Technically, General Grant, the giant sequoia, is in Kings Canyon National Park. But I chose this picture to represent Sequoia National Park because the cars give you a good sense of scale.
The California drought is terrible to behold. What grass remains is yellowed, and even the oaks in some places wither brown. But life holds on in crevices where water seeps: trees, herbs, mammals, birds ... And even, here and there, a bit of color.
The distant log on Olympic National Park's Kalaloch Beach is as thick at the base as a tall man, about 6 ft. (2 m). Yet it's hardly even a giant among the Sitka spruces of Washington.
In mid-March, apple trees blossom in the historic Fruita, Utah, orchards, against the background of Capitol Reef National Park. Visit during harvest season, and you can sample the apples, cherries, peaches, and other fruit – as much as you can eat! But you're not allowed to take any extra from the park. I left a milkweed seed ball in this fertile place along the headwaters of the Fremont River.
On the so-called “Death Valley” floor is the treasure that kept Timbisha Shoshone here for over a millennium – an oasis with honey mesquite groves.
Didn’t know that Native Americans lived in Death Valley and are still living here? Neither did I until I arrived a few days ago. They’ve managed to thrive in the harsh conditions and outlast mining companies and efforts by the U.S. government to kick them out for centuries. And it’s all because of their close relationship with the land.
"The Timbisha people have lived in our homeland forever and we will live here forever. We were taught that we don't end. We are part of our homeland and it is part of us. We are people of the land. We don't break away from what is part of us," wrote tribal elder and former Tribal Council Chairperson Pauline Esteves.
The practical root of that endurance has always been the Timbisha relationship to the mesquite groves. Old-school anthropologists would probably have described the Timbisha as hunter-gatherers. But that is a weak understanding. They managed – and still manage – the honey mesquites as an orchard. To maintain their orchards, they pull out competing plants, coppice trees for lush foliage and renewable wood, prune dead branches, etc. As Charles C. Mann emphasized again and again in his wonderful book, "1491: New Revelations of the Americas Before Columbus," Native Americans were far, far more technically sophisticated and “civilized” than Eurocentric mythology (née history) every allowed. In olden times, the valley’s honey mesquite was the foundation of their diet and a valuable trade item. Today, it’s still a part of their diet and a source of pride. Unfortunately, competition for water from Death Valley National Park’s tourism facilities and introduced palm and tamarisk trees has threatened the groves. But a few years ago, the Timbisha started the Mesquite Traditional Use Pilot Project in cooperation with the National Park Service to compare mesquite health in traditional managed orchard plots vs. a control of unmanaged plots.
I’d like to find out how the project is going. If successful, Timbisha knowledge could be a windfall for permaculturists, gardeners, preppers, and others interested in using mesquite as a food source again. I mean, the Southwest is covered in mesquite, yet poor folks go hungry! In Texas, they call it “range weed”! I’m going to contact the tribe and see what I can learn.
This particular golden-haired fellow was among the super bloom of desert gold and other flowers along Badwater Road. I stopped and he (or she) didn’t run off. El Coyote watched me watching him, in no hurry to leave. Perhaps he’s grown accustomed to humans?
That would explain why I saw another coyote (or El Coyote?) the next day walking into the Timbisha Shoshone village in Furnace Creek (Death Valley Indian Community). In broad daylight. By the main road. Unhurried. Looking at me.
I was driving to the tribal meeting hall, where Shoshone ladies sell Indian Tacos, shaved ice, and other treats to hungry tourists. Seeing El Coyote rattled me, but I put him out of my mind …
Until I overheard something unnerving. Standing in line to order an Indian Taco, I was behind two Shoshone ladies from another, related band visiting the park. They were talking to the Timbisha woman behind the counter. The older visitor mentioned seeing the coyote walking into the village and said it was bad luck. The Timbisha woman agreed, saying it was a warning.
Coming down to earth, the Timbisha woman added that the coyotes are a local road hazard. She also said that they’d been coming into the village mesquite groves to get water. (There are springs in Furnace Creek that water the mesquites.)
Before she took their orders, though, she re-emphasized: El Coyote was a warning. But about what? And for whom…?
For scale, the top of Kennel's rack is just over 7 ft. (2.13 M). That old live oak shading Kennel, covered in Spanish moss, must be at least 50 ft. (15 M)!
There is ... the Truant's Apple, (Cessatoris,) which no boy will ever go by without knocking off some, however late it may be ... — Thoreau, "Wild Apples"
," Native Americans were far, far more technically sophisticated and “civilized” than Eurocentric mythology (née history) every allowed.
