outings like this, and he really loves being out in the field.”
Rose glanced at the dog, whose tail was now wagging
furiously, and didn’t have the heart to say no. “If you don’tmind, it’s fine with me.”
“Great.” Willie lowered the back tailgate, let out a short whistle, and the dog, exhibiting an agility Rose wouldn’t have dreamed he possessed, leaped into the seatless back of the SUV. The section was completely covered with a thick carpet. “I removed the back seats a long time ago. Now he has plenty of room to stretch out, and I have floor space for supplies, likeplenty of drinking water, whenever we go camping.”
They first drove to an area close to Four Corners, west of the San Juan and just south of where it and the tiny Mancos River merged. It was higher in elevation here than at Shiprock, and Ute Mountain, said to resemble a reclining warrior, loomed just to the north.
While Kenmore lumbered on ahead, Rose pointed to the river just below the hillwhere they were standing. “I remember bringing my children here a long, long time ago. Just across from where that big sandbar is now, ‘beeweed’ used to grow. Some of our people, in times of hunger, have been saved from starvation by eating the greens from that plant. The brittle branches can also be used to start a fire. My mother taught me how to spin the twigs into a larger branch, adding a littlesand as you go. A dry powder is formed that catches fire very easily. My son and daughter both learned the technique within a few minutes. Are you familiar with ‘beeweed’?”
“Ah, that’s an easy identification, because Anglos like me call it Rocky Mountain beeplant. Botanists have named it Cleome serrulata.”
As Willie whistled, Kenmore returned quickly, then they walked down to the shore of theriver and walked alongside the rapidly flowing water for nearly a mile, searching carefully. But they found none of the plants they were searching for, not even
“beeweed.” In one area where a small backwater had created a moist, fertile area, they found signs that the person with the entrenching tool had been active here too. Kenmore sniffed at the ground curiously, and it seemed obvious that someof the scent of the person remained, though the elements had washed or blown away all of the distinctiveness of any footprints.
“I can’t tell you how this worries me,” Rose said as they climbed up away from the river and hiked back to the SUV.
Willie took a deep breath. “I did some research last night. Would you let me guide you to another site? It’s not far from here, maybe six or so milesfarther downstream.”
“That’s fine.”
Willie took them to an area where the river had meandered like a lazy bull snake, creating a wider lowland beside the river. Several farms were visible, and fields extended almost to the riverbed in a few places where the main irrigation canal fed smaller feeder ditches. Rose nodded as they reached a stretch of land that was familiar to her. “I’d forgottenabout this place.” Here the sandbar was so large it split the river into two channels and created an island with trees growing nearly fifty feet high. “I know some of the others have mentioned this place in passing. I believe it’s probably a collection site for some of the older Plant Watchers.”
He led her to a nearby irrigation ditch that ran parallel to a cornfield. “Do you have any idea whothe person with the entrenching tool is?” he said, pointing again to some telltale holes by the bank. “Is it a Navajo, Anglo, medicine man, herbalist, or just someone stealing plants to sell off the reservation at some native plant nursery?”
“Whoever it is steals mostly our medicinal and ceremonial plants, so they have some knowledge not only of plants, but of our culture.” Rose crouched by adamaged plant, then snapped two photos of it and of the holes left by the entrenching
tool. “He found some ‘plant with yellow root’ growing here, but
Rose glanced at the dog, whose tail was now wagging
furiously, and didn’t have the heart to say no. “If you don’tmind, it’s fine with me.”
“Great.” Willie lowered the back tailgate, let out a short whistle, and the dog, exhibiting an agility Rose wouldn’t have dreamed he possessed, leaped into the seatless back of the SUV. The section was completely covered with a thick carpet. “I removed the back seats a long time ago. Now he has plenty of room to stretch out, and I have floor space for supplies, likeplenty of drinking water, whenever we go camping.”
They first drove to an area close to Four Corners, west of the San Juan and just south of where it and the tiny Mancos River merged. It was higher in elevation here than at Shiprock, and Ute Mountain, said to resemble a reclining warrior, loomed just to the north.
While Kenmore lumbered on ahead, Rose pointed to the river just below the hillwhere they were standing. “I remember bringing my children here a long, long time ago. Just across from where that big sandbar is now, ‘beeweed’ used to grow. Some of our people, in times of hunger, have been saved from starvation by eating the greens from that plant. The brittle branches can also be used to start a fire. My mother taught me how to spin the twigs into a larger branch, adding a littlesand as you go. A dry powder is formed that catches fire very easily. My son and daughter both learned the technique within a few minutes. Are you familiar with ‘beeweed’?”
“Ah, that’s an easy identification, because Anglos like me call it Rocky Mountain beeplant. Botanists have named it Cleome serrulata.”
As Willie whistled, Kenmore returned quickly, then they walked down to the shore of theriver and walked alongside the rapidly flowing water for nearly a mile, searching carefully. But they found none of the plants they were searching for, not even
“beeweed.” In one area where a small backwater had created a moist, fertile area, they found signs that the person with the entrenching tool had been active here too. Kenmore sniffed at the ground curiously, and it seemed obvious that someof the scent of the person remained, though the elements had washed or blown away all of the distinctiveness of any footprints.
“I can’t tell you how this worries me,” Rose said as they climbed up away from the river and hiked back to the SUV.
Willie took a deep breath. “I did some research last night. Would you let me guide you to another site? It’s not far from here, maybe six or so milesfarther downstream.”
“That’s fine.”
Willie took them to an area where the river had meandered like a lazy bull snake, creating a wider lowland beside the river. Several farms were visible, and fields extended almost to the riverbed in a few places where the main irrigation canal fed smaller feeder ditches. Rose nodded as they reached a stretch of land that was familiar to her. “I’d forgottenabout this place.” Here the sandbar was so large it split the river into two channels and created an island with trees growing nearly fifty feet high. “I know some of the others have mentioned this place in passing. I believe it’s probably a collection site for some of the older Plant Watchers.”
He led her to a nearby irrigation ditch that ran parallel to a cornfield. “Do you have any idea whothe person with the entrenching tool is?” he said, pointing again to some telltale holes by the bank. “Is it a Navajo, Anglo, medicine man, herbalist, or just someone stealing plants to sell off the reservation at some native plant nursery?”
“Whoever it is steals mostly our medicinal and ceremonial plants, so they have some knowledge not only of plants, but of our culture.” Rose crouched by adamaged plant, then snapped two photos of it and of the holes left by the entrenching
tool. “He found some ‘plant with yellow root’ growing here, but
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