Before sunrise I awoke to the sounds of coyotes on the ridge behind camp. At first light came the soft sounds of horses and a camp of Indian people coming to life. A blanket of fog hung gently across the river valley joined by the smoke of morning fires. In the distance a drum began to pound and voices joined it’s beat to sing a song to greet the morning sun. I stood on the hilltop in awe of what lay spread before me, and overhead as an eagle flew from the west and disappeared into the sunrise. There is magic here, and hope, and determination. What I felt most at that moment was the magic. And pride in my people. And gratitude.
Wopila