We’re all high-speed, low-drag, “Keep your head on a swivel,
eyes on everything” sorts, right?
I’m assuming that because I am bombarded with a never-ending posting
parade of “Awareness Musts!” “Situational Readiness Always!” “Eyes of Jack
Reacher” or commentary on shared violence-porn, “This guy got popped
because he wasn’t paying attention; what he shoulda done…what I woulda done”
that sort of thing.
We’re all wide-wake great ones from what I read.
I’ll give you a super-easy quiz to test that assumption in a mo’
but first, a little tale of one who was always eyes-open even amongst other
eyes that were also straining to be open and these allied eyes had use of new
technology to assist “seeing.”
[The following is excerpted from Biographical
Sketch of James Bridger: Mountaineer, Trapper, and Guide (1905) by General
Grenville M. Dodge. Mind you, a military man not prone to exaggeration.]
“Captain H. E. Palmer, Eleventh Kansas Cavalry, Acting Asst.
Adjt. Genl. to General P. E. Conner, gives this description of the Indian Camp
on Tongue River, August 26, 1865. "Left Piney Fork at 6.45 a. m. Traveled
north over a beautiful country until about 8 a.m., when our advance reached the
top of the ridge dividing the waters of the Powder from that of the Tongue
River. I was riding in the extreme advance in company with Major Bridger. We
were 2,000 yards at least ahead of the General and his staff; our Pawnee scouts
were on each flank and a little in advance; at that time there was no advance
guard immediately in front. As the Major and myself reached the top of the hill
we voluntarily halted our steeds. I raised my field glass to my eyes and took
in the grandest view that I had ever seen. I could see the north end of the Big
Horn range, and away beyond the faint outline of the mountains beyond the
Yellowstone. Away to the northeast the Wolf Mountain range was distinctly
visible. Immediately before us lay the valley of Peneau creek, now called
Prairie Dog creek, and beyond the Little Goose, Big Goose and Tongue River
valleys, and many other tributary streams. The morning was clear and bright, with
not a breath of air stirring. The old Major, sitting upon his horse with his
eyes shaded with his hands, had been telling me for an hour or more about his
Indian life—his forty years experience on the plains, telling me how to trail
Indians and distinguish the tracks of different tribes; how every spear of
grass, every tree and shrub and stone was a compass to the experienced trapper
and hunter—a subject that I had discussed with him nearly every day. During the
winter of 1863 I had contributed to help Mrs. Bridger and the rest of the family,
all of which fact's the Major had been acquainted with, which induced him to
treat me as an old-time friend.
As I lowered my glass the Major said: 'Do you see those ere
columns of smoke over yonder?' I replied: 'Where, Major?' to which he answered:
'Over there by that ere saddle,' meaning a depression in the hills not unlike
the shape of a saddle, pointing at the same time to a point nearly fifty miles
away. I again raised my glasses to my eyes and took a long, earnest look, and
for the life of me could not see any column of smoke, even with a strong field
glass. The Major was looking without any artificial help. The atmosphere seemed
to be slightly hazy in the long distance like smoke, but there was no distinct
columns of smoke in sight. As soon as the General and his staff arrived I
called his attention to Major Bridger's discovery. The General raised his field
glass and scanned the horizon closely. After a long look, he remarked that
there were no columns of smoke to be seen. The Major quietly mounted his horse
and rode on. I asked the General to look again as the Major was very confident
that he could see columns of smoke, which of course indicated an Indian
village. The General made another examination and again asserted that there was
no column of smoke. However, to satisfy curiosity and to give our guides no
chance to claim that they had shown us an Indian village and we would not
attack it, he suggested to Captain Frank North, who was riding with his staff,
that he go with seven of his Indians in the direction indicated to reconnoitre
and report to us at Peneau Creek or Tongue River, down which we were to march.
I galloped on and overtook the Major, and as I came up to him overheard him
remark about 'these damn paper collar soldiers telling him there was no columns
of smoke. The old man was very indignant at our doubting his ability to outsee
us, with the aid of field glasses even. Just after sunset on August 27 two of
the Pawnees who went out with Captain North towards Bridger's column of smoke
two days previous came into camp with the information that Captain had been
correct.”
We may allow the use of the binoculars to stand in for today’s use
of phones, GPS tech etc.
Lest one take this as a story of mere genetic quirk of keen eyesight,
let’s add to the observational side of the argument from the same account.
