| TIMETREE CHAPTERS: 1 Two Indians 2 Spring 3 His Brother The Wind 4 The First Years 5 Comings And Goings 6 Another Spring 7 The Great Meeting 8 Alone Yet Not Alone 9 Remembering 10 Tomorrow Gone Home Page |
Once Upon A Time, |
COMINGS AND GOINGS
Tall-Tree-Standing has come to die. He leans up against the old, long dormant father tree that he had once seen struck by lightning, many long seasons ago. It is a memory like the scent of wild lilacs in early spring,. He wraps his blanket close around his shoulders and looks at the new tree across from him. It seems so young compared with others beyond the canyon.
The moon rose full and bright. The owl looked down without stirring. The great wind spirit began to blow softly as the brave old warrior drifted into lasting sleep. A war wound in his side seeps.
The wind gathers itself in sadness, then a gust of sorrow blew with sudden, thundering power. It is the first time the wind has ever howled here.
The sun came creeping back, next morning. It's light slowly falls upon Tall Tree Standings feet and slowly it walks up his legs, chest until finally it falls upon his content, silent face. Dark, forest shadows ran away before it. The great father tree stood whole no more. The young Yellow Pine knows this when a single pine cone falls to the ground, bounces and rolls into the still hand of the Indian.
The years came and went, they passed like a breathe of time with each visit from the Westerly Wind. The all-knowing spirits of the lands far away have many brothers and sisters. There was the Cold White Bearded Wind from the snow lands of the North, the warm south wind from the red deserts of the South, and the fickle east wind that rarely visited, from the green prairies that always seemed to have a giggle and was always happy.
The squirrels enjoyed playing and eating on the pine tree's lower limbs. A grizzly bear would come once in a while and scratch against the great tree's side. The tree enjoyed that. It felt good and she would lean a little into the bear. It felt so "hm-m-mm....plea-sur-able," she would sigh. She liked bears.
Woodpeckers hunted and combed through the tree's upper limbs and pecked here and there. Peek-a-boo and hide-and-go-seek were their favorite games. A pair of bald eagles started to build a nest.
In the spring of 1541, Coronado had already reached Kansas. The Jesuits were in Arizona and Lower California, and La Salle had met his death in Texas. By 1725, and the years thereafter, both Spain and Russia were exploring Oregon.
In 1636, the bull pine had provided a hollow for the owl to live in, about half way up its hundred foot height. A little tree martin arrived one evening, rude and full of sass, seeking a place to sleep. He stuck his face into the tree hole whereupon the owl smacked him smartly on the end of the nose with his massive, sharp beak. The shocked tree martin scampered to the treetop for another place to snooze but the bald eagle beat him with long wings and the tree martin tumbled down through the boughs of the tree. Not wanting the creature hurt, the friendly spruce catches the rude martin neatly in a swinging branch, saving him from sure injury and broken bones.
"Nobody wants me around," spits the nervous, jittery martin, hanging on with two little paws.
"Perhaps manners, and some concern for another's privacy and home might help," intoned the fair pine tree. "Who likes a bully -- are you a bully?"
"What good would that do?" sulks the martin, licking a paw to relieve the pain, and gently feeling his nose with the other. "What is a bully? Can a martin be a bully?"
The lady spruce sighs. "I could let you live in the lower, surviving part of my father’s tree over there, if you will leave the others be. Try to be considerate."
"You would do that, for me?"
"If you will be well-mannered from now on, yes. Then you could visit once in a while. You are cute and a fine young Martin," she muttered, " when you choose to be."
And so it was. The pine martin behaved well, visited the Yellow Pine, and raised a family there one year later. The baby martins tumbled and romped about. They learned to climb up the pine and even the owl provided a hiding place. It was very odd to see a small martin poke his head out from under the owl's wing, while another hid under the soft belly feathers with a busy tail sticking out. Those were happy days.
In the fall, chipmunks dug under the pine and made a shelter. They gathered cone seeds from around and cautiously remained out of sight of the eagles in the summer. A family of gray wolves adopted the old cave under the bluff across the great river for a den, and every evening they howled to the coming night.
Wapiti arrived on the old game trail, so did the mountain caribou below the handsome spruce. Then deer, black bear, big horn sheep and mountain goat settled about and above the trail. They would come down once in a while to drink from the river or eat sweet spring grasses around her mountain sides.
