Join us at the campfire for tales from around the world, told by storytellers of all backgrounds and creeds. From the heros and heroines of old, let us relearn and rediscover the wisdom of our ancestors. Shhh..the story begins..

The stories the ancient ones told of heroic, magical battles and of mythical creatures and animals who were gifted with the power of speech, were not always told purely for entertainment. They were often woven from the dark fantasies and deeply rooted fears of the people. It was believed that the telling of these stories created a potent magic that could keep evil forces at bay. In the frozen north, no creature was dreaded more than the giant bear. To the Eskimos who dwelt in this region, it seemed that the bear was the animal who most closely resembled human beings and, therefore, the most dangerous. The female bear cared for her young in much the same way as a human mother would and also stalked prey in much the same manner as humans did. Walking upright on two legs, the bear was a match for even the most skilled hunter.

The great white bear haunted the dreams of the Eskimos and the hunt was more than merely a battle between hunter and hunted...it represented the struggle between man and mortality, set in a forbidding landscape where death lurked and was always on the prowl.

Those who faced the greatest risk were the weakest members of the tribe-- the old, the sick, the injured and the very young--but even the most powerful of hunters often came close to the jaws of death and it was only through the potent magic they had gathered from the spirits of the creatures that they had killed that the hunters were able to survive.

Set against this background of bitter cold and drifting snow, the Eskimos told the story of a boy and his father, and their struggle against the most forceful and dangerous elements of the north. Into this tale were woven the Eskimos' deepest fears--separation from family, harsh winters, illness and, above all, the giant bear.

It was told that the boy and his father travelled across the land alone-- the only humans in a frozen world. How the two came to be travelling alone, the story does not relate. Perhaps the man had broken one of the taboos that allow hunters to kill a beast which is far greater than themselves. He may have neglected to make the proper speech of apology to the bear he had slain or failed to offer the dead creature water or, worst of all, he may have forgotten to dedicate the skull of the first bear he killed to the sea. For whatever reason, the boy and his father were far from home and far from the protection offered by the tribe.

The boy had great admiration for his father and considered him to be a mighty hunter. He followed in his father's footsteps and spent his days snaring small animals and preparing himself to be a strong hunter, just like his father. It was also the boy's job to gather driftwood and mosses to fuel the fires they would need during the long winter months. One day, as the boy wandered the snowy terrain looking for suitable kindling, he came upon a bird. It was smaller and very different from any bird he had seen before. Slowly and as stealthily as he could, the boy raised his lance and crept towards the bird. It was a very small creature but the boy felt sure that there would at least be some meat on its tiny bones. As the boy approached, instead of taking flight, the bird turned towards him and, cocking its brown head to one side, stared at him with a bright eye. To the boy, this seemed like a welcome and he lowered his lance in respect of this bird who must have been blessed with a very powerful spirit indeed to be able to look into the face of death.

From that day on, the boy often noticed the bird in his travels. Whenever he saw it, he always stopped to speak to it and to offer food from his pouch. He learned that the bird was fond of insects and slugs and before too long, the bird was bold enough to actually eat from the boy's hand. This pleased the boy and he believed that with the magic of this strange bird on his side, he would surely become a great hunter.

When the darkness of winter descended, the boy and his father withdrew to the shelter of their snow hut. They ate the meat and fish they had stored and passed the time in front of a small but bright fire built from the mosses, twigs and driftwood that the boy had gathered. The igloo was well insulated by the snow which piled on top of it and the boy and his father kept warm under layers of furs.

Soon, it was the season of the ice bear, when night ruled the world. As the boy and his father huddled close to the flickering fire, they could hear the beast breathing outside the igloo. It was sniffing around and looking for an opening. Every now and then, the bear would peer into the narrow entrance, eyes glinting in the firelight, then, afraid of the fire, it would retreat. Although both the boy and his father were terrified of the great bear, neither spoke of their fear--to do so would only add to the bear's power. Instead, they told stories about great bear hunts and the many ways in which bears had been slain by mighty hunters for it was only in the retelling of such tales of bravery would it be possible to keep the creature at bay.

The man told stories of heroic deeds, hour after hour, until his voice grew hoarse and his eyes became bright with delirium. His brow burned with fever and he fell into a deep sleep from which his sobbing son could not rouse him. Fighting back his tears, the boy began to relate the tales to himself and added twigs to the fire, one by one. Struggling against the almost overpowering urge to sleep, the boy watched fearfully as the bear's eyes grew bolder in the doorway and the fire began to die. At last, he could no longer speak and fell into a troubled sleep next to his father.

The fire dwindled and weakened until it finally expired with a small splutter of flames. The bear, with nothing now to fear, thrust one of its massive paws into the igloo but could not reach the boy or his father. Thrusting its mighty shoulder against the snow hut, the bear tried to crash through the narrow doorway, but still the building held. Disgusted, the bear wandered away to seek the warmth of its own lair, confident that when it returned in the spring, the frozen flesh of the man and the boy would provide a fine meal.

The wind outside the igloo howled icily and, upon its chilled breeze, brought the small brown bird that had been befriended by the boy. The story does not say how the bird knew about the boy's plight or why it was in the Arctic out of its season...it only tells of how the bird came...and how it saved the boy's life.

Flying through the doorway of the igloo, the little bird landed on the ashes of the dead fire and scratched until it found a spark of an ember. Carefully fanning with its wings, the bird brought the ember back to life. The small bird continued to fan ceaselessly until it coaxed the fire to burst back into flames. The blaze rose high, scorching the bird's breast and rousing the boy from his fitful sleep. As the boy opened his eyes, he saw the bird--its breast now red with the heat--fly from the igloo.

And so, the Ancient Eskimos, say that from that day forward, robins had red breasts. The glowing feathers passed on from one winged generation to the next--a medallion of bravery and honor bestowed upon the robin to mark the gift of life that the bird once gave to a father and his son.