I awakened this morning to a world entirely white . . . save for the harrier sitting at eye level in the aspen just outside the bedroom window. She turned to look at me, then turned back to the view laid out below her perch. She did not seem, at the moment, to be on the hunt — rather, simply enjoying a rare chance to sit close and unbothered in the perfect stillness, with no other birds around.
Since then, the winds have risen, the clouds been driven mostly out past the peaks, the temperature pushed significantly lower. The air that was so warm and silent this morning between the moon-white sky is now busy, with a sharp and bitter edge. The icy hill is insistent now, and the spirits of winter are back and hard at work.
The elk have been coming at night, intermittently; they have long known they have sanctuary here. The hawks come, too, but they preserve our agreement that the chickens are to be unharmed, focusing their keen skills of perception on smaller, wilder creatures. Only one coyote has shown himself thus far, and while clearly in search of food, he also seemed the fattest, sleekest one we’ve had here, one who clearly has had success in sustaining himself all season.
But the wild swings of the mercury now present a problem, for both predator and prey.
Two days ago, the temperature reached some fifty degrees (I believe fifty-one was the official high). Three to five inches of snow were forecast yesterday, but the storm delivered half a foot and more, and tonight, the low will plunge to zero. And yet, we are promised highs above the freezing mark virtually all of the next fifteen days.
What some peoples call the Bear Moon will be here far sooner than it should, supplanting the name of another.
It’s not a name found in either of our traditions, but now that it has become fashionable for colonial weather forecasters to appropriate “Native American” names for moons, it’s one people will likely see with some regularity. It’s not a moon for the depths of winter — not normally: It’s used to refer, variously, to the moon that straddles that threshold of fall’s end and early winter, or the one of late winter and the first days of spring. These are the times, after all, when Bear in abroad, on the hunt, and hungry.
In other words, it refers to those periods just before our ursine relatives den up for a long winter’s sleep, and those when they first emerge, groggy and starving, from hibernation. And those times are now all over the calendar’s map.
We have yet to see any evidence of their emergence here, but given the unsettled nature of our weather and climate now, that could change any day. It’s not good for them either, of course, to have a warm-up signal their bodies to emerge into a snowy landscape, only to have deadly freezing temperatures drive them back in again. But as with the birds of early summer, the goldfinch clan wintering with us now, we can expect to see more of such behaviors as they, along with the rest of us, try to adapt.
Of course, it’s not merely ordinary black bears or grizzlies that live here. Elders sometimes tell of a southern equivalent of the northern Spirit Bear, as white as the backcountry snow through which it moves. These are accounts of long standing, old and new alike, and only the foolish dismiss their authenticity. For they are not the only spirit creatures to be found in this high, hard land.
Today’s featured works, though, being these spirit beings up close and personal and fully tangible. These are this land’s spirit bears, the bears of the cold winter moon, capable of surviving and thriving in unsettled weather and the deepest of snows. And these miniature versions, an entire clan by the late Mike Schildt (Taos Pueblo) are wrought in his signature realistic style. All are found in the Other Artists: Sculpture gallery here on the site. We begin with the largest, the mother bear from her description:
Mike Schildt (Taos Pueblo) created this Bear Clan matriarch (and her three cubs) in 2013. Coaxed from one of the most spectacular examples of spiderweb alabaster we’ve ever seen, this Mother Ghost Bear is solid and substantial, and she stands on full alert. Snowy white with an incredibly rich brown spiderweb matrix, simultaneously delicate and bold, she has inlaid eyes of sky-blue Sleeping Beauty turquoise. Mother Bear stands 8″ long by 4-1/8″ high by 1-7/8″ across at the widest point (dimensions approximate). Another angle shown immediately below; top view shown in lower left of group photo at bottom.
Spiderweb alabaster; Sleeping beauty turquoise
$450 + shipping, handling, and insurance
Requires special handling; extra shipping charges apply
This bear has a full family of cubs, stair-stepped in size and age. The oldest of the three is also the biggest, a juvenile cub just a bit older than his sister, confident and responsible in his role as the elder brother. From his description:
This adolescent Ghost Bear Cub is the eldest offspring in a family that arrived here in 2013, given form and being by Mike Schildt (Taos Pueblo). Carved of hauntingly beautiful spiderweb alabaster, soft white with a stunning spiderweb chocolate matrix. This responsible little elder brother looks on closely and carefully with bright blue eyes of inlaid Sleeping Beauty turquoise. Cub stands 6-1/8″ long by 3.5″ high by 2″ across at the widest point (dimensions approximate). Top view shown at lower right in group photo below.
Spiderweb alabaster; Sleeping beauty turquoise
$300 + shipping, handling, and insurance
Requires special handling; extra shipping charges apply
The middle child of the three, also an adolescent and only slightly smaller, seems less sure of herself — head cocked quizzically, as if assessing her situation before proceeding. From her description:
This Ghost Bear Cub is the middle child in a family of bears midwifed from spiderweb alabaster in 2013. Mike Schildt (Taos Pueblo) brought form to this little family from a truly fine example of the stone, nearly pure white, with incredible delicate matrix lines in gold, bronze, and a deep chocolate brown. She gazes solemnly through sky-blue inlaid eyes made of crushed Sleeping Beauty turquoise. Cub stands 5.25″ long by 2-7/8″ high by 1-5/8″ across at the widest point (dimensions approximate). Top view shown at enter right in group photo below.
Spiderweb alabaster; Sleeping beauty turquoise
$300 + shipping, handling, and insurance
Requires special handling; extra shipping charges apply
Hesitant or no, though, she remains protective of her baby brother. And he is undoubtedly a baby bear, the smallest of the clan and also perhaps the most innocent, head tilted upward in wonder at the world around him. From his description:
This little ghost bear cub is the baby of the bunch in this family created together in 2013 by Mike Schildt (Taos Pueblo). The color of new snow, with a delicate spiderweb tracery in rich golds and browns, he stands gazing upward, happily, expectantly, through inlaid eyes of bright blue Sleeping Beauty turquoise. Cub stands 5-3/8″ long by 3.5″ high by 1-3/8″ across at the widest point (dimensions approximate). Top angle shown at center left in group photo below.
Spiderweb alabaster; Sleeping beauty turquoise
$225 + shipping, handling, and insurance
Requires special handling; extra shipping charges apply
And while his mother and siblings are rightly protective, the baby bear is right: There is much cause for wonder in this wintry world. A few moments ago, Wings called to me from the gate, where he was on his way out to run an errand. A bald eagle flew past, skimming the treetops across the road. No amount of human speed is a match for eagle’s wings, and by the time I got outside, it was already long out of sight.
Still, its presence here is testimony: Bear Moon or no, the spirits of winter are alive and well. Wonder, indeed.
~ Aji
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