Origin of the Native Sioux Flute

A very long time ago, long before the white man arrived, the Sioux people had no flutes. There were drums, rattles, and even bullhorn trumpets, but there were no flutes. At that time, a young hunter went out to hunt; meat was scarce and his people were hungry in their camp. He found the tracks of an elk and followed them for a long time. The elk was wise and swift. It is the animal that holds the charm of love. If a man has the elk’s medicine, he will win the woman he loves as his wife. He will also be a lucky hunter.

Our poor young man had no elk medicine. After many hours, he finally spotted his target. The young hunter had a new bow and a quiver of otter skin full of good, straight arrows with obsidian points – sharp, black, and shiny as glass. The young man knew how to use his weapon – he was the best archer in the village – but the elk always stayed out of range, leading the hunter far away. The young man was so focused on following his prey that he didn’t even notice where he was walking, and he was already far off.

At nightfall, the hunter found himself at the bottom of a dense forest of tall trees. The trails had disappeared, and so had the elk. He realized he was lost and that it was too dark to find his way out of the forest. There was no moon to show him the way. Luckily, he found a stream of fresh, clean water. He was happy when he remembered that his sister had given him a rawhide bag filled with dried meat with berries and kidney fat, strong food that sustains a man for several days.

After the young man had drunk and eaten, he wrapped himself in his fur robe, leaned his back against a tree, and tried to rest a little. But he couldn’t sleep. The forest was full of strange noises – the strange cries of night animals, owls, the moaning of trees in the wind. He had heard all these sounds before, but now it seemed he heard them for the first time.

Suddenly, there was a completely new sound, the kind that neither he nor any other man had ever experienced before. It was very sad, mournful, and ghostly. In a way, it frightened him, so he pulled his robe close and reached for his bow to make sure it was properly strung. On the other hand, this new sound was like music, beautiful beyond imagination, full of love, hope, and longing.

And then, with the night more than half over, he suddenly fell asleep. He dreamed that a bird called Wagnuka, the red-headed woodpecker, appeared to him, singing the strange and beautiful new song, saying, “Follow me and I will teach you.”

When the hunter woke, the sun was already high. On a branch of the tree against which he had been leaning, he saw a red-headed woodpecker. The bird flew to another tree and then another, but never too far, looking back at the young man as if to say, “Come!”
Suddenly, there was a gust of wind, and once again, the hunter heard that wonderful music, and his heart longed to find the singer. The bird flew toward the sound, leading the young man, its flaming red crest floating through the leaves, making it easy to follow. Finally, the bird landed on a cedar tree and began to peck and hammer on a dead branch, making a noise like the rapid beating of a small drum. Suddenly, there was a gust of wind, and again the hunter heard that beautiful sound right beside him.

Then he discovered that the music came from the dead branch that the woodpecker had been working on with its beak. He also discovered that it was the wind that made the sound as it whistled through the holes the bird had drilled in the branch. “Kola, friend,” said the hunter, “let me take this branch home. You can make another.” He took the branch, a piece of hollow wood the length of his forearm and full of holes. The young man returned to the village. He had no meat to bring to his tribe, but he was happy anyway.

Back at his tipi, he tried to make the dead branch sing for him, but no sound came. And the young man was very sad. He so wanted to hear that wonderful sound again.

So, he purified himself in the sweat lodge and climbed to the top of a lonely hill. There, naked, resting his back against a large rock, he fasted for four days and four nights, crying for a dream, a vision to teach him how to make the branch sing. In the middle of the fourth night, Wagnuka, the bird with the flaming red spot on its head, appeared to him, saying, “Watch me,” transforming into a man, showing the hunter how to make the branch sing, and in his vision, the young man watched very carefully.

When he woke, he found a cedar tree. He cut a branch and, working many hours, hollowed it out with a cord drill, just as he had seen the woodpecker do in his dream. He carved into the branch the shape of a bird with a long neck and an open beak. He painted it with washasha, the sacred red color. He prayed. He smoked the branch with burning sage and cedar. He fingered the holes as he had seen the bird-man do in his vision, while gently blowing into the mouthpiece. Suddenly, he heard music of awe and beauty beyond words. He played his flute all the way back to the village, where the people were surprised and joyful to hear it. With the help of the wind and the woodpecker, the young man brought them the first flute.

In the village lived an Itanchan – a great chief. This Itanchan had a daughter who was beautiful, but also very proud, and convinced that there was no young man good enough for her. Many had courted her, but she had avoided them all. Now, the hunter who had made the flute decided that she was just the woman for him. Thinking of her, he composed a special song, and one night, standing behind a small tree, he played his siyotanka hoping that she might love him.

Suddenly, the Winchinchala – girl, heard it. She was sitting in her parents’ tent, eating buffalo meat and sausage, feeling content. She wanted to stay there, in the tipi by the fire, but her feet wanted to go out. She pulled back, but her feet pulled forward, and the feet won. Her head said, “Go slowly, go slowly!” But her feet said, “Faster, faster!” She saw the young man standing in the moonlight, heard the flute. Her head said, “Don’t go to him, he is poor.” Her feet said, “Go, run!” And again the feet prevailed. Then they stood face to face. The girl’s head told her to stay silent, but her heart told her to speak, and she spoke, saying, “Koshkalaka, Young man, I am yours completely.”

Then they lay together, the young man and the Winchinchala, under a blanket. Later, she said to him, “Koshkalaka, washtelake,” she said. “Young man, I like you.” Let your father send a gift to my father, the chief. No matter how small, it will be accepted. Let your father speak for you to my father. Do this soon! Do it now!

And so the two fathers quickly agreed to their children’s wishes. The proud Winchinchala became the wife of the young hunter, and he himself became a great chief. All the other young men heard and saw. Soon, they too began to carve cedar branches into the shapes of bird heads with long necks and open beaks. And so, the beautiful music of awe and love traveled from tribe to tribe, until it filled the whole prairie. And that is how the siyotanka was brought to the people, thanks to the elk, the woodpecker, the wind, and this young hunter, who shot no elk, but knew how to listen.