Do You See Them !

Posted on August 23, 2020 by Dwight Lutsey

Young Warriors – Battle of the Little Bighorn

In the excitement of battle, the dust swirls up obscuring visibility, the sounds of the fighting seem to come from every direction, the eagerness on the part of these young men to enter the action, all play into the frenzy of making war. These young warriors are desperate to join the others and the fighting and are terrified they won’t get to take part in it before its over. The possibility to leave their youth behind and enter manhood as a respected battle proven warrior is their single driving force. This is their chance to make a name for themselves and gain honor by engaging the enemy. If they can only find them.

The battle is spread over a large area and the different engagements that make it up are constantly moving as fortunes shift and events unfold. It can be confusing trying to enter the action especially if your desire is to get up close to the enemy so you can fight them face to face, thereby winning much honor and the right to boast of your prowess to anyone who will listen. To be taken seriously as warriors not just untested young men. A very important thing to young men trying to move up in the warrior society. Every opportunity missed is an obstacle to their advancement.

As destiny would have it these young men barely out of their childhood will find the battle, and will find out what their future holds. Only the gods of war know what that future is.

The Celebrated Jumping Mules of the Cimarron Grasslands

Posted on June 8, 2020 by Dwight Lutsey

Noted Mule Driver Lee Bailey performing with Mr. Jackson

Many of you are no doubt familiar with the Lipizzaner breed of Leaping horses made famous by the Spanish riding school from Vienna, Austria. They’re the big white horses that stand on their back feet and jump around while a Spanish guy tries to stay on its back. They leap and perform circus-like tricks all the while holding their heads in the air all snooty-like. Apparently being European does that to livestock, the putting on of airs and so on.

It is said that the Spanish riding school decided to come to America and put on demonstrations of how they can jump around and amaze people who aren’t used to that sort of thing. Americans had already decided early on that they didn’t need their animals jumping around and acting hoity-toity when they could be pulling a plow or a wagon, or carrying people normal-like without all that standing on their hind legs. After all we are first and foremost a serious hard working people here and need our animals to be likewise.

Having said that, while the Lipizzaner’s were on tour they gave a performance in the Cimarron National Grasslands near Elkhart, Kansas where most of the grasslands are located. The flattest, grassiest parts anyway, and as it happens there was a mule team made up of natural, all American, not snooty, mules passing through and saw them performing. Now mules are competitive by nature and after watching these jumping around horses for awhile formed the opinion that Lipizzaner’s were just silly. Why do all that when it was not only unnecessary but you didn’t get anything extra for it. Mules are practical creatures, you want them to stand on their hind feet and jump around you got to give them something for it. None of this “Good boy” “Nice Jump”, or I guess it would be “Buen Chico” and “Buen Salto” them being Spanish and all, for American mules. You better come up with a bunch of extra hay or one big bucket of oats for them if you want them to do anything fancy.

But, and it was a big one, they felt like those transient, immigrant-like horses were trying to intimidate them. Who did they think they were coming over here with all those airs. After all they put their shoes on their hooves the same as anybody else. They decided that if a mere horse could do that stuff a mule could do it much better. So they began working out when they weren’t hauling freight or tourists down the Grand Canyon, where by the way it was important that they didn’t do any of that standing up or jumping around stuff on that narrow Bright Angel trail, until they too could do all that jumping and leaping and carrying on. They just didn’t brag about it, or go looking for Spanish guys to ride them.

They saved those talents for when it was important and necessary like when they had to go up a hill. Many times it was easier and more efficient to stand up on their back feet and hop up the incline. They didn’t have so many feet to keep track of and it made the trip more interesting. With their powerful hind legs made up of natural grass fed mule muscle they could leap 8-10′ at a time making short work of any hill climbing. It was refreshing for the riders too.

Also mules love to polka. They will often break into a lively oberek or a shoddish or any of the more polka-like dances. If you watch mule trains for any length of time you will occasionally see a mule suddenly break into a polka and whirl about, jump, leap, backup, and try to catch their own tails, scattering riders and belongings all about the prairie. Which is why experienced riders try to keep their mules engaged and occupied with more mundane trail activities, like pulling heavy wagons, or talking to them about how soap is made.

Although jumping mules are not as common as they once were they are still found in the Cimarron grasslands where they first saw the Lipizzaner’s performing. It takes an extremely experienced mule rider to transverse the rolling grasslands where at any moment their steed may revert back to its origins of being America’s Jumping Mules and perform at will.

