Ancient Astronaut theorists maintain that Star People have been visiting Earth since the beginning of time. To support their claims, they often portray the legends of American Indian tribes as proof of human interaction with the Star People. There are also many stories of UFO encounters, crashes, and extraterrestrials by adventurers, cowboys, military men, and miners in the Northern Plains.
One of the more famous cases occurred in Montana and was reported in the St. Louis Democrat and in newspapers throughout the country. According to the article, on October 19, 1865, James Lumley, a Montana fur trapper, was about 175 miles above the Upper Missouri in what is now Great Falls, Montana. On his way to camp after a day of trapping, he saw a “bright luminous body in the heavens.” As it flew, it burst into flames and exploded. Shortly thereafter, a strong wind swept through the forest like a tornado. The air smelled like sulfur. The next day, Lumley decided to investigate and came upon a path through the forest “several rods wide.” At the end of the path, he discovered an object embedded in the side of the mountain.
Upon investigating, Lumley discovered the object was sectioned off, almost as if it had rooms inside of it. He said the markings on the object could only have been made by humans or other intelligent creatures.
Lumley’s story was not the only one from the late 19th century. For example, according to the residents of Aurora, Texas, the cemetery holds the grave of an alien who died in a crash in the middle of the town in 1897. In Tombstone, Arizona, newspaper archives reveal a day when cowboys shot at a giant, metallic bird flying in the sky. In 1896, hundreds of eyewitnesses reported a massive airship floating about 1,000 feet over the city of Stockton, California, on the night of November 18. The following night, Colonel H.G. Shaw and two friends were outside the city limits of Stockton when they came upon a large airship in a field. Shaw later described the ship as being cylindrical shaped, about 150 feet long and 25 feet in diameter and made of metal. He claimed that three tall, slender men covered in short white hair tried to kidnap them and take them onboard the ship. For the next few weeks, numerous mysterious airships were spotted all along the west coast, in western Canada, and even as far east as Nebraska.
As the country entered the 20th Century, the reports of flying disks and airships continued. In 1909, a Cavalry unit in pursuit of a gang of Mexican bandits in the southwest came upon a cave they had never seen before, despite being familiar with the region. Upon entering the cave, they discovered a number of metallic, horseshoe-shaped flying vehicles, along with a small collection of little grey beings, presumably extraterrestrials. The horses became spooked by the ships and the creatures, and the Cavalry left the cave. Upon returning the next day, the cave had vanished and the ships and aliens were nowhere to be found.
Located in the states of North and South Dakota, Wyoming, Idaho, and Montana, the Northern Plains Indian tribes have many accounts about UFOs. The following is told by a well-respected elder of a Northern Plains tribe. His encounter predates the crash at Roswell. Since I recorded this story, Harrison has passed, but the time I spent with them over the years, changed my life.
Harrison
“My grandfather took me to the spaceship in the summer of 1945,” Harrison said, as we drove toward the ranch he had inherited from his grandfather. “I was twelve at the time. The Army Corps of Engineers came to the reservation around the summer of 1947 to survey the river and surrounding area for the reservoir.”
“So originally, there was no reservoir,” I commented.
“Right. There was a river that flowed through this property. When the Corps came, they confiscated Gramps’ land and in return gave him some worthless land on the other side of that butte.” I looked in the direction he pointed. As I marveled at the stark beauty of the windswept prairie, Harrison continued, “I spent every summer on his place from the time I was six years old. Mom and Pop both worked for the tribe and they didn’t want me home alone during the summers. So every May I packed two paper bags: one with a change of clothes and the other with books, marbles, and my toy gun. My folks dropped me off to live with Gramps from June to late August. I loved my summers here, even the isolation. I was the only child for miles. I rode horses and herded cattle. Helped with the chores. Whatever I could do. As I got older, there were bigger chores and more responsibility. There was no TV or videos like kids have today. At night Gramps amused me with the ancient myths and legends of our people or we played checkers or monopoly. He loved monopoly. As I got older, I read books to him. He liked that a lot.”
His conversation stopped as we pulled off the highway and drove along a path that seemed more appropriate for cows than cars. While I silently imagined his secluded upbringing, where even today telephone service and electrical failures often last for weeks at a time, I thought about our friendship.
