Blackfeet North American Indian Days – Women’s Dancing

Posted on July 20, 2015 by Dwight Lutsey

This post has been moved to OpenChutes.com. All future postings of Powwows, Indian Relay Races, Rodeos and Rendezvous will be posted there from now on exclusively. So if you’re looking for new images and posts for all those events attended this year, plus all the old posts posted on BigShotsNow.com check out OpenChutes.com. See you there!

The North American Indian Days is an annual event held on the Blackfeet Indian reservation usually in July and is billed as one of the biggest tribal get-togethers in North America. They say North American instead of the Unites States because some of the participants are from tribes that live in Canada. It lasts for about a week, four days according to the advertisements, but everybody’s there early and leaves late so plan on at least five or six days if you want the full experience.

Yesterday we brought you images from the Men’s Dancing contests. Today we showcase the Women’s Dancing categories. Women’s dances are different from the men as they tend to dance in a more sedate fashion showing their dancing skills in a gentler more refined way, unlike the leaping, fierce posturing of the men. The women are gentler, not less strong, just gentler. The women’s dances are performed to show their grace and beauty, and they are beautiful as you shall see as the you view the following images.

At the beginning of each of the dancing contests the individuals who will be participating enter the arena as a group. First all the men’s categories, then all the women’s categories until all the participants are in the arena together.

Each of the members of the different categories enter together.

These are members of the Jingle dancers category

Named for the small bells of rolled metal attached to their skirts that strike one another during the dance causing a jingle-like sound.

The regalia worn varies from beautifully created traditional leather

To the equally beautiful bell covered dress of this Jingle dancer

Another style is the fringe on a more traditional dress

This young woman wars a traditional dress with a fancy shawl as she dances

Shawls and fancy capes are used frequently, the embroidery and design absolutely gorgeous

Some dancers swirl and turn as they dance causing the fringe on their shawls to form beautiful patterns

Others dance in a quieter manner as this young woman shows off her incredible dress and precise dance steps.

The demanding dance steps require focus and concentration while still presenting an image of beauty and charm.

Dancing sedately does not mean a lack of action as this woman shows in presentation

Form and attention to the meaning of the dance adds to the grace of the dancers

Sometimes the dancers get so involved in their performances it seems as if they are the only ones in the arena

Color combinations, the dancers poise, and the dance meld into perfect harmony

Another traditional style, notice the pair of baby’s shoes hanging from her waist.

This dress is covered with elk ivories which are the teeth of an elk that can be polished just like ivory and are highly sought after. The knife worn at her waist has a handle made from the antler of an elk. Every part of the animal was used, nothing was wasted.

As the days activities wore on the women were still dancing. They seemed tireless.

Determination written all over her face this dancer gives it her all.

All the women participate in the dancing each with their own special grace

During the final moments of the days dancing, everyone is in the arena dancing for the sheer joy of it.

Although the dances are segregated with men and women performing separately, first the men’s categories, then the women’s, there are several times during the competition, usually at the end where everyone, men and women alike, enter the arena and dance around the circle together. You are likely to see couples making their way around the circle, older folks who have obviously been together for years, and younger couples sometimes with some quiet flirting occurring, sometimes even entire families, the kids holding hands while walking next to mom or dad. Often times mothers holding young ones too small to walk make their way around the circle. Dancing starts early in their lives.

As you observed the women dancing you could see the fierce pride they take in participating in this event. Displaying their heritage and the self-respect in being a part of this large gathering of their peers, they project an aura of sophistication and beauty not often seen elsewhere. They are a huge part of this gathering and competition and rightfully so.

Blackfeet North American Indian Days Men’s Dancing

Posted on July 19, 2015 by Dwight Lutsey

The largest events by far are the dance contests and they take place daily. Everyone dresses in their finest and since this is a contest where you can win money for how well you dance, they really put their hearts into it. They would really put their hearts into it if there were no cash prizes because pride and the call of tradition is even more important than the money, as you can see on their faces while they are performing.