Along The Cimarron River

Posted on June 4, 2020 by Dwight Lutsey

A section of the Santa Fe trail runs through the Cimarron National Grasslands near Elkhart Kansas, a large expanse of semi-desert land covered with sand sagebrush, cactus, and various flowering plants. The Cimarron river flows alongside the trail and during the summer months is usually dry. Huge old cottonwoods line the bank and provide some much needed shade to travelers passing through. The land is mainly flat with gently rolling hills and bluffs that line the valley. This is the old prairie in all its glory. History can be felt here as you travel the same trail that countless travelers have traveled before you, mountain men, settlers, wagon trains, Indian hunters and warriors, cowboys driving cattle, every memory of the old west has seen this trail and made their own journeys along it.

In early June of this year five historical reenactors riding mules and horses recreated a portion of that journey. They made the journey along the same route traveled by countless journeyers before them. Carrying their own food and water and camping in primitive camps they experienced the same brutal heat with temperatures reaching way into the high 90’s and a 13-15 mph wind that sometimes felt like the inside of a convection oven during the day, and dropping back into the 60’s at night, a blessed relief after the heat of the day. Riding the original trail, seeking water wherever it was available for their stock, climbing the bluffs to look over the endless sea of prairie grass, they felt the history of this famous byway. The discomforts all part of the journey.

After the Battle

Posted on April 18, 2020 by Dwight Lutsey

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.

The Rear Guard

Posted on October 2, 2018 by Dwight Lutsey

Any good war chief knows you don’t commit all your troops to a battle. Some of the younger members are held back to hold the ponies while the more experienced warriors are off conducting the raid, or perhaps they are too young to be in the thick of things just yet but need the experience of being part of the action. To learn how to handle the fear and excitement, to learn how to be responsible enough to handle the smaller tasks of the war party before being entrusted with the larger duties.

Learning to be men is a difficult and frustrating task for these young warriors. After all if they’re old enough to be along on a raid they should be able to take part in it rather than just be pony holders. They’re brave enough, they know how to shoot and fight. Don’t they practice every single day? They tell each other they would count many coups against the enemy, and take many scalps. All they need is a chance to prove themselves, instead of being left to wait on the sidelines.

There is more to being a man and going to war than fighting hand to hand. The lessons learned by being a part of the group, of being thought of as mature enough to be equal company with the older men, learning to be patient and take orders and stand their ground, to be trusted. These are all lessons being taught while being the rear guard, even if they don’t realize yet they’re being taught. Their time will come all too soon.

Recollections of 2016 #1 The Trampling

Posted on January 4, 2017 by Dwight Lutsey

Horses 1 – Photographers 0

Some Horses Get Crazy and Trample People Just Because They Can

I was photographing the Indian Relay Races at Ft Hall, Idaho on August 11, 2016. It was a day like all days with little warning that it was going to be an extraordinary day filled with head wounds, bruises and general unconsciousness unlike any I’d ever had before. It was warm with little to no breeze to cool one down. Shade was hard to come by out on the race track. It was one of those days where you just settled down, sweat and waited for the action to start.

I’ve done this photographing of horses, riders and races many times before in various parts of the country and have always had a good rapport with the horses involved in what I call Chaos on Four Hooves, or as they are really known, Indian Relay Races. As such I was not totally prepared to be run over and trampled unconscious by one of those horses for no other reason than I was there. In fact, as the day dawned I did not even think that such a beautiful and gracious creature could even harbor such maliciousness and spite, let alone act on it. I’ve always thought I was a pretty good judge of character in both Man or beast. After all I am a high school graduate and a veteran. I vote. I have been somewhat educated by our magnificent public education system. I have an I.Q. higher than a geranium but lower than a programmable oven that has served me well so far. I’m kind to puppies and little old ladies. Most of them anyway. I did not know this horse. I had not spoken to this horse. I had not slighted it in any way that I was aware of. The horse just decided that I was there so I should be trampled into a state of unconsciousness. And so that is what it did. And I’m told it appeared to enjoy it.

A little explanation for those who do not know what Indian Relay races are. It’s quite simple really. You get a bunch of horses divide them into groups of three, find a single rider for each group, then simply race around the track once, return to your starting place where you have your extra horses waiting, jump off your horse, run to the next one that your horse handlers are holding at the ready, leap on it, race around the track once more, return to your starting place, jump off your horse, leap onto another one, race off… well you get the picture. This is done until all the horses have been ridden and someone who has managed to stay alive and on top of his horse comes across the finish line before anyone else. Thus winning. This is the good part. Of course everyone goes gonzo nuts, yelling and screaming for their team and against all the others and a good time is had by all. Except unconscious photographers. They don’t have a clue what just happened. They don’t even know if they’ve been snake bit or struck by lightning.

