Read The Thinking Rocks Online
Authors: C. Allan Butkus
The saber tooth tested the wind and
then moved quietly through the brush until he could approach his kill from down
wind. He knew the wolf had a sensitive nose, but if the slight breeze
didn't shift directions he would be able to surprise it. The closer he got,
the less chance the wolf had of escape. Moving forward cautiously, his
huge shoulder muscles quivered in anticipation of the signal to launch his
attack. He had his ears down and his mouth open as he continued to close the
distance.
The she-wolf had dropped her guard
and was gulping large chunks of meat without appearing to chew. She was
completely wrapped up in eating as much as she could in as short a time as
possible.
The big cat attacked without sound or
warning. His charge was like a flicker of light. He was on top of
the she-wolf before she could raise her head. The cat caught her full on
the side with his shoulder, but before she was knocked away, his claws raked
her body from shoulder to hindquarter. She was unconscious as she was
spun away to land in a heap on the opposite side of the calf. The big cat
bounded over the calf and landed beside the wolf. He drew back to strike
again but noticed she was not moving. Her side was laid open and her intestines
were visible through the claw marks; blood pulsed out of the wounds onto the
grass. He nudged her head with a bloody paw and it just rolled around as
if it were broken. He reached down with his long tongue and tasted the
wolf's warm blood. Taking a deep breath, he brought forth a roar, which
could be heard for miles. It rolled across the land like a bloody shadow
that covered all who heard it with fear. This was the victory call of a
killer, who was proud to be a killer. He stood for a moment longer over
the bloody body of the she-wolf, his head held high, ears up, and his fangs
dripping the blood of the vanquished. The big cat nudged the wolf one
last time, turned and sprayed her with his scent before moving back to the calf
to feed.
A Strange
Yield
It was the morning after his night
with Ceola by the big rock at the river. It was a new day, and Cano was
hunting again. He saw a small stream ahead that wound its way past a large gray
boulder. The clear water was moving swiftly and made a pleasant gurgling
sound as it passed over the small stones on the streambed. The sun was
just starting to rise when he left camp at dawn. He must bring food back
to camp today. He wanted Ceola to be proud of him. Just the thought
of her made him feel happy. She was wonderful, and soon she would be his.
He had left a courting necklace by
her family’s shelter late last night. It was made with care from some
shells he had found by the river, a small rock that had a hole in it, and some
hollow tubes of a brown wood that smelled good. They were all strung on a
thin strip of snake hide, which had been rolled and then dried. He had
found a "Y" shaped branch on a small tree and scraped the bark from
it. Then he placed it near her side of the shelter with the necklace
hanging on it. She would know it was from him because of the snake hide.
A frown crossed his face as he
thought about last night. When he had left his necklace for her, there
were two others hanging there. One of them was made from turkey features,
which would be the one from Bana. The last one was made of small blue flowers,
and thin strips of fur-covered animal hide. It was a mystery as to who
could have left it.
The camp would be alive with talk of
the maidens' suitors. This was one of the situations where the women of
the clan were in their glory. The maiden had three days to choose a mate or
reject all of them. The women would get together and gossip about each
necklace and who could have made it. Their talk would be about the
necklaces, but actually, it was about the sexual prowess of the suitor.
Comments about strength, beauty, and durability, which seemed to describe the
necklace, were actually directed toward the maker. Woman to woman,
comments about how often the necklace could be used each night and how long it
could be used were spoken through smiling lips.
