Today I wondered up river in the search of Indian friends. For the most part, I reside with Eskimos. But living with, working with, and being a furbuyer has lead me to venture all around these beautiful tundra hills. A little ways upstream and the hills get higher. That's where we fly by bush plane sometimes. Once or twice a year. It's my favorite place to go because unlike here, there are big trees. I gather up my warmest clothes and venture off into their village on the back of a sled to infuse their economy with precious coins. $50,000 worth of coins in fact. It's mostly marten we buy. They're one of my favorite spruce tree dwelling animals. I'd like one for a pet someday. They're much like ferrets, but larger. But alas there are wolverine, wolves, and the stray lynx as well. And so we see all sorts of fur-blessed treasures. I've never been a killing hunting soul- but the adventures such an act takes me on is more of a blessing than a curse. We travel all over, but in the Indian hills are my favorite. The villages there are of a different aura than my flat tundra acres. In a way, although I hate to admit it, they speak secrets to me that make my feet want to stay planted on their sacred ground.
