Tag: wolves

Moon at Midnight – Part XXXV (day 2009)

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(part XXXIV)

Moon Cow, Long Arrow and I went hunting
We were gone for four days and three nights
We went South to try and find the buffalo
But what we found was elk and a moose
They were buffalo people but also reasonable people
So we knew that we had to take the animals that came to us.

We made camp that night and began cutting
I reflected on the beautiful Swiss blade that
Frank had given to me,
Wondering how his summer had gone
How things were in his Valley
By night time we were all covered in blood
But had everything cut that we could use
Leaving mostly just the bones
For the wild coyotes and wolves and ravens
That were always around.

We built a makeshift sleigh
That we took turns pulling in twos
It was hard work
But we were in no rush
And had feasted till our hearts content
The night before
On the fresh meat we had
Moon Cow talked about the buffalo a lot
He worried our people wouldn’t have enough food
And Long Arrow agreed, as always
Grunting in his affirmative way.

I asked if they wanted
To go see Amy & Frank
To hunt at their traditional buffalo run
They reminded me it was no use
Unless we moved back to our traditional winter home
That we had been at last year
I asked why that was a bad idea
And they made me understand they disliked the U.S. Army
And also that Mountain Chief had said
We would stay here now
And they didn’t want to go against him.

When we got back, the women were very happy
We had done so well on our hunt
Smoking began at once
This time I was able to build a smoke house by myself
As Moon Cow built the second one
I was proud when he came over to inspect it
And had nothing to say bad about it
Giving his nod of approval
As he poked at the holes
And casually patched them
With his skilled hands.

I talked to Mountain Chief about Winter
About how he felt his people were prepared
He said he believed everybody had a good hunt
As we looked around and saw all the smoke houses
Filling the camp with mouth watering smells
I asked him if he thought about the buffalo run
And he said: “Of course,” as he pointed to his inner arm
Making a motion of cutting it
Showing me it was in his blood
I could not guess the pain he felt
Not being able to lead his people
Where his people had always gone.

part XXXVI

Like Fire (day 1732)

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I do not enjoy this closed solution
These open arms like fire
A road well worn in a town well shorn
And a voice long gone raspy.
Do you try so hard
To make the wolves howl loud?
I’ve seen a tree grow straighter
Then your twisted mind
And I’m closing down
This memory
That’s holding onto me like fire.

My Land | Chapter XII (day 1179)

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I could feel John-bo getting nervous with so many wolves around so I dismounted and carried on by foot. He was a good horse and would come when I needed him.

Because of my up-wind advantage I was able to get quite close to the pack. I counted nine of them, and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to get more than four before they dispersed.

I could make out the two alphas I had come to know. They were restless and stood back a way as the others seemingly oblivious to anything around them lazed in the afternoon blood sun.

I noticed neither one of them had feasted. Neither had blood on them.

I knew these two.

The previous fall I had had a run-in with the two while out checking my lines. It was a cold winter day and I had my head down as I plowed snow. A fresh layer lay on my path. My snow shoes helped. The black one with the white stripe between it’s eyes had been watching me for quite some time before I realized it, I guessed. I wasn’t sure whether it was wanting to become my friend or whether it knew about as much as I did about what to do.

At any rate, there it was about 20 meters to the North along the edge of a copse of birch trees. As soon as I raised my long barrel it disappeared. No more than 15 minutes later as I was coming around a large Fir tree it was right in the middle of my path waiting for me. As we both stood there motionless in the cold winter air, our breaths floating away like our whispering spirits, I saw the white one with the black nose tracing the path the white striped one had taken.

There was no shock. No cause for alarm. They weren’t growling at me, bearing all their fangs to scare. They were just watching me, like they might do to as their cubs played in the fresh earth.

[note: to read the full epic track my land]

My Land | Chapter XI (day 1178)

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XX

Our pack of lambs had started with one ram and three ewes. Tim and Casey had mentioned they were interested in starting a herd and our land was perfect for having them graze.