The following images are a small selection of the dancers and activities in the contests. They were chosen to show the variety of the costumes, from the more traditional to the fantastic regalia of the Fancy dancers.

Everything starts when the dancers begin to enter the arena. Men’s dancers are the first to enter.

They’re followed by another men’s category composed of slightly younger men. This continues until all the dancing categories are in the arena.

From the youngest dancers

To the elders

Groups form

Elders watch from the sidelines before they dance

The contestants dance the circle

Fancy dancers display their abilities

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Individuals begin to break off and dance on their own

Each showing their interpretation of the dance

From the more traditional

To the swirling colors of the Fancy dancers

Regalia of every type imaginable is on display

A Fancy dancer shows his skill

A traditional dancer shows his

Every piece of the regalia has meaning

Mixing of older and newer elements is part of the style the dancers choose, it reflects tradition as well as their own personality. It is a very personal choice.

Dancing requires focus and determination and stamina

Many hours have gone into the creation of the various parts of their outfit and it shows.

There were hundreds of dancers competing, each vying to win their category, but the most important thing for them was to display their pride in their heritage, their traditions, and their sense of place as modern members of an ancient tribe. That part was effortless. Their every movement displayed the intensity of being a member of their tribe and showing the world that they hadn’t forgotten their old ways. The dancing celebrated this and win, lose or draw their participation was their biggest accomplishment. They were all winners.

North American Indian Days 2015

Posted on July 17, 2015 by Dwight Lutsey

Last week, July 9th thru the 12th, The Blackfeet tribe put on its 64th annual North American Indian days (or NAID) on its reservation at Browning, Montana. It was 4 solid days of Dancing, singing, fellowship, and socializing amongst one of the largest gathering of Indian tribes in the United States and Canada.

Every event held throughout the celebration began with the Grand Entrance where the color guard, made up of military veterans from the various tribes, brought in the colors. These included our American flag, Canada’s flag, the Blackfeet tribe’s flag, and others to be presented with respect to everyone assembled. Many men and women of the tribes served in the armed forces and this is a very important part of the ceremony. To participate in this honor, with drums sounding out their deep resonance, singers celebrating with their voices, joining the gathering of hundreds of spectators, the sun beating down and the hot wind blowing through the presentation arbor, this is an experience that will remain with you for a very long time.

When you attend this event one of the first things you notice is the riot of color around you. The regalia, the decorations, the site itself is full of every hue of color imaginable, from the earth tones of the arbor and dancing area to the manmade colors of some regalia, and the natural shades of the surrounding area. The natural light of the far northern part of our country has its own unique look and feel also, and being just a little more than 12 miles from the eastern entrance to Glacier National Park adds to the overall effect with mountains in the background and of course amazing sunsets.

The sounds are the next thing you notice as the deep rhythmic notes of the many drums and songs work their way into your senses. Drums and drummers from many places around the country, the singers joining in, the sounds of the calls made by the various participants as they dance around the arbor, are nearly overwhelming. You are immersed in the experience completely. They draw you in and mesmerize you even if you don’t understand the words. It is easy to get lost in the sound and action and swirling colors, but that is part of the experience of being here. And it feels good.

Over the next few days we will be bringing you the sights of this incredible experience, the regalia , the dances, along with the other events such as the rodeos and Indian Relay Races, plus some of the views of the countryside around the events themselves. It was a spectacular experience. If you can, go to the next one, it is worth every second you spend there. The Blackfeet welcome all guests and you’ll never forget the time you spent at The North American Indian Days celebration.

Primary Colors

Posted on October 16, 2014 by Dwight Lutsey

Attention Readers: This is a Public Service Announcement !

The following is a Public Service Announcement brought to you by The Institute and the Americans for Brighter Colors or ABC as it is known amongst those who follow weird splinter groups.

