Last night the moon was on the rise and big. A Harvest moon. Hunters moon or just..full moon.
Looking at it brought memories.

Tracking Elk from the top of Huckleberry Mountain. The old NATO rucksack loaded and pushing on my back in the cool of the morning as I followed sign down through the creek willow and wild grape.
I could see the water filling up the track of the Elk. I was close. It was a herd with what looked like some heavy bulls in attendance.
The winchester seemed light in hand.
I was upwind. An hour later I could smell the herd.
Soon it was late morning I could see Elk on the other side of stream bed I had been following.
Too much brush for a clear shot.
The wind shifted and I squatted and let my breath get shallow. I thought
of how far I had gone from any road out of the forest. And I was alone.
Not a good combination if I dropped a 600 pound Elk.
I would need to maintain contact till I could get close to a road.
I sat some more. I could see the Elk picking their way through the brush. They were so quiet.
Called by the natives as the "Ghost of the Forest", it was an understatement. They are stealth in nature.
I watched the herd move down wind and out of sight.
I realized, in an instant, that I had done what I had needed to do. Somehow, in the act of tracking, I had finally hit a mile stone.
I sat and let the scent of the Elk linger in damp of the forest morning. In the distance I heard a Stellar Jay and a Gray argue over acorns.
I returned to my walk till I hit a road. As I stood on the asphalt a truck pulled up. It was Gary and Sean. Two guys from my hunting camp over at Jackass Flats.
"Any luck?"
"Naw" I said and threw rucksack in the bed of the truck, unloaded the Winchester and sat down in the truck. Looking out the truck window my eyes dropped down at the Elk print on the edge of the road.
It was filling up with water.

"Charlie one"
"Go Ahead"
"Charlie one, Report of man standing naked in river below the ***** bridge at **** park.
Witness is waiting at ****store on Hwy**..possible 10-28. Do you request backup?"
"Copy dispatch; negative on backup; enroute from ***** "

Sure enough a man was standing waist deep in the river. Witness was drunk in public but was placed in cab and sent home. Dispatch called for followup on the cell phone. (There was a 10-33 in progress so patrol radios were off.)
"Affirmative on naked in the river." (I hear dispatch laughing ) "Suspect is yelling obscenities in the direction of upstream, Dispatch" (more laughter"
I had placed the spotlight on him. I called to him. He responded with a universal sign of displeasure. I called for rescue..I could see he was headed toward hypothermia. (river temp was in the 30s at that time of year)
He yelled at the river how rotten it was, and to stop, and that it was polluted, and on and on..He appeared drunk but not a threat to others.

Rescue came. It was dinner time at the firehouse. It was dark outside
and when Rocky, the lead paramedic stepped over to me, he smelled like
Fried chicken and garlic.
"What's up Hoss," He said smiling and looking over his shoulder at the suspect.
I explained what I thought was going on,,,DAS (drunk and stupid) but the man was headed for hypothermia and could drown.
Rocky picked one of the FNGs and sent him out to get the guy.
The guy came peacefully and they took him to the hospital about 20 miles away.
he was hypothermic and very drunk. He would have eventually fallen and drown.
A week later the guy shows up in town again. Rocky leaves a message that
the guy's wife had run off with the guy's best friend. He said the guy spilled a whole story of everything that could go wrong, going wrong and he just "let loose". He apologized to Rocky and asked the apology be sent to me as well.
I sent a message back to Rocky. "There, but for the grace of God ,go you or I"

"Why those monkeys are so interesting" she said "they hold things just like us!" turning to her husband she said " Aren't we related to them?"
He says "Naw honey, we don't have tails"

wouldn't it be great to have a tail? Imagine what you could do with it.
Doing dishes, working on the car, leaning over to pickup something, answering the phone while typing...of course the downside would be catching it in the car door, someone stepping on it, sleeping on it, drying it and where to put it when you sit.
A whole new line of furniture.
However it would have to be a prehensile tail.
What would be a prehensile tale?
Maybe a story that teaches us to monkey around.

Before the written word our human history was oral.
From our elders we learned though stories and songs of the past. As we became elders we would experience events in life. We would add some of the important events to the oral history; to our songs.

In groups we share the songs and stories. We retell them as we live for learning, for survival, for continuity of culture, for connection to our roots and connecting our past with the present to make decisions for the future.
What stories do we tell our friends now? What oral history do others tell us? What do our children learn from our oral history? Who decides ,now, what our history is, what our culture is? Is it you?

Do our children learn from what we say or how we act?
My kids learned from my actions. Some noble; some not so noble.

In the dry creek next to the house I heard Uncle.
He moaned as made his way up the dry creek bed.
So close to the house, was uncle, I could hear the creek willow brush against him.
I knew he would be coming my way soon. Wilhem lost a bee hive to Uncle and Boot's corn field had been hit as well.
Uncle was getting fat.
In my mind's eye I could see the fat move from side to side as uncle waddled his way to bed.
His winter bed in an abandoned mine.
In the shallow shaft it never got colder than 50 degrees. Tucked in for the Winter, uncle wrapped in fat and fur would sleep and dream.
Dreams that only Uncle would remember.
Perhaps dreams of Honey, corn, berries, grubs, salmon and steelhead.
Good night Uncle.