2014 Crow Nation Fair and Rodeo Day 1

Posted on August 21, 2014 by Dwight Lutsey

This post has been moved to OpenChutes.com. All future postings of Powwows, Indian Relay Races, Rodeos and Rendezvous will be posted there from now on exclusively. So if you’re looking for new images and posts for all those events attended this year, plus all the old posts posted on BigShotsNow.com check out OpenChutes.com. See you there!

An incredible event takes place on the third week-end of August at Crow Agency, Montana. Just a couple of miles from site of the Battle of the Little Bighorn where Custer and his men met their ends, literally thousands of Indians from various tribes but primarily Crows, put on a Fair and Rodeo. The event is not connected to the battle, in fact I didn’t even hear it mentioned in any of the activities. The purpose is for fellowship, gathering, displaying their lodges or teepees, and celebrating their culture.

The event is also known as the World’s Largest Gathering of teepees in one place, and Crow Agency is known as the Teepee Capitol of the World. This weekend there were over 1000 teepees set up along the Little Bighorn river stretching for close to three miles. That was not a typo. There were over 1000 lodges erected. I walked among them early one morning for nearly an hour from one end to the other and still didn’t cover it all. In places they were packed so tightly together you couldn’t walk between them. In other places you would find a solitary teepee nestled in among the trees, or set up alone out in the grasslands that surround the river.

Surprisingly, to me anyway, there were very few decorated lodges. The majority were made of the plain white canvas you see everywhere. That didn’t affect the impression made by seeing so many together however. At times, during sunrise or sunset, the canvas would take on some of the colors of the sky and were wonderful to see in their own rights.

Another unexpected impression was seeing the number of cars and pickup trucks surrounding each lodge. My first impression was it looked like a parking lot where the parkers were all drunk, with the vehicles being parked haphazardly around each lodge. I suppose I went there with certain expectations, fostered by scenes from Dancing With Wolves and other movies, of the way an Indian camp should look. A romanticized impression that had no basis in fact in the modern Indian world. As I came to terms with the reality versus the movie version of camp life I started to realize the cars and trucks were the modern equivalent of horses tied to the front of each lodge. It was simply these horses had four wheels instead of four feet. After a bit it began to seem normal to see them parked there. I do have to admit though that it made me feel good to see the occasional horse tied in front of a lodge. Adapting to facts doesn’t take the romanticism out of the romantic.

The other surprise, and it shouldn’t be a surprise at all, was the incredible friendliness of the Crow people. I didn’t and don’t have any prejudice for Indians, I just had never spent any time amongst a large group of them. They have a different culture, a culture that dovetails with the rest of modern American culture but is strikingly different in some aspects. I never felt like I had entered an alien place even though there were times I didn’t understand the language being spoken, or the reason for some of their traditions. Every person I approached with a question or comments was more than ready to help.

I was lost one time, turned around in the maze of teepees and narrow little lanes, where the passing pickup trucks narrowly missed running over the stakes used to secure the lodges to the ground, (yes, even the Director of one of the largest Institutes in the scientific-speaking world gets disoriented sometimes) and approached a group of serious looking young fellows standing there smoking and watching the chaotic life going on around them. If you had seen this group of young men standing around in a back alley in some city I seriously doubt whether you would have approached them. I asked them where I was and how did I get back to the center of camp where all the dancing was going on. It was getting dark, making the maze I was in even more confusing, and their directions were not very clear. The guys were laughing and teasing me about being lost but in a good-natured way, when one of them decided what I needed was, in his words, an Indian guide to get me back to civilization. A really nice kid walked back with me to the center of the camp where I regained my bearings. He said he was getting ready to go off to college and was a little worried about how all that was going to work but looking forward to it none the less. I wished him well, we shook hands and that was that. It left me with a different perspective about these young people, Crow or other wise, who with all the markings of the modern world, tattoos, piercings, superficial attitudes, were still just young kids worried about life and how to get through it.

There was an incredible amount of activities going on the entire weekend. It was kind of like an Indian Las Vegas, where many of them never seemed to sleep. Dancing went on throughout the night, and when they weren’t dancing they were partying. Being well past the point where I found that interesting or fun I was glad I had the Bokeh Maru to return to for a much-needed break from the festivities. I’ll be posting more on the Crow Fair and Rodeo over the next couple of days. Stay tuned.

