Tethered

Posted on May 9, 2020 by Dwight Lutsey

Scene from the reenactment of the Battle of the Little Bighorn

Night was just beginning to fall. The sun was at the edge of the land casting its golden light horizontally across the prairie lighting up one side of everything in sight. In moments it will have dropped behind the low hills and darkness would take over for its share of the daily cycle. Calm was setting in and there were the final sounds of the day shutting down. A tethered horse knickered nearby. The muffled sounds of people getting their fires going in preparation for fixing supper. The constant background sound of the Little Bighorn river gently flowing past. Soon everyone will have completed their chores, checking on their stock, making certain things were buttoned up and secure. There was just enough time to wander the edges of the camp and take a few pictures. It was the end of a very good day.

The setting was the final night of the reenactment of the Battle of the Little Bighorn at the Little Bighorn Battlefield National Monument near Crow Agency, Montana. Every year reenactors recreate the battle using people from the Crow tribe and groups like the 7th Cavalry reenactors and others to replay the battle that never changes. It is a spectacular event with Indians riding bareback amid the swirling dust, horse herds being run thru the viewing areas, the 7th cavalry drilling in formation, or fighting for their lives in the battle.

Even though the battle reoccurs each day of the event, it is an incredible display of emotion and historical accuracy, at least as much as it can be without the loss of life, on the very ground the original battle took place or as close to it as possible. The actual place where Custer and the men of the 7th fell is in the National monument itself. However the reenactment takes place literally yards from the edge of monument. Passions run high as all participants get in the spirit of the reenactment. Then at the end of day things quietly revert back to present day and the time travel is finished for the day.

Tethered is an image taken at just that perfect moment between the ending of the light of the Golden hour and the coming night. The image of course has been photoshopped and presented in its new form without apology for its reinterpretation, showing how memories can be presented as fine art and also as my personal connection and interpretation of the Battle of the Little Bighorn. After all an image is just an image regardless of how it came to be created and once created becomes art in its final form. And as always art is in the eye of the beholder.

After the Battle

Posted on April 18, 2020 by Dwight Lutsey

Crow Warrior washing off his horse’s warpaint in the Little Bighorn river

The Crow and every other tribe that used horses in the 1800’s used them for battle as well as other aspects of their life. The horses were used for traveling, moving camp, as a measure of wealth, as dowries, to make it impervious to bullets and protect it’s rider from harm, and as a measure of their prowess as a warrior. The art of stealing horses from enemies was a constant effort and proved the worth and valor of the warrior that was successful in obtaining the most horses.

When they were used for war the horses were often painted with symbols important to its owner. Every mark placed on the horse had a special meaning to its owner and could be religious in nature, or derived from a dream, or to signify who the owner was as they sometimes used the same markings on both rider and horse.

After the battle the markings were removed to preserve their meaning and value, so a trip to the river was in order to remove the paint from both horse and rider. This rider is washing the paint off his mount while standing in The Little Bighorn river just downstream a bit from where the remains of the 7th lay on the hillside in the greasy grass.

Ghost Child

Posted on February 27, 2020 by Dwight Lutsey

The battle at the Little Bighorn was a tremendous victory for the gathered tribes against the white soldiers of the United States Western Frontier Army entering their hallowed ground. There had been many smaller engagements between the two adversaries with the Indians normally realizing small victories if any. This time it was different. The overwhelming number of warriors engaged the soldiers and took the victory in fairly short order, handing a defeat to the cavalry unlike any they had ever seen before.

The number of the soldiers of the 7th cavalry killed in the battle at the Little Bighorn river is placed at approximately 260 killed and buried in place where they fell. The number of Indians that were also killed is not exactly known although they were far, far less than their adversaries numbering perhaps in the dozens if that many. Most if not all of the bodies of the slain warriors were removed from the field of battle immediately after the fight was over and taken back to the camp and their families.

The battlefield became a quiet eerie place where the only sounds were the rushing of the wind through the tall Montana grass where the dead had lain and the occasional call of a raven flying overhead. The gunshots, battle cries and the screaming of the victors over the moaning of those still alive after it was over were long gone. Silence reigned supreme over the Greasy Grass. It became a place where the spirits wandered over the low hills and along the riverside. It was a place of big medicine.

