Before the evening shadows stretch across the canyon the Deer-hunters would be home; a temporary home for the summer. Some of the group had wintered with the Corn-growers in the canyons and hills of the western slope of the gentle divide. Most had gone south of the mountains where the winds blowing from the southern desert moderated the winter. A few weeks ago when Spring had returned and was moving north, the Deer-hunters followed. Trekking through the valleys and canyons, deliberately slow as a group or individual hunters ,they watched and observed. A few days ago the crescent moon and the evening star met in the sky at sunset and danced together in the darkness, following the sun. A rare occurrence, truly an omen.  Most of the optimistic Deer-hunters saw it as something positive, maybe foretelling future hunts. Some saw neither good nor bad, only that change was in the stars, on the night wind. Tonight they would broil venison in a familiar fire pit, used by the Deer-hunters for hundreds of years.

 

 

 

 

 

 

    

 

 The Deer-hunters were an informal affiliation of men from many tribes and clans. They had traveled far and seen much; adopting dress, customs, language, and weapons from so many cultures that it was nearly impossible to determine their roots. Theirs was a dynamic group; men joining or leaving, some for a year or two, for some it was a way of life. The Deer-hunters were somewhat nomadic, having no home but living many places among the people of the region. With their travels had come great knowledge and understanding: they were hunters providing meat for many hearths; they were teachers for any that would learn.
    

 

 The Deer-hunters arrived in their canyon home by afternoon, but were overtaken by a late winter storm. All was much the same: the pueblo on the south wall of the canyon, the oak grove on the north; the rock tank in the bottom of the wash, petroglyphs in the rock wall. Something was different, something had changed: unknown footprints in the dust, fire had burned away some of the vegetation. The balance and harmony had shifted. Perhaps it was only a feeling brought on by travel and the approaching storm. A new member of the group, known as the ‘Ancient Child’, connected this energy to the celestial event of a few days ago. No one knew, but there was much speculation. Around the fire that night it was decided: be watchful and wary, even more than usual. A new and unknown danger was out there somewhere; the Deer-hunters needed to discover the source.

 

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  Spring has returned to this enchanted high desert, but Winter has not quite let go. An exciting mix of wind, intense sun, incredible clouds, a little snow, not much rain, and a new sunset every evening. Now we dance in Springtime celebration. There is always a reason, there is always music.