The calendar says “Spring,” although you couldn’t prove it by the temperature this morning. Seventeen degrees at eight o’clock, with the sun fully up, which means that it got down to around ten overnight. Yesterday’s promised rain and snow remained tantalizingly out of reach — visible on and among the peaks and valleys to the north and east, seemingly close enough to touch, but stubbornly refusing to drift the short distance down to us.
The long-range forecast calls for unrelieved sun — and wind, of course, even if the new and improved online chart doesn’t show it. It’s that season, and we’ll get it every day from now until sometime in June, give or take a day (or fraction thereof) here or there.
And the winds will carry the eagles aloft on their currents, speeding them on their journey to other places and spaces.
We do get eagles here, bald and golden alike. Sightings, though, are relatively rare; they’ve calculated, wisely, that it’s better to remain at a remove from the to-ing and fro-ing of humanity. Once in a while we’ll see one circling overhead, revolving in great swooping hoops in the sky before vanishing over the ridgeline or between the peaks.
More often, they can be found perched in the cottonwoods above the Quartzite in the canyon south of town. It’s a perfect winter habitat: plenty of food in the waters and plenty of cover for safety.
It’s also a perfect place, on occasion, to capture their image, whether sitting at relative rest like raptor sentinels, as above, or in playful or predatory flight, as below. Over the years, Wings has been lucky enough to get shots of them in both guises.
Eagles are, of course, important to us culturally; indeed, they’ve become an intertribal symbol of identity, even among peoples for whom they once held little or no intrinsic cultural significance. Their formerly endangered status and official listing in 1967 as a protected species has no doubt buttressed this phenomenon: As our own collective existence, our cultures, our traditions, our languages, our identities, have remained threatened, so, too, do we find common cause and kinship with this real-world Thunderbird, a skilled hunter and fierce warrior who also carries our prayers to Spirit on his powerful wings. I’ve written about their importance to our ways of life, their centrality to our existence, before.
But as with everything in our world, there’s a balance to be struck. And here, that balance dictates that the eagles, generally speaking, come to us in the colder months, and depart when the currents warm for other climes. And so despite this morning’s bitter cold and frozen pipes, we know that some of those who winter here have no doubt already taken their leave. Those that may remain are doubtless likewise preparing their departures.
We are, of course, fortunate to be able to keep their image with us throughout the year: through photographs, through carvings, through other art forms and media. In the past, we’ve had multiple representations of Eagle in our inventory, particularly carvings, both full-sized sculptural pieces and tiny fetishes. Some have been incredibly detailed and life-like; others only hint at the spirit within; still others have been bound with other spirits, morphing in real time from one into the next.
Now, though, we’re down to two: both sculptural miniatures, not quite fetishes, but still small enough to feel good in your hands. Both are by the same artist, in his distinctive vintage style, but they evince very different spirits. The first sits aperch, sentinel-like, yet lifts his voice to the skies:
This vintage-style Eagle rises out of a chunk of Pilar slate to call to the spirits. Carved by Randy Roughface (Ponca), the finish is smooth like soapstone, an an unusually soft red color smudged with the more typical gray. Stands 4.5″ high by 3″ wide at base (dimensions approximate).
Pilar slate
$125 + shipping, handling, and insurance
It’s the embodiment of the great wingéd creatures who, come winter, balance atop rocky outcroppings and weathered cottonwoods as though seated on royal raptorish thrones, where they overlook their kingdom of the Rio Grande Gorge, from the Wild Rivers to the end of the Quartzite.
Our other eagle is more delicately colored, though no less solid and substantial for that. Unlike his clansman, he is engaged in departing his aerie, looking for all the world like a North American griffon preparing to take flight:
Alabaster comes in a diverse array of colors and shades, sometimes several combined in one chunk of stone. The chunk of alabaster that here gives birth to Eagle is an example: Shades of bright orange and soft lime green swirled gently into white give the stone the appearance of sherbet. Rendered in a deliberately rough-hewn vintage style by Randy Roughface (Ponca) this strong and sturdy spirit bird perches upright, wings just beginning spread as though ready to take flight. Eagle stands 4″ high by 2.5″ across by 3″ deep (dimensions approximate). Another view shown below.
White/orange/green alabaster
$155 + shipping, handling, and insurance
Both are throwbacks to an older way of summoning the spirit of Eagle itself, an art form that depends not on extraneous detail, but on letting the stone evoke the being within. They’re also throwbacks to a time not far past, when their archetypes lent their presence to our surroundings along with their spirits.
For now, the eagles are departing, but only for a while. In the meantime, their smaller eternal cousins, distilled in three dimensions of stone or captured in two dimensional imagery, are reminders, harbingers of seasons yet to come, when the eagles will return.
~ Aji
All content, including photos and text, are copyright Wings and Aji, 2015; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owners.