As time passed there were the occasional reports of things that couldn’t be explained occurring. A shadowy figure riding slowly in the near dark of impending dusk. The sound of hooves breaking the surface of the gently moving river. A pale rider just visible in the light of a full moon as he crossed slowly from one bank to another. It is unknown whether the young rider was a participant in the battle, becoming a casualty, or simply a dream produced by the medicine of the battle. In any case if you happened to be there now on that long ago battlefield, and by chance stayed until the river was illuminated by the light of a full moon, you might see the ghost child riding on his endless vigil. Remember there is big medicine there. And there are things that cannot be explained.

Sees Himself

Posted on July 30, 2017 by Dwight Lutsey

Tests of bravery come in many forms. There is a lot of pressure for a young man wishing to be seen as a man, or at least seen as older than his brothers who must watch the pony herd instead of going into battle. His older brothers look at him and watch to see if he is ready. Is he strong enough to go along on a raid yet or does he need more time. He has practiced with his bow until he can hit anything in sight, he has made his own shield and done a vision quest. He has fasted. In his mind he is ready.

There has been constant talk of the blue coats entering the area of the Little bighorn river. The older braves have been continually riding in to talk with the elders after spying on the enemy, there is a steady rise of anticipation of what will surely be a big battle with the one they call yellow hair and the rest of the pony soldiers which has made the camp a beehive of activity. There will be much blood on the greasy grass. Tensions are high as squaws are getting their men’s battle gear out of the beaded deer hide cases they are stored in. The younger girls gathering the youngest together to keep them safe. Men are getting their ponies ready, applying paint on the flanks and withers, braiding feathers into their manes, slapping their handprints onto their necks, talking to them of the brave deeds they will perform. The younger boys excitedly riding around the pony herd keeping them in a tight bunch for when they are needed. Anticipation could not be higher.

For several nights this young warrior has had the same dream. He sees himself on his pony waiting near the edge of village to go out with his brothers. His job is to be one of the decoys that lures the first soldiers away from the village. His part is dangerous, the rifle of the soldiers can reach out a long way. His older brother has told him to lay low on the back of his pony, but to yell loudly and appeared scared so that the soldiers looking for an easy kill will follow them. It’s an important job and he is nearly bursting with pride to have been chosen.

He does not want to fail in his task and that is his biggest fear. To some how let down his brothers which is why he has not slept for more than a few hours each night. His dream comes whenever he closes his eyes but as dreams often do, the answer of his bravery is just out of his reach. So it is with some trepidation when the call comes to leap into action. He is certain he will brave but he is slightly worried that for some terrible reason he won’t be. In a few moments he and everyone else will know for sure. He sees himself and now is the moment of truth.

And So It Continues

Posted on June 30, 2017 by Dwight Lutsey

Back in the far distant past the First People began leaving marks on the walls around them. Simple designs, sometimes no more than a scratch, perhaps signifying that they were there. We call these marks petroglyphs.

As time went on the marks grew more sophisticated, representing more elaborate concepts. Animals, human shapes odd to our eyes, strange swirls or repetitive parallel lines in a group perhaps indicating a river or stream. These were just a few of the shapes amongst thousands left on canyon walls, along stream beds, in caves, anywhere the people went.

The most important of the images they placed on the surface of their surroundings was the shape of the human hand, their hands, the hand of the individual making the drawing. This mark said here I am. I am a person. I am important. Know all of you that I have been here. These are known as pictographs if they are painted onto the surface of the rock.

Usually the images created were chiseled into the surface of the stone by hammering the design into the surface of the rock by striking it with another sharper more pointed stone, chipping away the dark patina of the rock leaving an indelible lighter contrasting representation of the design, a petroglyph. But occasionally a simpler more direct method was used. By simply placing their hands into a medium such as paint or even mud and pressing their palms against the stones surface they achieved the same result although a much more impermanent one, but the meaning was the same, a pictograph. Here I am, I leave my mark for you to see.

