This is an enhanced crop from a photo of a petroglyph in the desert Southwest, an ancient depiction of Kokopelli. It was recorded by Bev Wigney:
It was early Sunday morning and I was driving down a bumpy gravel road, way out in the boonies of Adams County, Illinois. I was feeling rather pensive, as financial woes have been weighing on my mind.
Oh, well, get the newspapers delivered, and maybe things will turn out well!
I heard a strange noise in the cab of the truck. It sounded like the calls of coyotes processed through some sort of digital filter, a very chilling sound. I noticed a disturbance in the air — an entity of some sort was gradually materializing in the truck, just over the pile of newspapers yet to be delivered!
I’ve become accustomed to such intrusions into my routine. A visitation was imminent, I figured.
This time it wasn’t a minor Greek deity, but a Southwestern American character, a creature I’d never met in person.
“Hi, Kokapelli! What brings you here, so far from your usual haunts?”
Oh, how strange — a figure with a hunched back, the effect produced by a backpack loaded with stuff I was curious about. His face looked rather canine, with a long snout and an expression of amusement.
“Oh, I was bored this morning, and I’d been hearing about you from some of the other minor deities.”
“You have the reputation of being a trickster, Kokapelli. Please don’t fuck around with me! I’m just trying to do my job and get home safely!”
The god-creature chuckled.
“Oh, don’t worry Larry, I’ll try to be civil! You’ve been the talk of the celestial community lately, and I’d get a kick out of talking with you without destroying you utterly, which of course I could do easily!”
“I’d certainly appreciate that boon! What’s that in your tunic pocket?”
“It’s a flute made from a Bald Eagle’s bone. I’ll play you a couple of tunes, if you would like.”
“Sure, play away!”
Coyote (one of his many names) played some plaintive music for me; the pentatonic tunes seemed to express the sorrows and regrets of the native folks who were displaced by the militarily-enforced advent of poor land-hungry Europeans back in the previous centuries.
“Nice playing, Kokapelli! Thousands of years of practice make perfect, right?”
“Yeah, I guess so. Hey, I need to take off — there are some new-born desert tortoises and lizards which need my blessing!”
Well, that encounter was ample material to occupy my mind while I drove home!