KANA′TĬ AND SELU: THE ORIGIN OF GAME AND CORN When I was a boy this is what the old men told me they had heard when they were boys.
Long years ago, soon after the world was made, a hunter and his wife lived at Pilot knob with their only child, a little boy.
The father’s name was Kana′tĭ (The Lucky Hunter), and his wife was called Selu (Corn).
No matter when Kana′tĭ went into the wood, he never failed to bring back a load of game, which his wife would cut up and prepare, washing off the blood from the meat in the river near the house.
The little boy used to play down by the river every day, and one morning the old people thought they heard laughing and talking in the bushes as though there were two children there.
When the boy came home at night his parents asked him who had been playing with him all day.
“He comes out of the water,” said the boy, “and he calls himself my elder brother.
He says his mother was cruel to him and threw him into the river.” Then they knew that the strange boy had sprung from the blood of the game which Selu had washed off at the river’s edge.
Every day when the little boy went out to play the other would join him, but as he always went back again into the water the old people never had a chance to see him.
At last one evening Kana′tĭ said to his son, “Tomorrow, when the other boy comes to play, get him to wrestle with you, and when you have your arms around him hold on to him and call for us.” The boy promised to do as he was told, so the next day as soon as his playmate appeared he challenged him to a wrestling match.
The other agreed at once, but as soon as they had their arms around each other, Kana′tĭ’s boy began to scream for his father.
The old folks at once came running down, and as soon as the Wild Boy saw them he struggled to free himself and cried out, “Let me go; you threw me away!” but his brother held on until the parents reached the spot, when they seized the Wild Boy and took him home with them.
They kept him in the house until they had tamed him, but he was always wild and artful in his disposition, and was the leader of his brother in every mischief.
It was not long until the old people discovered that he had magic powers, and they called him I′năge-utăsûñ′hĭ (He-who-grew-up-wild).
Whenever Kana′tĭ went into the mountains he always brought back a fat buck or doe, or maybe a couple of turkeys.
One day the Wild Boy said to his brother, “I wonder where our father gets all that game; let’s follow him next time and find out.” A few days afterward Kana′tĭ took a bow and some feathers in his hand and started off toward the west.
The boys waited a little while and then went after him, keeping out of sight until they saw him go into a swamp where there were a great many of the small reeds that hunters use to make arrowshafts.
Then the Wild Boy changed himself into a puff of bird’s down, which the wind took up and carried until it alighted upon Kana′tĭ’s shoulder just as he entered the swamp, but Kana′tĭ knew nothing about it.
The old man cut reeds, fitted the feathers to them and made some arrows, and the Wild Boy—in his other shape—thought, “I wonder what those things are for?” When Kana′tĭ had his arrows finished he came out of the swamp and went on again.
The doctrine and worldview that natural phenomena, places, and objects possess inherent spirit, soul, or personality — and that the cosmos is populated by countless local, plural, embodied divine agents: kami in mountain and tree, sidhe in cairn and well, landwights in field and stone, nymphs in spring and grove, haltija in forest and lake, lares and penates in household and threshold, Iamblichean daemons in element and place. Distinct from monotheism (single transcendent God), pantheism (one underlying substance), and emanation_hierarchy (cascading single source); animism's signature is the plurality, locality, and embodied-in-landscape character of the divine.
The text embodies an animistic worldview where natural phenomena (game blood) generate spirits, and beings like Selu (Corn) and the Wild Boy possess inherent spiritual agency and personality within the landscape.
Narratives or doctrines of cosmic origin — how heaven, earth, and the primordial deities first came into being. The Kojiki's deities born alone on the Plain of High Heaven, Voluspo's Ginnungagap, Genesis's tohu wa-bohu, the Timaeus's Demiurge fashioning the Receptacle, the Hesiodic Theogony, the Kalevala's egg-cosmogony, Egyptian Nun-and-Atum. Distinct from emanation_hierarchy (structural-ontological cascade), letters_of_creation (mechanism of creation), and apocatastasis/frashokereti (end-state restoration); cosmogony is temporally-narrative beginning.
The passage explicitly narrates the origin of game animals and corn, explaining how these essential elements of the world came into being through a mythic event.
Form-mutability as a constitutional property of divine and preternatural beings — gods, heroes, spirits, and their human practitioners possessing inherent capacity to alter form across human, animal, plant, or elemental states. Loki and Odin's transformations in Norse, Math's pigs and Blodeuwedd's owl-shape and Pwyll's exchange with Arawn in the Mabinogion, the Greek Proteus, the Indian dasavatara, Vainamoinen's bird-flight in the Kalevala, Ovid's metamorphoses, the shamanic and witch's capacity for ritual form-change. Distinct from anthropomorphism (divine taking specific human form, single embodiment) in that anthropomorphism establishes a stable form whereas this concept establishes form's plurality and instability.
The Wild Boy demonstrates a central capacity for form-mutability by changing himself into a puff of bird's down to spy on his father.