When Crow Slept Through the Colors

(Adapted respectfully from Navajo oral traditions about the Moccasin Game and the giving of colors)

Long ago, in the First World, before the earth took its full shape, the Holy People — the Diyin Dineʼé — gathered all the creatures to decide how the world would be.
They played the Moccasin Game, a sacred contest between the animals of the Day and the animals of the Night. If the Day team won, the sun would rule forever. If the Night team won, the world would rest in darkness.

The game ended in balance — neither won completely — and so Day and Night shared the sky.
Then the Holy People said, “Now each of you will choose your colors, to show the world who you are.”
They laid out pigments of red, blue, yellow, white, and all the bright colors of creation.

All the birds came forward to paint themselves.
The hummingbird took the colors of flowers.
The eagle chose gold for the sun.
The bluebird took the color of the morning sky.

But Crow, who had been singing and dancing all night during the game, fell asleep beneath a tree.
By the time Crow woke, the others were already shining in their new colors, and the bowls of paint were nearly empty.

Crow hurried to the Holy People and said, “Where are my colors?”
They smiled and pointed to the bottom of the last bowl, where only black ashes and charcoal remained from the sacred fire.

Crow looked at the ashes, thought for a long time, and then said,

“If this is what is left, then I will take it.
I will wear the color of night so I may fly unseen between the worlds of day and dream.”

Crow rolled in the ashes until every feather shone black as obsidian.
When Crow spread its wings, the sun shimmered across them, and hidden colors flashed — red, violet, green — all still there, hidden in the dark.

Then the Holy People said,

“Because you have taken the color that holds all others,
you will travel between light and shadow.
You will carry messages between what is seen and unseen.
Yours will be the voice that calls between worlds.”

And from that day, Crow became the messenger of balance — the one who reminds us that even what seems like loss can become sacred purpose.

Acknowledgment of the Story

This story is shared with respect and gratitude for the Indigenous peoples, elders, and storytellers whose oral traditions carry these teachings.
It is offered as a respectful retelling, drawn from living oral lineages, where stories are passed through generations to convey relationship, balance, and meaning. They live within the cultures, lands, and communities from which they come.
I acknowledge that these stories do not belong to me, nor are they fixed or complete in written form.
I share them here not as ownership or authority, but as a way of honoring the wisdom they carry and the traditions that continue to hold them.