A Traditional Butterfly Story-How Butterflies Were Created.

A story from the Tohono O O'Dham (formerly named the Papago) of central, south Arizona and Sonora in Mexico, addresses the creation of butterflies. One day, the great creator, while watching some children play in a village, started to reflect on the work that he had done. “These children will grow old, their skin will become wrinkled and their hair will turn grey .Their teeth will fall out and the young hunters’ arms will fail. These lovely young girls will grow ugly and fat. The playful puppies will become blind and mangy, these wonderful flowers, yellow and blue purple and red will become faded and the leaves will fall and dry up.”
With this knowledge, the Creator grew sadder and sadder. It was in the fall, and the thought of the coming winter, with its cold and lack of game and green things, made his heart heavy. Yet it was still warm, and the sun was shining. The Creator watched the play of sunlight and shadow on the ground, the yellow leaves being carried here and there by the wind. He saw the blueness of the sky, the whiteness of some cornmeal ground by the women. Suddenly he smiled. "All of those colors, they ought to be preserved. I'll make something to gladden my heart, something for these children to look at and enjoy."
The Creator took out his bag and started gathering things: a spot of sunlight, a handful of blue from the sky, the whiteness of the cornmeal, the shadow of playing children, the blackness of a beautiful girl's hair, the yellow of the falling leaves, the green of the pine needles, the red, purple, and orange of the flowers around him. All these he put into his bag. As an afterthought, he put the songs of the birds in, too.
Then he walked over to the grassy spot where the children were playing. "Children, little children, this is for you," and he gave them his bag. "Open it; there's something nice inside," he told them. The children opened the bag, and at once hundreds and hundreds of colored butterflies flew out, dancing around the children's heads, settling on their hair, fluttering up again to sip from this or that flower. And the children, enchanted, said that they had never seen anything so beautiful. The butterflies began to sing, and the children listened with joy.
But then a songbird landed on the Creator's shoulder, scolding him and saying: "It's not right to give our songs to these new, pretty things. You told us when you made us that every bird would have his own song. And now you've passed them all around. Isn't it enough that you gave your new playthings all the colors of the rainbow?" "You're right," said the Creator. "I made one song for each bird, and I shouldn't have taken what belongs to them." So the Creator took the songs away from the butterflies, and that is why they are silent. "They're beautiful even so!" he said.