Night Above the River
Shifting her pack from her back, Helga crouched on a narrow ledge breathing heavily. Leaning back, she lodged her body against an outcropping to keep from sliding backward. Her arms ached like never before, and her body was scraped raw where her clothes had been torn from rubbing against the rock. Alert despite her fatigue, Helga rested only briefly. “I can’t waste time,” she thought. “I don’t want to be on this rock wall when darkness falls.” Observing the position of the sun, however, Helga realized that she probably could not reach the top before dark.
She decided it was unlikely that a better place than the ledge could be found to spend the night. Making preparations for a precarious campsite, Helga lodged her flicker-pole into a crevasse at the bottom of the sloping ledge and wedged her backpack against it. This blocked any possible slide into the river. Helga was not worried about the pole breaking. She trusted the tree that had given the wood. The pole would not break.
Helga sat down leaning on the rock wall, wedged next to her backpack. She lay her soft cotton cloak down on her other side to make a place to sleep—clinging to the side of a cliff 2,000 feet above the river!
Rummaging in her backpack, Helga brought out a small yucca fiber and porcupine quill pouch. Opening it, she took out an oiled cotton package. Inside was a dark tan-colored lump—honey nut butter! She smeared some of the sweet tasting spread across a strip of trout jerky and gnawed on it, washing it down with a few swigs from her water gourd.
Feeling secure in her precarious perch, she considered the night that was coming. She had enough food and water to last at least two days more, and she felt certain she could reach the top of the cliff tomorrow. But she also was worried. Watching the sky, she saw signs of clouds gathering. If it rained, she had little protection. The cold mountain night would increase the risk. If her clothes became soaked, she could die from exposure. Calmly, but with urgent concern, she reviewed each item she had with her. How could she increase her shelter?
Not being able to climb with a heavy pack, Helga was traveling light. The prospects were discouraging. She would have to rely on her wits to protect herself as well as she could and hope for the best. Feeling alone and helpless, she wished she could get help. Then an idea occurred to her. What about the flicker-pole?
Filled with new energy, Helga carefully shifted the backpack out of the way and lodged her own body where the pack had been. Then she wedged her back and legs securely against the two sides of the crevice to keep her precarious campsite from sliding into the river. When she felt that she was lodged securely enough to prevent a disastrous collapse of the campsite, she gently pulled the pole loose. Hoping that her plan would work, Helga began to work the flicker-pole in what was normally the ‘weapon’ style of use. Waving it in a way that made the end a blur of motion, an undulating, whisper-like song sounded across the cliff. Softly singing the ancient prayer songs she knew by heart, Helga rocked forward and back, working the staff with an almost surreal power and intensity.
For many minutes, nothing seemed to happen, but she continued moving with dogged determination. Dusk fell. Cold rain began to fall. Time was short. “Please, Ancient Ones...Help me,” Helga murmured. Possessed with strength beyond her own understanding, she worked the flicker-pole with even greater power. Then they began to come: Pinion Jays, Canyon Swifts, and Rock Wrens from all corners of the canyons. Soon the calls and cries of the canyon birds were loud enough to drown out the music Helga was making. By the tens and hundreds they came, dropping from the sky in flocks to roost all around the crevice where Helga camped. Flock by flock they covered the crevice completely as bird after bird joined the serried lines, creating a complete protecting canopy over her campsite! The steady pelting of bird droppings was only a minor annoyance to Helga, grateful that she would survive the chilling rain. She spread her cloak to protect against the droppings and thanked the Ancient Ones for their help.
The Ancient Ones had discovered the power of the flicker-pole to attract birds. From times of unknown past, its tones had always called nearby birds to roost. Wherever they were, whatever they were doing, some deep language of the heart called them to join together in fellowship. When the music sounded, a great conclave of birds gathered around the pole. Coming in peace, but coming in vast numbers, this amazing roosting of birds had been used by the Wood Cows since ancient times as a means of defense. Even the most dangerous enemy did not want to be covered by hundreds and thousands of birds, however peaceful they were!
As the rain began to fall, the water slid from the feathers of the birds and fell harmlessly down the cliffside. There could not have been a more effective protection against the rain! The body heat of the birds also helped to warm the bone-weary Helga. She wedged the flicker-pole back into position at the front of the ledge, returned the backpack to its position, and slumped in exhaustion. Slipping into a beautiful dream of being reunited with her father, Helga thought little more about what might lie ahead...