Bunjil The Creator Balayang the bat was enjoying himself paddling in the shallow water at the edge of the Goulbourne River, scooping it up with his hands, and splashing it in the air. Ther mud at the river bottom was stirred up until he could no longer see through it. Tiring of this, he stripped the leaves from a fallen branch and poked it in the mud. Presently he felt something soft and yielding, yet heavier and more solid than the mud in which it was resting. Curious to know what it could be, he poked it with the stick and felt it roll over but, try as he might, he was unable to bring it to the surface. Withdrawing the stick, he bent it into a hook and succeeded in catching the mysterious object. ​When it emerged, he saw two hands, a head, a body, and two feet. It was the body of a woman. As he dragged it on to the bank, two more hands appeared. A second body had broken loose and was floating to the surface. Wondering what he had discovered, for never before had a Balayang seen a woman, he took the bodies to Bunjil and laid them at is feet. ​“These are women” the Great Spirit said. ‘They are made to be companions and helpers of men. This us Kunnawarra the Black Swan, and this one is Kururuk, the Native Companion.’ ​As he spoke, men gathered around him, anxious to see the first women. Bunjil held his hands over them and gave them life. The women stood up, looking at the men who encircled them and then the Great Spirit. ‘You are to live with the men,’ he said. Man is not complete without you, nor will you be complete without him.’ He gave each a digging stick, symbolic of their destiny as gatherers of vegetable food, and to the men spears and spear throwers, a sign that they were to be hunters of animals and protectors of their womenfolk. ​ The emergence of mankind, male and female, was the crowning achievement of the All-Father, but his work was not confirmed to this, mor the creation of animal life. There is a homely tale of how the Great Spirit went hunting with his six trusty wirinuns and a number of other men at what is now Port Phillip in Victoria, which was then wide plain. While they were away, and their wives engaged in collecting food for the evening meal, only a few old women and children remained in the camp. ​ The women were so immersed in camp gossip that they failed to notice what the children were doing. An Argument had arisen and the boys had taken sides. Blows were exchanged and, in the midst of excitement, a dish of water was upset. If it had been an ordinary coolamon, no harm would have been done but, as it happened, it was the one that belonged to Bunjil and of course possessed magic properties. When it was knocked over, the contents were split, but that was only the beginning. A never-ending torment poured out of the dish, flooding the encampment and spreading across the plain. At first the water was shallow, but as the stream continued to gush over the side of the dish, it rose, inundating the hills and threatening a much wider area. Bunjil had been mildly surprised when he first noticed the tide of water at his feet. As it grew deeper, and his men found themselves waist deep in the water, he realized that he must act quickly if he were to save the newly made world from destruction. ​ Plucking two huge rocks from a nearby hill, he threw them onto the ground. They fell on the edge of the creeping water, not far from each other. He ordered the stream to flow between them and lose itself in the ocean. He was just in time. The waters remained where they were, ebbing and flowing between the rocks to Port Phillip. Bunjils work was nearing an end. The land was fair, adorned with vegetation ranging from moss and tiny blades of grass to the tall trees that stood stiff and unyielding in the still air. Animal life was abundant and infinite in variety, flying, scurrying across the ground, and burrowing through the soil. Only the trees and plants remained motionless, as though Bunjil had forgotten to give them life. ‘There must be movement for life is a pulsating state of ceaseless activity,” he murmured. ‘There must be moving air to carry to clouds on its back, strong winds to bend the trees, and fitful breezes to enable birds to fight against them to make them strong.’ He looked around him. Bellin-bellin the Crow was behind him, with an airtight bag suspended from his neck. ‘Have you kept the winds I gave you to mind safe in our bag?’ he asked. ‘Yes, Great Father Bunjil, they are all there. Not one escaped.” ‘Good! Now you may open it and release some of the winds.’ Bellin-bellin cautiously opened one corner of the bag. A gentle breeze sped across the western lands, another to the east, another to the south, and a fiercer, colder wind to the north.​ The trees waived their branches, the birds lifted their voices as they felt the fresh air caressing their bodies, and even the insects and lizards joined in praise of Bunjil the Great Provider. ‘That is good,’ Bunjil told him. ‘One last wind please a stronger one, a colder one, that will challenge my children to be brave and stand up to raging storms and prepare them for the evil ears that may lie ahead. Bellin-bellin opened the neck of the bag wider still and out roared a screaming wind with snow and chill of high mountain pools, cold and bracing. ​ ‘Enough, enough!” cried Bunjil. “no one can withstand the power of the south wind.” So strong was that wind that it bent the tall trees double and denuded them of their leaves, while he and his family were blown right out of the world, together with all their possessions. It did not stop blowing until Bunjil and all his relatives and followers were blown back to their permanent home in the sky. ​Reference: Aboriginal Myths Legends & Fables, A.W. Reed