A flicker of movement caught Cano's
eye. He kept his body motionless but followed the movements with his
peripheral vision. This was a trick that his father had taught him as a
small boy. You had to train yourself, not to turn and look. The movement
of your eyes could frighten some animals. Creatures such as the big birds can
see small movements, even something as small as eye movements. The
strange thing is that they can be looking directly at you and not see you unless
you move. Cano saw that it was only a small bird at the water's
edge. He frightened the bird with his first movements even though they
were slow and quiet. Moving down to the stream, he knelt for a
drink. The water was cool and tasted good. He slipped the cord
holding his water skin from around his neck and then removed the wooden
plug. The water in it was stale; he emptied it into the stream and then
refilled it with fresh water. After slinging the water skin over his
shoulder, he surveyed the woods around him. His gaze moved to the boulder
in the stream, it was at least twice his height. It looked as though it
would be easy to climb. Standing his spear by its base he climbed to its
top. It was flat and provided a good view of the surrounding
forest. He lifted off the water skin and removed his chopping tool from
the leather cord at his waist. He placed them both down on the surface of
the boulder and then lay down with his head resting on the water skin. It was
pleasant and a good place to relax for a little while. He dropped into a
light sleep almost instantly.
A rustling noise came to his ears,
and he was instantly awake. Cano didn't move or even open his eyes at
first. Slowly he opened his eyes, but he could not see anything but
treetops. He tested the wind and detected the scent of deer. Cano
moved slowly across the top of the boulder, until he could peer over the edge
toward the stream. There were four deer at the water's edge and one
farther back; it was eating something. Watching closely, he saw that it
was eating mushrooms. This would be a perfect place to kill one of the
deer, except for one thing. He had left his spear at the base of the boulder.
He would frighten the deer if he tried to retrieve it. He quietly picked
up his chopping tool and moved closer to the edge of the bolder. The deer
kept feeding and didn't look up. They didn't seem concerned about danger
from above. This could work to his advantage. If one of the deer
got close enough, he could jump down on it and kill it with the chopping
tool. It would have to be close and he would have to be fast. He settled
down to wait for his chance.
Miles away in the small clearing
beside the dead mammoth calf lay the half dead she wolf. She slowly
fought her way through waves of pain toward consciousness. She had never
felt pain like this. The last thing she remembered was eating. As
she lay there gathering her strength, she took stock of her injuries. Her
body was badly hurt and she was bleeding. Her back was sore, but she
could move her hind legs. Testing the air for scent without moving she
picked up the scent of a saber tooth. Escape, she knew she must escape
before he came for her. Slowly she crept toward the taller grass.
When she reached it, she painfully stood taller and pushing the pain to the
back of her mind, she moved off toward her cubs. She had to get back to
them. They needed her if they were going to live. An instinct as
old as her breed gave her strength, she moved off as quickly as she could,
trailing blood.
Cano had been watching the deer
grazing for a long time. He knew if he was to get one it would have to be
right below him. Finally, one of the deer with antlers moved over toward
the base of the boulder where his spear stood. The deer approached it
slowly as if unsure of the scent. He stopped suddenly, and pivoted his
ears left and then right, as he tried to detect where a sound was coming
from. The other deer stopped grazing and followed the stag's actions;
they were all looking in the same direction. Cano strained his ears but
could hear nothing. Abruptly all the deer bounded away into the
brush. Cano remained motionless and listened, but still couldn't detect
any sound. He tasted the air, but here was nothing he could identify.
Down the stream, there was a flicker
of movement and the she wolf came into view. As she came closer, he could
see that she was injured. She was leaving a light trail of blood.
Pausing for a moment, she had a short drink at the stream before
continuing. If she picked up his scent, she paid no attention to it, and
limped slowly away.
Cano felt frustrated, he'd missed the
deer because of the wolf. He made up his mind to trail the wolf until he
could kill it safely. He knew that killing a wounded animal was more
dangerous than killing one that wasn't injured. When an animal was near
death, it would fight hard to stay alive. The key with any killing was to
do it quickly. A wolf was always dangerous, and this wolf was
injured. He would bide his time and follow it until it became too weak to
be a threat. He climbed down from the boulder and retrieved his spear,
and then he moved off to trail the wolf. He kept his pace slow and
watched the trail signs to assure he would not be attacked by the wolf.
It was hurt badly and was probably going to die. He would follow it and be
there at the end. It wouldn't provide as much meat as the deer, but he
wouldn't return empty handed. He smiled to himself as he walked along
thinking about a story he had heard about two hunters that had met in the
woods. The first hunter asked the second hunter if he had any luck.
