This week, on Myths and Legends, it's the story of the Falconer's dream from Japanese folklore.

It's a tale of identity and change, but also of terrifying birds and big sticks,

then actually bells and whistles, so it's the whole gamut.

The creature this week is why you shouldn't pet that snow pile with the neon pink eyes.

This is Myths and Legends, Episode 301, after sundown.

This is a podcast where we tell stories from mythology and folklore.

Some are incredibly popular stories you might think you know, but with surprising origins.

Others are tales that might be new to you, but are definitely worth listening.

Today's episode takes us into the world of Japanese folklore, and there's not really any setup

necessary, so we'll jump right in.

To the west of the capital, in the distance, where houses shrink and formalities decline,

there's a patch of land where the ground lays flat and grasses sway in wild plumes.

It's called the Saga Mour, and it's the only home I have ever known.

Here, I was an orphan. I became a husband, a father three times over, and yet always, I am the Falconer.

It is who I am. It is how I have survived. I know each of my hawks and have trained

them since they were chicks. They are impartial to the prize, as harsh as the wind delivering

chills from the north. It takes many kills to keep them fed, but through them, and with them,

and for them, I remain here on Saga Mour. Here, though my sons are now men,

though they tower above their mother, their hair tied high in a knot, they have cut up to me,

and only I too have moved. And with age comes lighter sleep. So light, I can feel my dreams pressing

down on me, like a heap of stone from the mountains. I lay down, and I am awake. And then, I am not.

In the dreams that visit me often, there's a hole in the center of Saga Mour.

...