The Broken Contract, Part 1

A number of years ago, I spent a considerable amount of time studying the culture of the Native Americans. I studied their religious beliefs, their cultures, even tried to learn the Lakota language through a series of tapes. The one key factor in all of their cultures was their love of nature and their belief that they had to live in balance with it. They believed that they should kill only for food. The Navajo used to inhale the last breath of the animal they killed so that they could carry its soul and honor its memory.

Today,we face the challenge of "global warming." We have plundered the earth for everything of value to us; and, in the process, have upset the balance of nature. And nature is now reacting to that abuse with unusual weather patterns, the melting of the polar ice caps and the deterioration of the ozone layer.

I wrote this story originally as a tribute to the Native peoples who have been the honest caretakers of the land for generations past. I looked at this story again, recently, with an eye to revision as writers do. It needs none.

So I am posting the first part of this story tonight, and will post the second half tomorrow night. I still consider it a tribute to the Native peoples, but now also as a cautionary tale. For if we do not heed its warning, we do so at our own peril.

Let us then be mindful of its message, and let us listen to the trees.


The Broken Contract
Christopher Bogart


“Well, son,” Horse said to the priest, “I think the Bible is full of mistakes. I thought I would correct them. For instance, where does it say that all living things are equal?”
The priest shook his head. “It doesn’t say that. It says that man has domination over the creatures of the earth.”
“Well, that’s what needs to be fixed. That’s part of the trouble, don’t you see?”
Mean Spirit, Linda Hogan




1.


As I walked further from the road and into the woods, the old leaves became deeper, crunched beneath my feet. Soon I was surrounded by trees. Their tall straight trunks extended up from the dry carpet of leaves and dry twigs to the bright sky far above me. Their bodies stood straight, still and silent as I walked past them. Yet I could hear the gentle rustle of their leaves above my head, as the wind seemed to play with them, changing the warm mottled design of sunlight that danced around my feet. As I walked onward through the trees, I became aware of a new sound – the moist trickle of water. Changing my direction, I walked to the right to seek the source of this sound. Within a few steps, I found myself at the edge of something. The ground in front of me sloped steeply downward. Smaller trees dotted the decline, spaced randomly. Grabbing hold of one of these trees for balance, I began to descend. By stepping crab-like while reaching out with my hands for one small tree after another, I was able to make my way down to the base of what appeared to be a small ravine.

Once I gained a foothold on flat solid ground, I looked around me. Just ahead of me was a stream. From its source somewhere to my left, this narrow eddy of water flowed past me until it disappeared between the trees to my right. As I walked a few steps to my left, I noticed that part of the wall of the ravine had eroded, revealing the massive roots of the large trees above. Like veins, these roots snaked their way through the wall of soil, holding it in place. I walked on now, looking for a place to sit. Up ahead a little and perched right at the water line, I found a rock large enough and flat enough to sit on.

The bottom of the clear flowing water was populated with dark stones, splotched with yellow and brown. Reaching down, I scooped a few up with my fingers. They lay rounded, shiny and wet in my open hand. I tossed the first one. It plopped into the cool, clear water in front of me, then sank to the bottom. I tossed the second one with the same result. The third, I held between my thumb and my fingers to examine it closer. The stone was smooth and black, with highlights of mahogany. In a quick decision to keep it, I wrapped my fingers around it tightly.




2.

A very long time ago, trees walked over the face of the earth. Because they needed neither shelter nor heavy coats to keep them warm, they became the most independent of all creatures. They traveled over the land on short legs that made them seem to float just a little above the ground. They were truly the most independent of all the creatures that the Great Spirit created, for they did not have to look for food, as the rains and the air provided them with the minerals and moisture they needed to survive. All that they had to do was to sink a few of their many legs into the water-soaked ground to absorb all of the nutrition that they needed. Once fed, they simply pulled their legs out of the shallows, and continued on their way.

They were gentle creatures, as they had no need to hunt and had no natural predators. So day after day, they could be seen gliding over the plains, their leafy limbs swaying in the breezes, dancing to melodies that floated on the winds, melodies only they heard.

As time passed, different types of trees developed different attributes, different styles. And that diversity, as it was with many others in the very diverse spectrum of creation, only increased their ability to survive and thrive. The birch, for instance, clumped together, tall and thin, dressed in white bark and small heart-shaped leaves. The oak grew a single thick trunk with massive branches that produced leaves each of which seemed to possess six stubby fingers. The willow's trunk grew with an odalisque shape, and from it, long drooping branches with slivered leaves that tossed to and fro with the slightest breeze. The stately tulip grew tall and thick, laden with pale yellow flowers among their broad leaves. The cherry, for three days in spring, bloomed the most delicate pink flowers that were blown like pink snow, carpeting the ground below it. The sturdy pines, and their scrubby relatives, did not have leaves at all but dark green needles that remained with them throughout the change of seasons.

Their variety of species was as endless as the places each chose to locate. The oaks seemed most content to dominate the open fields, while the willows favored lakes and streams, where they could stare at themselves in endless fascination. The pines were most at home in sandy soil and on rocky hillsides where the wind could moan through their boughs. No matter where these many varieties of trees traveled, they had developed specific provisions for their future. For whether it was pine cone, acorn, or seed ball, the trees reproduced each year, even though their own life cycle was long and enduring.

