Feather Stories, Part 2
The trail of the Eagle Feather
From my earliest days, I can remember dreaming of flying like a bird, and all my life I have been fascinated by the sky - clouds, trees, bugs, anything in the air.
Eventually, I was so determined to get into the sky that I went to a nearby airfield and signed up for flying lessons. I ended up getting my private, instrument, and commercial pilot’s licenses, and even starting up my own flying school and air charter business. But that’s a story for another day. The point is, I did all of that because I am crazy passionate about the sky and wanted to be in it!
So . . . pretty sure I was a bird in a previous life (or lives). And that explains my connection to feathers.
My first love was a parrot, who came to me by accident, and whom my 8-year-old soul named Casanova. I have a strange story about parrot feathers – I’ll write about that tomorrow. But today, I want to tell you about how I finally came to have an eagle feather.
For years I longed to find an eagle feather. Where I live, I see a lot of bald eagles, so it seemed logical that one day I might find one of their feathers. I’ve even been known to scrounge around under their nesting areas in hopes of finding one, but – for years - no luck.
Then, several years ago, I was on a motorcycle trip with my partner, Dave. We were heading north from Seattle with plans to drive to the northern end of Vancouver Island, then take the 15-hour ferry up the inside passage to Prince Rupert, just shy of Alaska. We would then ride the motorcycle through the BC Interior back to Seattle.
We arrived in Port Hardy, at the northern tip of Vancouver Island, after a long day of riding in the rain. It was nearing dusk when we rode into the sleepy, drizzly little town and, as far as we could see, there was nothing moving. No cars, no people. Just quiet, deserted streets. As we slowly passed the first intersection, I saw a huge black feather just lying there in the middle of the road! I pointed it out excitedly and indicated for Dave to do a U-turn back to it (which was easy to do in the middle of town with no other vehicles around!). Dave stopped next to the feather. I leaned over, from the back seat of the bike, and picked up a big, gorgeous eagle feather!
As I straightened up, out of nowhere, a car suddenly appeared next to us. It was a red mustang and a native man leaned out the window and said sternly to me, “You know, you are not allowed to possess those feathers.”
Eyes wide, I solemnly held the feather out to him and replied, “Will you please take this feather and care for it for me.”
He nodded, accepted the feather from my hand, and drove off on his red mustang.
Dave and I blinked at each other like, “Did that just happen?”
Ok then.
Not my time for an eagle feather.
Off we went to find a place to stay. It seemed like nothing was open to even inquire about lodging, but we finally found the hostel, which was clean and bright – and completely vacant! We had the place to ourselves. The sleepy receptionist directed us to our room – cross the garden, climb a set of stairs, green door opposite the shared eating area. Off we went.
As we passed the eating area outside our room, I saw a planter in the center of the table and, standing up tall in the middle of it was a big, black eagle feather! I couldn’t believe my eyes. The feather on the road was not meant for me, but surely this one, left by some previous guest, was mine! I plucked it out and placed it on the nightstand by my bed. “I finally have my eagle feather,” I thought, as I fell asleep.
Uhhh, nope!
All night, I was plagued by terrible dreams. In the morning, I replaced the eagle feather in the planter. It was clearly not for me.
Fast forward four years and I still have not found my eagle feather. My shamanic teacher, Lakota Chief Medicine Crow, assures me that the great mother always gives us what we need when we need it. If it is meant to be, the feather will come to me.
One summer, Dave and I are on duty setting up a grand encampment in the remote backcountry of the Canadian Interior. His company has been hired by an Italian billionaire to create a magical wilderness experience for her and 19 of her closest friends. We spend weeks setting up a luxurious eco-resort, hosting her group, and doing a “leave no trace” cleanup after them.
As a surprise to all of us it turns out to be a wedding event that I am expected – unexpectedly - to plan, complete with services by the chief of the local tribe. In the picture here, I am waiting to greet the chief when he arrives via helicopter, with his children and drummers. I have two packages of sacred tobacco to offer him as a token of gratitude for his kindness in joining us. First helicopter ride for all!
To do all of this wilderness hocus pocus, we buy a river boat to transport supplies and workers back and forth up the surging, white-water Chilko river. Just downstream from where we launch, the river crashes into a big drop over immense boulders. From these fearsome rocks, the indigenous locals are long-netting salmon, which they dry on sticks and lines on the riverside.
We launch from this gorgeous, scenic beach in a boat that is new to us (untested), in a river that we don’t know (scary) and which has the potential to be treacherous - one bad encounter with a submerged rock or one bad cylinder in the boat’s engine and we’re suddenly driftwood and salmon bait. We are constantly aware of the possible peril. At the upriver side of these daily risk runs, is our destination - another tiny beach, just below the glam-camp.
It is at this tiny beach that we return to our eagle feather story.
For four weeks I go back and forth from said beach multiple times a day. I await people there, load and unload and supplies there, and wait regularly there for my ride downstream.
One day, toward the end of our tenure there, I’m standing alone on this beach that I’ve come to know so well. I’ve walked every inch of it, picked up rocks to admire, rubbed my toes in the sand, sat on it, laid on it, explored the edges, and searched it for treasures. I KNOW this beach.
On this day, I am standing still, alone, in the middle of the beach, in the middle of nowhere, waiting for the boat to return for me. As I stand, I say aloud, “Well, beach, what do you have for me today?” and I look down. Sand. But wait. Below me, between my bare feet, I see a little something. Not really anything, but I bend over to look more closely. It could be a tiny shell…. I reach to pick it up and it comes up. And up, and up, and up. The tiny something is the very tip of the quill of a feather. A long, beautiful eagle feather, buried directly below where I had stood so many times. Almost invisible, it was lying, not just under a little sand, but buried deep and straight down into the beach.
I hold the feather in my hands, thinking of all the years leading up to this point. I think of the man on the red mustang, and the bad dream feather, and the years of sky gazing and bird loving. I think of the years of shamanic training I’ve had, the practices of respecting and honoring nature, and learning to trust the great mother. I remember the words of Medicine Crow –
“If it is meant to be, it will come to you”I think of how the beach answered my question, “What do you have for me today?” And I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that this eagle feather is meant for me. Aho.
And that, my friends, is how I finally came to have an eagle feather in my life.
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I hope you found this story entertaining, Dear Readers. But even more, I hope you are inspired, from my writings, to see the magic behind it all. If there is one thing I have learned, in all my adventures, travels, mishaps, successes, studies, and daily practices, it is this:
Life is magic.
What we see, with our human eyes, in this blip of a human lifespan, is but a tiny glimpse of the larger reality. When we open our spiritual eyes and heart and look beyond the physical realm into the realm of sprit and soul, we find incredible magic and beauty and joy. And sometimes feathers. It continually amazes me how, as Paulo Coehlo says in “The Alchemist,” the “universe conspires” to help us. The Universe also has a great sense of humor – so many times I’ve laughed at the surprising ways in which things are conspired on my behalf.
We live in a mystical, magical realm, my friends, that extends well beyond our wildest imagination. Enjoy every minute.
With love, Cate
Day 8 of 88 days-in-a-row of writing.
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