“While engaged in this thorough system of trapping, no object
of interest escaped his scrutiny, and when once known it was ever after
remembered. He could describe with the minutest accuracy places that perhaps he
had visited but once, and that many years before, and he could travel in almost
a direct line from one point to another in the greatest distances, with
certainty of always making his goal. He pursued his trapping expeditions north
to the British possessions, south far into New Mexico and west to the Pacific
Ocean, and in this way became acquainted with all the Indian tribes in the
country, and by long intercourse with them learned their languages, and became
familiar with all their signs. He adopted their habits, conformed to their
customs, became imbued with all their superstitions, and at length excelled
them in strategy.
“Bridger was also a great Indian fighter, and I have heard two
things said of him by the best plainsmen of this time; that he did not know
what fear was, and that he never once lost his bearings, either on the plains
or in the mountains.”
That’s quite a feat of Sherlockian observation, all the more impressive
being that we are discussing a non-fictional character.
Some postulate that is our speed of moving through environments
now, cars over horses etc., that accounts for much of our situational blindness;
the argument is that we simply move too fast to take it all in.
Although if speed is relative for all, this did not seem to help
the fellow horsemen, all military men, all primed to watch for danger that
accompanied Mr. Bridger.
Still many tout the “speed” theory. John MacDonald
author of The Arctic Sky, “The faster you traverse the land, the less
observant of it you become.” Snowmobiles create an experience of always driving
into the wind, whereas hunters on dog teams travel slowly enough that they can
use wind direction as an orientation tool to keep a bearing.
Speed may be a part of the situational
blindness but those who live on or off the land, say it may be something a bit
deeper. A very lack of relationship to what surrounds.
Aangaittuq, is an Inuit
word that can be translated to “ultra-observant.” It is applied to dogs and
hunters/warriors who always seem to know where they are even in seemingly
trackless arctic landscape.
There is an opposite to this word,
it is aangajuq. It does not merely mean non-observant, its meaning is a
bit more complex. Loosely and broadly it translates to “one who moves away
from the community and immediately loses where his destination is at, so as a
result will travel blindly.”
“Community” here is community with
your surroundings, no matter what they be.
Often when I discuss the observational
prowess of these scouts, trackers, woods-runners, and other such ever-present
ever-ready types I am told, “Well, Mark, if I lived in the woods or arctic
or prairie all the time I too would know what they know, but in my own world I
am eyes open and pretty damn sharp at what surrounds me.”
And here’s to that being true.
The Single-Question
Pop Quiz
Let’s make it easy. We will minus
out speed being a blinding factor.
We will not go with unfamiliar or
seldom travelled environments.
Let’s go with something you see
day-in day-out----your own front yard.
The Question
What are the predominant
plants that comprise your front lawn? Merely saying
“grass” ain’t gonna cut it here.
My Answer: In one
square yard of lawn I have Kentucky Bluegrass, white-clover, dandelion, three
common plantain, some straggling ground ivy, a bit of stickwilly and a
smattering of sweet violet and a sprout of mock or Indian strawberry.
How’d you do?
Would you call yourself Aangaittuq,
or aangajuq.
Would Jim Bridger say “You’ll
do to ride the trail with”?
If so, that is high praise.
If you came out on the aangajuq
side of things and eyes-open, environmental submersion matters to you more than
lip-service ego-props. Well, it can start right on the very ground you stand upon.
That’s how Bridger did it, and all
the hunters, scouts and warriors like him.
Eyes wide open, senses always
humming.
Hell, you can do it even at speed.
How? Kill distractions.
Let’s allow a different sort of
teacher to have a say in this lesson. I turn the stage over to Sonny Barger, legend
of The Hells Angels.
“As long as I’ve had AM/FM
radio-equipped Harleys, I can’t remember turning one on. I prefer to listen to
the sound of my own engines.”
Apparently bad-asses of yore and
today, [the true bad-asses and not the poseurs] prefer their own engines, their
own observations with no canned technological distractions to take them out of
where they are right now. Be it speeding down the highway or standing
stock-still in your own yard.
Warriors are awake.
Are you?
[For techniques, tactics, and strategies of Rough and Tumble Combat, Old-School Boxing, Mean-Ass Wrestling, Street-Ready Frontier Scrapping & Indigenous Ability culled from the historical record see the RAW Subscription Service, or stay on the corral fence with the other dandified dudes and city-slickers. http://www.extremeselfprotection.com
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