On the river, canoes passed from time to time, far below. Eagles watched, without moving. The Lochsa is a swift river and flowes on and on, forever toward the west.
"Those are Indians!" hooted the owl one day.
"Yes, I know. How many are there in the land?" the others animals asked, with some concern.
"Well, too many I guess. I have flown over all the Indian tribes and nations and they are mighty. To the east are Sioux, Iroquoian, Micmac, Mohawk, Delaware, Choctaw, Ottawa, Shawnee, Cherokee, Seminole, Oneida, Fox, Chippewa, Erie, Huron—and now I must catch my breath!" wheezed the owl who finally catches his breath then suddly ends it all with a loud sneeze!
"That's only fifteen Indians."
"No, no," the owl eyes bulged. "I am naming tribes."
"What is a tribe?" asks the Yellow Pine, in a small voice.
"Dear girl, a tribe is like a solitary tree, but a tree has many limbs. A tribe may constitute of many Indians, and each tribe has a chief who is the leader of some 20 to 100 braves."
"Oh, I get it. Thank you, mister owl. But are there any tribes that live right here in the west?"
"Of course there are. Who do you think are paddling those canoes down the Lochsa? Fish? Let us see now," the owl counted on his wing tips, "to the north are the Algonquian, then the Blackfeet -- and do they like to fight! --- then the Algonquian, nasty people! Wait, there are the Crow, Pawnee, Osage, Pueblo, Navajo, Apache, Utah, Snake, Modoc, Nez Perce, Kiowa, and on top of all the eastern and western tribes, they have nations!".
"Nations?"
"A nation is like a forest on a mountain-side. Here, your tree neighbors would each be a tribe, and together you would constitute a nation."
"That sounds good, can you name the nations?"
"Well, some," The owl swells up, taking breath. "But some tribes take the same name as the nation, like the Algonquian. You have the Iroquoian, Siouan, Muskhogean, Caddoan, Salishan, Shaphaptian, Athapascan, Piman, Kiowan nations—and now my head is bursting!"
With that the owl falls back into his home, letting his feet stick out for the rest of the day.
"I believe I asked the owl a rather difficult question," muses the young tree. For the first time in her growth, the tree shook her pine needles with laughter and many fall to the ground into a soft, pine needle carpet all around. "Neat!" Chirps a chipmonk, as it shakes itself in glee.
By the year 1770, San Carlos in California was founded. A hundred years before that, Vizcaino had landed and held a Mass. The tree was now two hundred and forty four years old. La Salle had already explored the Great Lakes, Illinois and the upper reaches of the Mississippi basin. In 1681 the French establishe a chain of forts on the lower Mississippi River, at Miami, Peoria, Illinois and St Louis. In May 1608, the foundations of Jamestown are laid, and England establishes colonies upon the east coast.
The great spirit of the wind brought frequent news so complex that even the wise old owl found it hard to keep track of the new names given to sections of land by the ant-like arriving army of people that the Indians called "Pale Faces." Virginia, Carolina, New York, Pennsylvania, and so forth. Wherever the wind blew, there was a pushing and shoving and goings-on by the Pale Faces. Thousands of miles away to the east, but spreading rapidly like a prairie fire, were new ways of speaking, new ways of thinking, and new ways of communicating.
"Maybe I should fly there to see for myself," said the owl.
"No, don’t do it," warned the wind. " You will never return. They might kill you." The East Wind swirled harshly in the tree’s pine needles. "Rather stay, and instruct this tree and the animals. Fly north or south, but stay close. It is peaceful here. Live long for I will return," The wind howls its' concern with the owl by blowing leaves and the owl back into his tree den covering him up, and begins drifting eastwards again. "Remember what I said . . . " the wind echos as it drifts away.
The owl stayed inside the den and paced up and back along the big branch the rest of the day, sneezing now and then. "Well?" he finally concludes. At least I have a nice, soft bed of leaves to sleep on now." The tree giggles.
In the 14th century, Hiawatha, great Indian prophet, proposed a league of five nations, the Iroquois Confederation. They strengthened over the centuries, fought and conquered nations to the north and south until they ruled all the land from Hudson Bay to North Carolina.
The wind had warned of fierce blood-letting in the land. The new arrivals wanted to own everything, but the Indian is one with the land and water, sky and sun. He is a free spirit so he must fight to survive. One will win, the other is doomed to defeat.
