The Day I Rode the Eagle

Across the Fence #384

I climb the bank, through the tangled trees and brush to reach the place where the eagle soars. I climb on the back of the eagle. The cold wind caresses my face. I ride on the back of the eagle between the outstretched wings, and we soar.

This eagle, a thousand years old or more, and I, just sixty-seven years; together we ride the earth on windswept wings, heading I know not where.

Built by Native Americans long ago, I ride it’s back as once they did. The wind flows through my hair; sounds of nature reach my ears. I close my eyes as the eagle and I soar together. We ride the earth on windswept wings, heading I know not where.

I listen to the wind, hoping I will hear an answer. A thousand years ago they walked this ground, carrying baskets filled with soil. They dumped them here to build this soaring eagle. This eagle on which I now stand and ride upon it’s outstretched wings. We soar together, as we ride the earth on windswept wings, heading I know not where.

Why was it built? Who built it? What were their names? What were they like? What were their hopes and dreams? What was it like to live in those days? They are long gone now, but do their spirits still linger here and ride this eagle beside me?

A thousand years have come and gone and yet this eagle survives. The years could not destroy its flight. We ride on through the wind, this eagle and I, listening and searching, back over a thousand years to its beginnings, and ahead a thousand years into it’s future. We soar together, as we ride the earth on windswept wings, heading I know not where.

The eagle and I are searching, looking for answers as we soar together. We ride the earth on windswept wings, heading I know not where, one with the earth, on this cosmic ride through space.

The eagle I rode that day, is located in Madison. It’s one of many effigy mounds that are still preserved. Countless more have been destroyed by opening the land for farming in the early days and to urban sprawl and development in more modern times. Now the surviving mounds are protected. There are numerous mounds in the Madison area and I have visited many of them, especially those located in and around the Arboretum. The eagle mound I write about is located in a quiet, secluded area in one of Madison’s cemeteries. Modern tombstones now surround it. At one time the entire area was home to Native Americans. I tried to imagine what the area looked like when they walked upon the ground where I stood.

That day as I stood on the eagle’s back, I couldn’t help but marvel at how those mounds had survived for centuries. Structures we build come and go, possessions come and go, people come and go, but these mounds built from earth survive as long as man doesn’t destroy them. Everything comes from the earth and it all goes back to the earth. I thought about that as I rode the eagle that day. I made the statement earlier, “we’re heading I know not where.” As I listened to the wind in the trees that day, the answer suddenly became very apparent to me. Physically we’re all headed back to the earth to become part of it. Is it any wonder that the Native Americans honor the earth? The earth is part of them and of all of us. If we don’t respect the land, we don’t respect ourselves. If we abuse the land, we harm ourselves. It’s all very simple. If we destroy the environment of the earth, we will destroy ourselves. It’s all connected. The Native Americans have it right. It is a circle of life. Destroy part of that circle and we hasten the death of the circle.

Riding on the back of the eagle on that quiet day several years ago, listening to the wind, and letting my mind explore the world around me, brought clarity to many things about life. I think it helps being raised in the country on a farm. The importance of caring for the land and the earth are instilled in us at a very young age.

Coon Valley, located a few miles from where we live, played an important role in the proper care of the land. Erosion of topsoil on the hillside slopes had destroyed the productivity of the once rich agricultural lands. In 1933, as part of the New Deal, CCC crews planted trees, built check dams, fenced cattle out of forested areas, and installed contour strips for farming the hillsides. Those practices were expanded throughout the country with great success. Contour strip farming was also used on our farm. Proper care of the land saved the topsoil from erosion.

Today I see huge fields around the countryside where all the fences have been removed. Contour farming has been forgotten. Straight, long rows go up and down the rolling hills and erosion has returned. It’s a step backward in the care of the earth in my mind. I wonder what the people who built the effigy mounds would think of how we treat the earth. We soar together, as we ride the earth on windswept wings. I wonder where we are headed?

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