How the race works sounds quite simple and in theory it is. What you don’t factor in until you’ve attended one of these races is the noise, the dust, the confusion, the energy, the horses who range from those silently waiting to those who have to be physically restrained by maybe biting its ear, until the rider returns and mounts it. There is the yelling of the crowd, the thunder of the hooves as they race by, the single-minded purpose of getting on your horses and winning this race at all costs, all this and more add to the general mayhem of Indian Relay Races.

This is the actual ‘photographer trampling horse’ on its way across the track to do the trampling. I, being a trained observer, noticed its unexpected approach but thought little of it. I have to state here that this was a premeditated act on the part of the horse. You could see it in its eyes. It looked crazy. Demented. Homicidal. It looked like one of those people counting ballots in California late into the night or more like someone reading the election results that next morning. The rider was powerless at this point to stop the horse, turn it from its chosen path or to reason with it in any manner. If you look closely he is trying to talk the horse out of this unreasonable behavior but to no avail. That horse wouldn’t listen. It was driven. Its looks are deceiving as it appears in the photo as if it is ambling across the track in a leisurely manner, but in actuality it was at full gallop and coming across like a Burlington freight train and you’re stuck on the track like a stranded gasoline tanker. You just know there is going to be a fire, not to mention a lot of noise. This is mere moments from what is now known as TTP or ‘trample the photographer”. A day which will live in infamy.
Many people are much more accepting of herbal products because of their harmless characteristics.

Some of the things that go on as the race unfurls are crashes where one horse and rider will crash into another, either by accident or in some strategic hope of knocking the other guy out of the race, or just sheer exuberance in being in alive on such a beautiful day. This is all considered good fun and hardly anyone takes offence. Below is the aftermath of one of those events.

As you can see, the horse has most likely kicked this young man in the stomach. And stolen his shoes, plus probably created a small amount of trauma induced blindness causing him to use a special ‘kicked in the stomach’ stick to find his way off the race track before he gets trampled by the oncoming herd. That may not be the accurate explanation of events but since there was a lot going on it’ll do. Meanwhile back in the center of the track where there is a lot more mayhem happening, a rider is on his knees begging the horse to let him back on and of course the horse being a horse is having none of it. In fact it looks like the horse is trying to position itself so that it can kick him in the stomach too. Of course the crowd finds this all vastly entertaining and cheers loudly.

Here is the final almost actual happening of the trampling. The horse is breaking through the barrier. The photographer at risk, which in this case would be me, you can tell because I’m the one in the white hat with the red arrow pointing at me, doing my version of the moonwalk trying to get out of the area. I was prepared to Moonwalk clear to Boise if necessary. The horse apparently was wise to that ploy however and made an immediate right turn and trampled me. I, as a matter of self-preservation, immediately became unconscious and played dead, having heard this will often trick the attacking animal into leaving you alone. That part must have worked because as soon as it had its trampling done it turned and raced back on to the track in a vain attempt to win the race. It didn’t.

I awoke a short time later lying on the ground, looking up to find my self surrounded by EMT’s. One said “How you doing?” I asked if I was hurt. ” No.” He replied, ” you’re just old.” It was at that point I told him to do something anatomically impossible. They all laughed as if all of this was great fun and helped me up. Not badly mangled I returned to shoot the rest of the race.

Getting trampled by a great huge ugly horse filled with an unlimited amount of malice is not something I’d recommend to you. It’s really uncomfortable. But after the fact it becomes one of those things guys talk about where you have some bragging rights, kind of like someone who gets shot and lives to show off his bullet wounds. “Yeah, check this out, I got this in a drive by over on Cranston. Damn near killed me” However once is enough. I am not a slow learner. The next time I shoot a race I’m going to have my giant telephoto lens and shoot the race from across the parking lot. On top of an RV. That ought to be safer. Let that crazy bastard try getting me up there.

Crow Fair 2015 Camp Life

Posted on September 5, 2015 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!

Camp life at the Crow Fair is filled with opposites. Some times the camp is a wash of chaotic activity as everyone gets ready to attend the dance ceremonies or the parades and other times, like this morning, which happened to be a Sunday morning, everything was calm and serene.

