and juicy salmon.
A Raven’s favorite dream.
Now, Raven, being Raven, promptly shook his luxurious white feathers out and preened until he knew he was stunningly handsome, puffed out his chest and sauntered down the beach toward the woman. As he approached she looked over her shoulder, gave him a disdainful glance and turned away. But Raven being Raven was not to be rebuffed so easily and pressed on, approaching her and in his sweetest voice saying,
“So, hey, Chickie-Pie, whatcha doing tonight? Wanna go bowling?” He rolled his shoulders and hopped up on a large boulder next to hers to better beam his smile in her direction. She slapped the waves with her luminous tail and dived away.
“Hmmm…” He stood there thinking what he might best transform into in order to pursue her. But wait! Here she came, arcing up out of the water at his feet.
“Such a crude line, from such a pretty little bird.” She said pertly.
“Ah ha, and what would you like to hear? I can tell you anything.”
“Yes, I believe that.” She retorted and slipped away.
“Hoohoo, I’m liking this one.” Raven grinned, and was waiting, stretched out languidly on his boulder, chin perched in his palm, when she surfaced again.
“So, Sweet Thang, wanna hear a joke?”
The Salmon Woman simply flipped her hand at him dismissively but she didn’t leave. And Raven, being Raven was not to be dismissed so easily. In his most mellifluous voice he began telling her stories (while she pretended to ignore him) and jokes and soon he had her laughing.
“So, hows about we go out on the town tonight?” he grinned at her.
“Oh, I suppose,” she replied, “but you’re going to buy me dinner!”
Now Raven, being Raven , and even though he's quite the cad, can be immensely charming so it didn't take much wooing before he had Fog Woman talked into marrying him. In the greatest potlatch the whole coast had ever seen, with all the nobles from the lands, commoners and even all the slaves attending, their canoes packed so closely together in the bay a person could step from one to the other without so much as wetting a toe, and with mountains of food so large they were given names, and whole houses full of gifts that seemed endless, Trickster Raven and Fog Woman married.
The first weeks of the marriage were blissful with the newlyweds spending almost every moment together. One day when Raven had stepped out for a breath of air he heard Fog Woman speaking to a servant. Curiosity, which is perhaps Raven's most fateful characteristic, made him put his eye to a crack to see what was going on. He beheld his wife hand her hat to a servant and instruct him to go to the stream and fill it. The servant ran to the stream, filled the hat and promptly returned with the hat full of water. But then, before his eyes, Raven saw the most astonishing thing occur: Fog Woman began pouring the water out of her hat BUT from the hat also poured SALMON!, dozens and dozens of fat, shimmering salmon. When the hat was empty she hung her hat up and began preparing their evening meal.
Now Raven had been pleased that his new wife was able to keep much salmon in the house without him having to lift a finger, but he'd never given a moment's thought to how she did it. This new revelation set him back on his tail feathers a bit. Nonplussed, but being Raven, hiding it well, he went back inside and just watched his beautiful wife prepare their meal with that greedy little Ravenish glint in his eyes.
Later that evening Raven decided to spend a little time with his buddies so he told Fog Woman he was going out. Sweetly she told him to have a good time with his friends. Raven sauntered through the village to one house that was a popular hangout for the married men; they'd sit around and kvetch about their wives, swap fishing stories and try to outdo one another in everything. Well, this particular evening one of the men was complaining about how his wife was such a terrible cook and couldn’t get his salmon crispy around the edge and oooh so tender in the middle; pretty soon all the men were finding fault with their wives, and Raven, being Raven and not to be outdone, made up a complaint (because, certainly, she was a flawless wife) about Fog Woman.
Now Fog Woman happened to be passing the men's house at that moment and heard Ravens words. She stopped still for a moment, shook her head sadly then proceeded home.
When Raven arrived home later he found Fog Woman waiting for him. She told him what she'd heard him say and Raven, being Raven tried denying it. Well, to Fog Woman this was adding insult to injury. She quickly turned into a cloud of fog and began streaming out the smoke hole with Raven flapping along behind trying to catch her. As he reached desperately for his beautiful wife he trampled through the fire pit permanently scorching his pristine white feathers, turning them to black and burning his beautifully manicured feet to cinders, calling after her, crying, finally cawing in a voice cracked from breathing in so much smoke his romance-movie star dulcet tones were forever ruined.
We see Fog Woman frequently; see her beauty drifting across the landscape, veiling hills and mountains. We feel the gentle moisture of her mists upon our skin and know she's with us.
And, we frequently see Raven, his feathers seared black, and hear him, his voice raspy and broken from swallowing the smoke and cinders and ash in the fire pit, calling, crying, cawing, cawing always for his beautiful wife, Fog Woman to return to him.
One fine day in the Very Long Ago, Trickster Raven was strolling down the beach overturning stones and beach rubble in search of tasty morsels left behind by the receding tide. He’d just chortled happily over an unidentified but tasty bite, when in the distance a sunbeam flashed off a long beautiful tail slapping the waves. Trickster Raven’s eyebrows popped up and he ruffled up his shiny white feathers, preened them a bit and sauntered toward the shoreline. He watched, a pleased smirk on his beak as the most stunning creature cavorted in the waves surrounded by the fattest, juiciest, mouth-watering-est salmon leaping about Fog Woman. Trickster Raven could not recall a time in his long and eventful life when he’d ever seen a more appetizing scene: a gorgeous Salmon Woman with deep, come-hither black eyes, a rosebud mouth, sleek black hair rippling over her shoulders, round hips shimmering with opalescent scales, a wide and deeply curved tail…OHHH, Trickster Raven’s cheeks were beginning to hurt from smiling so hard—and all about her, just imagine, fat and juicy salmon.