Announcement !

Posted on August 20, 2014 by Dwight Lutsey

We’ve had Dozens upon dozens of people writing in asking, well one anyway, but she wrote in big block letters so it seemed like more, where the blog was. What the hell were we doing? Why haven’t we written, why haven’t we called. It seems that there are some of you out there that actually read the blog and notice when we’re not there. That is daunting and a little scary. Sometimes when I’m sitting up here in the Directors chair, high in the tower overlooking the Institute grounds, not aloof and distant but pampered a little, writing and sending it out into the ozone I forget that there may be actual people out there that read this stuff. Don’t you guys have to go to work? Anyway, Thank You for spending your valuable time with me.

Last Friday as I was working on future posts a small announcement made its way across my computer screen notifying us that The Crow Nation was having the largest gathering of teepees or lodges in the world. The announcement stated that there were to be somewhere between 1000 and 1500 hundred teepees ( that is not a typo) set up along the Little Bighorn river for an Indian Fair and Rodeo at Crow Agency, Montana. The Indians I spoke to thought there were over 1000 but not the 1500 lodges they anticipated being there. Still when was the last time you’ve seen 1000 teepees set up together in one place?

So using the same strategy we always use here at The Institute in planning our expeditions, where we spend an incredible amount of time in researching our destination, gathering the necessary information about logistics, conditions, possibilities, supplies, equipment, staff needed, risks, potentialities, and expected results, I grabbed a few skivvies and my camera gear and threw them in the Bokeh Maru. Twenty minutes after seeing the notice the 2014 Expedition to the Crow Nation was underway.

No extra staff, just me, the Bokeh Maru and the Crow Nation. Eight hours later I was up there, standing on a ridge above the camp staring at the thousand plus teepees stretching out along the Little Bighorn river. I must admit I had a momentary inkling of the feeling that the members of the 7th must have had June 25, 1876. That is a lot of Indians in one place. Fortunately you should not have any apprehension at all. You cannot understand what wonderful, gracious, friendly people the Crow tribe are until you go there and meet them. It was an incredibly interesting and rewarding weekend. I will relate more to you over the next few days and show some of the images from this amazing event.

It is becoming a pattern that up in that part of the country the services that we take for granted down here, and I’m talking internet access mostly, are not as well established as we have in the more crowded part of the country. Consequently finding access is more difficult and I’m always quick to say the hell with it and take in the experience instead, and posting later. Look as you may it’s hard to find an electrical outlet on a horse, and believe me I’ve tried. Then I realized that my new Crow friends were just having a little joke at my expense telling me they had their horses outfitted with AC receptacles, the better to stay connected. The Crow seem to love to laugh. Fortunately I was able to provide them with endless amusement.

So that’s where we’ve been and I intend on going back there next year and maybe setting up a remote site of The Institute, fully staffed, with satellite feed and regular coverage by our trained reporters, having our chef cook regular food, not that corn dogs and frybread aren’t good but they leave a little bit to be desired as a regular diet, and also dancing classes so we might participate more fully. It should be a blast. In fact I might even ask for volunteers to go along and assist us. Anyone thinking about this might look at the postings of The Maiden Voyage of the Bokeh Maru we published not long ago, to get a feel for what the trip might actually be like. Give it some thought anyway.

The Infirmary

Posted on August 15, 2014 by Dwight Lutsey

Wolf Ranch cabin Arches National Park click to enlarge

Many of you have written in asking about The Institute. What is it? Is it legal? What do you do? Whose your daddy? ( I know who wrote that one and she better stop) Do you do good work? How large is your staff? (Again she better just quit it) Do you treat them well? Do you accept large contributions from anonymous donors?

The answer to those questions is, yes.

For example, here is a picture of our infirmary. Yes, I know it appears to look a little ramshackle but that’s just how it looks. Inside it is a state of the art medical facility with everything a casually trained medic needs to heal the sick and salvage the wounded.

