Why Our Sight Fails With Age
"Oh, he almost came inside the lodge, grandfather!" cried Bluebird, as a chickadee flew to a bush near the door. "I like the chickadees. They are always so friendly and…
Note: This article has been excerpted from a larger work in the public domain and shared here due to its historical value. It may contain outdated ideas and language that do not reflect TOTA’s opinions and beliefs.
“Why Our Sight Fails With Age” from Indian Old-Man Stories: More Sparks From War Eagle's Lodge-Fire by Frank B. Linderman, 1920.
Chickadee-dee-dee-dee. Chicka-dee-dee-dee-dee.
"Oh, he almost came inside the lodge, grandfather!" cried Bluebird, as a chickadee flew to a bush near the door. "I like the chickadees. They are always so friendly and happy. I pretend they are laughing when they are in the willows and rosebushes. They do seem to be laughing, don’t they, grandfather?"
"Yes," said War Eagle. "That is what Old-man thought one day long ago. It made trouble for us all, too bad trouble that visits us if we live to be old."
"Tell us the story, grandfather!" cried Buffalo-Calf. "We will help grandmother gather dry wood if you will tell us about Old-man."
"That is good. I will tell you," said War Eagle. "It was in the forest where great trees grew, and where many bushes and vines covered the ground about them. Old-man was alone. He had seen no people since morning, and the Sun was already looking toward his lodge in the West. ‘Listen.’ he said; but he was only talking to himself. ‘Listen.’ He bent and placed his hand behind his ear, that he might hear better. Ha! somebody was laughing among the trees and bushes. It was not loud laughing, but the Person was having a good time all by himself, whoever it was.
"That is funny so much laughing, said Old-man. I’ll go and see who it is that laughs. I’d like to laugh, myself, if I could find something funny. I have looked, too, and there is nothing to laugh at.
"He hurried toward the sound of laughing, making so much noise in his travelling that he could not hear the Person laugh. He stopped and listened. Ho! it was gone. The Person had moved. Old-man stood very still for a while, and then he heard the laughing again, but it was far away.
"That is strange, he said. That Person seems to find something that makes him happy wherever he goes. He was here and laughed, but I can see nothing to laugh at. Now he is over near that big tree and is laughing again. I must find that Person.’
"He hurried onward. He even ran; but twice the Person moved with his laugh before he came close to a small tree with thick leaves upon its branches.
"Chickadee-dee-dee-dee. Chickadee-dee-dee-dee. Ho! it was the Chickadee laughing.
"What are you laughing at? asked Old-man. ‘I’ve travelled hard all this day and haven’t seen a funny thing.’
"That makes me laugh,’ said the Chickadee.
And he did laugh. Chickadee-dee-dee-dee!
"Are you laughing at me? cried Old-man.
"No. Oh, no not exactly, said the Chickadee. But if a Person cannot get along with himself, how can he laugh? Laugh is a prisoner with a cross person.’
"’What were you laughing at before I came?’ asked Old-man.
"‘Watch me,’ said the Chickadee.
"Then he took out his eyes and tossed them away up among the branches. The Chickadee sat very still and waited for them to come down again. The eyes came straight back and landed plump! in their places, as if they had not been away. ‘Chickadee-dee-dee-dee!’ He was laughing again, and that made Old-man laugh, too.
"Ha, ha, ha! That is funny. Do it again.’
"All right. Watch me,’ said the Chickadee.
"Up went his eyes a second time, and down they came plump! into their places. And the Chickadee laughed again.
"Ha-ha, ha! ha, ha, ha! That is funny. Show me how to do it, Chickadee,’ said Old-man.
"Oh, no—no,’ said the Chickadee. ‘You cannot do it. You are too clumsy. You can do nothing well, and in trying you might get into trouble.’
"Please, brother.’ begged Old-man. ‘Tell me the secret. I will be careful. I made you, and you should be good to me.
"Yes.’ said the Chickadee, ‘you made me, but you made a lot of enemies for me, too. I have more than anybody, and they are every where. No, this is my secret. You would blame me if you tried it and got into trouble.’
"No, I will never blame you, brother. Tell me the secret and I will give you my necklace. See, it is very handsome.’
"The Chickadee looked at the necklace and became proud. He wanted to wear it. He thought it would make him more beautiful, so he said: ‘All right, I’ll tell you the secret. Then you must look out for yourself. I don’t do this thing very often, myself, and I’m not clumsy as you are. You take out your eyes and throw them as high as you want them to go. They will always come straight back to their places if you do not move, nor laugh, nor even breathe while they are away. If you do any of these things, your eyes will be lost. Remember that. I have told you what not to do, and if you forget you will have to pay for it. That is all there is to the secret. Now give me that necklace.’
"Old-man took off his necklace and gave it to the Chickadee. Then he cried: ‘Watch me!’ He took out his eyes and tossed them far up among the trees. He stood still—did not laugh—did not move—did not even breathe. Plump! the eyes came back to their places as the Chickadee had said they would. Old-man laughed, and the Chickadee laughed with him.
"Good-by, my brother. I shall have some thing to laugh at now.’ said Old-man. And he went away in the forest.
"He tried the Chickadee s trick over and over, laughing each time, and each time-tossing his eyes higher, until at last he grew careless. Ho! he moved his head. He laughed. He even breathed before his eyes came back. He was standing in a thickly timbered spot when he tossed his eyes upward. They were gone a long time. He was all ready to laugh, and couldn t wait. He heard something strike the ground near him. Then he was frightened. He was blind. He had no eyes. They had fallen on the ground among the dead leaves and dirt. Ho! Old-man was in trouble. Now he did not laugh. He cried. Yes, he cried. Oh ho! now he was sorry that he had met the Chickadee. He got down on his hands and knees and began to feel about for his eyes as one feels for things in the dark. Once he touched a snail and thought it was one of his eyes.
"Then at last he found his eyes in the dirt and leaves where they had fallen. He put them back in their places, but they hurt him because of the dirt that had clung to them while they were upon the ground. He never got over it. No. He could never see so well as he had before he did that foolish thing.
"Of course he made us all pay for his trouble. He always does. When he knew his eyes would never be so good as they were before he met the Chickadee that day, he said:
"After this there shall come a time in the lives of old people when their eyes shall not be very useful. They shall bother them before they die, as my eyes bother me. It has been true from that day to this.
"The Chickadee and all his children wear Old-man’s necklace since that day, and you have seen it about their necks, of course. The necklace is too heavy for a bird so small as the Chickadee, and its weight keeps him from flying very high in the air. He always stays near the ground in the bushes or small trees because of the heavy necklace that Old-man gave him that day in the forest. Ho!"
Linderman, Frank Bird. Indian Old-Man Stories: More Sparks From War Eagle's Lodge-Fire, Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1920.
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