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Authors: Leslie Marmon Silko
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mustnât risk a coyote bite.
As she neared Sister Salt, Indigo saw the last two coyotes disappear behind a sand dune; when Indigo reached Sister Salt she was kneeling on the ground gathering little wiggling pink creatures scattered over the sand by the plundered rabbitsâ nest. They brought home enough newborn rabbits for a fine stew with the dried roots Grandma tossed in and a little moss gathered from the spring. Grandma Fleet told the girls how proud she was they had come home with such good meat the very first time they ran to the coyotesâ prey. They were lucky the baby rabbits were scattered all over; otherwise the coyotes might have eaten all of them before Sister Salt got there.
While they ate the stew, Grandma Fleet told them hunting stories from years agoâabout the whitetail deer the coyotes chased down and killed so all Grandma Fleet had to do was take her sharp knife and prepare the meat for the journey home. She told them about the golden eagle that circled high above and watched her hunt the washes and dunes. All day Grandma Fleet crept through the rice grass and weeds between the dunes without result while the eagle dived successfully four times; each time the eagle mother flew away with a rabbit to her nest. It was late and Grandma was ready to give up for the day; she thought the eagle had already gone home for the night. But as Grandma made her way down the canyon toward home, the eagle reappeared, circling high overhead. Grandma was so tired and discouraged she didnât pay much attention to the eagle. She kept walking and for a time she didnât see the eagle and thought it had gone. Then she saw the eagle overhead with a big cottontail rabbit in its claws; the rabbit was still kicking but it was no problem for an eagle. Grandma looked up at the eagle and complimented her on being such a great hunter when suddenly the eagle dropped the rabbit for Grandma Fleet!
As the driest, hottest months approached, Grandma Fleet seemed to slow her pace; she still rose before dawn but now her midday naps lastedlonger, sometimes until sundown or the rise of the moon. They had plenty of food stored to take them to the summer rains, but Grandma insisted they go out and gather a few roots and seeds each day.
âYou never know,â she said; âsome years the rains will come late but other years the summer rains will not come at all.â The girls gathered moss and watercress from around the pool at the spring. Grandma Fleet showed them how to set bird snares woven from their own hair to trap birds as they landed by the pool. She instructed them to be careful whenever they broke into the pack ratâs nest to raid the stores of seeds and mesquite beans.
âOld Ratty does all the work for you, so donât harm her!â Grandma Fleet showed them how to close up the ratâs nest after they took what they wanted. Years before, when the refugees flocked to the old gardens, hunger drove the people to eat the pack rats; but the hunger was far worse afterward because there were no pack rats left to gather and store seeds.
Grandma Fleet sorted her collection of seeds while she talked. She wanted to have everything prepared by the time the rains came so they could get the seeds into the damp earth promptly. Every day they watched the sky for the clouds that might signal the arrival of the summer rains. Early one morning coveys of round puffy clouds drifted across the sky out of the southwest, and Grandma became her lively old self as she sang out a welcome to the clouds. Sister Salt was relieved to see she felt well enough to walk up to the old gardens.
Grandma Fleet explained the differences in the moisture of the sand between the dunes as they slowly made their way up the sandy path between the dunes. Grandma steadied herself with a hand on each girlâs shoulder; they made their way slowly past the bare terraces where the sweet black corn, muskmelons, and speckled beans used to
As she neared Sister Salt, Indigo saw the last two coyotes disappear behind a sand dune; when Indigo reached Sister Salt she was kneeling on the ground gathering little wiggling pink creatures scattered over the sand by the plundered rabbitsâ nest. They brought home enough newborn rabbits for a fine stew with the dried roots Grandma tossed in and a little moss gathered from the spring. Grandma Fleet told the girls how proud she was they had come home with such good meat the very first time they ran to the coyotesâ prey. They were lucky the baby rabbits were scattered all over; otherwise the coyotes might have eaten all of them before Sister Salt got there.
While they ate the stew, Grandma Fleet told them hunting stories from years agoâabout the whitetail deer the coyotes chased down and killed so all Grandma Fleet had to do was take her sharp knife and prepare the meat for the journey home. She told them about the golden eagle that circled high above and watched her hunt the washes and dunes. All day Grandma Fleet crept through the rice grass and weeds between the dunes without result while the eagle dived successfully four times; each time the eagle mother flew away with a rabbit to her nest. It was late and Grandma was ready to give up for the day; she thought the eagle had already gone home for the night. But as Grandma made her way down the canyon toward home, the eagle reappeared, circling high overhead. Grandma was so tired and discouraged she didnât pay much attention to the eagle. She kept walking and for a time she didnât see the eagle and thought it had gone. Then she saw the eagle overhead with a big cottontail rabbit in its claws; the rabbit was still kicking but it was no problem for an eagle. Grandma looked up at the eagle and complimented her on being such a great hunter when suddenly the eagle dropped the rabbit for Grandma Fleet!
As the driest, hottest months approached, Grandma Fleet seemed to slow her pace; she still rose before dawn but now her midday naps lastedlonger, sometimes until sundown or the rise of the moon. They had plenty of food stored to take them to the summer rains, but Grandma insisted they go out and gather a few roots and seeds each day.
âYou never know,â she said; âsome years the rains will come late but other years the summer rains will not come at all.â The girls gathered moss and watercress from around the pool at the spring. Grandma Fleet showed them how to set bird snares woven from their own hair to trap birds as they landed by the pool. She instructed them to be careful whenever they broke into the pack ratâs nest to raid the stores of seeds and mesquite beans.
âOld Ratty does all the work for you, so donât harm her!â Grandma Fleet showed them how to close up the ratâs nest after they took what they wanted. Years before, when the refugees flocked to the old gardens, hunger drove the people to eat the pack rats; but the hunger was far worse afterward because there were no pack rats left to gather and store seeds.
Grandma Fleet sorted her collection of seeds while she talked. She wanted to have everything prepared by the time the rains came so they could get the seeds into the damp earth promptly. Every day they watched the sky for the clouds that might signal the arrival of the summer rains. Early one morning coveys of round puffy clouds drifted across the sky out of the southwest, and Grandma became her lively old self as she sang out a welcome to the clouds. Sister Salt was relieved to see she felt well enough to walk up to the old gardens.
Grandma Fleet explained the differences in the moisture of the sand between the dunes as they slowly made their way up the sandy path between the dunes. Grandma steadied herself with a hand on each girlâs shoulder; they made their way slowly past the bare terraces where the sweet black corn, muskmelons, and speckled beans used to
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