Tag Archives: Crow

Tethered

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Scene from the reenactment of the Battle of the Little Bighorn

Night was just beginning to fall. The sun was at the edge of the land casting its golden light horizontally across the prairie lighting up one side of everything in sight. In moments it will have dropped behind the low hills and darkness would take over for its share of the daily cycle. Calm was setting in and there were the final sounds of the day shutting down. A tethered horse knickered nearby. The muffled sounds of people getting their fires going in preparation for fixing supper. The constant background sound of the Little Bighorn river gently flowing past. Soon everyone will have completed their chores, checking on their stock, making certain things were buttoned up and secure. There was just enough time to wander the edges of the camp and take a few pictures. It was the end of a very good day.

The setting was the final night of the reenactment of the Battle of the Little Bighorn at the Little Bighorn Battlefield National Monument near Crow Agency, Montana. Every year reenactors recreate the battle using people from the Crow tribe and groups like the 7th Cavalry reenactors and others to replay the battle that never changes. It is a spectacular event with Indians riding bareback amid the swirling dust, horse herds being run thru the viewing areas, the 7th cavalry drilling in formation, or fighting for their lives in the battle.

Even though the battle reoccurs each day of the event, it is an incredible display of emotion and historical accuracy, at least as much as it can be without the loss of life, on the very ground the original battle took place or as close to it as possible. The actual place where Custer and the men of the 7th fell is in the National monument itself. However the reenactment takes place literally yards from the edge of monument. Passions run high as all participants get in the spirit of the reenactment. Then at the end of day things quietly revert back to present day and the time travel is finished for the day.

Tethered is an image taken at just that perfect moment between the ending of the light of the Golden hour and the coming night. The image of course has been photoshopped and presented in its new form without apology for its reinterpretation, showing how memories can be presented as fine art and also as my personal connection and interpretation of the Battle of the Little Bighorn. After all an image is just an image regardless of how it came to be created and once created becomes art in its final form. And as always art is in the eye of the beholder.

After the Battle

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Crow Warrior washing off his horse’s warpaint in the Little Bighorn river

The Crow and every other tribe that used horses in the 1800’s used them for battle as well as other aspects of their life. The horses were used for traveling, moving camp, as a measure of wealth, as dowries, to make it impervious to bullets and protect it’s rider from harm, and as a measure of their prowess as a warrior. The art of stealing horses from enemies was a constant effort and proved the worth and valor of the warrior that was successful in obtaining the most horses.

When they were used for war the horses were often painted with symbols important to its owner. Every mark placed on the horse had a special meaning to its owner and could be religious in nature, or derived from a dream, or to signify who the owner was as they sometimes used the same markings on both rider and horse.

After the battle the markings were removed to preserve their meaning and value, so a trip to the river was in order to remove the paint from both horse and rider. This rider is washing the paint off his mount while standing in The Little Bighorn river just downstream a bit from where the remains of the 7th lay on the hillside in the greasy grass.

Half Yellow Face

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Half Yellow Face  (or Ischu Shi Dish in the Crow language), (1830? to 1879?) was a distinguished Crow Warrior who is probably best known for his role as one of the six Crow scouts serving with General George Armstrong Custer and the 7th Cavalry during the Battle of The Little Bighorn. He was attached to Major Reno’s force and thus survived the battle. Due to an earlier death than the other five remaining scouts, White Swan, White Man Runs Him, Hairy Moccasin, Goes Ahead, and Curly, he is the least known member of the Scouts even though he was a “pipe-carrier” and believed to be the leader of the scouts due to his prestige, experience, and age. He led a fascinating life and if you consult Wikipedia and search for Half Yellow Face you will find an extensive history and links to other sources of information describing him and his life.

The photographic image above is of a modern Crow warrior wearing the regalia of Half Yellow Face at the gathering of the Crow tribe called Crow Fair. It has been enhanced to show the power, mystery and honor that is still attributed to this hero of the Crow tribe to this day.