The only problem we anticipated were the wolves, coyotes, and natives. I had taught Tim everything I knew about a gun, and my long barrel was always oiled.

We pooled our money from a few rabbit, beaver, bear, and wild cat pelts we had trapped on our lines over the year and the following spring I brought the four sheep home from Missoula along with the seeds for the years plant.

That was three years ago now.

I remember holding the first baby lamb in my hands the following spring and realizing that this is what starting a family was like. Something I had only a glimpse of when I was married.

I thought of how timid those first three lambs were as I would accustom them to me as I watched the wolves enjoy the summer blood soaked sun.

[note: to read the full epic track my land]

My Land | Chapter VII (day 1175)

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At night we would all have our tents and sleeping places set and sit around a small campfire. Making too much smoke and light would mean alerting the people we didn’t want to alert. A smart choice.

The coyotes would howl every night. Coyotes and wolves. I hoped they were coyotes at any rate. They never came close though, they were always off in the woods in the distance corralling some innocent prey.

It’s funny thinking about the way nature works without human intervention – naturally this is part of the reason why I chose to head west. In New York ground was ruined most likely forever (or at least scarred) from human’s intervention. There is always a scramble, an urgent scramble to the top, for the most, to accumulate all the wealth, riches, property, land, gold, clothing, food… It’s different understanding the true necessities of life.

The coyotes don’t live with luxuries like leather boots or cutlery or fat bank accounts and they get along just fine. Us humans though, we feel it our duty to posses planet earth and declare it a free for all.

The waste, the abuse, to be entirely honest is there even much beauty to go along with it? I find it hard to believe such transformation of the land is healthy for mother earth.

One thing I enjoy on the trial is the amount of time I have to sit in the saddle and watch the wilderness float on by.

[note: to read the full epic track my land]

My Land | Chapter IV (day 1127)

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As I tracked along the worn path like a good ghost, I watched the pack instinctively. I wasn’t lost in thought, I was the eagle as it circled it’s prey.

I moved past around a lose crop of pines. They held my cover from the resting wolves that lay lapping at the blood soaking their paws and fur. I could smell them just by looking at them, though I was still four houndred yards away.

My long rifle was itching in my hands. I could hear her dancing on my shoulder and looking for a reason.

I can’t win every game of poker but I’ve sure got a good shot when I’m done.

A pioneer must do what a pioneer must get done, and this was my long barrel, the law maker true.

My long barrel smelt of the oil I cared for her with. She had come with me on the pioneer trail, from the eastern seaboard of North America. I had bought it from a gun runner who had probably taken it from the dead hands of an Apache. Regardless, it was a good gun. I was never scared the Apache would catch me (they would have recognized it in the way only a warrior can), I was a quick shot. I was afraid they’d catch me and I’d have no ability to fend for our lives.

[note: to read the full epic track my land]

My Land | Chapter II (day 1125)

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It wasn’t long before I could see the dust kicked up in the distance from the pack I had been following. I knew they were hurt and could see it in their movement. They moved quick but I was moving quicker.

My long barrel could have taken them all there and then, and really it should have. I hadn’t time to be wastin’ away from the stead as I was.

I thought of simple things as I headed uphill; my fire stoked oven, hard chair, dust particles changing the hue of the room to match my lonely heart.

From here I knew a trail that tracked the edge of the ridge along the length of the valley. Before we were half way across I would be upon them with a vantage point to pick every single one of them off before they knew where I was. I was a fast shot, even with my long barrel.

I wondered how Tim and Casey Johnson were getting along, just East of my trail, just over the ridge. My trail ran North-South. I had come from the North and was heading South following this rogue pack of wolves that had taken two of my lambs. I was born a tracker, and these were my lands. The wolf was my birth sign, but my lambs were my right.

[note: to read the full epic track my land]