As Americans we want the very best for our families, our communities, and our Nation. There is a tendency out there in the hinterland to think that somehow America is failing to live up to its expectations. To be falling into third place or even worse, second place, in many of the areas where we once excelled.

We hear from the media how we are now lagging in academics, and how our young people are going to hell in a hand basket what with tattoos and the piercing of private parts with strange but weird metal stuff. Where once we were first among nations in conspicuous consumption we are now sitting in the back of the Chinese bus. We now no longer have our own horrible diseases and have to import them from formerly third world countries at a high rate of cost so we can at least stay relevant in the disease ridden world. Even our fall colors are at risk of becoming third-rate with some saying they’re “Lackluster”. Or even “Boring”.

Well we here at The Institute, and the folks at ABC say “Enough!” “Enough of this color shaming! Enough of washed out yellows and reds. Enough of making fun of our pathetic attempts to produce a strong vibrant orange. Enough!” We are a great Nation! We have done many incredible and world shaking things. Didn’t we create sensations like Miley Cyrus? What other country has a young woman making millions of dollars and can’t keep her tongue in her mouth? Or back in April of 1988 we had the song “She Drives Me Crazy” by the Fine Young Cannibals. Now there are much better cannibals in places like Africa and New Guinea and probably the middle-east and ours have faded from the glowing light of stardom here in this country. Or how about our ability to create drinking stuff that can be hand carried out of various vending establishments such as this incredible innovation. “Having been tested in a few outlets, 7-11’s gallon-sized Slurpee’s became available in all locations in 1967”. Now there are places in Poland and the Baltic states where you can buy a 55 gallon drum of greenish Slurpee-like liquid for pennies on the dollar. They even throw in the small cart needed to wheel this around with. And an industrial strength straw!

We could go on and on listing our supposed failings, we haven’t even touched on things like war, where now there are people much meaner than us creating havoc all over the place. Yes, we’re looking at you ISIS. But enough of that. Let’s get back to the problem at hand. Our Fall colors.

Since there have been aspersions cast and no small amount of ridicule, on our national forests and private collections of arboreal treasures, we, The Institute and our friends at ABC, have decided to take matters into our own hands and turn this problem around. Consequently we have searched high and low and come up with a list of Primary Colors which we are supplying to the nation at large for whatever use they can best put it to.

Here it is.

blue

yellow

green

red

There are also secondary colors that can be applied to ‘Fall colors’. Due to space limitations we are only providing some of the better known and most useful of these helpful colors. They are, in no particular order

Crimson

Ebony

Clear

Neon

and Blue

and orange too.

With this list you can go forth and apply them to the colors you are witnessing right now as we head into the height of the color change period here in the western hemisphere, but primarily America. If all of you make a concentrated effort to apply these primary and some of those other colors listed above to our forests, (you can use the image above for guidance) it won’t be long until we regain our color supremacy and can hold our heads up proudly as our national god-fearing trees begin their color changes. Remember Canada is right across the border and they have trees too. Plenty of them. Let’s make America great again. Do your part.

This color list is available for the small sum of 80.00 dollars. Send a SASE with cash check or money order, or preferably all three to: The Institute, C/O The Director, P.O.Box, The Institute, Colorado, USA

Thank you. We thank you, the trees will thank you, and our nation will thank you. This concludes our Public Service Announcement. Thank you. Really.

Light In The Meadow

Posted on October 6, 2014 by Dwight Lutsey

After a mind-clearing journey of over 4000 miles through the Pacific Northwest and Canada I’m back in the Director’s chair here at the Institute. One of the largest conclusions I have come to is that there is an incredible amount of green out there in the Pacific Northwest. Everything is green, from the mighty trees that grow right down to the ocean’s edge to the green eggs and ham I got at a local eatery, it’s green. Many, many shades of green, almost too many if one were forced to make a judgment about it. I like green. Don’t get me wrong, it’s one of my favorite colors, but I had never been inside a green explosion before and it took some getting used to.

