February 2, 1845, Sunday.

It was after church on a Sunday, and Jim Tanner was walking back to the Johnstons' farm and smithy with Hannibal and Cherry. There was a lot of snow on the ground, and the sky was cloudy, but the wind wasn't too bad. Jim was lost in his own thoughts and almost didn't see the brown furry streak that ran past them over the path.

'Hello, Mister Woodchuck,' he said, as the large, utterly harmless rodent disappeared into a snowbank. 'I wonder where you're going?'

'To visit his lady friend,' was Hannibal's answer.

'That's where the baby woodchucks come from in the spring,' said Cherry. 'They're getting a start on the season.' When they reached the house, they told Mrs Johnston about seeing the woodchuck's rare appearance out of hibernation.

'Did he see his shadow?' asked Mrs Johnston. 'If he didn't, maybe we'll have an early spring. Or not. Depends on whether you believe the Germans hereabouts.' She laughed.

'How much wood would a woodchuck chuck…' said Jim. 'Why is a whistle pig called a woodchuck, anyway?'

Mrs Johnston's eyes twinkled. 'It comes from wojak, the Indian word for it. Grandfather Wojak was the original ancestor of the Delaware. He stood up on his hind legs one day and became a man. My grandmother had all kinds of stories like that.'

'Tell us one,' begged Cherry, and Jim added his plea. Mrs Johnston thought for a minute.

'Okay, here's the one about Punxsutawney.'

Jim got interested. 'I was born in Punxsutawney. My mother said it meant "land of the gnats". I could believe it. They'd bite something fierce in the summer.'

Mrs Johnston nodded. 'That's what the legend is about. See, the Delaware used to live all around these parts before the Revolution. After, they moved to the Ohio country. But in the old days, they'd camp at Punxsutawney.'

She went on, 'The story goes that a wicked old sorcerer lived around here. He was mean. He could turn into any creature: a hawk, a fish, a buck deer, even a bear… He terrorised the Delaware. They never knew where he'd turn up. He stole their catches and ruined their crops. Sometimes he led people into the woods, where they became lost and couldn't find their way home. He was a menace. Finally, the leaders couldn't stand it any more. They burned him to death in his tent. But the old sorcerer had the last laugh. The ashes from the fire turned into punkies – biting gnats. They bit everybody so nobody would stay there. Even the German missionaries wouldn't stay there. So the place is called Punxsutawney, place of the gnats.'

Cherry said, 'Well, I'm glad Jim didn't stay there to get bitten all the time.'

Jim was kind of glad, too. 'Do you know any more stories from the Delaware people, Mrs Johnston?'

Mrs Johnston nodded. 'My grandmother knew a lot of them. One reminds me of you somehow. It's about Wa-Sha-Xnend. Wa-Sha-Xnend was a great musician. He played a wooden flute. When he played, his guardian spirit, the water manitou, would come to visit him. Wa-Sha-Xnend had a lot of power and wisdom, even as a young man. He had that wisdom and power because his heart was pure, and he never harmed anyone else. His music was so sweet that it charmed man and beast. He wouldn't have had any enemies at all, except the young warriors were jealous – because the girls liked Wa-Sha-Xnend better than them.'

Hannibal laughed. 'Yep, girls are always fallin' for musicians, aren't they, Jim?' Jim blushed, and Cherry poked her brother in the ribs.

Mrs Johnston went on. 'Wa-Sha-Xnend knew that the young warriors meant him harm. So he told his mother, "If anything happens to me, tie my flute to my wrist and throw me in the river." She promised to do that. And one day, the warriors got a witch-woman to cast a spell on Wa-Sha-Xnend. When his mother came to wake him in the morning, he was dead.'

'Oh, no,' said Cherry.

'His mother remembered what he'd told her. She tied his flute to his wrist and dragged his body to the river, and threw him in. Then she went home, sad.'

Hannibal was curious by now. 'So what happened next?'

Mrs Johnston smiled. 'In six days, the water manitou brought Wa-Sha-Xnend back to life! He told his mother he'd only been visiting his guardian spirit in his secret underwater cave. Because of the flute, his guardian spirit was able to find him. Wa-Sha-Xnend and his mother lived happily after that. But the witch-woman who cast the evil spell had no rest. She had so many evil dreams about what she'd done, that she soon died.'

Hannibal mused, 'I'll bet there's a Delaware moral in there somewhere…wait for it…' He was used to these stories, and he loved his stepmother's 'morals'.

Mrs Johnston swatted at him. 'Hannibal Johnston, you're sharp enough to stick in the ground, and green enough to grow. Of course there's a moral. Never seek to do harm to those who have done you no wrong. Even if you succeed for a while, it is yourself who will suffer the most damage.'

'Amen,' said all her listeners. Jim thought Mrs Johnston's story was better than the preacher's sermon about Free Will that morning. But he didn't say so, just enjoyed the cider and gingerbread that followed.

Dmitri Gheorgheni