> This isn't the first time I have had a weird bird experience. The first time after his death that I went back to the town my late partner Edward grew up in was, needless to say, an emotional experience for me. Eddy's family had accepted me as one of their own almost from the start. His mother once told me that she loved me the first time she saw me. So I knew I would have to go back to this little town in southeastern Montana at some point, painful as I knew it would be.
There is a state park about 10 miles south of this town called Medicine Rocks. It is an ancient river bed that from a distance looks like it might be a Flintstone's theme park or maybe the ruins of an ancient stone city. There are large outcroppings of soft sandstone jutting up all over a large section of land. Some of these are fairly small. Others tower up to two or three stories above the ground. Most of them are dotted with holes, some that go all the way through the rock forming arches and tunnels. This makes many of the rocks look like gigantic chunks of brownish Swiss cheese. There are pine trees and grass growing amongst the rocks giving the impression of gardens between ancient buildings. The stone is soft enough that it can easily be cut in to. There is graffiti in many places carved into the rocks. The name Medicine Rocks implies a place of healing and the locals say the place was sacred to the Native Americans that lived in this part of the country. It was one of Edward's favorite places and we always went there whenever we were visiting his family. On this first visit to Baker Montana without Edward, I had to go to Medicine Rocks. It was just one of those things that I knew I had to do and do alone. So one hot afternoon I took off by myself down the highway leading south out of Baker. Except for one curve just as you leave the town, this road runs straight as an arrow for about 20 miles to the next town. The land is not mountainous, like in western Montana, but it is not flat either and has a peculiar beauty that is all its own. The road runs up & down rolling hills and the terrain is often broken by the buttes that rear themselves up out of the ground. The bands of varying color in these buttes, exposed by untold ages of erosive wind & water, show the various types of rock that eons of time have laid down to form this land. They are almost all invariably topped by a reddish rock called skorio that is used as gravel on many back roads in this part of the world. Rainfall is unpredictable here so the grass that covers most of the land is usually brown. This particular summer had been preceded by a fairly wet spring, however, and the grass was green, even on the tops of the buttes. There was yellow sweet clover blooming in many fields, turning the green to a yellow haze. When I got to Medicine Rocks, I drove towards the back of the park, looking for a certain place that I was afraid I might not be able to find. I parked and got out, wandering between the rocks and not finding what I was looking for. I went back to the car and something told me to climb the hill I was parked next to and explore the other side. Once over the hill, I got my bearings and seemed to know instinctively where I needed to go. I found the place where the rock arches over head forming a sheltered hollow & looked up, wondering if what I was looking for would still be there. Sure enough, among many other names & dates carved in the rock I say 'Mark -n- Eddy '85' about 10 feet up on the wall. Edward had climbed part of the way up and made these marks the first time he had brought me to Medicine Rocks. I stayed in this natural alcove for some time, looking at our names & thinking about Eddy. At some point it started to rain. The place was sheltered enough that I didn't get wet at all and the squall was very brief. It didn't seem like a random occurrence. I could sense that I was not really alone. I knew all along that I hadn't been. After awhile I left this spot and began to wander, climbing the rocks and making my way to places in the park that I hadn't been before. At some point as I stood looking into the distance from the top of one of the rocks I saw a large bird circling over the fields to the west. At first this bird was too far away to tell what kind of bird it might be. But as I watched, it began to move closer & closer and I could see that it was a very large bird. It had to be an eagle. It continued making circles in the sky but came closer & closer. Finally it was right overhead and was flying round and round directly over me. I stood looking up with a sense of profound awe and a voice from somewhere seemed to be whispering words of comfort and reassurance to me. After circling directly over me for a minute or so, the bird moved on and I was left with the overwhelming certainty that a message had been sent specifically to me. Mark E in Seattle
