THE MEDICINE TREE: By Robert C. Eccles
Friday, March 5th, 2010The woodland creatures knew of the healing powers of the tree they called “The Medicine Tree”. The tree had helped many of its furry friends who struggled with disease or injury.
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The squirrel’s right rear leg had been mauled in a fight with a dog and rendered nearly useless.
The squirrel approached the Medicine Tree.
“Medicine Tree,” the squirrel squeaked, wringing its front paws and looking at the ground, “might you repair my leg?”
“Of course, my little friend” the tree answered. “Taste of my fruit and be healed.”
The tree dropped a piece of fruit in front of the squirrel, who picket it up and ate it. No sooner had the squirrel finished the fruit than he began to hop about on his perfectly restored leg.
“Oh, thank you, Medicine Tree!” the squirrel exclaimed. “You’ve made my leg as good as new!”
“Think nothing of it, dear one,” the Medicine Tree said. “It gives me great joy to help others such as yourself. Go your way in health.”
***
The duck’s wing had been broken when a hunter’s buckshot tore through its feathers and flesh. The duck waddled up to the Medicine Tree.
“Medicine Tree,” the duck quacked, looking bashfully at its webbed feet, “might you repair my wing?”
“Of course, my little friend,” the tree answered. “Taste of my fruit and be healed.”
The tree dropped a piece of fruit in front of the duck, who quickly gobbled it down. Almost immediately he began flapping his repaired wing.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” the duck said, flapping joyfully this way and that. “My wing is as good as new thanks to you!”
“Think nothing of it, dear one,” the tree said. “It is my pleasure to do what I can to help my friends who are hurting find healing.”
***
The young fox was practically on death’s door, having developed a bad infection after cutting its paw on a piece of glass. The fox’s father laid his son’s limp and nearly lifeless body at the base of the tree.
“Medicine Tree,” father fox said, his eyes brimming with tears and his voice catching in his throat, “might you cure the infection and bring my son back to me?”
“Of course, my friend,” the tree said. “Feed him of my fruit, and he will be healed.”
The tree dropped a piece of fruit in front of the fox, who chewed it up and fed the pulp to his ailing son. The young fox blinked its eyes, lifted its head, stood up and began running around as if it had never been ill.
“Thank you, Medicine Tree!” father fox cried. “You have brought my son back to me!”
“Think nothing of if, dear one,” the tree said. “I live to serve the needs of my friends. My wish is that you’ll have many wonderful years with your son.”
***
The woodsman had always laughed at the legend of the Medicine Tree. But when the woodsman’s wife became deathly ill, and all options had been exhausted, he found himself kneeling at the tree’s base..
“Medicine Tree,” the woodsman wept, his head in his hands, “might you help bring my wife back to good health?”
“I’m sorry,” said the tree, “but my healing powers are limited to the small creatures who share these woods with me. I’m afraid my fruit would do your wife no good.”
The woodsman stood up, his face a picture of rage.
“How can you know that? Has it ever been tried?”
“It has not,” answered the Medicine Tree, “but it is how it has been since the beginning of time. My fruit benefits only the woodland creatures.”
“I won’t believe it!” shouted the woodsman. He swung his ax, wedging its sharp blade in the side of the Medicine Tree. The tree cried out in pain, but the woodsman didn’t hear. The woodland creatures shrieked in horror, but the woodsman didn’t hear. He swung the ax over and over, until the great tree was toppled. He collected the tree’s fruit in a sack and returned to his cottage.
The woodsman fed his ailing wife the fruit of the Medicine Tree, but her illness persisted and she died. The woodsman was overcome with grief, not only for the loss of his wife, but for having needlessly cut down the Medicine Tree. After burying his wife, the woodsman went back into the forest, stopping at the stump where the Medicine Tree once stood and again falling to his knees.
“I’m so sorry,” the woodsman cried. “I wouldn’t listen, and now both you and my wife are dead. Is there anything I might do to set things right?”
The woodsman heard growling and looked up. A pack of wolves approached him, hackles raised and teeth bared. He stood to run, but the wolves were upon him in an instant. They tore the woodsman apart, and his blood soaked the Medicine Tree’s stump.
When the wolves finally dragged the woodsman’s remains into the forest, the other woodland creatures gathered around the stump. They watched and whispered excitedly amongst each other as a crack appeared in the Medicine Tree’s stump and a tiny green shoot pushed its way up through the woodsman’s coagulating blood.
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© 2010 Robert C. Eccles
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