When you have two dogs, you spend a lot of time outside on walks. Correction. When you have two large dogs who have a lot of energy, namely a Rottweiler and a pit bull, you spend a lot of time outside on long walks. When you’re also fortunate enough to live in a town that has an embarrassment of riches with respect to the number of decent sized wooded parks it has, you get to spend even more time outside while also enjoying nature and all it has to offer.

In the three years that I’ve lived in my town and had dogs, I have walked more miles in the woods than I probably accumulated in my lifetime up to this point.  In those three years, I’ve gained a much deeper awareness of the cycles associated with each change of the seasons.  My nose now recognizes the earthy smell that signals autumn is on its way. I watch with excitement, even when snow is still on the ground, as buds start to appear on trees, promising spring is around the corner.  And while winter has a stark and breathtaking beauty of its own, summer is a riot of life everywhere you look.

Our woods are a wild mushroom hunter’s paradise. A kaleidoscope of sizes, shapes, colors of fungi keep my eyes busy.  Some are as big as my outstretched hand.  Others look like a toad stool straight out of a fairy tale book.  And stranger still, were the ones I saw that looked like red discs that were lodged into the sides of a tree.  One group I found looked distinctly like little yellow raviolis! I have come to expect a wild variety of mushrooms over the years.  It was this past summer though that something else grabbed my attention entirely.  Feathers. Lots and lots of feathers.

Now mind you, I’ve seen feathers in the past. In one instance, I remember coming across a scattering of feathers, all from the same bird, such that I looked around for the rest of the bird! It was as though it had exploded in mid-air, there were so many clustered about this one spot.  And I have had my fair share actual avian spottings.  The usual blue jays and cardinals.  Numerous brown tailed hawks, especially when chipmunks and squirrels are abundant!  A murder of crows, unnervingly cawing like mad as they circled overhead. The odd Great Blue Heron here and there. And once, most surprisingly, a barn owl.   

The feathers I found in my path though started to beg for an explanation. On one morning in particular, I picked up one especially large gray and white feather.  I recalled a random posting on the Internet that I’d seen regarding the different symbolic meanings Native Americans associate with the different colored feathers you might find and wondered what significance the colors of this feather might be.  And then I started to notice that hardly a day went by in which I didn’t see a feather. I was even starting to see them in the city where I work!  I would be walking through the parking garage next to my office building when I’d see one there on the ground.  Or, on my way to get coffee, one would be lying there on the sidewalk directly in my path. I finally decided to try and re-locate that posting. 

When I started searching, I discovered several different sites that purported to explain the meaning of different feathers.  Since they generally all said the same thing, it seemed like somewhat common knowledge.  The first thing I learned? Feathers are an attempt at communication from the spirit world. If this were the case, someone was doing the feather equivalent of pounding on my front door while also ringing the bell!  The second thing I learned was that the colors were in fact quite important.  I skimmed the pages I found and filed away in my memory what I could about the colors I knew I’d been coming across most often.

• White: spirituality, angels, purity

• Black: protection, mystical wisdom

• Brown: stability, grounding, home

• Gray: peace and neutrality

• Blue: spirit connection, psychic abilities

Once I’d learned this, I really started noticing all the feathers I was encountering. And, as one site suggested, I started keeping them. I’d previously just left them where I saw them but now understood them to be little individual messages and keeping them in a special place was perfectly acceptable and encouraged.

The rest of this story now requires a small digression.  In the midst of all this peculiar but harmless addition to my morning walks, I was also delving deeply into my family’s own indigenous roots in central Mexico. Through Ancestry DNA testing, I had already uncovered the considerable Native American blood in my father’s line.  What was unclear though was what specific nation or tribe with which we were specifically associated.  No one in the family seemed to know with any certainty.  Given that my grandmother was born in Leon, Guanajuato, I guessed there may be some connection with the Chichimeca from research I’d done on indigenous peoples of that region. But it was just that: a guess. 

And then, an email from Ancestry DNA arrived announcing a new feature called “Genetic Communities” and that I had one.  What this did was connect the dots in a way that would be impossible for an individual.  From their enormous database, they were able to identify specific clusters of people based on their genetic similarity.  Anyone with a similar DNA profile, no matter where they might be living currently, would be associated with that group. The email I received added that I had one genetic community. Eagerly, I clicked the link and was directed to a page that showed my genetic community:  central Mexico! Clicking that link took me to a map that showed where these people were clustered: Guanajuato. Recalling the map I’d seen of the Chichemeca, I knew there would be an extraordinary overlap.  When I pulled it up, I could hardly believe my own eyes.

