“Raven’s Gift of Laughter”
In the heart of Annette Island, where ancient cedar trees whispered secrets and the sea embraced the shore, there lived a curious Raven named Kasko. Kasko was no ordinary bird; he possessed a mischievous spirit and an insatiable appetite for adventure.
One crisp morning, Kasko soared above the village of Metlakatla, his glossy feathers catching the first rays of dawn. His beady eyes scanned the landscape, seeking something new to explore. And there it was—a gathering of elders near the totem poles, their faces etched with wisdom and laughter lines.
Kasko perched on a weathered totem, his ebony wings rustling. “Greetings, honored ones!” he cawed. “Why do your eyes twinkle like stars, and your laughter dance like salmon in the river?”
The eldest among them, Tlingit Grandma Aanika, leaned on her cane. “Ah, Kasko,” she said, her voice as soothing as cedar smoke. “We share stories—the old tales that connect us to our ancestors. Laughter keeps our spirits young.”
Kasko tilted his head. “Tell me a tale, Grandma Aanika. One that will make my feathers ruffle with delight.”
And so, Grandma Aanika began:
“The Dance of the Clamshell”
Long ago, when the world was still raw and unshaped, Raven flew across the vast ocean. His belly grumbled, and his wings grew tired. He spotted a giant clamshell floating on the water—a clamshell so immense that it could hold an entire village.
Curiosity tugged at Raven’s heart. He landed on the clamshell, and with a mighty peck, cracked it open. Inside, he found people—naked, shivering, and hungry. They blinked up at him, their eyes wide as moonstones.
“Who are you?” Raven asked, fluffing his feathers.
“We are the First Ones,” they replied. “We emerged from this shell, but we lack everything—food, warmth, and stories.”
Raven’s heart softened. He transformed into a young man with raven-black hair. “Fear not,” he said. “I’ll provide for you.”
And so, Raven danced. He summoned salmon from the depths, berries from the forest, and fire from the stars. He taught them songs and laughter, weaving joy into their lives.
But Raven was also a trickster. One day, he turned himself into a clam and hid inside the giant shell. When the people gathered, they tried to pry it open, hoping for more treasures. But the clamshell remained shut.
“Perhaps we need laughter,” Grandma Aanika said, her eyes twinkling. “Raven loved mischief. So they sang silly songs, told jokes, and danced until tears streamed down their faces.”
And lo and behold, the clamshell cracked open, revealing Raven, laughing uproariously. The people joined him, their laughter echoing across the island. From that day on, they cherished joy as much as food and fire.
Kasko listened, his black eyes wide. “And what happened to those First Ones?”
Grandma Aanika smiled. “They became our ancestors—the ones who shaped Metlakatla. And Raven?
He still dances in the wind, reminding us to find laughter even in the darkest storms.”
And so, dear friend, whenever you hear a raven’s caw or feel the warmth of shared laughter, know that Kasko’s spirit lives on, weaving magic through time and memory.
Notes from Alex 