How the Stories Came to Be

Out of the moons of long ago, these stories have come. Then, every tribe of the Iroquois had its storyteller.

When the Old Man of the North came out of his lodge, and the forests and rivers of the Iroquois grew white with his breath, these storytellers wandered from wigwam to wigwam.

Seated on warm skins by the fire, the storyteller would exclaim, “Hanio!” This meant, “Come, gather round, and I will tell a story.” 

Then all would cry, “Heh,” and draw close to the fire. This meant that they were glad to hear the story. And as the flames leaped and chased one another along the fire trail, they would listen to these wonder stories of the Little People, of the trees and flowers, of birds, of animals, and men. When the storyteller had finished, he said, “Na ho.” This meant, “It is the end.”

The earth was very young, when the Iroquois first learned how everything came to be, and just why it is that things are as they are. They told these wonderful things to their children, and their children in turn told them to their children; and those children again in turn told them to theirs, that these things might not be forgotten. 

Now, but few of the Iroquois know these stories that the grandmothers and old men of the tribe used to tell. The storyteller is no longer seen wandering from wigwam to wigwam.