Flying Hawk, Slave Boy, 9,500 BC

Grandpa had given the order, never were we to ever cut that tree down. I trimmed up a fairly straight piece of apple limb for a walking stick and headed up for a visit. I had played as a child in and around that old tree as all the relatives had who were now in paradise with Jesus, possible many hundreds of years had passed since a fire either by lightening or some other source had burned up to the tree and caught the inner pith wood on fire, how long it had burned as an ember inside the mammoth oak only God knows. The large cavity now with an opening and charcoal black inside walls was now big enough for several full grown men to camp in or stand up in out of the weather, the outer layers of the tree were still living well and giving sustenance to the large upper part of the tree. Claw marks were visible inside where a large animal, possibly a bear had climbed up higher inside the tree years ago. I don’t remember anyone ever telling of trying to climb on up into the center of this great tree. I sat down in the debris inside out of the cool breeze and pulled out a biscuit from my pocket I had baked earlier that morning and began to chew on it when a strange fragrant odor came down from above that I had never experience before, at first it wasn’t very strong but soon it become almost unbearable, I didn’t think it an animal but still it was quite noxious. Looking up I could see a very small glimmer of light far up inside the tree which allowed me to see something I had never observed before in all the years of playing with the other children here, what usually you find sticking out of a tree on the outside called a knot, I now found what was left inside burnt black now protruding out after the soft inner wood had burnt away and protruding as if a handle out from the inside wall, then I realized that at my early age the knot would have been so high up it would have been out of my reach anyway. I stood up and gave a little jump for the knot and held on, there was just enough room for me to pull myself up to where I could grasp another knot, and then another, as the way grew narrower. I am still an avid gardener and in a slim condition, however it was still a task to pull myself straight up. I now ventured higher and into so small an opening that no large bear could have climbed into and the odor I had smelled earlier was stronger yet. In a bulge of the tree I found a very small natural place where I could sit and look around. The small hole that had let in enough light to show the way, now allowed me to see around me and I was amazed to see a long very long wild honey bee cone that had been left behind by wild bee’s many years ago, the hive now dormant. Apparently something had killed out the wild hive and there wasn’t any honey left in the cone, insects had long ago taken it. Just as I was ready to descend my foot bumped into something and I heard the unmistakable clink of pottery, a very small what looked like native American pottery with a flat round rock for a lid appeared in the dim light, the smell I had drew into my nostrils earlier seemed to come from this bowl. Carefully I removed my sweater I had put on for the hike up to this tree, then I put a knot in the lower part of a sleeve then I slipped the small pot in and pushed it down as far as I could. As I turned to leave I put my hand out to steady myself and something moved to my touch, I jerked back only to realize it was something wrapped in what looked like deer hide and was tied neatly in several places with strips of rawhide. The bees had merely built their long honeycomb down on both sides of the bundle and at one time the honeycomb had totally incased the item preserving it. Carefully I looked around but couldn’t find anything else however I knew I certainly would return to search very carefully the confines of this old tree with a good flashlight. I prayed that this bundle wasn’t the remains of a very small Indian child placed here in burial, cutting off a strip of my shirt tail I tied the small bundle and the sweater on to one of my legs at the ankle and by letting the articles down first into the way I had climbed up I carefully started down, I had found a secret hideaway of some person from a very long time ago. At the bottom where I had started my climb I carefully lifted the stone lid of the bowl to look inside, the remains in the bowl looked like dried prairie flower petals all ground up, I carefully put the rock lid back in place. Back at the house on the kitchen table I laid the package down, it had dried so stiff that I had to break away small pieces one at a time, soon I could see my fears were for nothing, first a stiff piece of leather and a feather was exposed, then the end of what appeared to be a piece of wood that had been worked down by rubbing it against a rock to shape it, finally there lay before me a well crafted bow of ewe wood and a quiver of at least nine cedar arrows.