A Raven’s favorite dream.
Now, Raven, being Raven, promptly shook his luxurious white feathers out and preened until he knew he was stunningly handsome, puffed out his chest and sauntered down the beach toward the woman. As he approached she looked over her shoulder, gave him a disdainful glance and turned away. But Raven being Raven was not to be rebuffed so easily and pressed on, approaching her and in his sweetest voice saying,
“So, hey, Chickie-Pie, whatcha doing tonight? Wanna go bowling?” He rolled his shoulders and hopped up on a large boulder next to hers to better beam his smile in her direction. She slapped the waves with her luminous tail and dived away.
“Hmmm…” He stood there thinking what he might best transform into in order to pursue her. But wait! Here she came, arcing up out of the water at his feet.
“Such a crude line, from such a pretty little bird.” She said pertly.
“Ah ha, and what would you like to hear? I can tell you anything.”
“Yes, I believe that.” She retorted and slipped away.
“Hoohoo, I’m liking this one.” Raven grinned, and was waiting, stretched out languidly on his boulder, chin perched in his palm, when she surfaced again.
“So, Sweet Thang, wanna hear a joke?”
The Salmon Woman simply flipped her hand at him dismissively but she didn’t leave. And Raven, being Raven was not to be dismissed so easily. In his most mellifluous voice he began telling her stories (while she pretended to ignore him) and jokes and soon he had her laughing.
“So, hows about we go out on the town tonight?” he grinned at her.
“Oh, I suppose,” she replied, “but you’re going to buy me dinner!”
Now Raven, being Raven , and even though he's quite the cad, can be immensely charming so it didn't take much wooing before he had Fog Woman talked into marrying him. In the greatest potlatch the whole coast had ever seen, with all the nobles from the lands, commoners and even all the slaves attending, their canoes packed so closely together in the bay a person could step from one to the other without so much as wetting a toe, and with mountains of food so large they were given names, and whole houses full of gifts that seemed endless, Trickster Raven and Fog Woman married.
The first weeks of the marriage were blissful with the newlyweds spending almost every moment together. One day when Raven had stepped out for a breath of air he heard Fog Woman speaking to a servant. Curiosity, which is perhaps Raven's most fateful characteristic, made him put his eye to a crack to see what was going on. He beheld his wife hand her hat to a servant and instruct him to go to the stream and fill it. The servant ran to the stream, filled the hat and promptly returned with the hat full of water. But then, before his eyes, Raven saw the most astonishing thing occur: Fog Woman began pouring the water out of her hat BUT from the hat also poured SALMON!, dozens and dozens of fat, shimmering salmon. When the hat was empty she hung her hat up and began preparing their evening meal.
Now Raven had been pleased that his new wife was able to keep much salmon in the house without him having to lift a finger, but he'd never given a moment's thought to how she did it. This new revelation set him back on his tail feathers a bit. Nonplussed, but being Raven, hiding it well, he went back inside and just watched his beautiful wife prepare their meal with that greedy little Ravenish glint in his eyes.
Later that evening Raven decided to spend a little time with his buddies so he told Fog Woman he was going out. Sweetly she told him to have a good time with his friends. Raven sauntered through the village to one house that was a popular hangout for the married men; they'd sit around and kvetch about their wives, swap fishing stories and try to outdo one another in everything. Well, this particular evening one of the men was complaining about how his wife was such a terrible cook and couldn’t get his salmon crispy around the edge and oooh so tender in the middle; pretty soon all the men were finding fault with their wives, and Raven, being Raven and not to be outdone, made up a complaint (because, certainly, she was a flawless wife) about Fog Woman.
Now Fog Woman happened to be passing the men's house at that moment and heard Ravens words. She stopped still for a moment, shook her head sadly then proceeded home.
When Raven arrived home later he found Fog Woman waiting for him. She told him what she'd heard him say and Raven, being Raven tried denying it. Well, to Fog Woman this was adding insult to injury. She quickly turned into a cloud of fog and began streaming out the smoke hole with Raven flapping along behind trying to catch her. As he reached desperately for his beautiful wife he trampled through the fire pit permanently scorching his pristine white feathers, turning them to black and burning his beautifully manicured feet to cinders, calling after her, crying, finally cawing in a voice cracked from breathing in so much smoke his romance-movie star dulcet tones were forever ruined.
We see Fog Woman frequently; see her beauty drifting across the landscape, veiling hills and mountains. We feel the gentle moisture of her mists upon our skin and know she's with us.
And, we frequently see Raven, his feathers seared black, and hear him, his voice raspy and broken from swallowing the smoke and cinders and ash in the fire pit, calling, crying, cawing, cawing always for his beautiful wife, Fog Woman to return to him.
In the drum above Fog Woman is dressed for her wedding with her splendid hat, a beautiful copper hanging at her breast and streams of salmon flowing from her hat.
Raven is in his most ravishing white feathers with his wings and body encircling Fog Woman. Raven loves her so much he wishes to hold this woman close and precious for all eternity.
But, can Trickster Raven behave himself enough to keep her?
Raven is in his most ravishing white feathers with his wings and body encircling Fog Woman. Raven loves her so much he wishes to hold this woman close and precious for all eternity.
But, can Trickster Raven behave himself enough to keep her?