I met Harrison when he was in his early fifties. While our friendship grew to be respectful, it was far from an instant camaraderie. The two of us met about five years after I moved to the University, when his school district requested my assistance in applying for a federal grant. Harrison was my contact and the person responsible for escorting me around the reservation to meet and speak with various groups and parents about the application. He made it clear at the onset that he did not understand why the tribe had requested assistance. Despite his misgivings, I continued to work alongside him for a number of years, gaining his trust and confidence. It took nearly 25 years of visits before Harrison asked me if I believed in Star People.
“Yes,” I replied. “Why do you ask?”
“Someone told me you collect stories about the Star People,” he said. “I find that unusual.”
“I’ve been collecting stories for a few years. I grew up hearing the ancient stories of the Star People from my grandmother. Everywhere I go, if I am among indigenous people, I asked them about their stories of UFOs and Star People. Perhaps someday I will write a book. I’ve heard some amazing accounts from American Indians,” I said.
“Tomorrow, if you have the time, I would like to take you to my grandfather’s place. I have a story about the Star People, but you have to see the location where it occurred in order to fully appreciate it.”
When I accepted the invitation, I had no idea that Harrison had grown up in such a far-flung, isolated section of the reservation. We drove for almost two hours before we reached the dirt path that served as the eastern border of his property. It took another 45 minutes to reach the house.
“Walk with me,” Harrison said as we pulled onto a concrete slab beside his home. I looked at the vibrant man who held out his hand to guide my steps. His graying hair fell in two braids near his waist. At 77, he claimed that women were still attracted to him. “My braids are ‘female magnets,’” he once said, jokingly. “Women can’t resist them or me. Every time I go to D.C., I have to fight the women off. The only explanation is that they love my braids. That’s why we Indian men know that our power is in our hair.” All the time he was recounting the power of his braids, I detected the humor in his statement, despite the fact that I understood why women were attracted to him. He was a handsome man, even though the deep creases on his face revealed his years. He carried his six-foot frame with the agility of a man half his age. He took pride in his appearance, and I had never seen him without a starched western shirt and a pair of ironed jeans with a crease down the center and his perfectly polished cowboy boots.
“If you stand right here,” he said, pointing to the toe of his boot, “and look toward the horizon, that is where the ranch begins to the south.” I looked in the direction he indicated. The ranch was expansive. At one point, I stopped and turned 360 degrees. There were no neighbors, no structures, nothing in sight except an old one-room log cabin and a 900-square-foot ranch-style shoebox house, typical of reservation homes. Pointing to the log cabin, Harrison remarked, “My grandfather lived in that cabin until the day he died. Back in the early 1980s the tribe insisted that he participate in the Mutual Help Program and this ranch house was built. He stayed in it one night as I recall and then moved back to his log cabin. The main house stood vacant for years except when relatives came to visit. Then they would stay in the new house. Over the years, it suffered from the lack of attention.”
“Did you say a spaceship crashed on this property?” I asked.
“Yes,” he replied. “In fact, I saw the ship. I went aboard it. It was a long cylinder about 30 feet wide and 60 feet long. I measured it by pacing it off. Most of it stuck inside a butte, close to the water level,” he said pointing to a reservoir that lay in the valley below. “It was well camouflaged. You can’t see the butte now; it was covered by water when the Corps of Engineers flooded the valley creating the reservoir.”
“How did your grandfather find the craft?” I asked.
“The crash shook the ground so hard that Gramps thought the house was going to collapse. You can still see a crack in the foundation of the log cabin that Gramps said occurred when the spaceship crashed. The horses were so frightened that it took a month to round them up, and even then they were constantly trying to escape. At first, Gramps thought it was an earthquake, but when he ran outside he saw a huge dust cloud blocking the western sky. When the dust cleared, he saw the craft. It hit with such force that only a small section stuck out of the butte, but Gramps not only had a keen eye, he knew this land like the back of his hand. The smallest disturbance caught his attention. For the longest time he sat on the butte watching for any sign of life. He kept a vigil for days. Finally after a week or so, he ventured to the place of impact.
“Did your grandfather see any beings?”
“He said the star men who crashed survived and lived in their craft about five months before they were rescued. At the time of the crash, the closest ranch to our place was 10 miles away, and as fate would have it those neighbors had moved out-of-state days before the crash occurred. Gramps delighted in keeping the star men’s presence a secret.”
“How did he approach them?” I asked.
“He went hunting and took them food, but he said they told him they did not eat flesh.”
“Did he describe them?” I asked.
