The deerskin clothing kept the Native American and his mate warm against the elements as they sat on top of the grassy hill, utilizing the shade of the giant oak. The late spring wind was cool and the two found themselves shoulder to shoulder staring out across the great land basking in the day, the peace, and the spirit of the winds. The deer in the distance would feed their children and provide clothing for them for the harsh winter  that would come in the months ahead. The day-to-day challenges they faced to stay alive, and live and cherish the land was something they thanked the "Great Spirit" for every day. They had no way of knowing what their children and their childrens' children would be facing. These two would be dead and gone when the white man came. Though they had their own battles from tribe to tribe, it was nothing in comparison to what was coming in the next 100 years.

     The land they watched over metamorphisized as if a caterpillar, yet how unfortunate the outcome would not be a beautiful butterfly. Two hundred years after their death, a ribbon of highways consumed the land where the deer had stood grazing. Where they had been sitting there was a landfill project, where the trash from our present day lives continues to bury the spirits of the greatest guardians our land has ever known.

     The next time you visit a city, and look down the long streets filled with cars, pollution, fights, thieves, gangs, pavement, buildings, trash, etc., try hard to think back to the native man and the native woman that sat maybe where you are standing, basking in natures elements. Look deep into your heart and soul and think. Ask yourself...."Who are the true savages?"