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Updated: September 23, 2025
The great Er-Beaver in his pond, that men call Lake Erie, flapped his tail, and the waves rolled away to the shore, and set the ice heaving, cracking, and groaning; but Nana-bo-jou slept on. Then the Ice-demons pounded the shore of the island with their clubs.
In the sunny spots the shreds of the fringe with its beads had taken root and were growing into little flowers with beady eyes, Spring Beauties as they are called now. The small voice kept crying: "Awake! the spring is coming!" Nana-bo-jou said: "Little voice, where are you? Come here." But the little voice, being everywhere, was nowhere, and could not come at the hero's call.
The animals say that they will come to council if you will really make peace and play no tricks." "Tricks!" says Nana-bo-jou, "I only want to teach you the new songs from the South." Then all the animals troop in and sit in a circle. Nana-bo-jou takes his drum and begins to sing: "New songs from the South, my brothers, Dance to the new songs."
"Then all close your eyes tight and cover them with your paws. Don't look until I tell you. Beaver, close your eyes and dance very fast and I will make magic to give you wings." All close and cover their eyes. Nana-bo-jou sings very loudly and, rushing on the Beaver, hits him on the head with the straw club. The Beaver falls dead. The two goblins run in from one side and drag off the body.
On the floor he spread a scrap of his own white blanket, then for a fire he breathed into it a spark of life, and said: "Here, little voice, is your wigwam." The little voice entered and took possession, but Nana-bo-jou had breathed the spark of life into it.
Turning to one, he says: "Who are you and what can you dance?" "Good! Come and show me how." So the Beaver dances to the music, slapping the back of his flat right hand, up and under his left hand for a tail, holding up a stick in both paws to gnaw it, and lumbering along in time to the music, at the same time imitating the Beaver's waddle. Nana-bo-jou shouts: "Fine!
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