A couple were hiking in a remote area near the river and as they were trying to climb an embankment a skull rolls out of the ground. They freak out, run away and call 911. So I go down and meet them and have them take me back to the spot. A very cursory examination reveals that the bones are very, very old. The ancient people in this area would tie their babies onto a cradleboard. Basically, they would strap the baby to a board using some sort of textile and then the mother would strap the board to herself. Strapping a young infant to a board when their head is still soft results in a very unique skull. The forehead is sort of indented by the cloth and the back of the head is flattened by the board.
I called in an anthropologist and he arrived with another man. We mapped and photographed and did all the forensic stuff and then bagged the bones for removal. There was more there than just the skull. The anthropologist told me that the bones were 1000’s of years old. I said “thousands with an S?" And he said,"Yes."
Then an amazing thing happened. The man who had quietly been helping the anthropologist asked us to please step away before we removed the bones from the location. “I’m going to pray.” he said. Then the man began to sing an ancient native song complete with sweeping hand gestures and small dignified stamping of the feet. It turns out that this quiet man was the son of the chief of his people, next in line to be chief. He had been learning his whole life the ancient ways, the traditions, the songs, the dances. He knew exactly what to do and when to do it.
We stood and watched this man sing a song over the bones of his ancestor, a song probably not much different than the song sung over the body when it was placed here. It was beautiful, serene, ancient. The place we stood was lonely, as I looked around there was no sign of mankind on the landscape, no roads, no power poles, no fences. The river here is relatively free, as close to free flowing as it gets. I saw a landscape that probably didn’t look all too different from the landscape those ancient people saw. The river, the sand, the sagebrush, the mountain. I felt the warm wind on my face, in this place there has always been the wind, and I cried.
I used to tell people that my job was like having a seat in the front row of life. I saw and did many amazing things, saved people’s lives, held others while they died. Fought for my life. Been terrified and terrified others. Delivered horrible news and unspeakable joy. Reached through the water and clasped a desperate hand. Pounded life and breath back into a chest. Run through fire and soaked by blood. I’ve talked with men about their darkest depravity. I’ve cried with heart broken mothers and held the hand of a frightened child. I’ve been afraid that this was the room or the street where I might die, and I went there anyway and won. Through all of that, the beauty and the blood, the joy and pain, I’ll remember that day and the song sung by the quiet man and the ancient wind.
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