Sees Past The Clouds

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There, way off in the distance, past the lodges, past the meadows, past the trees, past even the clouds, there is something important happening. Some arresting movement, something that makes one pause, something that bears close scrutiny and causes both woman and horse to stop and watch intently. Is it real, or is it perhaps a vision. Maybe she’ll tell us when she talks her dreams. Until then we can only see her and wonder what it is that she sees, there out past the clouds.

Misses His Friends

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Young men and war. How glorious it is. Sitting around the campfire, hearing the elders talk about battles they had when they were young warriors. Riding out across the prairie with a comrade and speaking of brave deeds you would do if given a chance. Scalps you would take, coup you would count, enemies dying on your lance or from your arrows. The excitement, the stories to bring back to the lodge of your prowess in battle, the admiring glances of the young maidens. All this and more if you can only get into the next fight. How agonizing not to have participated yet and be a respected warrior.

Then it happens. You get your opportunity to wage war with your sworn enemy. In this case it is the blue coats that have been relentlessly entering your land, running off the game, killing anyone they see. They’re coming and it will be a big battle, the biggest anyone has ever seen. The biggest in the memory of even the oldest old man in the village. Bigger even than the old mans grandfather could have remembered were you able to ask him. All the tribes are joining together to take part in this exciting, exhilarating, awful, incredible magnificent event. The medicine men have been singing of visions they have had where the Greasy grass is covered with the dead, the women going from body to body making sure no one is alive. Guns, rifles, and pistols laying about for the taking. Reputations made, brave acts to sing about for generations. And you and your friends will play a part. You will  be the relentless, merciless warrior and be victorious in this battle just as you have dreamed of since you  were a child.

 And then after a time filled with smoke and war cries, violence and death it is over. The Greasy grass is indeed covered with the dead just as foreseen by the visionaries and the spoils of war have been collected and it’s time for feasts and celebrations, and dancing and story telling, and a time to come down from that glorious battle high and look around you for your friends. That’s when you find that several of them are not at the celebration and never will be again. They’re among the dead laying in the Greasy grass. Killed by the enemy you were victorious over.

Suddenly in the aftermath of what was your greatest adventure you see that those friends that you rode with and boasted with and fought alongside of are no more. They are the same as the enemy now, lifeless and scattered across the land waiting for loved ones to come gather them for preparation to spend eternity in that other world where the dead reside. Songs will be sung about them that will live in the hearts of some for a while but the truth is they are gone forever now and will not share anything with you ever again. This death today is permanent. There will be more conquests and defeats for you to come, very likely more  of the latter than the former but those boyhood friends will not be a part of them. Now you think and mourn, the shine has gone off the day and in reflection you find that there is a high price to pay for glory. Perhaps too high but that’s something to think about later. His name tonight is Misses His Friends.

Sweet Nothings

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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!

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The highlight of any Indian rodeo is the Indian Relay Races. That event alone is worth traveling just about any distance to see. These races must be held out doors as the excitement generated at one of these races will simply blow the roof off any building you try to hold them in. I know, these are bold statements, but once you see one of these races you’ll be a convert. To see more about these races visit this post http://www.bigshotsnow.com/crow-fair-2015-indian-relay-races/ to see it in action.

The intensity of the races builds to a fever pitch with horses, riders and even those in the grandstand filled to the brim with frenetic energy. Sometimes the excitement gets to the point where the horse loses control and begins to act up because it wants to be out on that racetrack running its heart out. But it isn’t its time yet. It has to remain here in position so that when the relay rider comes in, it is ready for him to mount and race away, hopefully winning the race.

What you see here is a brief moment in time where the handler has an intimate quiet discussion with the horse explaining to it that it needs to remain calm. If it does it will have its chance in a second and that if it just stays calm a little longer it’ll be out on that track running like the wind and it will be the winner. A horse among horses. King of the stables. Or something like that. It was hard to hear over all the screaming from the grandstands.