To the many other species that the Great Spirit had created, he offered them too both protection and procreation. To the fish in the seas, rivers and lakes, he gave fins and scales. They reproduced by eggs. To the mammals that walked on four legs, he gave thick fur, sharp teeth and the ability to conceal themselves from their enemies. They bore their young live and spent months raising them. To the winged creatures, he gave feathers and the gift of flight. They soared through the skies over the trees to protect and provide for their progeny. Even to the smallest of insects, he gave unique and creative ways of locomotion, concealment and procreation. In short, the Great Spirit guaranteed to each of his creations the ability to sustain, as well as reproduce, life. And the only thing he demanded in return was that they ate only what they needed, and respected the life and habitats of others.

The same however was not true of man. Man had no thick coat to protect him from the elements. As a matter of fact, his rather pathetic covering of hair only decreased with time, heaving him bare, his skin exposed to the winds and rain, the snows and the hot rays of the sun. He tried to eat the berries and the plants, but many of them were indigestible to his system. For a long time he kept a respectful distance from the Great Spirit’s other creations until one of them died. It was then that man would strip the carcass of its winter coat, drying it out so that he may be able to use it as his own. However, this was not enough. The Great Spirit saw man, alone among the other creatures, beginning to die from cold, from hunger and from fear. And he knew what he had to do.

As the sun began to set one evening, he called all of his creations, save man, to a meeting. “My children,” he said, “I have created you all from my love of life. I am your father, and you are brothers and sisters.” All the animals nodded to each other, and the trees waved their branches in assent. “You all have prospered on the earth where I have placed you. All except man. When I created him, I did not give him the protections that I gave all of you. And now I must do something, for if I don’t, he will surely die.” There was much murmuring among the creatures, and the Great Spirit waited patiently until it was finished, for these creatures were his children, and he wanted them to find a solution that they could all live with. Finally Brother Fish broke the silence.

“There are many of us that populate the lakes and streams. Enough to insure our continued existence for generations to come. Surely we could surrender the spirits of some among us to join you early so that man could use our bodies to eat and survive.”

“That’s very generous of you, Brother Fish.” Said Deer. “But your scales will not keep him warm in winter. However our coats would, so I think that we would be of more use to him.” Rabbit, not to be outdone, volunteered his kind as well. And so it went, until all of the creatures had spoken, offering their own flesh and blood to help to save their brother, man. All spoke, save the trees.

The Great Spirit waited patiently again as they each offered their help, satisfied that his creations were coming to the aid of their brother, man. But when the last of the animals had spoken, he again addressed them.

“All of this is good,” the Great Spirit said. “But it is not enough.” A look of complete surprise registered around the assembly. “Man can only eat food that has been freshly killed and cooked, for if he continually eats carrion, then he will die.” He paused to let these thoughts register. Then, slowly, he turned to the trees. “My sons and daughters,” he said, gazing directly at the assemblage of trees. “Could you not help us?” Somewhat distressed, the trees began to murmur to each other as the wind rustled their leaves. Finally, a great oak spoke.

“Great Father Creator,” the oak said, rather firmly, “We have considered your words, and agree that we must help. When we die, our bodies are not edible, and our bark no protection from the wind and rain. However, our bodies are burnable, if you but give man the fire from your lightning bolts. From our burning bodies, he can cook his food and keep warm. And our fallen limbs will provide him with arrows that he can swiftly kill our brother creatures, if Brother Eagle would bestow his guidance.”

“Guidance? How, Brother Tree?” Eagle said, curiously.

“Your fallen feathers, Brother, will provide our limbs with accuracy, so they may be able to find their target swiftly and mercifully.”

“Well spoken, Brother.” Eagle said, dipping his beak in respect. “Well spoken.” And with that, Eagle turned his head to the Great Spirit. “Great Father Creator,” Eagle said, “I think that all of us have agreed to help to keep your creation, man, alive.” “But.” and his wizened eyes narrowed as he spoke to the Great Spirit; “Man must only use what he needs. He must never kill for surplus, or to achieve dominance over us or his own kind. For if he does, he will endanger our own survival.” Eagle paused, looking around at the other creatures. “If he can agree to this simple contract, we will abide by what we promised here tonight. And he will be our brother.” All of the other creatures nodded in agreement with Eagle’s words.

“He will agree.” The Great Spirit responded. “He has to agree.”

So the Great Spirit visited man and explained the terms of the contract that his brother creatures proposed for his survival. And man agreed because he had to agree. For, without the contract, he would perish.

And, for a while, the contract worked. Man fished in the lakes and the streams, and cooked his catch over fire provided by his father, the Great Spirit, and fueled by the dead wood that the trees provided. Yet he left the four-legged animals alone; for, while he made his arrows with the dead branches of the trees, and feathered them with the eagle’s feathers, the branches crumbled harmlessly against the furry hides of the four-legged as they romped away. Satisfied with the fish he caught, and the berries he picked, man survived.

For a time.


To be continued tomorrow night ...