Powder River Magic

It happens every time I have the privilege of traveling through Northern Wyoming. I sense something spiritual, something old. I see the Big Horn Mountains to the West, and eastward, the Thunder Basin Grasslands, stretch all the way to the Black Hills.

Red Cloud loved this part of his home, more than even the Black Hills. The Powder River Basin held more elk, and bison, and more deer, antelope and bear than a Sioux Brave would ever need. "Just leave us the Powder," he begged.

My brother Donnie lives and works in remote Powder River country, far away from people, and at times, Donnie sees what Red Cloud saw, and it's a miracle. The frosty morning, the sun has barely peeked over the round hills, and emerging from the trees is a bull elk, his breath heavy in the air.

Campbell Country Wyoming is one of the nations greatest treasures, rich in energy...oil, natural gas and coal. Big time coal, and the environmentalists, the Earth worshippers that they are, have much to say about what goes on in Wyoming, and other states; and they want more power.

I can tell you from being there, and living there, that nature exists just fine with energy development. The elk thrive near the coal mines, and the deer love the tall grass by the oil rigs. The folks that work out in the Powder, brave the cold and strong winds because they love it there. The anorexic tree hugger, at his liberal headquarters in San Fransisco, doesn't get it.

Donnie and I enjoy a lonely spot called Spotted Horse. You won't find it on many maps, and all that remains there today is a couple of old buildings, and a cozy store. My friends, the men and women that have passed through Spotted Horse over the past hundred and fifty years were people to behold.

They were rough and hearty. They were survivors and pioneers. The pioneer American lived not only on the Powder. I recently read some diaries, written by an Ohio woman, after she and her family traveled from Ohio to Kansas in 1852. Their first Winter, they lived in an eight foot dug out, and at one point, they ate corn every day for a month. They would often wake in the morning and find an inch or two of snow had covered them while they tried to sleep. Pioneers. Tough folks. When the Spring finally came, the men in the area banded together to build a sawmill, then they worked together to build homes.

AND, they prayed, and they were reverent. The first public building was usually a church, or a school used as a church on Sunday, and they thanked God. Some, in our so called "enlightened" generation, would call these humble and hard working people, naive, and delusional, after all, they believed in God. That woman and her family sacrificed, and put their lives on the line, to blaze a trail for others.

The magic still lives in Powder River country. Some days, I thought I could almost see Red Cloud, and his pals, camped near the Big Horns, returning home from a good days hunting. The children all running out to greet them, the women smiling, all would eat today, and all was well with the World.

We owe something to the pioneers, be they Indian or otherwise, who traveled a wild and fantastic land, to discover, and to learn, and to live life grandly. The Powder River Basin and the Thunder Basin National Grasslands, are rich in energy, and wildlife, and the people who live and work there can handle the job, without the help of the legal pit bulls representing the environmental religious zealots. The elk like the coal mines! No need for President Elect Obama to target the Coal Industry for intentional destruction. The tree huggers are clueless.

We need to discover our own pioneer spirits in dealing with the liberal hordes. Our country could use some pioneers. I know that spending a Winter in a dirty cold windy dugout seems easy, (laugh - laugh) but the pioneers did it in a sacrifice of anticipation. Anticipation that they, with Gods help, were destined to make a difference for the future.