Why the Wind Wails
Linguistic families of American Indians north of Mexico.
By
JULIA DARROW COWLES
An Algonquin tale from
INDIAN NATURE MYTHS
1918
Introduction
The Algonquin people are Indigenous to North America, traditionally inhabiting regions of what are now Quebec and Ontario along the Ottawa River and its tributaries. As part of the larger Algonquian language family, the Algonquin share linguistic and cultural similarities with neighboring groups, though they maintain distinct traditions and identities. Historically, they lived in semi-nomadic communities, relying on hunting, fishing, and gathering, with birchbark canoes, wigwams, and intricate beadwork being hallmarks of their material culture. The Algonquin were also deeply spiritual, with a worldview rooted in respect for the natural world, which influenced their ceremonies and daily practices. During the early periods of European contact, they played a vital role in the fur trade, acting as intermediaries between Indigenous nations and French traders. Despite the challenges of colonization, including land displacement and cultural disruption, the Algonquin people continue to preserve their heritage, language, and customs, ensuring their traditions endure across generations.
Why the Wind Wails
When the pale moon looks down from the sky, and when the wind cries mournfully around the wigwam, this is the story that the old man of the tribe tells to the Indian children:
Many, many moons ago the great chief of our tribe had a very beautiful daughter.
“She shall marry a great warrior,” said the Chief, “and a mighty hunter. Then she will be well cared for, and I shall be happy.”
So the great Chief kept watch of the young men of the tribe, to see which one would prove worthy of his daughter.
One day, as the Chief sat in the door of his lodge, there came a sudden rushing sound, and a young man stood before him. It was the Wind, who had made himself visible that he might talk with the Chief.
When he had saluted, he said, “Great Chief, I love your daughter. May I carry her away to my lodge, and make her my wife?”
The Chief looked at the Wind, and he answered, “No. My daughter is not for such as you. You are no warrior. You are no hunter. You love to play pranks. You cannot marry my daughter.”
So the Wind went away sorrowing, for he loved the Indian maiden.
The next day the maiden came to her father and said, “Father, I love the Wind better than any young warrior of our tribe. May I go to his lodge, and be his wife?”
The Chief looked at his daughter and said, “No. The Wind is no mate for you. He is no warrior. He is no hunter. He loves only to play pranks. You cannot marry him.”
The maiden went away sorrowing, for she loved the Wind.
The next day when the maiden went out to gather sweet marsh grass for her basket weaving, she heard a sudden rushing sound above her head. She looked up, and as she looked the Wind swept down and carried her in his arms far away to his lodge.
There they lived happily together, for the maiden became his wife. But the great Chief was full of wrath. He hunted through all the land for the lodge of the Wind, but he could not find it for many moons. Still he would not give up the search, for his heart was hot with wrath.
One day the Wind heard a great crashing sound among the trees near his lodge, and his heart stood still.
“It is your father,” he cried, and he hid the Chief’s daughter in a thicket, while he made himself invisible, that he might stay close beside her.
The great Chief looked inside the lodge of the Wind, but he found it empty. Then he went through the brush, striking to right and left with his heavy club, and calling, “My daughter: my daughter!”
And when the Wind’s wife heard her father’s voice, she answered, “Oh, my father, strike not! We are here.”
But before her words could reach him, the Chief swung his great club once more, and it fell upon the head of the invisible Wind, who, without a sound, dropped unconscious upon the ground. And because he was invisible, neither the Chief nor his daughter knew what had happened.
Then the Chief took his daughter in his arms and hastened back to his tribe. But each day she grew more and more sorrowful, and longed for her husband, the Wind.
For many hours the Wind lay unconscious beside his lodge. When he awakened, the Chief and his daughter had gone. Sorrowfully he set out in search of his wife. He traveled to her father’s tribe, and there at last he found her. But she was in a canoe with her father, far out upon the lake.
Then the Wind cried, “Come to me, my loved one,” and his voice swept out over the water.
The Chief said, “The winds are blowing,” but his daughter knew her husband’s voice. She could not see him, for he was still invisible, but she lifted herself up in the canoe and stretched out her hands toward the shore. As she did so a breeze stirred the water, and the canoe overturned.
The Chief’s daughter threw up her arms, and the Wind tried to catch her in his embrace, but he was too late. The Great Spirit bore her far up into the sky, and there he gave her a home where she would live forever in the lodge of the moon.
The great Chief was drowned in the waters of the lake.
Night after night his daughter looks down upon the earth, hoping for a sight of her lost lover. But though the Wind still roams about the earth in search of his bride, he has never, since the Chief’s blow fell upon his head, had the power to become visible to men.
And now you will understand why the voice of the Wind is so mournful as it wails about the wigwam; and why the Moon Maiden’s pale face is always turned downward toward the earth.