We have scissors, rope, tins of peaches for the dehydrated, bone saws, things to bite on during amputations, illustrated medical books, (2 of them, one in Latin), formaldehyde, tincture of roses, a needle for suturing, a needle for sticking, tons and tons of torn up petticoats, buffalo chips to heat water, several kinds of thread and sinews to sew up those lacerations that don’t require amputation, a brand new gray market, Siemens overhead tube crane x-ray machine with the tilting upright and latest extremity system option, a very efficient solar panel with a converter for 12v to run it, trash receptacles, operating table with sheets, corrals so you don’t have to hobble your mules after transporting your injured here, the very latest POS system to handle your claims, invoices and credit processing, no more irritating dun notices, you pay before the first limb is cut off, a small bottle of pills with the label missing that we think are for gout, a magazine in the waiting room, a waiting room, two large window areas, both filled with glass to allow our crack medical team to see what it is doing at all times, except at night of course, and a hospice nurse on call if the weather allows, to assist with the grieving.

I think that about covers it. There’s probably more but that’s all I can remember at the moment. Countless staffers have been treated here, even though they might be begging and screaming to be sent to that quack hospital down in town, and several of them have had successful recoveries. Take the case of Castaway Rodriguez.

Castaway was one of our more daring animal keepers and worked primarily as bait to train our three grizzlies to act vicious while on camera. Some of you may not be aware that we rent out various animals for movie work as a sideline while we wait to see if any of our many grant proposals are accepted. Grant proposals for our various research projects are our mainstay and are the thing that allows us to operate at the level we do. We need that free money and have no less than 35 or so grants in the works at all time. But I digress.

Castaway was continually pushing the envelope and placing himself in danger simply because he himself was untrainable and if the truth be known, stupid. I mean who in their right mind would drop kick a grizzly cub in front of its mother simply because the cub ate his shoe. Nobody blames Lizzie, our resident grizzly mom or her two kids, Rhett and Scarlet, for reacting like any mother would and tearing off one of his legs, his ear and biting him a lot. As you can imagine this put Castaway in a tight spot. He was barely able to drag himself to the door where the film crew was shooting to get help.

You’re probably thinking, Well, this isn’t going to end well. But actually things didn’t turn out too bad. Some quick thinker threw him on the salt wagon and hauled him down to our infirmary and the rest is history. Our crack medical team sent in their triage unit and stopped up all the worst bleeding. We were able to recover the lower part of his leg after explaining to Lizzie that Castaway would be reassigned in the morning and she didn’t have to work with him anymore, and reattached it. Unfortunately we couldn’t retrieve the knee part, as the kids had made quick work of it, so we had to reattach the lower part of his leg to the upper part sans knee, to save his life and give him some mobility. Yeah, this made his leg about nine inches shorter on that side but look at the alternatives. We all chipped in and got him lifts for that shoe so he can walk. He has a slight limp, but he can walk, sort of. He can’t hear out the left side of his head and won’t ever, but he didn’t listen anyway. The tooth mark holes all over his body are almost the exact size that a 38 police special, armor piercing shell makes, so he gets some mileage out of telling the tourists about the various gunfights he’s been in.

It’s those kind of heart-warming stories that just produce a warm glow when I think of them. If you can, try and catch the film, “Poachers on Grizzly Island”. Most of the Castaway incident is in there uncut and it’s exciting stuff. I hope this answers some of your questions about the Institute and our facilities. One last note, if you visit The Institute and heaven forbid you get injured, please remember that we do not accept any type of hospitalization insurance, or American Express. So bring money, it costs a lot to maintain a facility like ours, and we don’t do pro bono.

Announcement: August 13

Posted on August 13, 2014 by Dwight Lutsey

As you can see by our special Announcement image above this is a special announcement and the Raven is here because today we have a very special announcement to make.

August 13th is Chad Aaron Lutsey’s birthday!!!!!

Today, as some of you know, is August the 13th. August the 13th is a very special day at the Institute because it is the birthday day of a very special person. So special that it has been declared by the Director himself to be an annual day of celebration. Everyone and we mean everyone at the Institute has been given the day off to help celebrate this special persons special day.

Lamprey sandwiches and leaf soup, and for those with a sweet tooth, our favorite eel ice cream floats were prepared yesterday so the galley crew could have the day off. Those staffers that have been in detention for their various infractions of the rules, now working in the quarry mining gypsum and asbestos, have the day off and as a special treat do not have to wear their manacles today. They still have to stay within the quarry boundaries but they are allowed to get out of the sun.

