Indians

           Went to a laundromat in a town near Four Corners with a local Indin friend.  An old Grandmother was there with her grandson.  Friend knew them and they began talking.  Hippy couple came in.  The woman wore beaded head and wrist bands.  The man had fringed leather clothing and a hat with a feather.  Grandson watched them carefully.  After a few minutes he began tugging gently on Grandma's skirt.  She leaned down and listened to him speak softly in their language.  Rising with a pained look she gestured at the couple and spoke rapidly to Friend, turning her back to them.  I could tell she was angry but didn't understand the language.   Out of respect I stayed silent until we were in the truck heading back to camp.  He was very quiet.
        "What did she say", I asked.
        "She said she has worked very hard to raise her grandson correctly and traditionally."
        Confused, I asked- "Well what did the boy say?"
        My Friend did something unusual for his People, he looked me directly in the eye.
       "The boy said, "Look Grandma, real Indians!"

Grandpa says-
        "With streets, towns, rivers, mountains, vehicles, and sports teams carrying our names, and with Hollywood jumbling us all together- it is hard for our children to know who they are.  The images are so powerful sometimes even we find it difficult to remember.
 

and another:
 

Ladybugs

             Three days into the wilderness area and I was gettin' hungry.  Only a single grey squirrel in my stomach.  Took all day to work my way down from the ridge to the creek in heavy brush.  Daylight was almost gone so I found a place amoung the logs to make camp in a little ravine.  It wasn't cold enough for a fire and I just lay down to sleep.  Scent of pine and the rustling boughs drifted me away.
        Woke up with some small creature climbing my nose.  Sat up and realized I was covered with them.  Got a little panicky for a moment until I got out my lighter and took a look.  Ladybugs.  Millions of them.  I lay down and went back to sleep.
        In the morning, when I awoke, the world had turned orange. The entire ravine was covered in ladybugs.  Logs, tree limbs, mossy ground, human- everything a living orange.  I wished that I could have seen them fly in- it must have been awesome.  I brushed them from my clothes, blankets, pack and rifle.  Just a few hundred yards away, I found the buck I needed and took him clean.  All the way back to our cabin, the vision of ladybugs kept me company.
 

Grandpa says-
          "Every relative Nation has their hereditary campsites. Modern humans are usually insensitive to them.  You were lucky to be a guest in such a benign camp- ignorance of shared territory can be dangerous.  For you- Ladybugs are lucky."
 

and another:
 

Wolverine

       Hunting Elk up North.  Bugeling through a piece of garden hose, mimicking mating calls.  Tiny shockingly sweet wild strawberries dot the path.  I ignore them looking for spoor.  Squirrels jabber in the lodgepole covered hillside.  River sings rapidly here, hums quietly there, pools silent around the bend.  An hour passes.
        Bored,  I kneel to pick a strawberry.  Suddenly the forest noises go quiet.   Hair stands on the back of my neck as a broken twig on the trail behind me cracks.  I slide off into the brush behind some boulders.  Make myself into a rock with eyes-- no breath-- no movement.
        Soft feet test the trail, nose to ground.  Wolverine stops and looks my way.  Knows I know him.  Trots on-- letting me slide.  My breath whistles out noisely.  Sweat pops from every pore on my body.  I begin to shiver in the cool autumn air.
        While I was comfortably hunting Elk, feeling safe in my superior skin, Woverine was hunting me.  It's an unfamiliar eerie feeling, being prey.   Now I know how Elk feels.

Grandpa says-
           "The modern world has turned life upside down--giving us a false sense of security.  Every preditor is anothers' prey.  Forgetting the natural laws can turn a superior man into a superior steak."
 

and another:
 
 

Throwaways

          Crammed our old Rez Chevy full and took it to the dump, six times in one day.  Grandma said she was sick of looking at all the garbage.   The dead cars had to stay- they didn't have any rubber on the tires.  We got enough money for the recycled aluminum pop cans to buy ice cream on the last trip.  After emptying the truck we stood looking at the garbage mountains, eating the dripping cones.  Metal caterpillers crawled over the refuse, pushing it here and there, covering it with earth.  The dump guy came over, conveniently late, to see if we needed help.  Looking out over the hills, he said, " pretty soon we're gonna have to expand or move- no more room left here.  Everything ends up here nowadays.  Did ya know school papers take a few hundred years to break down?"  He stuffed his head into a baseball cap and moved on.  We rode home in silence.

Grandpa says-
          " Everything my Grandparents used went back to the earth- everything today is a throwaway.  Like the chameleon, our civilization is a trick of Vision.  A bright and shiny skin hides a rotting corpse beneath... soon the smell may sicken us all."