Corn Mother

Hello and welcome back to Fab Figmentals, the podcast that explores the realm of curious creatures, magical monsters, and beautiful beasts!

I’m your host, Lindsey Morse.

Each episode, we dive into the folklore and history of a different legendary creature and share a story about it, and this week, in honor of Thanksgiving, we’re taking inspiration from well-stocked tables and harvest bounty to look at a figure known to some North American indigenous agricultural tribes as being responsible for the origin of maize: the Corn Mother. 

Corn was one of the most important crops to many Native American tribes. It was served at nearly every meal, and it was used in a variety of different capacities: served fresh, dried, and ground into cornmeal. Dried corn could be easily stored for consumption during the winter months, and even corn husks were used to make shoes, sleeping mats, and dolls. 

There are two main versions of the story of how corn came to be. 

In the first version, a beautiful maiden marries a man whose tribe is plagued with hunger. She introduces corn to them, but is secretive about where it comes from— insisting that she must be locked away in private while collecting it. Is she manifesting it with magic? Or growing it in a secret garden? The people want to know. So, one day, they peek in on her and discover that corn grows on her body. While in private, the scrapes the kernels off of her skin, collects them, and bring them back to the group to eat. Disgusted by this discovery, the people drive her away. But her husband follows her. She refuses to return with him, but she does not want the people to starve, so gives him seeds so he can bring corn back to his people.

In the other version, which we’re going to hear today, instead of a young woman, the bringer of corn is an older, motherly figure— known as the corn mother. Her story is often a bit darker than the corn maiden version, so please keep in mind that our stories are often more Brothers Grimm than Mother Goose, and that this one might not be appropriate for little ears. 

I’ve come across several different versions of the corn mother story, and the one we’re going to hear today is adapted from an Abenaki legend, an Algonquin-speaking group from Northeastern North America. 

It’s called, “The First People and the First Corn.” 

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Long ago, the Great Teacher lived in the land where no-one lived. There were plains to the south and frozen lands to the north, and a mighty river flowed between them. There were wild beast and wild flowers. There was the hot sun, the cold wind, and the foaming water. 

This was the land of the Earth Mother.

And above it were the heavens, the realm of the Great Spirit.

And beautiful as the world was, the Great Teacher was lonely. For he had learned so much, but had no-one with whom to impart his wisdom.

Then a man arrived. He said to the the Great Teacher: “I was born of the foam of the waters. The sun shone on the foam and warmed it. Then the wind blew and hardened my body. See - I am brave and fleet of foot, and I have come to abide in this land.”

The next day, a woman came. She stood before the two, and said: “I have come to live with you. Strength is mine, and I give it freely. Comfort shall also be my gift, for I was born of the beautiful flowers of Mother Earth. The dew fell on those flowers, and the sun warmed the dew, and I came forth. I have come into the world to bring love to it.”

The Great Teacher raised his hands to the sky and gave thanks to the Great Spirit. Then he fell to his knees and praised the fertile soil of the Earth Mother. For he now had companionship.

So, the Great Teacher said, “I have a lesson for you, children. You are a man, who is brave and fleet of foot. And you are a woman, who is strong and the source of comfort. You shall be a pair, husband and wife, and you shall fill this land with children and with love.”

The man and the women were happy to hear this, for the wisdom of the Great Teacher accorded with their own desires. And so, the couple made a home by the banks of the mighty river.  The man and the woman would fish and gather along that river and forage and hunt across the plains. 

The Great Teacher retreated to a lodge in the frozen north, saying to them: “Children, I am but a cry away. Call upon me anytime. For I would be glad to impart my wisdom unto you.”

The man and the woman had seven children, each healthy and strong. And all seemed well. The sun warmed them, and the rain refreshed them, and the land nourished them, and the flowers of the field delighted them.

Yet a seed of unhappiness grew. 

Each day, the woman crossed a ford in the river, and each day she cried. At first quietly. Then louder, so that her children noticed. And then her wail was such that her husband heard her. But he was afraid to ask her why she was so sad. So he called upon the Great Teacher.

“Wise one, my wife cries every day. Her sadness grows, and I know not why. From the realm of the Great Spirit, the sun warms us and the rains refresh us. And from Mother Earth, we are nourished and delighted. We have been blessed with seven children, all healthy and strong.”

The Great Teacher thought about what the man had told him. After a while he said: “All the good things that you have can bring happiness, that is true. But they cannot dispel sadness. Talk to her. Listen to what she has to say. Hear her words. And try to feel, for a moment, how she feels. For she is strong and brings comfort.”

So the man returned to the bank of the mighty river and did as the Great Teacher had bid him do. As the woman forded the river, weeping as she went, the man approached her and touched her upon the shoulder.

“Wife, why is it that you weep? You bring strength and comfort to me and to our children. We love and cherish you. The world has brought us all we need to be happy; and yet sadness has become your lot.”

The woman was greatly touched. She placed her hand on her husband’s cheek and said: “When I first met you, I said that I have come into the world to bring love to the world. And this I believe I have done. But we have seven children. They will spread and multiply, and generation upon generation will be born. There is bounty in the land we have been given. But what will happen when our descendants become so numerous that the land and the river can no longer support them? I cannot let my children and my children’s children starve.”

The man was perplexed. “Then what must we do?”