The trip was fantastic. The Bokeh Maru seemed to respond to the lighter touch of just one person at the helm instead of the four-hour watch routine we had on our Montana adventure where almost all of the crew took their turns at the wheel. Consequently she performed flawlessly. No hesitation, no refusal to go a where ever I directed her and she seemed to enjoy the new scenery as much as I did. I even began to suspect she may have been there before but being a gentleman I didn’t ask. A lady must have her secrets.

There were new things to see nearly every minute of the day and it was pure bliss to camp next to the ocean with only a small sand dune separating us from the ability to turn left and head for Japan. The waves were relentless and the sound of the rain on the roof during the night was mesmerizing. As a treat I let the Bokeh Maru wet her wheels in the incoming tide and you could hear her squealing in delight as the salt water washed the remnants of the long road trip from her undercarriage. After we left I watched her closely so that she didn’t surreptitiously try and turn back to the sea.

We traveled through the Columbia gorge, then along the seacoast of Oregon and Washington using the famous highway 101 until we could go no further then loaded on to a car ferry aptly named the USS Scratch and Dump to go to Vancouver Island in Canada. Upon entry I had a chance to visit with the charming and polite customs official who was most interested in whether I had a gun aboard, or owned a gun which might not be aboard, and whether I kept guns in my home here in the USA. An interesting question asked was whether I supported the right to own guns. I answered all the questions as truthfully as I could with, No, No, No, and Hell yes. I t was enough to get me into the sovereign country of Canada but not without some suspicious looks as I slowly eased onto Canadian soil. I was asked about the gun thing by Canadians at several of the campgrounds I stayed in while in Canada. It something that our Canadian friends seemed to be very interested in.

I took a whale watching boat out to see if we could locate Orcas or Killer whales as the more bloodthirsty among us like to call them and we did, plus Humpback whales and a rare white-sided dolphin that had the boat crew all excited. Apparently seeing one of them was akin to seeing a white buffalo here.

I also took the opportunity of making a surprise visit to the new managers of the eastern Oregon satellite office of the Institute. Things are progressing somewhat slowly there as far as the remodeling and refurbishment of the old site goes, but I was assured that as soon as Spring hit they would begin the transformation in earnest. Meanwhile I was fed and watered as one of the family and soon forgot why I had even stopped there in the first place. I even had to stay a second day after the promise of a meal of free-range, fresh cooked fish, Steelhead or it might have been Halibut, that had been swimming freely in the river moments before. I even tried the old trick of feinting extreme malnutrition by sucking my cheeks in and holding a pillow in front of my less than svelte stomach, hoping to get more food the next day but although my new management team lives in a backwater of the Wallowa valley they are smart enough to quickly catch on to my ruse and went out for cigarettes and didn’t return until they saw the end of the Bokeh Maru turn on to the highway. Disappointed but impressed with their ability to spot a flim-flam man I headed back towards Colorado.

We, The Bokeh Maru and I, had been out for nearly three weeks and it was time to get back to work. Before that work could commence however I had to change the color palette in my head from the greens and greys of the Northwest and replace it with the local one so that I was reoriented again. That a meant a quick trip up to Rocky Mountain National Park to firmly plant the yellows and reds and gold that was the aspens and meadows of Fall back in the front of my mind.

The image above is the late afternoon sun streaming through the aspen grove at the edge of Moraine meadow. It was enough to get my mind right again. As time goes by I will be posting images from the trip to the Northwest with the usual accompanying stories that a few of you find interesting. The rest of you that simply look at the pictures then go do something interesting will also not be forgotten as I try and post something to stimulate your attention span. It’s good to be back.

A quick note. As this is a busy time of year for me with the fall color change and the rut happening I will be not be posting every day until I’m home and winter has me locked in. So although I will try my best to get posts out there I will be gone several more times as I try and get the photography done while the opportunity presents itself. Thanks to all of you who patiently put up with my inconsistencies. I will make sure all of you get entered in my will.

