What are you doing here?

February 16, 2009

Clouds drifted lazily across the dawn sky interrupting it’s deep amber with their pink tinged whiteness. They were heading west, seemingly in spite of the clear river that was flowing swiftly in the opposite direction. The only sounds in the forest were the harmony of the singing birds and the melody of the running river.

On the south bank stood Wandering Elk; his raven hair in a pony tail, his fishing net in hand. He stood quietly, the net held just below the surface of the water. His eyes darted here and there, watching the silvery silhouettes dance beneath him. Faster than seemed possible the net swooped down and out of the river, water dripping from the braids of bark. A salmon floundered in the net trying to escape. With a grin Wandering Elk placed the first catch of the day in his basket.

It was then that he noticed the newcomer. He treaded easily through the current of the river, keeping his feet in the water. He raised his head and made eye contact with Wandering Elk as he passed, and Wandering Elk nodded in reverence. The new fisherman strode up to the short waterfall and stopped at its crown. “ What are you doing here?” Wandering Elk asked quietly, holding his net at his side, watching the other.

The newcomer had no net, spear, bow, or rod and made no movement for a few moments. Spawning season had just started, and the fish were making their way upstream, jumping gracefully up the waterfall. The newcomer stood there as the fish jumped past him; not even blinking. Wandering Elk wondered how long he would stand there, and just as he finished his thought he heard one fish fail to land in the water. He looked over at the other fisherman who held his catch, twice as big as his own. The newcomer turned around and headed back the way he came.

Wandering Elk moved his eyes to follow his retreat; they widened and then grew sad in the same heartbeat. To the west, just above the forest canopy, he saw the smoke from the fires of the white man recently arrived. “ I see why you’re here then, brother bear,” he whispered, “You are being pushed away from your home. Is that what they’re doing here? May the Great Spirit watch over us all.”

Prematurely done for the day, Wandering Elk packed up his things and walked back to his village, dwelling on the inevitable.