The woman replied. “You must kill me and then drag my body across the land near the bank of the mighty river. I was born of the dew that fell upon the flowers, and the sun that warmed the dew. And so I my body will return to the land, and a new plant will grow. It will draw upon the richness of Mother Earth and it will be nurtured by the bounties of the Great Spirit. From my remains shall grow corn - this will be a most valuable food for my children and my children’s children. From my strength it shall grow and they will be comforted. That is what I must do, for love.”

Though it broke the man’s heart, he killed her. He and the children drew her body across the land near the bank of the river. And from her remains, small green shoots grew. The rain and the sun fed these shoots and they grew until the land was full of tall green stalks. On top of each stalk a head of sweet yellow corn formed. And when the time came, they harvested this bounty and found that it was good and nourishing.

In thanks, the man and his children burned the stalks of the corn plants, and the smoke rose to the sky. The spirit of the woman, who now lived in the heavens with the Great Spirit, inhaled this smoke and it was most pleasing to her. For so long as her descendants burned these stalks she knew that they were comforted and that love continued to exist in the world.

The Great Teacher watched all of this and said to the man and to all men and women who followed, generation after generation: “This is the Corn Mother. From her strength came forth sweetness. Give thanks to her. Always.” 

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This has to be one of the strangest stories we’ve shared on the show so far, don’t you think? The first time I read it, I thought: “huh. I really hope the lesson here isn’t that killing your sad wife leads to happiness and bounty because… yikes.” But, on second thought, I think the story is actually quite lovely. The corn mother is a martyr figure, whose self-sacrifice ensures the ongoing wellbeing of her family. 

Given the time of year and all this talk about corn, I’d like to venture back to the first Thanksgiving. Because corn wasn’t just an important crop for Native American tribes, it was also key to the survival of European settlers. 

The story of the first Thanksgiving is one that many American schoolchildren can recite by heart. Let’s see if I can remember the version I was taught in school. As I recall, the story goes a little something like this: The Pilgrims, who fled England looking for religious freedoms, landed at Plymouth Rock in 1620 after a long and arduous voyage to North America. They were grateful to finally have their feet back on solid ground, and they set to work clearing land and building a colony in Plymouth, Massachusetts. They were aided by an indigenous man named Squanto, who taught them how to grow corn and helped them communicate with the local tribes. After a great first year in their new country, they invited all the local Native Americans to feast with them at the first Thanksgiving, where they all gave thanks for a bountiful harvest, good friends, and their new home in America. 

Of course, the actual story of the first Thanksgiving is a bit more complex, and not quite so happy as the one I remember learning in school. I don’t want to say that the whole thing is a modern American myth— there are some true bits to this classic story— but it’s not entirely accurate, and it’s certainly been softened for younger audiences. 

First things first, the first stop for the Pilgrims wasn’t The New World, it was Holland, where they were readily given the religious freedom I was taught they came to America in search of. They departed Holland for America in part because they wanted to set up their own religious theocracy— pretty much the opposite of religious freedom, when you think about it— but also because they wanted to make some money. 

Upon arriving in Plymouth, Massachusetts, they were thrilled to find that the area was perfect for their settlement, it was all cleared fields and a rolling streams. So why wasn’t someone already living in this picturesque little dale? Well, up until recently, someone had been. The area had been previously settled by the Patuxet Indians, but not long before the Pilgrims arrived all but one of them died from smallpox.

Squanto was actually that sole surviving Patuxet, and he did help the settlers by acting as an interpreter and teaching them how to grow corn. But there’s a darker side to his story. In 1614, years before the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth Rock, Squanto had been captured by the English and sold into slavery. This is where he learned English. He was returned home in 1619, only to find his people dead from the plague of smallpox. The Pilgrims arrived a year later in 1620, and Squanto himself died of illness only a couple years later.

The first Thanksgiving, as it’s now called, was indeed held to celebrate the first harvest, and it was attended by both Pilgrims and indigenous Americans— some reports estimate that it was attended by around 50 Pilgrims and as many as 90 native peoples. And there’s a reason why the settlers were outnumbered almost 2:1; that first year in Plymouth hadn’t been an easy one. Nearly half of the Pilgrims had perished in the harsh first winter. Learning how to grow corn from Squanto hadn’t just been a symbolic act of fraternity, it likely saved their lives. 

But perhaps one of the most surprising facts about the first Thanksgiving is that the table wasn’t spread with the traditional feast we think of today. First and foremost, while there may have been some kind of fowl on offer, there are no reports that turkey was served. The settlers also lacked ovens, wheat, and butter, so there were no pies, freshly baked rolls, or casserole. And we can be certain that sweet potatoes weren’t on the table— they hadn’t yet been introduced to North America at that time. But some aspects of the meal were probably the same— or similar— as we know them today. Cranberries and pumpkin, for example, likely graced the table in some capacity. But there’s one thing of which we can be absolutely sure: they all had plenty of corn.

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Thank you so much for tuning in to this episode of Fab Figmentals!

Research, writing, and sound editing are done by me, Lindsey Morse. Niall Cooper assists with writing and editing. A special thanks to Niall this week for his help adapting the corn mother story we featured. Our theme music was created by Graeme Ronald. 

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Thanks again for listening. We’re taking next week off for the holidays, but we’ll be back in two weeks, and I’m really excited about our upcoming shows. With December knocking at the door, I think it’s time to kick off the Christmas celebration. And we’re going to do that with our very own figmentals brand of weirdness and whimsy— by looking at one of Santa’s famous foils, the half-goat, half-demon child-punisher known as Krampus.

We’ll see you next time.