Temp Mid 90’s More to Come

Posted on July 22, 2014 by Dwight Lutsey

click to enlarge

We have provided the image above of the Temple of Sinawava in Zion National park taken in December when it was cool, to provide you with some relief and to remind you that once there were cooler temperatures here on Earth.

The following is your weather report from the meteorological center at The Institute. This is a copyrighted report and may not be reprinted, sold, or even told to your neighbor without our express written approval. Or you can just pay us as many dollars as you can cram into a fed-ex box and it’s cool. Please no personal checks. Cash, Money order, or Cashier’s check only.

These conditions have existed for the last 900 days on the *ISL scale. Please be advised that these conditions can be hazardous to your health due to the high heat index. They can cause swelling of your electric bill, a burning sensation all over any exposed body part, loss of memory keeping you from remembering what cool feels like, and the pain of listlessness and lethargy. Take protective measures. Stay inside areas with a temperature of 50° or less, take off all your clothes, taking selfies ok but optional, posting those selfies even more optional, (note: some things can not be unseen), eat food items with low calorie content like ice, or other hard water, ice cream, ice cream without calories but ice in it, etc. Keep any exercise above shallow breathing to a minimum. Take naps if needed. (*It Seems Like).

Stn: The Institutes’ Rocky Mountain permanent weather reporting station at our World Headquarters high in the Foothills of northern Colorado.

Temp: Present temperature 94°

MinT: Minimum temperature recorded over the last 18 hours – 94°

MaxT: Maximum temperature recorded over the last 18 hours – 94°

Forecast: 94° for the foreseeable future

RH: Present RH (95-100%)

WndDir: Wind direction N- NW by S – SE

WndSpd: Wind speed 12-15 mph

WndGust: Wind gust 95mph

Rain_mm: Rain since last report – 4.9″ per day

Snow_cm: Snow since last report – There is no snow. Not Now NOT EVER

Hail mm: Hail since last report – Yes our local index was at “Grill Denter” stage which is just below DefCon 5. This is where the hail was big enough to dent the top of your gas grill while you still had it stored in the garage.

FFMC – Fine Fuel Moisture Code – We Don’t know what this is So we don’t use it. Sounds like it could be hot though.

ISI – Initial Spread Index – 100 % Yes this weather is spread all over the damn place

DMC – Duff Moisture Code – We Don’t know who Duff is. Never heard of him.

BUI – Build Up Index – The index that tells you when the weather conditions have built up to the point where you want to bite the heads off chickens. BUI presently 92% Hide your chickens.

DC – Drought Code – When you’re about to run out of Ice or the length of time you have been out of ice. Currently 40%

DSR – Daily Severity Rating – Oh yeah This is severe. On a scale of 1-10 this is a Q.

FWI – Fire Weather Index – 1 to 5 – as follows

1: hot

2: hotter

3: pretty damn hot

4: Ok this is hot enough

5: Spontaneous combustion.

Our local rating 7: You should have lived a better life

We hope this has provided you with enough information to allow you to deal with the current weather conditions. If not, we suggest emergency flights to Alert, in the Qikiqtaaluk Region, Nunavut, Canada, which is the northernmost permanently inhabited place in the world, they say it’s cool there. Check your local carriers for flight schedules.

Stay tuned for further weather reports if the weather ever changes. But I wouldn’t get your hopes up.

The Case of The Limping Ibis Pt. 2

Posted on January 22, 2014 by Dwight Lutsey

White-faced Ibis Bear River Migratory Bird Refuge click to enlarge

June 26 7:37PM. I had been unable to pursue my runaway Ibis due to another case that sprang up and monopolized my time keeping me a virtual captive to a vicious but terrible client. Tired of the strident but shrill nature of that case I was desperate to get back to the case at hand. The Case of The Limping Ibis. It took a few of my Private Dick tricks straight out of the Private eye’s manual, plus the deliberate use of an “I don’t give a large rat’s posterior” attitude to be able to put the case of the Shrill but Strident Nightmare with its unreasonable client behind me and resume working on something important again, the original case I was hired for.

