Irene and I left home just before 8 a.m. We had a 9 a.m., appointment at Agate Fossil Beds National Monument. She had signed up for a class to learn beadworking from HarmonyStar Straub, an Oglala Lakota artist from Crawford, Nebraska.

There was a slight rain falling when we left. It was the first sign the day would likely turn out to be a good one. Most humans dislike being outside in the rain, but Irene enjoys it. The water droplets were small and light enough that she only had to occasionally turn on her wipers in order to see.

The views north of Mitchell, Nebraska, are always spectacular regardless of whether it’s overcast, sunny, rainy, or snowy. Today was no different. The first thing I saw were cattle in the fields. Those who have grown up around here don’t usually make a second glance at cows in a field, but I’m a monkey and I never tire of it. The cows were grazing and didn’t seem to mind the 40-degree drizzle in the air.

As Irene continued driving north, Irene saw something in a tree. “Shit. Those are two bald eagles,” she said. Irene lifted off the accelerator, then into neutral before applying the brakes. By the time she turned around and got her camera out of her bag, the bald eagles were flying away.

Normally, Irene has her camera ready to go on the passenger seat, but she got a bit distracted this morning inflating her back right tire and I forgot to remind her. It would have been a beautiful photo, but Irene has also learned over the years, if she’s going to get “that” shot, it will require more luck in location than anything else. We were both pleased we got to see bald eagles chilling out on tree branches and we got to see them majestically fly away.

As Irene sat and watched the raptors melt into the distance, a downpour began. She rolled the window up, turned the car around and headed back toward Agate. She flipped her wipers fully on and continued her journey. She had a smile on her face.

As the rain subsided, she saw a deer standing in the middle of the road, straddling the double yellow lines on Nebraska Highway 29. She took her food off the gas to let the car naturally being to slow down, knowing a tromp on the brake pedal would send her careening right into the deer. It hadn’t poured for long, but the road was fully wet after more than 12 hours of gentle rain.

I watched Irene try to take a quick picture through her windshield and laughed as I knew it was going to focus on the windshield and not the deer. “Damn,” she said. She put her camera down on top of me, forgetting I was in the passenger seat, too. In the blink of an eye, the deer had run off to the East side of the road into a thicket. I saw lots of deer butts, a familiar site behind the lens of a camera.

I wondered if Irene missed her shot, but she’s smart. She unrolled the passenger window and slowly inched up along the thicket to see if any deer were there. In a clearing, their eyes met and the deer stayed just long enough for one picture. As a monkey, I wanted to squeal with delight, but that would have scared the deer, so I watched as this doe bounded off into the fields with the half dozen or so other deer eating breakfast in the field. I watched them as long as I could as Irene glanced at the clock and decided, as usual, that even though it wasn’t necessary, she was going to do 90 the rest of the way to Agate.

We passed a field of cattle. It was full of black cows, young and old, grazing, walking, chilling out. There were hundreds in a single field, dotting the land wherever I looked.

I glanced up at the sky and marveled at the fog beginning to lift and all the wondrous shapes the clouds were beginning to take. Something moved and as I focused on the dark spot in the gray sky, I saw it was a hawk. Looking over at Irene, she nodded to me that we weren’t going to stop. She has many photos of red-tailed and Swainson’s hawks and there are many opportunities to photograph them another time. I returned my gaze toward the hawk, I can’t tell what kind as I’m just a monkey not an ornithologist or raptor biologist.

When we finally pulled into our parking spot at Agate, I watched the wind gently blowing the few leaves hanging on to a tree branch in the cold November rain. Irene gathered her belongings, placed her camera back in her bag and put me in the bag so I didn’t get wet. She’s always thoughtful like that.

Inside Agate’s visitor center, the folks who registered for the ornament beadwork class gathered around a table with Harmony and her niece, McKenzie, to learn. I heard the others in the class talk about the crafting they’ve done. It’s a much different kind of crafting than Irene and I do at home. We enjoy drawing, LEGOs, and a little painting. Mostly though, Irene writes. This was a whole new adventure for her.

Harmony has been beading for more than 35 years, a skill she learned from her grandmother, who beaded in the traditional Lakota way. As I watched Irene fall behind the others in the class, I saw Harmony and McKenzie help whenever Irene got stuck. They were patient and kind, and good teachers. I think I might have even been able to follow the directions. After all, monkeys also have opposable thumbs, so I think I could do it.

The work isn’t hard. It only requires patience. There is a lot of skill involved in design and the beauty of the end product, but once you know that, you just have to have patience. Then, you need some more patience.

As Irene beaded, the new superintendent of the park dropped by and she visited with him, putting her even more behind the rest of the group. After he left, conversations continued to flow and Irene regaled listeners with her story that morning with the two bald eagles. McKenzie noted that seeing two of them together is a sign of good fortune. In many Native cultures, such a sighting is seen as significant because they view eagles as a representation of determination, courage, strength, wisdom, and resilience.

I smiled as Irene is not spiritual at all, though she also doesn’t walk away from the ideas bald eagles represents and welcomes the comparison if others see the same in her. She does not believe in any divine beings, but she always feels a sense of awe in the beauty of bald eagles and the world, so much so, that when she was a little girl, she wanted to own one. As an adult, she is happy to admire from afar though she would one day like to hold one. All animals in nature, including monkeys, are connected to one another and it is that feeling of connectedness that Irene enjoys, even if they do have a habit of flying away from her.

Photo by HarmonyStar Straub

As she returned to her beading, she worked diligently, making self-depricating jokes about being last in the class. Her teachers were kind and had the patience of a bald eagle. They worked with those ahead of Irene, but always had one eye on her and were quick to step in when it was evident she was struggling. They helped her with her mistakes and cheered when she got things right.

My beading ready to be placed on the ornament.

Beading is an act of patience. Harmony and McKenzie understand this well and the day was filled with gentle instruction, good conversation, and fun. The classes were 90 minutes each. Irene spent 3 hours and 10 minutes to complete her work. McKenzie said, “But you talked a lot.” Everyone laughed. She also reassured Irene that she was not really that far behind everyone else. Indeed, regardless of the length of time, it was a worthwhile endeavor, resulting in a small ornament Irene plans to give to her mother.

My finished ornament.

As we drove home from Agate, I was not sad that I did not get to hike this time. I also didn’t want to get my fur wet in the rain. We all learned something new today. And that’s really what it’s all about.