Daily Archives: April 3, 2018

Considering White-Skunk III…


That White-Skunk possess power is not in doubt.

Bald-Eagle himself is wary of it.

The point at issue is the uses to which that power is put.

White-Skunk uses his power as a weapon to serve his own ends alone.

He heals Meadow-Lark of a wound, that he himself has inflicted, only in return for information on the whereabouts of his musk-sac.

Could any act be more worthy of the phrase ‘to take advantage’?


The camp of the Clever-Fellows appears to be a Star-Realm.

Here White-Skunk’s musk-sac sparkles like a star and is given as a child’s play-thing.

This is one of the highest honours that can be bestowed but it enrages White-Skunk who regards it as a slight.

When White-Skunk approaches the outskirts of the Star-Fields he is granted an object lesson in the proper use of power.

His musk-sac is shared freely, in turns, by all…



Heedless of yet another life lesson White-Skunk returns from this spirit-quest and uses his brush with real power for self aggrandisement and as a means of terrorising his peers.

He then proceeds to mete out gifts and punishments as he sees fit on the basis of past favours or perceived misdemeanours.


White-Skunk’s third and final encounter with spirit proves fateful.

He sees Rice-Bird only for the spiritual treasures he holds.

But the treasures of a ‘dead’ spirituality are redundant.

Even had they been procured for the use of others which they palpably had not.

The Wolf brothers finally put White-Skunk out of his misery as he talks to, and plays with, himself amid his redundant treasures.

It could, and perhaps should, have been so different.



Simon Howe

Walking with a Smacked Pentax

For a few days this week I have been near the North Yorkshire Moors. This huge area is about 50 miles from where I live, and I wanted to explore them as much as I can, ferriting out their secrets. I am not really interested in the general guide books – but prefer the more obscure places.

I had uncovered a reference to a Bronze Age barrow cemetery in the middle of Fylingdales moor and decided to pay it a visit.

Walking over the paths and dips, following a small stream alongside the bracken, I soon came across some gamekeepers burning the moor. This is done to burn off the dead bracken and heather and encourage new shoots for the game birds which inhabit the moors.

After a mile or so the going got very boggy, and some ‘advanced map reading’ took me around the worst bits, and eventually back…

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