Unearthing a life.....

In the old days, when the animals still enjoyed a man-like form, Coyote spent much of his time searching for a wife. It was in pursuit of this goal that he journeyed up Crab Creek to the camp of the Raccoon tribe, which was located near the south bank of the creek on what is now John Shrom's northwest field. Here he paid court to the most winsome of the Raccoon Chief's daughters, and after giving a large dowry of frogs, fish, and ducks, he was granted her hand in marriage.

The couple was very happy. Before long a son was born to them and Coyote's heart was filled with love and pride. He was, however, unaware that there had been two other suitors paying court to his wife; and that these two, Owl, who lived on the cliffs of Saddle Mountain, and Raven, who lived on the dry valley floor, were very angry at him and were, at that moment, plotting their revenge. Ignorant of the impending danger, he took leave of his Raccoon wife and infant son, and traveled to the coast where he spent several days teaching some of his distant cousins how to build fish weirs.

On learning that their rival was absent, Owl and Raven seized upon the opportunity to execute their vengence. In the dark of a moonless night, they stole into the Raccoon encampment and carried off Coyote's son. These two evil creatures took the boy to the foot of Saddle Mountain, where, after laying him on the hillside, Owl cast a spell that turned the child to stone.

As he reached the crest of the Cascades on his return, the sharp ears of Coyote caught the sound of slowly beating drums. It was the Death Dance of the Raccoon tribe drifting softly on the winds from the far off desert lands. With great leaping bounds, Coyote sped homeward, a nameless dread wrestling with his spirit. Finding his premonition all too true, the poor fellow crept off to the creek bottom where he covered himself over with a blanket of tule reeds. For many days thereafter, his lonely howls of grief echoed endlessly against the rocky, unsympathetic bluffs of the somber valley.

Then one night, as the moon reached its fullness, a great white fury rose in his heart - a fury that laced the cloudless night sky with sheets of lightning. Choking back the helpless tears, he pointed his long nose to the Heavens and began to sing his power song. The crashing thunder of his voice reached out and hammered at the ears of Owl and Raven, causing them to fall to the earth shaking with fear.

Coyote picked up the two quivering cowards and hurled them into the sky, crying after them in a voice wild with rage, "For you, Raven, I pour gravel in your throat and bring the blackness of your spirit out for all to see. And for you Owl, who haave chosen to be a killer of the night, so shall it be forever!"

Stooping low, Coyote pulled a coverlet of earth over his cold, silent son, then turning, fled to the hills where no one could see his grief. Occasionally he returns to the bluff to sing a mounful lullaby to the boy, who lies there with his head nestled against the side of the mountain just above the Smyrna store ... by the bend in the old wagon road.

Originally published about forty-three years ago in the Royal City Capsule, a weekly newspaper in Grant County, WA. This is a sample of a weekly column I wrote for the paper for about two years ... under the byline Sagebrush Sam Sez'.