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Many say her spirit still lives on the mountain, and some have seen her spirit when the pine trees are bending. She’s an ancient presence. Her breath to this day carries power in her songs. And her name was changed in the days when the sun became brighter, from First Woman….to Wind Walker. It’s true […]

The Legend of Wind Walker — Rivers Renewed

This beautiful poem has been shared from Rivers Renewed where nicodemaplusthree shares beautifully inspired Native American stories. Please be sure to stop by and check out her wonderful site.

Race for Freedom

 

I am beyond the circle today, racing toward freedom.  “Oh, how I love to run.”

There is strength in my legs and courage in my heart.  My vision is keen.  I am galloping into uncharted territory but ancient wisdom within tells me I have traveled this path before.  I am not afraid.  With this knowledge, I strive forward gathering increased energy and speed.  The air on my face feels good.  It is cool and fresh.  My white mane and tail flow out behind me uninhibited.  I am breathing deeply, nostrils wide.  The inhalation of crisp translucent air has cleansed all senses.  My exhalations are mere puffs of white.  Purity has allowed my feet to float above the obstructions below so that I may glide along like wind.  All restrictions have been removed.  I have become a leader.  But, in my exuberance with the race toward freedom, I have forgotten my herd.  They have fallen behind. Continue Reading »

Forlorn

Forlorn,

Creativity lost,

A train of abandoned thoughts,

Buried in the sands of time,

Like prairie dust.

If you’re silent – you can hear the whispers;

Now, only memories of a forgotten past.

Letting go

Please be sure to visit The Paths of the Spirit and let Trini know how much you enjoyed this post.

Stone Soup

Stone Soup is a folktale about sharing during a time of hardship.

The age old tale begins with the arrival of a poor starving beggar at depression struck Village.  The Villagers hardly have enough provisions for themselves so refuse to feed this stranger.  The beggar then offers to share his meal with them. Obviously, the beggar has no food but he is an alchemist.  The magic begins when he adds a stone to a boiling pot of water. Curious, the untrusting Villagers gathered around the beggar to watch as he prepared the special soup.  Since none of the villagers had enough in there larder to share with others, they found the generosity of the poor beggar peculiar.

“What are you doing?” they asked.

He smiled politely at the unfriendly villagers while he wordlessly placed his pot of makeshift soup over a fire.

“I’m making stone soup.  It’s delicious.  I’ll be glad to share it with all of you when I’m finished.”

The villagers watched in awe as the beggar dipped his ladle into the mixture and tasted it. Continue Reading »

Little Britches

“Go ahead, you can pet her.  It’s okay.”

Little Britches eyed his father suspiciously, even at the ripe old age of two; he’d mastered the art of discernment.

Little Britches’ father was his hero. Still, he wasn’t totally convinced that petting that little bunting cow at the edge of the deck sniffing lilacs was in his best interest.  Heck, the cows buddy, a young golden lab, knocked him over in exuberant body wriggling, tail wagging licking episodes – and, that farm dog wasn’t as big as the mini black cow with the white face they called Mable!

Little Britches shoved his hands deep into the pocket of his jeans and shifted his weight from one rubber boot to the other, his bright inquiring eyes peering up at his father from below his Blue Jays ball cap. He needed a tidbit more encouragement before attempting, “Mission: touch-the-cow!” Continue Reading »

Judgement

When you judge another; You are judging yourself; Let go of your illusions.

Man Eater – Chapter 3

Man Eater – Chapter 3

By: J.V. Andrus

 

It was summer now and all was calm.  I was outside playing one evening when I spotted my run away pony, Judy.  With her head down, she stood quietly in the corral by the barn, stamping her small hooves and flicking her thick white tail back and forth in an attempt to fight off the hoards of black flies that bit at her small golden body.  Slowly, I walked towards the barn and nonchalantly swung the gate closed to trap Judy.  I turned to find myself cornered.

I was frozen to the spot.  Man Eater dove at me, white rimmed eyes full of hate and black ears flattened to the back of his head.  Grabbing me with his teeth, he flung me into the air.  The world exploded as I hit the ground and in half a daze, I crawled under the corral to safety.

Luckily for me, the jacket I had been wearing was my brother’s and being four sizes too big, I had slipped out the bottom.  I sat and watched in mute silence as Man Eater tore the jacket to shreds, then turned heel and headed for the hills.  I was soon to learn that this would only be the first of many attacks by the insane stallion. Continue Reading »

Man Eater – Chapter 2

Man Eater – Chapter 2

By: J.V. Andrus

I was only a small girl but I’ll never forget the first time I saw that wild horse.  He was crazy-mad and full of hate.

We stood still as Daddy and Frank brought him through the yard, fighting and screaming.  His nostrils were flared wide and red and his white rimmed eyes were full of hate.  His head and short mane were caked with blood and lather covered his huge black body.

The angry stallion fought the ropes that circled his neck and held him between the two other horses.  He dived at Daddy’s horse only to be brought up tight by Frank’s rope.  He turned and charged at Frank but was thrown backwards when Daddy’s rope pulled tight.  He was a mass of flying feet and catching one of the ropes in his teeth bit down on it with such fury that the rope snapped but, Frank was too fast and another rope whistled through the air and landed over his head.

I was sick.  I thought the poor horse would kill himself before he would stop fighting.  It took the men an hour to corral the crazy, mad fighting horse. Continue Reading »

Man Eater

Gone But Not Forgotten

I have always been fascinated by the power of words to convey a message.  When I was young, my mother used to read us stories some of which were her own.  I loved those stories.

J.V. Andrus
Dec. 2, 1934 – Oct. 10, 1989

Sometimes, however, an artist’s work isn’t fully recognized or appreciated until after they are gone – the following story has never been published but, it needs to be. It is a story I have never been able to get out of my mind.

Written by my mother, J.V. Andrus, Man Eater is about a wild mustang captured in the Alberta Foothills before the majority of wild horses disappeared from the range.

Many people like to romanticize the good old days – truth is, times were hard back then and the bitter reality of that truth can be harsh. The story of this wild mustang is raw.  It’s real. It is a battle between a wild animal fighting for a territory being encroached upon by man. So, let’s take a step back into our not so distant history and enjoy my mother’s story of a wild stallion who roamed free in the foothills of Alberta in the 1939’s or 1940’s.

Proudly, I present:  Man Eater by J.V. Andrus.

The following is Chapter 1 of 3.

Man Eater

By: J.V. Andrus

When I was a little girl, my family lived on the CC Ranch southwest of Nanton.  The Ranch, situated on Willow Creek was silhouetted by the wild and beautiful Rocky Mountains.

The land was filled with bush and farther in towards the mountain was thick timber.  I remember that it was not uncommon to see bear, moose and deer on this land.  We knew that many wild horses made their home in the mountains although they were rarely seen.

My story is about a black stallion who gained the band of wild horses and who was snared in the mountains by my Dad and his best friend Frank.

I had only seen the wild horses a few times.  My Dad, who was foreman of the CC Ranch, said the wild horses were inbred.  They had large over-sized heads, crooked legs and big pie feet.  Some were very small.  The wild horses usually had long unshed hair and the older mares had matted manes and tails that hung to the ground.

They stayed high up in the mountains most of the year and grazed on the tender grass that grew along the timber line.  Their bands were very small.  The cold harsh winters and deep snow found the colts and weaker mares starving.  Some were pulled down by Timber wolves, some by another hungry predator. During these times, wild horses usually descended from the mountains into the foothills.

The ranchers hated the wild horses. Continue Reading »