I knew where my quarry was going as I watched those three fleeing White-faced Ibis head north along the foothills looking for that break in the mountain range up near Laramie that would let them easily go from the East side of the mountains to the West side and then North again up into Utah without having to make the nosebleed flight over the divide. There have always been stories of sanctuary for outlaws and others not quite on the up and up in the canyon riddled badlands of central Utah. Butch and Sundance hid there. So did dozens of other bank robbers, train robbers, robber robbers, unscrupulous gamblers, ladies of the evening, ladies of the early afternoon, defrocked contortionists, truants, scofflaws, unpaid parking ticket avoiders, laudanum smokers, whiskey traders, whiskey drinkers, unsophisticated politicians and just about anyone or anything that needed a no questions asked, safe haven to hide out in.

I was worried that the trail had gone cold even though it was summer and the temperature was a balmy 72°. But I wasn’t that worried, I knew where they were going and in the weeks after losing them back in Colorado and finally getting back on their trail I had plenty of time to think about this case. I had questions, plenty of questions. My ex-cop, gumshoe instincts were going off like the alarm at a Chinese fire drill. Things weren’t adding up. What was really going on here I asked myself. Why was Ratzo, the mis-shapen but odorous director of the Florida bird sanctuary willing to pay so much money to get these Ibis’s back. Why had he deliberately fed them so much high-priced grain and seaweed and tender little soft-sided crustaceans until they could barely fly. Why did he have Ibis feathers stuck in his teeth. Why did he insist on that stupid comb-over and most importantly why wouldn’t the bastard pay me my 40 bucks like he said he would. Who were the Plaid men and what was their game. And why would they drive a Hyundai. The questions kept piling up like the dirty laundry in an Algerian cathouse. And I was beginning to see that the answers were beginning to smell the same way.

Back when I was a rookie detective on the job in LA, before some poor choices left me out of a job and out on the street with nothing but my dented fedora and my last paycheck, I was assigned to the Pershing Square area, that seedy underbelly of perversion and corruption that was the epicenter of everything evil in the City of Angels. After several long sweaty hours I couldn’t take it anymore, and to wash my overloaded and saturated mind of the ugliness I had seen, I got myself assigned to Vice where I was able to spend time counseling the working girls out on Sunset, trying to convince them that working the candy counter at Woolworth’s for twenty bucks a week was preferable to the life they had on the street even if they raked in the big bucks. That and getting the bait and switch cross-dressers to see that it would be a better business plan if they got on the bus to San Diego where the sailors down there weren’t that particular after a 6 month Westpac cruise and besides they wouldn’t have me to deal with. Letting them see the wisdom of that plan and showing them my gat that I kept in a well-worn shoulder holster under my cheap suit coat convinced most of them to take my advice. Since my arrests had gone straight down the crapper after arriving in Vice, the suits downtown sent me to Missing Persons as a last chance hope of saving a failing career. It’s funny though because there is just as much vice in missing persons cases as missing persons. I handled cases where someone was missing, or doing vice, or missing as they were doing vice, or the vice wasn’t there so they went missing. LA is a crazy town, you’ve got to keep your perspective. All of that experience made me see that this case wasn’t a simple missing Ibis case anymore, and there was certainly weirdness enough to go around. I felt like I was back in the old days of pinching hookers and laughing at the moon.

As I headed north towards Laramie I came across the burned out hulk that was the Plaid men’s car. That Hyundai had only made it about 30 miles with that slashed tire and it had been gone over pretty good, just about anything useable had been taken and it lay there with its axles pointed towards the sun like a gutted loaf of day old bread. There was no sign of the two phantom photographers but the plates were still on the back of the car so I ran them through a friend down at DMV and they came back listed to a couple of low-life, wannabe bounty hunters out of Key West. The Azwhype brothers, Solenoid and Nodule. This was bigger than I thought if these two mental midgets thought they could make a buck off this caper.

