Why the Culing has a Tonsure.

Narrated by Francisco M. Africa.

In a certain field there lived two birds,—PogÔ (“quail”) and Culing (a small black bird that has no feathers on the top of its head). One day PogÔ, while scratching the ground for food, met Culing. When Culing saw PogÔ, he said in a taunting tone, “Where are you going, lazy one? Be more active. Don’t be as lazy as a leech!”

PogÔ became very angry. “You call me lazy!” he said. “You are much lazier than I. Let us see which can fly higher into the sky!”

Thereupon Culing agreed, and he began to fly upward until he was lost from sight. He flew so high, that his head touched the surface of the sky. As the sky was hot, all the feathers on the top of his head were burned off; and ever since, the culing has had a tonsure.

The Culeto and the Crow.

Narrated by Leopoldo Uichanco, a Tagalog from Calamba, La Laguna. He says, “This tradition is a favorite one among Tagalog children. I have often heard the story told by old men while I was waiting my turn at barber-shops in my province.”

The culeto is a fine singer, but it is bald-headed. The natives often capture it and train it to talk. Formerly this little black bird was not so bald as it is to-day: its head, in fact, was covered with a thick growth of feathers. And the crow, too: it was not black once, but its feathers were as white as starch.

Once upon a time, shortly after the Deluge, the crow was merrily crowing on the branch of a tree when the culeto came by. The voice of the crow was so harsh, that the culeto made fun of it. “Good-morning, Mr. Crow!” said the culeto, “I am very glad to hear you sing. Your voice is so fine, that I cannot help closing my ears.”“Pray, think first of yourself!” answered the crow. “What do I care for a good voice, so long as I have a strong body? Why don’t you laugh at yourself? See how weak and tiny you are!”

“Weak!” said the culeto. “Do you call me weak? I would fly a race even with an eagle.”

“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed the crow. “The idea of racing the eagle when you do not even dare race me!”

“Race with you! Why, you would only disgrace yourself,” retorted the culeto.

“Wait!” answered the crow. “Eat some more rice, drink some more water, fill your body with more air! And wait till you grow bigger before you venture to race with me!”

“The strength of a person,” said the culeto, nettled, “is not to be judged by his size. Don’t you know that it is the smallest pepper that is the hottest?”

“Well, then,” replied the crow, “if you wish to race me now at your own risk, let us begin!”

“One, two, three!” counted the culeto, and up they flew. During their flight the two birds became separated from each other by a dense cloud. The culeto flew at full speed so high upward, that he knocked his head very hard against the door of the sky,—so hard, in fact, that a large piece of skin was scraped from his scalp. The crow, having lost his way, flew so near the sun, that his feathers were burned black.

It is on account of this bet between the culeto and the crow that all the descendants of the former have been bald-headed, while all the descendants of the crow have black feathers to-day.

The Hawk and the Coling.

Narrated by Agapito Gaa of Taal, Batangas. He says that this Tagalog story is well known in every town in Batangas province. He heard the story from his grandfather.

Early one morning a hawk sallied forth from his nest to find something to eat. He flew so high that he could hardly be seen from the earth. He looked down; but as he could not see anything, he flew lower and lower, until he came to the top of a tree. On one of the branches he saw sitting quietly a coling. The hawk despised the little bird, and at once made up his mind to challenge him to a flight upward.

So the hawk said to the coling, “Do you wish to fly up into the sky with me to see which of us can fly the faster and the higher?”The coling did not answer at once, but he thought of the matter for a while. Then he said to the hawk, “When do you want to have the race?”

“That is for you to decide,” said the hawk. “If you wish to have it now, well and good.”

“Well,” said the coling, “let us have it to-morrow morning before sunrise!”

“All right,” said the hawk.

“But,” said the coling, “each of us is to carry a load with him to make the flight a little more difficult.”

“Well, what do you want to take with you?” said the hawk.

“I will take some salt,” said the coling.

“Then I will take some cotton,” replied the hawk. “Let us meet here in this tree early to-morrow!” This agreed upon, the two birds separated. The hawk went to the cotton-field and got his load of cotton, while the coling went to the sea and got some salt.

The next morning they met in the tree, each having the object he would carry with him in his flight. They asked the crow, who was present, to be the judge of the contest. The crow accepted the commission, and said that he would give a caw as a signal for them to start. He did so, and the two contestants were off. At first the hawk flew faster and higher than the coling; but very soon it began to rain. The cotton on the hawk’s back became soaked with water, and soon was very heavy; but the salt on the coling’s back was soon dissolved, and then he had no load at all. Under these conditions, the coling soon overtook the bigger bird. For a time they flew side by side; but after a few minutes the coling had the best of the race, and in a little while longer the hawk could no longer see his rival. But the coling flew so high, that at last his head touched the sun, and all the feathers on the top were burned off. The hawk now flew down to the crow, and said that he had won the race, for the coling had fallen to the ground dead. But by and by the coling himself came. He showed them the top of his head as a proof that he had won the race. The crow gave his decision in favor of the coling, and the hawk flew off disgraced.

From that time all colings have had the tops of their heads bald to show that they are the descendants of the victorious bird.

Notes.

These three forms of the “flight-contest” incident are all from southern Luzon,—the provinces of La Laguna and Batangas. The tale seems to be definitely localized there. I know of its occurrence nowhere else in the Islands. Nor have I found any Malayan variants.

For other pourquoi stories of why certain birds are bald, see DÄhnhardt, 3 : 11–14. DÄhnhardt (ibid., 142) cites a Ceylon tale of the crow and the drongo, who had a bet as to which could fly the higher carrying a load. Crow selected tree-cotton for his burden; but Drongo, noticing the black rain-clouds overhead, carried salt, and thus won; for his load became constantly lighter, while Crow’s became heavier.

