These creatures are also known as Koko, depending on what tribal lore you're looking into. They're spirits who apparently take the form of ducks and bring rain to the people. Some say this is done by their changing the souls of the dead into rain clouds - which, let's face it, really makes me want to invest in a heavy-duty umbrella. Something about have the dead rained on me is a bit unsettling. The Kachina also love both entertaining and disciplining children. If you happen to be in the market for a mythical babysitter, look no further.
If I'm being quite honest, one of the main reasons I'm including these fellows is because I enjoy saying their name. Come on, try it. Luferlang is just fun to say and, I imagine, quite interesting to see. These guys are fairly distinctive, with both a large blue stripe down enormous backs that sport tails right smack dab in their centers. Being bitten by one is certain death. Luckily for everybody, the Luferlang only bites once a year and lumberjack lore is bizarrely specific on when this "biting season" occurs. July 12. From what I've found, that's it. The biting season is one day. Biggest piece of advice, don't wear green. Drives the Luferlang crazy. If you do happen to have the misfortune of running across one on that ill-fated summer's day, don't worry. Hope is not lost. Clearly displaying an orange colored handkerchief will protect you, as will holding a mirror up so that the Luferlang sees its own reflection. There seem to be some deep-seated body issues here, as looking at its own reflection causes the Luferlang to run off in disgust. Makes me want to give it a big hug...at least it does 364 days a year.
This is one of those take-the-bad-with-the-good creatures. A gigantic sea serpent, this guy is well respected by the Algonquins for keeping the waters of many different lakes around North America clean. For the most part, it seems that the misiganabic keeps its own counsel and is not looking for any trouble. Unfortunately, trouble is exactly what a person gets if they look at the misiganabic. One glance at the serpentine body that leads up to the head of a horse and you're either looking at crippling misfortune or death - which really makes it hard to enjoy those crystal clear lakes.
These swamp dwellers come out of Choctaw mythology and are quite the little devils. They're humanoid and pretty much covered head to toe in hair, but this doesn't exactly hide the fact that their backs are covered in sharp spines. Far more upsetting that imagining how much shampoo these guys would blow through is the fact that those spines serve a practical purpose. Once the Nalusa Falaya children shed their skin and turn into glowing spirits that attract travelers to the swamps - you know, as children are wont to do - the adults scare the humans into unconsciousness and then stab them with their spines. Considering the spines are on their backs, I guess that means that they trust fall on to a pile of fainted folks and roll around in a bloody mess. The worst part? This doesn't kill the people. Instead it brainwashes them to wake up, return to their friends and then randomly attack them. Talk about a camp ground buzzkill.
Out of Iroquois lore, the Ohdows are one of the three tribes of Yogah - the other two being the Gahonga (Stone Throwers) and the Gandayah (responsible for the earth's fertility). Of these three, I can say, hands down the Ohdows are the one's I'd want to tag along with on Take-A-Mortal-To-Work-Day. After all, they're responsible for controlling the monsters that live in the underworld and making sure that they don't make a break for the surface. Just show me where to sign and I'm in.
But until I get the necessary permission slip for such work, it's time to focus on the ol' manuscripts. Have a great weekend and don't follow any glowing spirits toward the swamps. If for no other reason, avoid it for your friends' sakes.