I turned the nose of my apple green 1951 Packard Custom Clipper westward and hauled bacon towards Utah. I didn’t know if Solenoid and Nodule, those two miserable excuses for human beings, had caught a ride or were still walking towards Utah and I was worried because they had a seven week head start on me. You could walk to Utah backwards in that time. I knew that if they got there before I did that Ibis family wouldn’t have a prayer. Those two would have them back to Ratzo before I could say “Put those Ibis down you no good Ibis stealing son of a bitch” and it would be all over.

I had finally figured it all out. All of the answers started falling in place when I realized what Ratzo’s real plans were. He didn’t care about the unpaid feed bill. Hell, he tipped that much at Big Leg Kathy’s every Friday night. No he wanted the Ibis. He’d fattened them up with all that expensive Ibis food because he was an Ibis Eater. He ate the Ibis that he was supposed to be taking care of. That’s why he had Ibis feathers stuck in his teeth. He hired me as a patsy, a dumb private dick, to find the Ibis first so that I could lead those two bounty hunting Ibis grabbers straight to them, giving them a jumpstart on the chase so he’d be dining on Ibis by the time I was still trying to get the 40 smackers he owed me. My brain burned like hell’s night-light with all the answers falling into place. All this figuring things out had me feeling like a sweat stained Orangutan but my work wasn’t done yet. I had to get to the Bear River Migratory Bird Sanctuary and deal with Solenoid and Nodule, those lousy Azwhype brothers, before they got to the Ibis.

I pulled into the Sanctuary early in the afternoon and began a frantic search for the Limping Ibis and her two wayward children. I began checking the various flocks of White-faced Ibis and there were hundreds of flocks, with thousands of birds in each, trying to spot one limping Ibis. It was slow going. I didn’t think that much more of them than I did when I first took this job, but they didn’t deserve to wind up like slightly roasted purple turkeys. We all try and make it the best way we can and sometimes you’ve just got to cut somebody a little slack. I was going to warn them and tell them to get out of the country, go to Canada, they don’t eat Ibis up there, not even around Whitehorse where it’s been said they’ll eat anything. Ham, Ram, Billy Goat, Baboon or Bear, but not Ibis. They’d be safe. Whether they straightened themselves out morally or not wasn’t my problem and I sure as hell can’t judge them.

Their strategy of hiding in the great flocks of White-faced Ibis’s at the Bear River Migratory Bird Sanctuary worked because search as I would I couldn’t spot them again amongst the thousands and thousands of identical but looking exactly alike Ibis. If you look closely at the picture above you’ll see one or two of the Ibis with what may be tattoos, but then all the kids are getting them so you just can’t tell. As for those two losers, Solenoid and Nodule, one short phone call to one of the leading Mormon bishops about two southern Baptist looking clowns in plaid clothes making fun of plural marriages got them an extended stay at (USP) or Utah State Prison, the one that was built to replace Sugar House prison back in ’51, near Draper. They’ll be there until they see the error of their ways. That left only Ratzo and his refusal to pay me my 40 bucks. He should a paid me. It was strange how Florida’s fish and game department had enough information about his operation that there was a pre-dawn raid catching him plucking what was once a White-faced Ibis and now he plucks chickens at the Florida State Corrections Facility at Apalachee (West) Correctional Institution. They say he is a model inmate. My reward from the grateful state of Florida was enough to buy me a new truck with a better gas gauge and the satisfaction of knowing we won’t be running out of White-faced Ibis soon. Sometimes it wasn’t bad being a private dick.

BigShots Now

A conversation about Photography: Images and Commentary by Dwight Lutsey

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