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At dawn swooping, dipping, diving the laughing call of the belted kingfisher. After breakfast walking briskly through an old growth forest with a friend, unseen for eight or nine years, discussing children, the scarlet tanager’s song, the yet unripe blackberries and our plans for the day. With one hundred and twenty five children I tell stories of a little snake, a hunter maiden, a deer dance and an ogre we laugh and they shriek, we sing a song to beckon the deer, play tag and practice stalking skills. This bliss is my livelihood. Alone, I swim across the lake, soak in the cool pool and sun’s warmth, as high overhead a vulture swirls in the figure eight of infinity, mortality my friend. Fishing the perimeter of the lake I catch five or six sunfish, a northern brown water snake crawls over my bare feet, the deer, beckoned earlier, walks down the shoreline to within a few meters, snorts, stomps her feet, challenges my presence and then bounds away. I stand my ground, Amazed, then continue rambling the circumference of the pond. A water snake catches a large fish, swallows it whole, a little green heron catches a little fish, which swims down her throat, and I head to dinner The evening campfire my moment to teach two hundred girls to dance like deer, dream of being raised by wolves, and to find the strength inherent in their tribal village. Two hundred voices howl a love song for this wild life! This this is the day, the day I have woven from dreams made real, melodious tales, a small miracle and a child’s game. This day was made a gift to all the girls at camp a gift I relish from the deer, the snake, the wolf, the kingfishers and the innumerable bats circling the crescent moon descending below the tree line.

HISTORY... In Person

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