The Legend of Manitous Springs
Long ago, when the cottonwoods along the Big River were still young and all those who hunted buffalo on the plains spoke a common language, peace reigned among the people. When hunters from different tribes met, they shared their bounty and offered the pipe of peace, ensuring goodwill and harmony. It was a time when hunters respected one another’s territories and showed generosity to guests who ventured into their hunting grounds.
One day, two hunters from different nations arrived at a small stream to quench their thirst. One was successful, having caught a fat deer, while the other was weary from an unsuccessful hunt. The fortunate hunter, before drinking, offered a gesture of gratitude to the Great Spirit by raising a handful of water to the sun and letting it fall to the earth. Observing this, the unsuccessful hunter became envious. Consumed by jealousy, he sought to provoke a conflict. As he rose from the stream, he questioned the other hunter’s right to drink directly from the spring, challenging his status and claiming superiority.
The confrontation escalated as words of accusation and anger were exchanged. Overcome by fury, the unsuccessful hunter attacked, forcing the other’s head into the spring until the life within him ceased. In that moment of violence, a transformation took place. The once-clear waters of the spring turned foul and bitter. As the murderer stood in horror, a vision of Wau-kau-aga, the revered ancestor of both Comanche and Shoshone, appeared. The elder delivered a curse, marking the separation of the tribes and ensuring that the water of the murderer’s people would remain undrinkable. Meanwhile, to honor the slain Shoshone hunter, Wau-kau-aga created a new spring with water pure and sweet. These springs endure, a testament to the tragic event and the enduring division that followed, reminding all of the consequences of envy and violence.
This retelling is shared with respect to the living traditions of the Comanche people, from whom this story originates.