All official duties are suspended until midnight tonight and everyone, even those in the infirmary are required to form up in the ~~compound~~, I mean courtyard, this morning to sing Birthday wishes for one of the Institutes beloved sons, Chad Aaron Lutsey. Upon completion all will send up three lusty huzzahs and wave the little flags provided them. All those not waving their flags enthusiastically enough will spend the day in the quarry.

Today is a fun-filled day, chock full of festivities such as Bear Baiting, Intern wrestling, Stomping and Dancing, The Yelling Contest, and games, boy o boy, do we have games. There is Bobbing for Gilas, always a crowd favorite to see who can snatch North Americas only poisonous lizard out of the water with their teeth without getting bitten, Dunk your Favorite CEO, Elk Pellet Stacking, the kids love this one, Free the Princess, an axe throwing contest where contestants get the opportunity to throw axes at our resident princess until all her bonds are severed and she’s set free, and many, many more.

Those who imbibe and who doesn’t, can whet their whistle at the Sage Brush beer tent, where we serve our own house brew of sage brush, leaves, some bark and 80% Everclear. This morning at 5:15 they were already lined up at the spigot for their chance to get blotto before the sun comes up. Of course we recommend drinking responsibly so anyone who gets too inebriated automatically gets 30 days in the quarry. But we encourage you to have fun and enjoy yourselves.

There will be story telling and fire walking and free tattoos of Chad and his Big Dog Sam. Children under 12 must have parents permission for tattoos. NO facial tattoos will be done regardless of the individuals sobriety level. We want to have fun, not get stupid.

As a super special treat Chad’s younger brother Rob, seen here taking time away from his supervision of our workers in the quarry, is getting ready to fire up our giant soup ladle and start dishing up some of that scrumptious leaf soup for our hungry partiers.

To show our birthday boy how much we love him we have put together a small portfolio of pictures celebrating Chad’s birthday.

Here’s our birthday kid when he was 27 years old. We finally got him to give up the bear the following year.

Like all young boys he likes guns and leather but not the Village People and is seen here shortly before that wagon tongue slipped and produced a wide gap between his front teeth.

Here he is slightly older trying to get into my good graces by presenting me with a granddaughter. He was successful. However that was primarily due to the excellent work provided by his more than wonderful wife Stacey. My fantastic granddaughter Kaitlin is 19 now and college bound so we won’t embarrass her further.

Lastly we see Chad as a fully formed adult, in training to be the next Director of The Institute. He is desperately trying to identify the animal in the background but is having trouble due to its fuzziness. He knows I’m going to quiz him on it and he is terrified of disappointing me. He may make up a name for it so I won’t criticize him and make him carry all the heavy equipment for the rest of the day. I know that game and had already decided he was going to carry the heavy stuff anyway. But being true to himself and showing exactly what he is made of, he correctly identified the fuzzy animal as a Black-horned Rhino, rarely if ever seen in Yellowstone, and didn’t complain when I made him carry the heavy stuff anyway.

The festivities are well under way and security has already broken up three fights in the girls dorm so I must go oversee the activities. If you would like to join in and help celebrate the day you can send your very own birthday wishes to Chad at chad.lutsey@gmail.com . All are welcome to do so, he’ll love to hear from you and you’ll feel good all day.

Happy Birthday son, Love Dad.

This Old Door

Posted on August 12, 2014 by Dwight Lutsey

This old door has stood the test of time. Rain and snow have blown against it. The hot searing sun has dried it out until slivers of itself hang loosely from its skin. Its rusting hinges still let it swing freely though, opening and closing with the same solid wood against wood sound as its latch fits into the socket, it too worn with age, that it has since it was installed so many years ago.

When it was new it arrived first by train from St. Louis to Denver, then up the eastern side of the Rockies on a spur line to the young and vibrant city of Jackson hole in Wyoming territory. A clerk from the Jackson hole livery and hardware store helped another young fellow load it into his wagon for the trip up the side of Kingston mountain. It was bound for a construction site where he was building a home for his soon to be new bride. It cost four dollars and was considered a huge extravagance by his father who thought he should have built one himself and saved the money.

