Maushop especially loved the Wampanoag people, and he helped them in every way he could. He taught them how to use all the gifts of the Earth to make spears and hatchets, nets and poles, bowls and homes, canoes and clothes, and everything they needed in this world.
This was a long time ago, and as time passed, the people worried that they would not have enough sun to grow their crops; they feared they had too little light to see for fishing and hunting. You see, Grandfather Sun began to appear less and less often, and the people grew restless. They had to keep their fires going for light and heat, and they grew tired of keeping their children indoors. They wearied of singing and telling stories around the fire, and they wished their children could enjoy the light of the sun and its warmth, as once they had.
They looked out to sea, and they waited for him to reappear in the eastern sky, but time seemed to go on and on, so they sought Maushop’s help.
Maushop was so tall that he could wade out deep into the ocean, and so he did. He waited until he saw the tip of Grandfather Sun’s head poking up over the eastern horizon, and he called out to him, “Grandfather Sun, the people asked me to speak to you. They are tired of the darkness. They need your help. Their children long to feel your warmth on their faces, and they need your light to fish again …”
He had more to say, but before he could finish, Grandfather Sun rose and raced across the sky and set once again in the west.
The world turned dark again.
Maushop waited through the night, and when he saw the very top of Grandfather Sun’s head, he waded once again into the ocean. He said, “Please hear me. The people long to see you again …”
But Grandfather Sun rose and raced across the sky and set in the west, and the day was done.
Still, Maushop never gave up. That night, he gathered strands of seaweed and wove them into an enormous net, a fishing net so big it could catch Grandfather Sun. This time, when he waded out into the ocean, he carried his net. He stood beneath a canopy of stars, holding his net aloft, waiting for Grandfather Sun’s first light.
When he spied the top of Grandfather Sun’s head, he whirled and twirled that net with all his strength — and he had the strength of a thousand men. The net whistled and spun, and just as Grandfather Sun’s head rose up above the horizon, Maushop let it loose. He caught Grandfather Sun in his net, and he pulled the ends so tight, he could not escape.
“I’ve got you!” Maushop said. “And though I do not like to trap you, I need you to listen to me.”
Grandfather Sun bowed his head so that the sea would not begin to boil as he hovered above it, and Maushop began to speak. He told Grandfather Sun how much the people needed him. He told them how much they loved him.
Grandfather Sun listened, and he was surprised. “They always ignored me,” he said. “When I arrive in the morning, the people are asleep, and though I used to watch over them all day long, no one ever said a word to me. I sat in the sky, waiting for their praise, but no one spoke. At the end of the day, no one said goodbye. They took me for granted. They didn’t seem to care, and I was so lonely.”
Maushop understood that he had failed to teach the people how to care for Grandfather Sun. He vowed he would tell them. “I’ll let you go now,” Maushop said, “but please don’t disappear. I promise the people will pay more attention.”
From that day on, the people taught their children to greet Grandfather Sun every morning, to thank him for his warmth and light, to honor him for helping to make the plants grow.
Since then, Grandfather Sun has never stayed away for too long. In the autumn and winter, he still spends more time on the other side of the world; but he returns in the spring and summer, and the people rejoice.
One day, the Creator told Maushop that it was good that he cared for his people. “But,” he said, “they must also learn to take care of themselves, or they will not grow and the circle of life will become weak.”
Maushop understood, so he said farewell to the people. They watched him from the cliffs at Gay Head as he waded into the bay and swam west. As he swam, the Creator transformed him into a great white whale. When Maushop’s best friend, the giant frog, came to the cliffs to mourn the departure of his friend, the Creator took pity on him. He transformed him into an enormous stone that sits atop the cliffs at Gay Head, looking out to sea, always waiting to see Maushop.
The Wampanoag people discovered that if they worked for themselves, they had everything they needed. Ever since that day, they have not only thanked Grandfather Sun, they have said many prayers of thanksgiving for all the gifts of Earth.
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