That type of image creating usually did not stand the ravages of time, especially if it was left exposed to the elements, but they are found in caves and other protected places looking much as they did when they were created.

We think of these kinds of images as something out of history. An art that served its purpose but has been replaced by newer forms of image creating. Yet it appears that is not totally the case. These handprints on the metal in the image above were left by the direct descendants of those First People just a few days ago at a place that is itself historically significant.

Every year along the banks of the Little Bighorn river there is a reenactment of a famous battle called the Battle of the Little Bighorn where General George Armstrong Custer and all the men of the 7th cavalry under his command were engaged by a superior group of Indians including chiefs Sitting bull, Crazy horse, Gall and others. The result is well-known as it was a critical victory for the tribes fighting to remain independent and self-sufficient. Custer and his men were decimated to the last man.

This year the reenactment of that fateful battle took place on the 23rd, 24th, and 25th of June, on the Real Bird ranch adjacent to the Little Bighorn Battlefield National Monument near Crow Agency, Montana and included members of the Crow tribe and various groups representing the cavalry. Each side took great pains to be as true to the period as is possible today, with the cavalry in full uniform and equipment and the Indians in full regalia and paint with even their horses painted for battle.

So it was not surprising to see these modern pictographs placed at the site where the warriors of today watered their ponies and waited for the fighting to commence along the Little Bighorn river, near the ford in the river that led to that fateful battle site. Somehow it’s comforting to see the continuation of these same handprints used today as they were millennia ago. Young men partaking in a mock battle yet still requiring their total participation both mentally, physically and spiritually. By creating these new pictographs they are saying, I too, am here. I am a Man. I am important. History and tradition is moving on through this time period as it has since the beginning. And so it continues.

Crow Camp – Nearest The Fire

Posted on March 21, 2016 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!

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Walking through the Crow camp on a moonless night, watching your footing as your eyes are having difficulty adjusting to the darkness, you find yourself entering and leaving one oasis of light after another. Flashlights help but do little to overcome the inky blackness between one set of lodges and another.

The lodges have been set up in a random fashion in rows and groups generally following the banks of the Little Bighorn river as it winds its way from Custer’s battlefield down to the town of Crow Agency. It is one of those places where you have to know where you are before you can get where you’re going. It is very easy to get turned around in the labyrinth that is Crow camp, especially at night. The people living here know where they are. Little kids are out running around, darting like lightning bugs into one campsite after another and back home again as if they had built-in direction finders, which you suspect they do.

The sound of the camp varies from very noisy where one group may be playing the drum and singing, to quieter areas where small groups of the people are sitting around the fire, talking, laughing, enjoying each others company, and on to the stillness of the darkness when you leave the campsites.

Each of these places is a small area where the only light is from the fire and the occasional lantern. These islands of brightness scattered in the sea of blackness are welcoming, making you wish you could enter and sit and be a part of the festivities. Then you’d be home and wouldn’t have to walk and walk until you found your way back to your car and your own temporary home.

At every fireside there is one lodge that is nearest the fire. The flickering light from the burning logs changes the dull white of the lodge, covering it in a wavering, shimmering shade of gold. The lodge poles are highlighted against the darkness, the faint green of the surrounding trees barely visible in the background, the surrounding teepees just catching enough light to show you they are there.

The experience of being in the Crow Camp is one that has many layers, some loud and boisterous, others quieter and filled with subtle visions and sounds. The contrast of night and day is filled with excitement and wonder for someone new to the experience. Perhaps next time you can sit with the people in front of the lodge nearest the fire. What a memory that would be.

Crow Fair 2015 Camp Life

Posted on September 5, 2015 by Dwight Lutsey

Camp life at the Crow Fair is filled with opposites. Some times the camp is a wash of chaotic activity as everyone gets ready to attend the dance ceremonies or the parades and other times, like this morning, which happened to be a Sunday morning, everything was calm and serene.