The second said he had some bad luck but it was okay. The first hunter asked
what he meant. The second said "I didn't get any game but that was
okay because I don't have to clean it when I get back to camp.” The first
hunter then said, "You don't have to eat it either." So true,
Cano thought.
He followed the wolf until the sun
was high in the sky. The trail had been easy to follow, the blood trail
heavy and the wolf was moving steadily in one direction. Cano noticed a
vulture circling. There was some heavy brush on the side of a hill up
ahead. He saw movement and froze; he studied the scene and tried to
decide what was happening. It looked as though the wolf was down and
being attacked by several small animals. Cano crouched down and moved off
into the brush. He would circle and come down from the uphill side of the
brush. That way the wind would be blowing up the hill toward him and he
could identify the attackers and not have them know he was approaching.
It took some time to circle and climb quietly down the hillside. As
he got closer he found that the "attackers" were puppies and they
were nursing or trying to, on the she wolf. She was dead. She had
made it home to the pups, but she was too badly injured to survive. She
was gone and the pups were sure to also die.
He noticed that he was just above the
entrance to their den. He had an idea on how to save today's hunt.
He found a large rock and was able to roll it to block the entrance to the
den. Next, he opened the leather bag he carried and removed some rawhide
strips, and made loops in one end of each. As quickly as he could, he
captured the five puppies and had them all tied together on one lead. To
say that the pups where unhappy was an understatement. Their yaps and
barks were enough to make Cano's ears ring. He ignored the barking and
skinned out the she wolf with his flint skinning stone. When he had
removed the hide from the carcass, he threw it over to where the pups were
tied. The hide landed fur side up, and the pups piled on and where
quiet. Cano finished cutting the body and arranged the best cuts into a
pile. He sat down to rest and figure the best way to get the meat and
pups back to camp. He could kill the pups and bundle them and the meat
together. If he could get the pups back to camp alive, he could keep them
alive by feeding them scraps. When they were bigger, they could be killed
for food. This seemed more sensible. He bundled the pups in the
mother's hide, and slung it and the meat over his shoulders and headed for
camp. Looking back, he could see the vultures coming down to clean up the
wolf's remains.
A Small Cargo
It was a long hot trek back to the
camp. He stopped only once to get a drink at the stream and rest for a few
moments. Cano watched for signs of dangerous game on the way to camp, but
he saw none. He walked into camp just as the sun was setting. As
usual, Dola rushed forward to see what he had.
"Cano, what do you have? Can I
help?" He was so excited that he only occasionally touched the
ground.
Cano smiled at him, "I'm glad
you're here Dola, I need help getting this wolf meat back to camp. Can
you carry something for me?" Cano swung the hide with the puppies in
it to the ground.
Dola rushed forward to pick it up,
but just then, it moved. He looked from the bundle to Cano and back
again. "It's alive," he said
Cano laughed and said, "It's
more than alive. Do you think you can get it to Gennos without being
killed?"
Dola looked doubtful but moved toward
the bloody hide. Just then, a small furry face poked out of one of the
folds in the hide and snarled at him. Dola looked from the small face to
Cano, "It's a small wolf" he said in a shaky voice, "Will it
bite?"
Cano reached down toward the pup and
told him "Yes, it will bite. But it's not a small wolf."
He untied a corner of the hide and shook it, spilling all the pups into a
pile. "It's a pile of small wolfs."
Dola was speechless, but the pups
weren't and set out to break their previous noise record. If a sleeping
mammoth were around it would have been frightened awake. They piled over
each other trying to get away. The rawhide had come off a couple of them,
but they all stayed in a puppy pile. Dola started to pick up a pup, but
Cano warned him about their sharp
teeth. "Wrap them back up
in the pelt and take them over to Gennos, have him put them somewhere where
they can’t get away. Be careful, we don't want to lose any of them."