Ancient Man Told the Future, But Few Heeded

This is a tale that took place many moons ago, but the truth is being seen here and now. As with such long-ago fables, names are clouded, if remembered at all. They are no longer important. The truth, like an ancient tree, remains unscathed regardless of whether we like its shape or the color of its leaves.
In ages past, came a man of much learning to a small peninsula. He had knowledge in the ways of the land and the waters. Often, he advised natives on how best to plant their crops, fertilize their soil, and look into raising different crops that would feed them and fill their deer skin purses with wampum.
Like a thunderstorm he spoke, bringing truth like thunder. Many things he said were not what the natives expected or wanted to hear. When they saw him coming, many would hide behind trees or disappear like a fog in the forest so they would not have to hear his words.
“Learn from me,” he chided young warriors. “Do not let your chiefs foul the waters. Do not let your chiefs carve up your good land, which you do not own, but only borrow from your children. Do not let your brothers suffer when the good land is used, and only bad, low ground remains. Shield your brothers, for they would do the same for you.”
Alone, like an eagle circling above the forests and fields, did the ancient wise man live his life.
Where he went, he spoke truth, but truth was not what the tribes wanted to hear. They listened to young warriors who had new and different ideas. Those young chieftains did not heed the words of the ancient man, because they believed that the spirits had anointed them with new wisdom.
“Ah, no, you are wrong,” said the ancient. “Time will prove me right, and you wrong, but by the time you come to realize that, it will be far too late to change things.”
“Leave us,” said the young chieftains, “Go into the marshes and Pine Barrens, and do not leave your shadow on our land any longer.”
“You will drink water that is impure. Your children will someday live on foul land that will stink and flood when the clouds bring water to earth and the ground fills with water, when the moon is full. You will wish for the day when you had only high ground on which to live, you and your unborn children,” said the ancient.
Years passed. The ancient man, weary of talking to the wind, kept silent. If a young warrior would listen, he would talk, but his sound became like that of an owl in the night.
Many moons rose and fell over the peninsula. Sharp axes caused the trees to fall in many places. The old chiefs valued high ground, and they established such places for themselves, but young warriors grew greedy and lusted for wampum.
They saw land not good for growing, but travelers from distant lands did not know nor realize the ground’s failing qualities, so they agreed to acquire the land, and established themselves on it.
In dry seasons, life was good. There seemed nothing wrong, and life was good. Birds sang in the trees. Grasses grew nearby, and water flowed freely.
Who was that ancient man some remembered? Away in the woods he remained, silent, watching the moon and stars and the passage of seasons.
Finally, when the moon and stars were properly aligned, the mighty white snow bear unleashed his fury on the peninsula. For days the sky was white with snow. The ground disappeared and the forests were silent.
Finally, the snow bear returned to the north woods, and brightness returned to the sky. The snow disappeared into water, and the earth drank its fill. Soon, the full earth had no place for the waters to rest.
Waters rose, and much of the peninsula became laden with new ponds, some around where new warriors made their homes. They grew angry at the old chiefs who took their wampum for this land that turned to water, and wanted the waters to go back into the sky, but it would not.
The ancient man left the forest long enough to survey the peninsula, now soggy under foot. He smiled, although no one saw him. This is what he told those young warriors, who are now old, what would come of their foolish ways. They did not listen then, surely, they will not listen now, thought the ancient man.
He knew the spirits would visit those who sold their bad land to unsuspecting warriors from afar for wampum long spent on firewater and fleeing deer. Time would prove him right, although no warrior would admit such truth.
This tale was set in Cape May County. The ancient man remains known to but a few now-aging warriors. They realize what he spoke was true yet wonder why no one, including themselves, listened when there was still time to prevent the problems.
Time should bring wisdom; often it does not.