Bio
Oriana Rodman, lived in New Jersey’s Ramapo River Valley before settling in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Unanswered Howls, Stories of the Caja del Rio, is her first published book.
Travels during her youth with her father, the writer and critic Selden Rodman, included journeys through Haiti, Mexico, and South America. There she learned to endure trips over terrible and sometimes unbelievably terrifying roads, preparing her for later adventures in the Caja del Rio where her stories take place. A strong Catholic faith, the frequent vocal explosions of four-letter words, and an unshakeable addiction to smoking was learned from her mother, the Newbery Award winning author, Maia Wojciechowska.
Alternating between writing and painting over the course of her life, Oriana has enjoyed both disciplines entirely. She is a storyteller in both her writing and in her art.
This is me with the educational ambassador peregrine falcon, Perry. I worked as a volunteer at Talking Talons in Tijeras, New Mexico, some years ago, and Perry was a particular favorite of mine. Was he fond of me? Highly unlikely! Raptors who live in captivity when injuries make survival in the wild impossible can adjust to their new circumstances with patient care and training. And with lots of the food they crave! Still, I have to say that the two peregrines I was privileged to handle seemed to enjoy getting out and about, even secured to my gloved fist. In a gust of wind, their wings would rise and stretch out, preparing to fly. Neither my presence nor their injuries could ever make them forget their true nature.
My partner, the poet Gary Worth Moody, is the person who introduced me to the wonders of the Caja del Rio. Living off and on in Santa Fe since the 70’s, I’d thought of the undeveloped lands heading west towards the Rio Grande as flat and desolate, with nothing to see of much interest. I couldn’t have been more wrong!
When Gary became a falconer and he had his first red tail hawk ready to free fly, we used to drive out to the Caja at dawn with her.
That first year, it was bitterly cold in the winter’s mornings, and I complained, also bitterly, about it.
Gary always scouted out places to fly the hawk on the Caja before we took her, and I can vividly recall some of the most beautiful. There was one, a long winding valley with cliffs rising on one side and rolling hills on the other. There was a scattering of pinon in the valley and the first thing the hawk did, when free, was to fly to the top of the tallest tree, turn east, and bask in the sunshine. It took quite awhile to entice her down with a tidbit on the glove.
All kinds of people visit the Caja del Rio. In season, people can go hunting there. There’s an archery range and place against a hill where you can target practice. There are picnic areas for family outings and corrals where riders can keep their horses. Hikers and mountain bikers go there. Bird watchers and cowboys. Dog walkers and sleepwalkers. Drug addicts and gravediggers. Priests and orphans.
This is how the book came to be.
Praying, swearing and smoking are part of her day-to-day life and especially useful on trips with her partner, the poet Gary Worth Moody, in his 4-wheel drive truck when he usually navigates, Texas style, with only one wrist on the steering wheel.
Maia Wojciechowska
Santa Fe, NM circa 1975
East Caja Shrine, Caja Del Rio
Oriana Rodman and Gary Worth Moody
Santa Fe, NM circa 2017
Besides hunting with hawks on the Caja, Gary drove out to explore and hike every weekend with one of his dogs. When he’d find what he considered an especially interesting place, he’d take me to see it. The drives were always long and always arduous. No matter the latest 4-wheel vehicle he acquired, it would be forced to go at a crawl somewhere. The dirt roads on the Caja can be washed out with 3’ deep ruts to navigate around. Other tracts are washer board for miles on end. Following some, the trail just vanishes and you either go forward without one, or turn around and head back.
Raven Nest, Caja del Rio
Gus in the Cistern, Caja Del Rio
Gary never lost his way, at least, not for long. On these drives we might see cattle, mule deer, prairie dogs, coyote, harriers, kestrels and lots of crows and ravens. On his travels without me, he’s seen elk, great horned owls, rattlesnakes, and once, he was almost certain he saw a wolf.
That got me thinking.