“They were taller than him and white.” He paused for a moment and then continued. “Gramps was over six feet tall. If they were taller by a foot, that would make the star visitors over seven feet tall. He described them as being so white that you could almost see inside them. I’m not sure what he meant by that except he said their skin was thin.” Harrison looked at his hands and then at mine. “They had long slender fingers, much longer than humans. Their hair was white. When the sun shined on it, Gramps said it looked like a halo surrounded their heads. He said, that sometimes they looked like the angels depicted in the paintings of his Bible, except they did not wear gowns. Their eyes, too. He said they changed color depending on the light.”
“That’s an interesting observation. Did he make any comments about any other facial characteristics?” I asked.
“He said they looked like they were all related. He thought they might be brothers and cousins. They looked so much alike that he had difficulty telling them apart. He said he could not tell their age, but they all seemed to be the same age. Some had longer hair than others, which was the only distinguishing feature he mentioned.”
“Apparently, he thought they were all male,” I commented.
“I think that would be a fair assumption. He was particularly interested in their clothes. They wore a one-piece light-green outfit. He told me there were times he saw them wading in the river, and when he approached them their suits were dry. He told me he wished he had a suit like that.” Harrison smiled, obviously remembering his grandfather. “When I think of the old man and how he viewed the star visitors, he did his best to describe what he saw. I’m sure if the same thing occurred today, the observers might offer a more sophisticated perspective.”
“It sounds like he was very observant,” I said.
Harrison smiled and nodded. “There were fourteen of them. Gramps was never sure if any died during the crash, but when I arrived for the summer, I went on board the craft. There were seventeen seats.”
“Was there any sign that someone had died in the crash?” I asked.
Harrison shook his head. “None.”
“Did your grandfather have a perspective on the purpose of their travel?”
“Gramps said that he often saw the Star People picking up rocks and plants. At first, when they saw him, they vanished before his eyes.”
“Vanished?”
“Yes. Disappeared. He never discovered an explanation for that, but he wished he had that power,” Harrison laughed. “Gramps thought that was the ultimate trait—simply to vanish in thin air when you wanted. I can’t imagine how he planned to use it.
“As time passed, Gramps said the star men realized he meant no harm and they didn’t disappear when he approached. Overtime, it became clear to him that they were concerned about their craft. They did not want it discovered.”
“Did your grandfather tell you what happened to them?” I asked.
“He said they lived here from late November until April. According to him, on April 17, 1945, another spaceship appeared and he never saw them again. He knew they were waiting for a rescue craft, so he expected it. He told me their spaceship was one of four exploring the Earth. They had been dropped off by a bigger ship that was circling Earth.”
“Dropped off?”
“That’s what Gramps understood. The big ship would return for them but not for some time. They just had to wait. They were not afraid they would be discovered. They could make themselves invisible, but they could not do the same with their spaceship.”
“Did your grandfather see the rescue?” I asked.
“Apparently so. He said the rescue craft landed in the field to the west of the house. It was exactly like the one that crashed. He watched as they prepared to leave. Each of the stranded star travelers came to him and bowed before they left. He understood they appreciated his discretion.”
“Before they left, did they make any efforts to conceal the spacecraft or destroy it?” I asked.
“The spacecraft was no ordinary machine. Gramps said it had the capability to change shape and then resume its shape.”
“I’m not sure I understand what you are telling me,” I replied.
“When they crashed, the spaceship was damaged severely, but it made itself appear as part of the landscape. I do not know how to explain it.” He paused for a moment and held his head in his hands. “Gramps said that when he first saw the spaceship there were dents and scrapes all over the backside and a big hole in it. The spacecraft shape-shifted and looked like a big boulder. He never knew how that happened.” He paused again. “He also said that they tunneled further into the butte to conceal the craft so that only a part of the boulder could be seen with the naked eye. It matched the landscape. I actually saw that myself. The spaceship itself was silver, but there was a section where the doorway was and the back end of the craft that looked like the desert soil of the butte.”
“So they could change the external part of the craft, but they could not get the craft to work because of the crash, is that correct?” I asked.
“Yes. They told Gramps that they could not control the guidance. He did not understand that at all and I’m not sure I do either. Maybe it would be like a plane without one wing or a ship without a rudder.”
“What did your grandfather think about their ability to change the external part of the craft?” I asked.