And there it was. With a shocking degree of certainty, I could now say we were descended from/connected to the Chichemeca, and in particular, the Guamares!  As I learned more about who they were, it was as though huge pieces of a puzzle were suddenly falling into place.

In the midst of all this, the feathers kept showing up. Where feathers would show up next stunned even me. One evening, we were attending an anniversary gala for a local Latino organization.  As part of the festivities, there were various fundraising activities, including one gentleman who was selling photographs he’d taken during various trips to Mexico. 

I walked down the length of the tables where he’d set up the prints he was offering. Some were interesting but nothing was catching my eye until, quite literally, I got to the last table and the last print. It was a profile of a Chichemeca warrior, his entire shaved head painted red, with a feathered head dress.

I turned to the man and his wife and blurted out, “I have to have this one.” They both smiled and he asked, “Oh you like this one?” I felt then that I needed to explain all of the recent discoveries I’d made, both about my ancestry, my grandmother, and the feathers.  The woman smiled again and said, words I’ll never forget, “She’s still with you.”

As I previously mentioned, feathers were still showing up. And now, I was completely open and receptive to the idea that clearly some kind of message was coming my way. But at this point, I was starting to seriously ask, “Ok, but what? What is the message?!” I recalled that several of the websites I’d read suggested that when you found a feather, you should try to make a note of what was going on in your life. What were you thinking about just prior? How did finding the feather make you feel?

Finally, one morning, I’d taken the dogs to one of the smaller parks that we went to usually at least once a week. This particular park, though small, always seemed to have an extra charge to it. The first time I encountered a wild coyote happened in this park.  So to say it’s special is putting it mildly.  This particular morning, I’d gotten out of the car and was getting ready to let the dogs out when I thought I heard something up the hill in the woods behind me. I turned and looked, scanning the ridge line above me but saw nothing. A voice in my head said, ‘This might be an interesting walk.’

We started our walk and it was once we were almost all the way through it that I suddenly remembered, ‘You thought this would be interesting.  Guess not. Nothing’s happened yet….’  And as I was heading down the trail back to the little parking area, I looked up at the tree where a small sign has been nailed.  From where I was approaching, behind the tree, you can’t see it but having walked by it hundreds of times, I knew the sign simply indicated that the “North Loop” is to the left and the “South Loop” is to the right.  As I got closer to it, I remember thinking distinctly, ‘Why am I so fixated on this sign. I know what it says!’  But then I looked left and saw it.  Sticking straight up, as though it had been placed there, a black and blue feather. And to the left of that, the blue blaze on the tree next to it, a sign indicating which way to go.

I stood there for several seconds, just taking it all in. With a bit of foresight, I stepped back and took a couple of photos as I could hardly believe what I was seeing and figured no one else would either!  I thought to myself, ‘Ok, the messages – the sign – are practically being screamed at me.  But what? What is the message.  I walked toward the part of the tree, with the feather in it, and as I pulled it out, the first thought that came to me was, ‘It’s like an old quill pen. And then it hit me. Clear as a bell. Like a lightening bolt. Whatever metaphor works for you that is the equivalent of being smacked upside the head: “Write. That is your gift. You must write. Tell your story. Tell our story.”

I got the dogs in the car and raced home with the feather in the cupholder. As soon as I got home, I went back to my reference guide for feathers.  Black represents protection and mystical wisdom. Blue represents spiritual connection.  Looking for what black AND blue feathers might mean, I found “change is on the horizon.” Change. Ok, but what kind? Something that involves me writing?  I put this particular feather, separate from the rest in a little calavera shot glass. It stood out as very special to me.  For several weeks after, I pondered writing this essay.  I spoke with a few close friends and relatives about what I’d experienced and learned.  I attended my very first pow wow. 

And then the movie “Coco” came out. A movie featuring the indigenous Mexican traditions and celebrations around Dia de los Muertos, a young boy learns the importance of remembering family, of remembering where you come from, and of being true to yourself.  When I got home, I went to the little shelf on which this feather and calavera shot glass sit.  It all seemed so obvious now.  Write. I must write. I have inherited a gift and now I must use it in honor of those who gave it to me.

I haven’t found any feathers in weeks now. I guess I don’t really need to now. I got the message.  Loud and clear.