I quickly got back into the truck, rolled up both windows and drove at a fast speed to the cabin. I admit that at the time, I was scared being all by myself. When I entered the cabin, I went straight to the bathroom and showered. I still had the stomachache, but now I was more concerned about my recent owl incident. After making sure that all the doors in the cabin were locked, and the outside light was on, I got into bed and waited for the return of the others. After about twenty minutes, no one had returned, and I began to get worried. I got out of bed and looked out the window, and saw nothing but darkness. I thought it best to try and sleep, even though my stomach was a ball of nerves. As soon as I got back into bed, I heard the sound of footsteps in the front room. I knew there was no way someone could have entered the cabin without opening the locked door and making a sound. Something bad was definitely going on, and I was scared! As I gazed from my bed at the open doorway that led into the bedroom, the footsteps stopped. Then there was silence for a few seconds. Soon I heard the voice of what sounded like a small child speaking in my Apache language, “Can I go see mama, I want to see Mama, can I go see mama?” I couldn’t stop trembling. The words were very clear, and because they were spoken in Apache, that made them even more terrifying to me.
I had had enough of this, so I jumped out of the bed and, in the darkness, scrambled for the light switch on the wall. Nervously, I tripped over my own shoes, fell to the floor hitting my left shoulder, and smashed my big toe against the dresser. I was in pain. I figured my toe was broken. I managed to crawl across the floor, then find the wall with the light switch, turn it on, and crawl to the bathroom.
No sooner had I entered the bathroom, I heard the sound of my fellow students’ trucks returning to the lab. I was an emotional mess. I decided it would be best not to tell anyone about what had happened to me. After all, what could they say or offer me? One thing that I did need was to get some medical help for my toe. It was already swelling up when my roommate came in the door. I told her that I had fallen, and that was all. I was driven that night to the student university clinic in Phoenix, where an x-ray was taken, and I was given the good news that the toe was not broken, but I eventually lost the nail. Still it hurt quite a lot and was very bruised. Unable to do any more night wading for frogs in cold lake water, my research ended. I spent the remainder of the summer at home.
Once I arrived home, I told my parents all about the experience with the owl, and the child’s ghostly voice. They told me to pray and to never again be out alone in that area. My parents could not offer an explanation regarding the owl that came into my truck, or the ghostly voice of the child. All I was told was that sometimes these “things” are forces that foretell a future event. As of this date, I have not had anything happen to me that I can connect to that summer night in 1992. But, that does not mean I won’t. I’m hoping not to ever experience anything like that again. I’m not the type of person that goes looking for ghosts and things. Ghosts scare me.”
San Carlos Apache
(T’iis-Ebah-Nnee)
The San Carlos Apache Indian Reservation is located east of Phoenix in southeastern Arizona and was established by Executive Order on November 9, 1871. The total landmass of the reservation is just under 1,900,00 acres. The reservation was reduced in size a total of five times for the benefit of copper and silver miners and land anxious Mormons whose demand for water surrounding the Gila Valley reduced it further. It is the seventh largest U.S. reservation, with over 7,100 people. Within the reservation borders are forested alpine meadows and wooded mountains, as well as desert plains. Anthropologists speculate that the Apache nation entered this region around 1450. The San Carlos Apache call themselves “t’iis-ebah-nnee” or “grey cottonwood people” and their language is closely related to the Di-neh’ (Navajo). The San Carlos Apache now consider themselves to be a unified people, even though their history shows they were originally several separate bands of the same Native nation.
After his surrender in 1873, the great Apache chief Cochise, along with his followers was forcibly taken by the U.S. military to San Carlos. Soon after, the famous medicine man Geronimo and his followers fled the oppression of the San Carlos Reservation. Presently, the reservation fights the continuous battle of arduous unemployment among its people, with the hope of further developing industry and tourism. Encouragingly, tourism is taking hold as a source of income and employment. The tribe is directly promoting its lakes and forests, focusing on campers and sportspeople. The cattle-ranching industry and the mining of Peridot, a semiprecious green stone found within the reservation, is also a source of employment. The largest nearby town of Globe provides needed medical and shopping facilities.
Henry Tall Horse’s (Apache) Story
As I turned off the main highway unto the roughly paved road that led to the center of the reservation, I was surprised by the starkness of the area. Given the extreme hot weather, there were no visible people anywhere to be seen outdoors. Slowly maneuvering my car through the dirt roads, I past a few humble homes, and the carcass of a dead calf laying aside the road. It struck me that the poverty of the area should be a wake-up call to the governmental department that oversees this reservation and its honorable people. This being said, I eventually met with Henry whereas he provided me with a very personal interesting story of which I know you’ll appreciate.
— Antonio
“My mother died when I was two years old, and since that time, I’ve lived in San Carlos with my father. My experience was with two spirits. Everyone seems to think that ghosts only appear during the night, but in my case, I saw them during the day. These spirits didn’t harm me, but I still got pretty scared. My experience was a strange and powerful one that I know will stay with me for a long time.
One spring morning, when I was nineteen years old, a close friend and I decided to walk over to the nearby San Carlos River and fish for catfish. Before heading out, we found two metal beer can openers. We used two stones to pound them flat, and made them into spear points. We sharpened the metal points, grinding them against a large flat boulder. Then we wrapped each of these points with wire to the ends of long thin, but strong, poles. It was a primitive but effective tool in spearing fish. My friend and I went fishing like this many times before, so we were eager to catch a lot of fish. It was about 10 a.m. when we got to the river. We followed the riverbed until we found a spot with a few trees to shade us from the sun, and a pool of water that we hoped had some fish. We each sat on the sand at opposite sides of the pool.
Because the pool of water was a short distance from the main river, the water was still. In this still water, it was easy to spot the movement of swimming fish. We fished for a few hours, and caught five fish. We decided to head home and fry the fish for lunch. Most Apache I know don’t like to eat fish because of our traditional beliefs, but that is changing. My friend and I enjoy eating fish. After our catfish lunch, my friend went home to his house and I took a nap.
Around 6 p.m. I decided to walk back to the river, only this time I just wanted to walk and not fish. I followed the path back to the pool of water where my friend and I had been earlier. As I got closer, in the distance I heard a very strange sound. The sound was a humming or buzzing noise that I couldn’t identify. I decided to investigate by following the sounds up the riverbed ahead of me. The sun was starting to go down in the west, but there was still plenty of light. As I got closer, the noise seemed to change to something like the flapping wings of a large flock of birds. I decided to slow my pace in order not to surprise whatever might be making the noise.
I walked as carefully as