Why Walking Eagle?

I guess we all wonder how we developed our politics. What was it that pushed us toward a particular ideology? For me it was reading "Bury My Heart At Wounded Knee" by Dee Brown. I was 14/15 at the time and facinated by the American Civil War. A friend of my dad's lent me Bruce Catton's triology on the Army of the Potomac. To me, as a young teenage boy, it was unintelligible. However, with these books was "Bury..." A book still on my bookshelf about the treatment of the Native Americans (Indians) . Its style was so immediate that it drew me in, like a moth to a flame. I couldn't put it down. I was shocked, horrified, disgusted, angry and indignant in turn. My feelings of empathy and sorrow were summed up in a quote by Red Cloud of the Lakota. He said "The white man made us many promises, more than I can remember, but kept one. They promised to take our land and they took it." The book detailed the sorry tale of broken treaties and lies by the whites and the wonton distruction of the buffalo to finish the western tribes independence.

I was brought up on the tripe of Hollywood westerns and the racism they peddled; good white settlers and savage, evil Indians. The book changed my view forever. And it got me thinking. How could whites sit at home and swallow this crap? And, come to think of it, what other crap was I being fed that I didn't know about? So this wonderful book kick started my enquiring mind. More than my class, more than my teachers, more than my parents.

When I joined the Woodcraft Folk in 1988 it still contained elements of "Red Indianism" that appealed to my romantic soul. Saying "How", totems etc. One tradition, not specific to the Woodcraft Folk, but used by them was "Folk names". They were used in the earlier days of the movement. The founder of the Folk, Leslie Paul, was known as "Little Otter".

Anyway I had named many comrades, young and old, around the Council Fire at camp. But I got my name by chance from an enrolled member of the Northern Cheyenne tribe in Montana. I had searched for years, looking for an exchange partner for the Folk among the tribes of Native Americans. Finally I was successful and visited the Boys and Girls Club of the Northern Cheyenne Nation in Lame Deer. I was picked up from the airport by Rick Robinson- the club's director. After 20 hours of flying I sat, shoulders hunched, head down staring at my feet in the Billings airport foyer. Someone tentatively said my name. I looked up to see a bloke with blue/grey eyes, shirt, jeans, cowboy boots and a moustache. "Rick?" I replied aghast. Yep, it was he. No brown eyes, no black hair, no buckskin! What the fuck had I been thinking anyhow?

Rick was a great host and put me up in his home. One evening we were "visiting" as tribal members liked to call chatting, and he mentioned a lad with the surname of Elkshoulder. The romantic in me emerged once more. "I love Native American names." I told Rick. "They're so poetic. I wish I had a Native American name" I said before I could stop myself sounding like a total prat. Well, there's an old saying. "Be careful what you wish for." Rick looked at me, pulled on his nose, rubbed his chin and drawled. "If you were a Native American, we'd call you 'walking Eagle'." I was gob smacked. "Walking Eagle!" I exclaimed excitedly. "Walking Eagle. Walking Eagle." I savoured the words like the taste of an expensive meal or good bottle of wine. "What does it mean?" I asked quickly.

Rick looked me in the eye for a second and held my gaze. The moment drew out, and he said with a slow deliberation, I shall never forget. "Too full of shit to fly!" We both laughed. Although I suspect he laughed harder than me!

And that is how I got my Folk name, and everyone...Cassie included agree, it suits me!