Walking through the camp in the early morning just after sunup everything is still. There are no motor sounds yet from vehicles, or people calling from one area to another. It is quiet. The only sounds you hear are the horses gently calling to each other and the quiet sounds of camp life where people are just stirring, thinking about getting breakfast going, standing out by their lodges seeing what kind of day it is going to be. It is a good time to see the camp.

Horses are feeding, taking advantage of this quiet time. Soon enough they’ll be as excited as anyone else in the camp to be getting ready to attend the various activities.

The teepees are clustered closely together which usually means a large family group are all settled in next to one another.

Many groups fly the American flag above their camp.

A horse is waiting for someone to come and take him the river for a long drink. He’s just heard some other horses go by as early risers get a start on the day.

This is 2015 not 1876 and the rides are different for some of the people. It’s likely there is a horse tucked away somewhere but there is also a new breed of horse, a mechanized one, and it seems fitting to see it tied up in front of the lodge.

It’s unsure whether these folks that occupy this lodge are coming or going as it looks vacant. The topping to go on the arbor isn’t all in place up on the roof yet, so we’re betting on their coming.

Horses resting up for the day to come. Their owners lodge is just visible up over the hill.

There are many of these wall tents in the camp. Someone told me they serve as overflow if the teepees are overcrowded. He also told me he’d rather be in a teepee as the tents were too hot. The opening at the top of the teepees can be adjusted to let the hot air out so they were cooler to be in. After 100+ degree days any thing that would offer coolness was in high demand.

Placed against the tree line for shade and to block any wind this is a well placed group of lodges.

These riders are taking their horses down to the river for a drink. It’s also a good time to talk about whatever young women talk about.

The doors of the lodges are all facing the trees. you can see extra lodge poles leaning against the tree line.

There were some teepees that were decorated or painted but the majority were of white weathered canvas.

One evening after the dances ended very late, it seems that my vehicle misplaced itself and I wandered for several hours through the maze of teepees trying to find it. By about 1:30 in the morning I had found all 1200 of the tepees but not my Jeep. Of course never having been lost before in my life I neglected to bring a flashlight and since there is a major absence of street lights in a Crow camp, finding ones way about was difficult. Fortunately I learned an old Indian trick that night and turned on my flashlight app on my cell phone and eventually I found this red striped teepee that I remembered seeing on the way in and shortly after found the Jeep. There are always adventures on these trips, some big, some little. This was a little one even though it didn’t feel that way as it was happening.

There were some teepees whose decoration had an unmistakable meaning

Horses picketed amongst the lodges was an amazing sight to see. The mix of old ways and new was constantly presented to the observer.

The patina on these lodges indicated that they had seen plenty of use. The ivory color was perfect for the setting.

It’s getting a little later in the morning now and this horse was definitely interested in going to the river. Shortly after this picture was taken he got his wish.

This is the Little Bighorn river as it wends its way through the camp. It’s quite shallow here so it’s easy to ride the horses down to the edge.

Some of the horses were eager to wade out in the water where it was slightly deeper, others preferred to drink at the bank.

Boys bringing ponies down to get their drink. There was no horse-play here, pardon the pun, as these guys proceeded to get the stock watered. No rock throwing or goofing around, they got the job done well and were soon on their way back to camp.

A teepee set up along the river. They had shade all day and you could hear the river running by as well. A bonus for picking a great spot.

An overview of a small portion of the camp from a little ridge that ran along the back of the camp.

While out on the edge of the camp and looking towards the plains a flock of Prairie chickens passed by going swiftly over the exposed hilltop to the safety of the ravine on the other side.

This is a panorama made up of 25 pictures stitched together to try and show the size of the camp. If the picture were printed out it would be over 8′ long. Consequently to compress it down to this size so it would fit on to the page of the blog, details are very small indeed. If you click on it to see the slightly larger version you can see a little more. But as it was only intended to give you a sense of scale and an overview of just how large the encampment is, hopefully it does that, even if you can’t make out who it is sitting in front of that back teepee is.

It is a good feeling to see that many lodges together and the people that fill them living together in harmony. When you think that there might be an average of four people to a lodge that is 4800 people. That’s a small town any where you want one.. What a great experience to have, to be able to see and take part in this get together. Crow Fair 2015.

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