After they were married, and the house was finished, Wallace and his bride Hetty decided to paint the door the brightest white they could find so folks traveling up the road past the house could see it coming for miles. Hetty wanted them to see it and know good hard-working people lived there. People that cared for their home and each other and to use the door as a marker for the love they had for each other. It took a lot of effort on her part to keep the door white and clean, especially as they had so much else to do. But Hetty thought it was worth every minute she spent on it. They were happy and the house was a joyful one, full of promise.

Years passed. Hetty bore seven children, three of which lived, and the door began to lose its luster. It wasn’t that the love it sheltered was ebbing, it was just hard to keep the door bright when her life was getting so dark. She missed those children. Life showed so much promise then. Young Wally drowning in the creek that last spring was almost enough to make her give up. Before that the others she lost were mainly due to sickness and there wasn’t anything that could be done about that. Little children died back then. But she wished with all her heart that she had told that boy not to go to the creek with it running so high. But he was like his father, headstrong and stubborn. He went anyway.

Her pride and joy were the two girls, Arletta and June, both of which married well. Arletta and Jess went to live in Denver, and June and her husband started a haberdashery in Cheyenne. They came home every so often but that had slowed now that June had two of her own. Hetty’s remaining son Stiller, the quiet one, stayed home to help Wallace keep the place going but she could see that he was getting restless. One morning Wallace came in and said he’s gone and that was that. She didn’t get up that day. It was also the last day she scrubbed the door.

The house was empty now again except for the two of them, and dinner time was a quiet time. Wallace didn’t have a lot to say and Hetty was lost in her own thoughts more often than not. Wallace had pretty much quit working the place after that young colt got in a lucky kick and shattered his knee. Hetty did some mending and took in laundry but soon that got to be too much and they were having a pretty rough go of it. June came and got them one bright summer day in 1927 and moved them into their place in Cheyenne. She and Bill had room and she could use the help with the kids. They both missed the old place but this was Ok. Hetty liked the gentle chaos of having a family around her again, although she often wondered if she would ever see Stiller before her time was gone. Wallace never brought it up but she noticed he still carried that old pocket knife he had given Stiller on his twelfth birthday. For some reason Stiller had left it next to his bed when he left. When it was Wallace’s time to go she made sure she put it in the casket with him.

The door began to show the ravages of time. The final flakes of white paint had long ago been swept away by the wind. The family, now June and Bill, and Arletta and Jess kept the place so they’d have somewhere to take the kids in the summer. The door still opened and closed with a satisfying thunk and they saw no need to paint it again. Arletta in particular like the way it had weathered and there was a small but short-lived argument about whether they should fix the place up so they could rent it and maybe take care of the taxes. June and Bill wanted to but Arletta fought for it staying the same as it was the only reminder they had of the folks now that Hetty was gone. Arletta won, at least for now, and so far the door has stayed natural.

If you go up there now, on the side of Kingston mountain where Wallace built Hetty her first and only home, you can still see the old door. It is still weathered, but Arletta finally gave in and now the place is rented out to summer people. If you’re there and lucky you may hear the satisfying thunk of the door being slammed as one of the kids runs in and out. The sound of a mother yelling “Don’t slam the door!” is lost on the kids. That’s what doors are for. Hetty never yelled, that time was too precious to waste it on yelling at the kids.

The Beagle Eater

Posted on August 11, 2014 by Dwight Lutsey

Warning: This report may not be suitable for all readers. Readers discretion advised.

The desert is a dangerous place. There are mysteries here and stories to send a chill down your spine even on the hottest day. Creatures that haven’t seen the light of day for thousands, if not hundreds of years, suddenly appear out of the darkness to scare the living crap out of you, then slink back into whatever hellish crevice they live in to wait for another opportunity to come forth and get you.

Some are slimy, but not many, this is the desert after all. The slimy ones are usually found way back in caves near a stream and lurk there, pulsating slowly, their tongues flickering out searching the air for the scent of humans. The know that sooner or later some individual who has ignored all the warning signs that say things like “Warning! Slimy monsters in here. Enter at your own Risk”. will come sneaking down the long stone corridors, exploring for the reason the warning signs were there in the first place. They usually find out much to their dismay when the dark slimy creature sends its long mucous covered tongue to wrap around their exposed throat. The only sign that someone was ever there is their muffled screams as they head slowly down the beasts throat.