Walking through the camp in the early morning just after sunup everything is still. There are no motor sounds yet from vehicles, or people calling from one area to another. It is quiet. The only sounds you hear are the horses gently calling to each other and the quiet sounds of camp life where people are just stirring, thinking about getting breakfast going, standing out by their lodges seeing what kind of day it is going to be. It is a good time to see the camp.

Horses are feeding, taking advantage of this quiet time. Soon enough they’ll be as excited as anyone else in the camp to be getting ready to attend the various activities.

The teepees are clustered closely together which usually means a large family group are all settled in next to one another.

Many groups fly the American flag above their camp.

A horse is waiting for someone to come and take him the river for a long drink. He’s just heard some other horses go by as early risers get a start on the day.

This is 2015 not 1876 and the rides are different for some of the people. It’s likely there is a horse tucked away somewhere but there is also a new breed of horse, a mechanized one, and it seems fitting to see it tied up in front of the lodge.

It’s unsure whether these folks that occupy this lodge are coming or going as it looks vacant. The topping to go on the arbor isn’t all in place up on the roof yet, so we’re betting on their coming.

Horses resting up for the day to come. Their owners lodge is just visible up over the hill.

There are many of these wall tents in the camp. Someone told me they serve as overflow if the teepees are overcrowded. He also told me he’d rather be in a teepee as the tents were too hot. The opening at the top of the teepees can be adjusted to let the hot air out so they were cooler to be in. After 100+ degree days any thing that would offer coolness was in high demand.

Placed against the tree line for shade and to block any wind this is a well placed group of lodges.

These riders are taking their horses down to the river for a drink. It’s also a good time to talk about whatever young women talk about.

The doors of the lodges are all facing the trees. you can see extra lodge poles leaning against the tree line.

There were some teepees that were decorated or painted but the majority were of white weathered canvas.

One evening after the dances ended very late, it seems that my vehicle misplaced itself and I wandered for several hours through the maze of teepees trying to find it. By about 1:30 in the morning I had found all 1200 of the tepees but not my Jeep. Of course never having been lost before in my life I neglected to bring a flashlight and since there is a major absence of street lights in a Crow camp, finding ones way about was difficult. Fortunately I learned an old Indian trick that night and turned on my flashlight app on my cell phone and eventually I found this red striped teepee that I remembered seeing on the way in and shortly after found the Jeep. There are always adventures on these trips, some big, some little. This was a little one even though it didn’t feel that way as it was happening.

There were some teepees whose decoration had an unmistakable meaning

Horses picketed amongst the lodges was an amazing sight to see. The mix of old ways and new was constantly presented to the observer.

The patina on these lodges indicated that they had seen plenty of use. The ivory color was perfect for the setting.

It’s getting a little later in the morning now and this horse was definitely interested in going to the river. Shortly after this picture was taken he got his wish.

This is the Little Bighorn river as it wends its way through the camp. It’s quite shallow here so it’s easy to ride the horses down to the edge.

Some of the horses were eager to wade out in the water where it was slightly deeper, others preferred to drink at the bank.

Boys bringing ponies down to get their drink. There was no horse-play here, pardon the pun, as these guys proceeded to get the stock watered. No rock throwing or goofing around, they got the job done well and were soon on their way back to camp.

A teepee set up along the river. They had shade all day and you could hear the river running by as well. A bonus for picking a great spot.

An overview of a small portion of the camp from a little ridge that ran along the back of the camp.

While out on the edge of the camp and looking towards the plains a flock of Prairie chickens passed by going swiftly over the exposed hilltop to the safety of the ravine on the other side.

This is a panorama made up of 25 pictures stitched together to try and show the size of the camp. If the picture were printed out it would be over 8′ long. Consequently to compress it down to this size so it would fit on to the page of the blog, details are very small indeed. If you click on it to see the slightly larger version you can see a little more. But as it was only intended to give you a sense of scale and an overview of just how large the encampment is, hopefully it does that, even if you can’t make out who it is sitting in front of that back teepee is.

It is a good feeling to see that many lodges together and the people that fill them living together in harmony. When you think that there might be an average of four people to a lodge that is 4800 people. That’s a small town any where you want one.. What a great experience to have, to be able to see and take part in this get together. Crow Fair 2015.

BigShots Now

A conversation about Photography: Images and Commentary by Dwight Lutsey

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