The Kingbird and the Solstice

When I realized that I would be in the Big Hole valley for the summer Solstice, I decided to make sure I could celebrate it at Big Hole National Battlefield. The story of the Nez Perce and Chief Joseph is pretty well known but not so many know of this place.

Sitting in the truck, the laptop plugged into the power source, I feel this land as strongly as I did the first time I happened upon it. This June 21st, the wind blows through the willows, the sun is hot. Snow is still on the mountains that encircle the valley. The banks of the Big Hole River are lush with tall grass. Moose graze on the willows (although I only heard it, didn't see it, and given they said it was with a calf, that was okay with me).

This place is sacred ground because of what happened here, but perhaps it was sacred from before that. Does an event leave behind it energy or did the event happen because of the energy already there? Whichever the case, August of 1877, the Nez Perce camped on the banks of the river, expecting a brief respite from being chased. Here they planned to graze their horses, bake Camas roots in the coals of their campfires, and let women and children rest.

They had been on the run for four months but felt relatively safe. As they had traveled through the Bitterroot Valley, following their traditional hunting trail, they even bought supplies from the settlers with gold. They had no idea that their safety was an illusion.

Although they had had a treaty with the United States government, that treaty like the many before it, was worth only the honor of those who had negotiated it. Pressure was brought to bear to take the Nez Perce land in Oregon's Wallowa Mountains. As the whites expanded across the United States, they wanted all Indians forced onto reservations of their choosing, not where the people had lived. The Nez Perce didn't want to die in captivity. They felt their only choice was to escape to Canada where they could still find safety and freedom. The United States government set out to stop them.

August 7th, 1877, 800 Nez Perce warriors, women and children and 2000 horses arrived at Iskumtsetalik Pah (The Place of the Buffalo Calf). Their chosen leader, Chief Looking Glass, decided the cavalry was far enough behind to give the people time to rest. It must have been so tempting. It still is to linger along the meandering stream, enjoying the beauty. Most of them would have remembered other, more peaceful times as they cut poles and erected their tipis.

Some were given dreams to warn them disaster awaited, but Chief Looking Glass ignored their premonitions.

"My brothers, my sisters, I am telling you! In a dream last night I saw myself killed. I will be killed soon! I do not care. I am willing to die. But first I will kill soldiers. I shall not turn back from death. We are all going to die!" Wahlytits

The soldiers attacked at dawn on August 9th and for the story of the battle, the tragic slaying of women and children, the survival of those who hid in the creek, who were protected by their parents' fierce fight, the capture by the Nez Perce warriors of the military's howitzer, you can find the stories on line at sites like Big Hole National Battlefield. It was a time of tragedy, one of great courage, monumental mistakes as well as the strength of the human spirit.

The Nez Perce who escaped continued to try to find freedom, but the United States government was equally determined they would not. It is a sad and not proud story of the American concept of manifest destiny that was repeated time and again across the West. Of the thousand treaties entered into by the United States, less than 100 were honored.

After many battles, and almost to the border with Canada, the surviving Nez Perce were stopped and forced onto two reservations, one in Washington and one in Idaho. They were never again permitted to live in their homeland. In an ironic twist there is a memorial to Chief Joseph, the Nez Perce's most famous leader, on Wallowa Lake. I suspect it's as much a tourist enticement as a real attempt to make right that which cannot be made right. They would not even allow Joseph (his birth name, Hin-mah-too-yah-lat-kekt, meant Thunder Rolling Down the Mountain) to buy land there when he requested it, and he died in exile.

Where the various tipis stood that day has been marked by those who came back later to recount the stories. In front of Chief Joseph's tipi poles, I took a silent time for reverence and gratitude. You can see by the prayer cloths tied to the poles how many others had felt the same things. I then noticed above me, on top of those tipi poles, had landed an Eastern Kingbird. It stayed the whole time, and I'd like to think it might have been an omen that it was right to pay respect to these people and their most famous leader, who people still remember for his words-- From where the sun now stands, I will fight no more forever.

Walking up the hill toward where the soldiers, who had originally thought to easily overcome the Nez Perce, instead fought for their lives, I got this photo which might be a little difficult to interpret. It is a bright blue dragonfly laying eggs. It seemed symbolic to me of new life.

As always, these photos are more impressive if they are enlarged by clicking on them. Imagine the wind blowing, the sun on your back. Do you hear that faint sound of children laughing and playing along the banks of the creek, the women gossiping as they gather roots? Or perhaps it's the sounds of the guns, the screams of the dying? Can you feel the energy of those who sacrificed their lives for others? Perhaps it's just the wings of a bird as it takes flight.

I am back in Oregon; post was written June 21st in the Big Hole valley.