"How will they manage to do such a thing to the Indians!" asked the tree.
"With submission through guilt and their God. They will teach the Indian what guilt and sin is, but mainly with guns and swords and horses," the owl replied, stretching his wings and shrugging his shoulders.
"What is a horse?" asked the tree lady, quietly, relaxing and smoothing down her pine needles.
"The Spanish brought them to this land. Many Indians have not seen one yet. Horses are as big as the wapiti and strong. They fear neither Pale Face nor Indian. They have four legs but are taught to obey the creatures that walk on two."
Playfully swirling some dirt into the air, the wind reminded the tree, the owl, and the eagle, that he had been watching those men called Pilgrims ever since they landed in 1620. " They use Indians like horses", the wind complained. "These Pilgrims are an organized group, but now it is the year called 1770, and today is my birthday. I am now 244 years old and I'm...."
"Excuse me, sir," the tree looked up to the eagle. "How tall am I today?"
"One hundred and twenty five feet tall." The noble bird looked down with a knowing curl of an eyebrow.
"Thank you," said the lady tree, changing the subject again. "What was I saying? Oh yes, I wonder what was happening in the wide world today?"
The wind laughed. "Some student in Rhode Island was complaining about urban din and congestion a few suns ago."
"Excuse me, friend!" puzzled the chipmunk, who couldn't help overhearing.
"It simply means that he does not like noise -- or the meaningless scurrying and confusion of town life," explained the wind, moaning impatiently.
"I wish I hadn't asked.." The chipmunk stared into the tree. "Imagine that, you ask a simple question and then get a mouthful. So—I scurry around a lot. Do you complain?" The chipmunk was put out, he chattered a while to himself then dived into his hole with a flick of his tail.
"Friends," explained the owl, "please excuse this chipmunk. Learning breaks his concentration and winter is nearly upon us. We should not distract him. He has much food to gather before our bother, the cold north wind returns with his snow clothing."
"Yes, oooo-oh yeeesss," moaned the east wind, getting ready to leave.
"Quite right," the owl confirmed, fluffing out some head feathers then scratching an ear with one foot.
The tree was pleased that the wind was visiting a little longer. Always curious about the wide world, she asked, "What is the name of the valley far below to the east?"
"That valley has no name yet. The Shoshone camp there in the valley because of much game. A medicine flower with bitter roots grows in large numbers in the valley. Shoshone means "the snake people." They are wise and crafty. They know the plains and the mountains. The Shoshonean Nation is the largest in the west. They call it the Bitterroot Valley"
And so it was. In the years that followed, the tree saw the passing of many clouds and many seasons. Another fire arrived and burned the thick, lower forest floor and canyon walls. The tree was burned a little. The fire consumed more of the broken half of the old father tree on the ground. The half that was standing survived, as did the tree martin's home. They had moved away and a family of Pileated woodpeckers built a nest 100 feet up, near the top of the old remaining tree trunk.
The woodpeckers visited the tall pine each day and their pecking woke the owl many times. The wingspan shadows of the large woodpeckers, two feet wide, floated across the forest floor when they flew from tree to tree. They played peek-a-boo with the owl. In time, the well-dressed woodpeckers and the wise old owl became tolerant friends and had many laughing conversations. This, the host tree enjoyed. Sometimes, the great ravens would pass by, wise and witty and restrained in their dameaner. Often, they would hide things because it is their nature. If you couldn't find anything, all you had to do was ask the raven. Nothing escapes their attention.
Two entirely different personalities made for confusing times between the birds. The wise old owl was easy- going, deliberate, and thoughtful. The woodpeckers were quick, bouncy, nervous and impatient when most active. But, there were times when they would slow down and act half-way attentive when it came to asking the owl a practical question about children, or where something was to be found, to which a raven couldn't help but butt in if one was around.
"My roof is beginning to to leak," complained the smartly dressed young woodpecker one day. "What should I do?"
The owl remained in his hole, annoyed at the question without knocking.
"Sir, how many times have I asked you to knock first, and softly, before a question," demanded a voice within. There was an echo attached to it, deep inside the dark hole.
"Did I not knock?" asked the agitated woodpecker.