Surprisingly the horse calmed right down and patiently waited for the rider to come in and make the exchange. We’d like to report that this horse and rider did win the race but unfortunately that didn’t happen. He came in second. There is only one winner in a horse race and this wasn’t this horse’s day. But there’s always the next race, the next rodeo, the next chance to be a winner. They’ll be back.

The IQ Tree

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This is the I.Q. Tree. For centuries it has lived on the edge of a precipice overlooking the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone just a few feet away. It has been called many names over its lifetime. The tripod tree, even though it actually has four legs. The Crow who hunted this area called the tree ‘bii shiilik’*, which means “trap of souls” in their language, and as a society, that would be us, that was mesmerized by investigating the inner working of our minds it became the I.Q. Tree.

It is called the I.Q. tree because it is a test set up by Mother Nature as another way of assuring that the most intelligent of our species survived to breed and produce off-spring with even greater intelligence than the preceding one, thereby improving the human race.

It’s intriguing shape, with the four legs holding up the main trunk is a natural attraction drawing the curious in. That by itself wasn’t the test. The test was after those who had lesser intelligence than say, your average toaster, had tired of being in and under the tree, taking selfies, throwing stones over the edge, daring themselves or each other to go stand on the crumbly yet unstable edge of the precipice, where they would fall into the canyon, screaming as they fell for the 20 minutes or so that it took to reach the bottom, did so. Thereby failing the test. Those with a higher degree of intelligence, after seeing several people go over the edge would not go under  the tree, or go stand on the treacherous edge of the canyon. They would pass the test and pass on their intelligent genes to their progeny.

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This is the view those who failed the test saw as their final destination several miles below. One would think that you would first hit several or all of those rocky projections sticking up so precariously but as luck would have it there is usually a strong wind blowing through the canyon and it would carry you out far enough that you would normally land in the river or close to it.

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As second prize Mother Nature provides several intriguing views for you to gaze on as you made your descent. Here is a nice view of the falls. Unfortunately it is hard to hear its roar due to the wind screaming past their ears but it  was pretty anyway.

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And they met some interesting folks on the way down. In fact this would be the last one they would meet due to their imminent arrival with the river’s surface or at least the bank next to it. This is Raven or as he will soon be known to the new arrival as KWEKWAXA’WE or the Sorter. He will convey your soul, depending in his estimation of how you comported yourself on the way down to its final destination. If he decides you were completely devoid of any redeeming qualities he would carry you that place where you might be returned to our life as a lesser being to learn humility. If he found that you were constructed of more admirable traits but simply of lesser intelligence, he would convey you to that place that returned you to our sphere as a higher being, like a Golden Retriever or a reoccurring sunset over the Tetons.

However, in our enlightened society the powers that be made the decision to cut down the I.Q. Tree as they deemed it too harsh a test of societies general intelligence, plus it was working KWEKWAXA’WE to death, what with people dropping out the sky constantly. They thought that by tying the I.Q test of the I.Q. Tree to the general level of education in our country, that it placed a huge segment of our society, the dumb ones, at an unfair advantage. It sort of permanently held them back, as it were. It also raised a cry of ” Save the Dumb Ones” and “Dumb Ain’t Bad” from the lefties. At first KWEKWAXA’WE was dismayed as it seemed he might be out of job but then he took a look at us and thought “If ever there was a group who will find a way to take the test , it is this one.” and he went back to taking a short break satisfied that his job was secure.

If you go to the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone and go to the first lookout you will see that the tree is gone. There isn’t even a spot, or spots, where the roots entered the ground. So this is one of the last images you will see of it. However if you look closely you will see that they neglected to put up a guard rail to keep the curious from going over to that crumbly yet unstable edge and standing in the spot where so many have taken the test. So be careful if you go there. If you lean way out and look straight down you can see Raven lazily circling down there at the very bottom of the canyon, waiting, occasionally looking back up at you, wondering, will you pass the test.

* Note: bii shiilik is a Crow word meaning ‘Yellow Stone’ which became Yellowstone and as we all know if you have ever been there Yellowstone is a Trap of Souls, as once you have spent any time there your soul is trapped by it beauty.