Elvis
I’m going on a Snipe hunt. I’ve got my binoculars. I’ve got my bag. I’m not scared. Winnnowwww..whissstle! What was that?!
It’s called ‘winnowing’, a sound male Snipes make when on display. The Snipe heroically dives through the sky and bellows, ‘looook at me ladies’ as wind passes through their fanned tails and special outer tail feathers creating a whistle-like sound. “O, right I knew that. I’m not scared.”
Now while you ponder about that handsome snipe tune, let me jam my finger in the hole of the cassette and rewind to the beginning.
It was a cold foot, fall morning when I woke up at Graceland in Wyoming.
You have to get the falcons up in the air before eagle hour, after noon, Vahé mentions on the way out. Thats when eagles soar higher than falcons, on the hunt, not even a speck of pepper in the sky to your eye. It’s not wise as a falconer to have your birds hunting with the chance of being a snack. That’s a bit more expensive than your grandma’s cookies if you know what I mean.
After the falcons had mantled over a few Sage Grouse we dropped them back off at Graceland to get some sun and picked up Tim. He’s another guest staying at Graceland and happens to be a Taxidermist on staff at the Natural History Museum of Los Angeles County. He’s the legend type; we Taxidermist affectionately call him uncle Tim. We drive out together to the foothills to hunt. Along the way we stop at a marsh and both Vahé and Tim skyblast a couple ducks and the cryptic Wilson’s Snipe I have here. I’ve never hunted myself; only been an accomplice. To hold the dead Snipe in my hands and hold back the tears was impossible. This wasn’t trophy hunting, every part of this bird would be used, but it still gave me all the feels. A few more ducks down; a moose laughs at us while trying to retrieve one floating from the middle of the murk without dunk tanking ourselves. Our hands begin to freeze up. We load back into the cab and drive to the mouth of the mountains where the sun was beginning to kiss the trees.
We split up and I stay with Vahé. After jungle gyming our way through branches and leaf piles we find ourselves at a break, a meadow glowing with a smattering of rusty colored bushes. A howl. Then two, then a nervous wolf pacing along the tree line on the other side of the meadow. He’s alerting the pack to our presence. We crouch down behind the brush and wait quietly while my heartbeat starts dancing. I feel a little bit intimidated by mother nature. There are so many unpredictables in the Wilderness. This one being a beautiful one so far, fingers crossed. Eventually they encircle us, calling to one another while they work us. I’m feeling now like a calculated meal. Vahé insists we are safe. We stay. It’s moments like this you feel alive and part of something bigger than yourself. Gun or no gun the moment serves you respect, a love for the wild.
We all make it back to Graceland that night and have a meal off the land. Grateful.
Now flip the cassette over and push play. I was selected as a recipient of the ARPA grant from the Montana Arts Council. I’d like to thank them for making this Taxidermy project, ‘A Bird Set Free’ possible. Fly high and winnow those ladies hearts out sweet Elvis; the sky is your stage once more. MAC is the agency of state government established to develop the creative potential of all our Montanans, advance education, spur economic vibrancy, and revitalize communities through involvement in the arts.
This Wilson Snipe whom I’ve named Elvis, will be donated to the Montana Natural History Center in hopes to educate and foster appreciation for this native Montana species. Remember, the Wilson’s Snipe is considered a Migratory Bird, under the MBTA(Migratory Bird Treaty Act), only a Taxidermist with a Federal and State Taxidermy License can legally work on this species. A special thanks to Vahé of Falcon Force and his sexy Falcon friends for taking me under their wing.
So next time you find yourself in Graceland; out in a marsh; at night; try catching this cryptic bird. With binoculars. See my drift? Or at least see my photos below of Elvis, a bird set free.