"No, you did not, chatterbox," replied the sleepy, echo-y voice from deep inside. "And besides! How many times have I told you not to be so direct and sudden with a question? Politely pass the time of day first before leaping off a branch into a question."
"Jump off a branch?" And off the limb the woodpecker jumps. The sudden silence startles the owl and he quickly pokes his head out of the hole. Instantly, observing the falling woodpecker falling, his eyes bulge and he screams.
"No, no, noooo, you idiot! Get back up here!" screeches the owl.
The woodpecker snaps open his wings and with a grin soars upwards like an arrow. He stops with another snap of wings and lands softly as cottonseed fluff. He coughs humbly and clears his throat.
"Do you always take things literally?" blinks the owl slowly with one eye, in disbelief.
"Ah, ah? "— stammers the woodpecker.
"Never mind, never mind. What time is it?" grumbles the yawning owl as he scratches himself behind a large ear.
"Two shadow-lengths after mid-day," clucks the woodpecker, ruffling his feathers.
"Well, at least I managed a brief sleep," Sir Owl scratches his back against the tree trunk absent mindedly, and it makes him feel a little better.
"Yes, yes—your question again. What was it?"
"Question?—what question?" tests the woodpecker, trying hard not to snicker.
"You woke me to ask some fool question. Don't you remember?"
The brassy woodpecker squints at the owl with as blank a look as he can muster up. "Ah, ah—oh yes! Now I remember," he finally recalls, seeing he has reached the owl's limit of patience.
"My home is two limbs below the top of the old father tree. The top is getting more hollow and my roof is starting to leak. The children are getting wet. What can I do?" The woodpecker asks with wrinkled brow.
"Hummmm?" stares the owl, as he slowly blinks his big yellow eyes at the woodpecker. "If you ask the eagles, they may be willing to move to the top of the strong, grand old stump-top and build a new nest. A large nest at the top would thus repair the roof of your chambered home. They could see better up and down the old trail, and down below to the great river Lochsa. Why not ask them?"
With that, the owl falls back into his hole and plops down fast asleep.
The woodpecker shrugs his wings and scratches his head.
In due course, the bald eagles built a new home in the following weeks over the woodpecker's home. It began by weighing only a few hundred pounds. Over the years, the nest finally exceeds a ton in weight. The woodpeckers were quite pleased. No one could climb a tree that didn't have many limbs. It was a safe place and the view was magnificent.
The newly burnt forest floor began to grow new plants again. The grasses and flowers were many and varied, and quick growing. Mice ran everywhere for the old trail above the river was still well hidden.
Late one day, in the fall, a large female black bear came to the cave across the canyon. She was fat and tired and was intent on moving in for a long winter's nap. The gray wolves worried and nipped at her rudeness so intently that she finally went down the mountain side, crossed the river and curled up under the old monarch tree.
That night, the warm southern wind arrived pregnant with rain and it began to drizzle. By late morning, it snowed, deeper and deeper. The next day, the black bear scratched herself all over on the trunk of the big pine and growled in delight. She stayed under the tree when it rained again, and soon she started to dig. She dug a hole under the tree between two massive main roots and finally disappeared within.
The rain melted the snow a little over the next few days and the bear awoke, feeling a little better but hungry. She went down the old trail, crossed it, and headed down to the river where she found berries to eat. There were not many, but she returned in a few days to the new den and the owl looked down in amusement. Her face was stained purple and bright red. The bear licked her paws to wash the flavor off them. Soon she appeared clean, yawned widely and waddled off into her new home. In time, the north wind arrived and a great blizzard blew on the land. The chipmunks became used to the bear and soon dug a hole from the other side of the tree into the bear's large den.
It was strange to see the playful critters running over the large bear in play. The bravest one would sit on her nose and eat pine seeds, while dropping husks into her snoring, gaping mouth. The bear was surely in a deep dream world that could only make a bear happy.
At other times, the chipmunks would hide in her thick fur to sleep or to stay warm and they would poke their heads up to see when she stirred. It was amazing to see how fearless they had become with the sleeping bear.
| TIMETREE CHAPTERS: 1 Two Indians 2 Spring 3 His Brother The Wind 4 The First Years 5 Comings And Goings 6 Another Spring 7 The Great Meeting 8 Alone Yet Not Alone 9 Remembering 10 Tomorrow Gone Home Page |
Once Upon A Time, |