With the explanation given in the second tale of this group of why the crow is black, compare a Pawnee story (JAFL 6 : 126), in which a crow, which is sent to the sun to get fire, has all his feathers singed.

Why the Cow’s Skin is Loose on the Neck.

Narrated by Francisco M. Africa.

There was once a poor farmer who possessed a cow and a carabao. These two animals were his only wealth. Every day he led them to the field to plough. He worked his animals so hard, that they often complained to him; but the cruel master would not even listen to their words. One day the cow, who had grown tired of this kind of life, said to the carabao, “Let us run away from this evil man! Though we are very dirty, he is not willing for us even to take a bath. If we remain here with him, we shall be as ugly and as filthy as pigs. If we run away from him, however, he will have to do his own work, and then we shall be revenged. Hurry up! Let us go!”

The spirit of the carabao was aroused: he jumped with a loud roar, and said, “I too have long been meditating escape, but I hesitated because I was afraid you might not be willing to join me in flight. We are so ill-treated by our cruel master, that God will have pity on us. Come on! Let us go!”

The two animals at once set out, running as fast as they could, always trying to avoid any human beings. When they came to a river, the cow said, “We are very dirty. Let us take a bath before we go on! The water of this river is so clean and clear, that we shall soon be as clean as we were before our contemptible master got hold of us.”

The carabao answered, “We would better run a little farther, for perhaps our master is already in pursuit of us. Besides, we are very tired now, and I have been told that to take a bath when one is tired injures the health.”

“Don’t believe that!” returned the cow. “Our bodies are so big, that we do not need to fear sickness.”

At last the carabao was persuaded by the arguments of the cow; and he said, “All right! Let us take off our clothes before we go into the water!”

The two animals then stripped themselves of all their clothes, then they plunged into the deep, cool river. They had been in the water less than an hour, however, when they saw their master coming after them with a big stick in his hand. They ran up to where their clothes were; but in their haste the carabao put on the cow’s clothes, and the cow got the carabao’s. As soon as they were dressed, they continued their mad flight; and as their master was very tired, he had to give up the chase and return home disappointed.

Since the carabao was larger than the cow, the skin on the cow’s neck has been loose ever since, because the two friends were separated and could never exchange clothes again. And likewise the skin on the carabao’s neck has been tight ever since these two animals made their mistake in dressing.

The First Loose-Skinned Cow and the First Tight-Skinned Carabao.

Narrated by Amanda Morente, a Tagalog from Pinamalayan, Mindoro. She heard the story from an old woman of her town.

Many years ago, when the people of the world were still few in number and the animals took the place of servants, an old man bought a cow and a carabao from his neighbor. With these animals he travelled until he reached the top of a mountain. There they saw a cave, and the old man told his servants to enter and see if there was any danger inside. With slow and cautious steps the carabao and the cow went in, examining every corner. All at once the cow perceived something moving. In his fright he jumped back, and hid behind his companion; but the slow-going carabao did not see the figure, and suddenly he felt his hind leg seized in a strong grasp. The god of the cave had caught him. Then the god of the cave spoke. His voice was terrifying, but his words were kind. He told them how for many days he had been hungry, and he asked for meat. The cow, whose courage had by this time been somewhat restored, gladly offered him some of her master’s provisions, which she was carrying. In return for this kindness, the god gave each of the animals a dress: to the carabao he gave one of gold; and to the cow, one of bronze. He also invited the two to remain with him and be his servants.

Some time after the two friends had been installed in their new home, the god of the cave sent them one day to gather fruits. The carabao and the cow were delighted at this prospect of a change, and they jumped with joy. They rushed out into the woods; and when they came to a pond, they took off their new clothes and plunged into the soft mud. While they were enjoying their bath, they saw their master coming. He was carrying a big stick. They knew very well that he would beat them, for they had been away the whole morning. In their haste to get their clothes back on, they made a mistake: the carabao got into the cow’s dress, and the cow into the carabao’s. After that they never exchanged their clothes, which finally became their outer skin. So to-day the carabao has a tight bronze-colored skin; and the cow, a loose golden-colored one.

Note.

Like the preceding, this story appears to be a native Tagalog tale. I know of no other variants.

Why the Monkey is Wise.

Narrated by Francisco M. Africa.

Once upon a time there lived a poor man who had seven sons. These young men, all except the youngest, helped their aged father with the work; but the family became poorer and poorer. One day, when they had exhausted all their means of support, the father called his sons before him. To every son he assigned a certain kind of work, so that there might be cooperation, and hence efficiency, in the labors of the humble family. To the youngest son was assigned the task of gathering sticks in the forest for fuel.

Not long afterwards a pestilence broke out in the little town where the old man lived, and all his sons but the youngest died. The father was left to starve on his bed, for his only living son was so ungrateful as not to give any help to his father in his last years. When the old man was about to breathe his last, he called his son to give him his final benediction; but the ungrateful boy, instead of going to his dying father, ran away into the woods, and the old man passed away without anybody to care for him.

But God punished the unfilial son; he cursed him; and the boy lost his power of speech, and was condemned to live in the forests ever after as a monkey. Thus, although monkeys cannot talk, they are wise because they are descended from a human being.

Notes.

I know of no analogues of this story, but will cite two other Filipino myths accounting for the origin of monkeys. The first was narrated by Antonio Maceda, a Tagalog from Pagsanjan, who heard it from his grandfather. The story follows.