But since they are so rare, numbering in the mere thousands we will move on to the really dangerous creatures that lurk in plain sight in the noon day sun. We had been exploring John’s canyon which is between Jack’s canyon and Diane’s canyon near Goosenecks state park and not too far from Canyonlands. We discovered what at first appeared to be an innocent pile of rocks when in reality they are actually deadly killers. Looking like any other lizard shaped rock formation they allow you to approach, then with dazzling speed they transform into a lizard-like creature and eat your beagle.

We have captured one of these devious, but cunning devils after it had recently fed and had returned to its dormant state in the photo above. Hearing the pitiful sobbing of a distraught hiker coming down the trail, we noticed that she was dragging a leash behind her, its little empty collar with the name tag “Tuffy” softly glinting in the sun. As she stopped to untangle it from the thorny bush it had snagged on we asked her what had happened.

“It was horrible” she sobbed. We saw this lizard like rock and stopped to take its picture when Tuffy suddenly pulled loose and ran up to it.” She broke down here and it took several bottles of gin to get her speaking again. “It was so horrible. This beast, this demon-spawn, this death-dealing creature from the pits of hell, ( this is where we took the gin away from her) suddenly came alive and snatched Tuffy in its cavernous maw. And ate him. One bite. One little yelp, that’s all I have to remember him. That and this stupid leash that keeps getting tangled up in everything.”

We did our best to console her but she was, like, inconsolable, so we left her there with our last bottle of gin and crept forward to observe this creature. It had already resumed its dormant state and simply lay there full of Beagle and looked like a pile of rocks again. We don’t know if its diet consists primarily of Beagles or it will take other types of canines too. In fact, we don’t know much about it at all, other than the story our hapless but drunken and beagleless victim related to us. We did notice a complete absence of coyotes in the area where they should have been knee-deep, but that doesn’t prove anything. Thinking that this whole episode requires more thinking we intended to think more about that tomorrow. Our plan was we would return in the near future with a malamute, as soon as we can get one from the pound, to see just how varied this creatures’ appetite is.

So the moral of this story is, if indeed it needs a moral, is “Keep a tight grip on your Beagle. Don’t go running up to something that resembles a lizard just because it looks cool. And pay attention to warning signs near abandoned caves. And oh yes, if you must hike in uncharted desert regions with your Beagle make sure he has attended a qualified dog training course and understands the risks of desert hiking. Get one of those bumper stickers that say “My Dog was an honor student at the Biteless Beagle Academy”, or wherever you take him so that others know that you two are qualified to be in the desert. Remember, Be Safe, and if it looks like a Beagle Eating Stone Lizard it probably is.” And also keep in mind, you’re in Utah. A lot of strange stuff happens there.

Captive Beauty: Blue Morpho

Posted on August 9, 2014 by Dwight Lutsey

When we think of captive animals it ‘s generally in regard to the large mammals that we see in zoos or refuges. But that isn’t always the case. Insects such as this Common Morpho, or gorgeous blue butterfly as most of us know it, are found in Butterfly pavilions all over the world. They are raised there for several purposes, one of which is to display them to the public so all can see and appreciate their beauty.

Their main characteristics are their obvious electric blue coloring that fades into an indigo blue then nearly black at the edge of its wings. Little white dots in the blackest part of their wings gives contrast making them even more striking. Plus their size. They’re a fairly large butterfly which makes watching them fly in their swooping, darting fashion a special joy to watch, especially if the sun glints off the blue making it blaze like the rarest of sapphires.

They have another feature that most of us aren’t aware of. When their wings are closed they are camouflaged and appear drab, uninteresting and difficult to see against their environment. But when it is their time to shine they spread their wings displaying their fantastic inner and outer beauty for all to see. I know people like that.

If you love beauty take some time and visit a Butterfly pavilion. It’s like going to an art gallery only the art is alive. If, as they say, Flowers are Mother nature’s laughter and birds are her jewels then butterflies must be her happiest thoughts. I think this Blue Morpho must be one of her happiest.

BigShots Now

A conversation about Photography: Images and Commentary by Dwight Lutsey

Monthly Archives: August 2014