“He looked upon the spaceship as a living organism. He believed it was fixing or repairing itself. I never knew what to believe. I was too young and now I am too old to figure it out. All I know is what Gramps told me and what I saw.”
“Did the Star People tell your grandfather the name of the place they called home?”
“They told him that they came from a star system in the Taurus constellation. He said they called their world, Enyan. It reminded me of the word, inyan, which coincidentally means rock in my language.”
“Did they call it the Taurus constellation?” I asked. Harrison shook his head.
“I discovered that it was Taurus from a teacher in high school. The star visitors pointed out the constellation to him, and I asked my science teacher if that group of stars had a name. We looked it up together.”
“Did they give him any indication why they were here?”
“Gramps said they were voyagers and traveled the universe observing life on other worlds. They had been coming to Earth for thousands of years observing, collecting data and noting changes. One day, they took him aboard their craft and showed him pictures from their home. As he described it, I suspect it was some kind of a TV or computer, but in my grandfather’s day there was no such thing, so he was enthralled by what he called “a picture machine.” He talked about flashing pictures that showed a place different from Earth. It reminded him of the Badlands, but with no vegetation. Their houses were underground. He asked them if it was Heaven, and they told him they did not have a place such as heaven. He was fascinated by the picture machine and went back several times to view the pictures. Apparently, the star visitors told him they liked the green of Earth, and they thought the Red Willow that grew along the banks of the river was quite beautiful in April. They loved the water. On their world, water was underground: nothing on the surface. My grandfather frequently collected geodes for them. They were amazed when he broke them open to reveal the crystallized cities inside. They were apparently pleased to add them to their collection. Gramps also taught them the medicinal uses of the red willow and how to propagate it from a small sample.”
“Did your grandfather learn about their spiritual beliefs?” I inquired.
“He told me they were curious about Heaven. I remember he said he told them two versions: the white man’s Bible and the Indian version.” He paused and laughed. “He often talked about the ‘happy hunting ground,’ so I suspect he told them all about that. When I arrived at the ranch in late May, the star men were gone. By this time, the entrance to the craft had been concealed, but Gramps showed me how to access the inside of the craft from an invisible door near the rear that was so well camouflaged that even the most astute observer would not have seen it. I entered through the door and examined the craft.”
“What do you remember about it?” I asked.
“The craft was well-hidden inside the butte where it crashed. It was so well hidden that anyone passing by would have missed it. But if you wiped the dirt away, there was a smooth, dull metallic surface underneath. It was not round like a saucer. It was long and sleek like a rocket I had seen in comic books. I counted 17 seats; I sat in one and it melted around me.”
“Melted?”
“The chair melted around me. My first reaction was that I was trapped and I was frightened. Just as I struggled to escape, the chair released me. After that, I tried the chair again and again. Every time it enveloped me like a warm hug, and then released me when I wanted to get up. It was like it anticipated my desire to stand.”
“Can you describe the inside of the craft?” I asked.
“Everything inside the craft was the same dull, gray metal, even the seats. But the seats, they were warm and comforting like an embrace. I expected the seats would be hard and cold. But they weren’t. They were soft and soothing. I can still close my eyes and imagine the feeling.” He paused as though collecting his thoughts and continued. “The surface inside the craft was smooth; the walls, the seats and floors, almost austere. There were screens and buttons and knobs. There were characters written under some of them. At that time, I did not understand them at all. Now I would say they were a type of hieroglyphics, but I knew nothing of those things when I was 12.” He shook his head and took out a pack of gum and offered a piece to me. “There was another room or space behind the chairs. It was a smaller area and contained a huge round cylinder encased in a huge glass-like ball. I never knew what that was. I remember looking for weapons, but found none. There was a thick, slimy substance, like honey, stored in clear containers along one wall. When I lifted them from the shelf, they offered resistance like they were glued to the spot, but now I think it might have been magnetism. I’m not sure. I think they must have taken everything they brought with them when their base ship returned. The craft was clean except for those jars.”
“What did they contain?” I asked.
“I wanted to take one of the containers home, but the old man said it was not a good idea. He said that it could contain medicine not meant for us and that they should stay with the craft. I opened one and smelled the contents. The scent took my breath away. It reeked like a compost pile; like decaying soil and waste. Gramps was sure it was their medicine.”
“How did this crash remain secret all of these years?” I asked.
“This is the reservation. An entire fleet of spaceships could land out here and no one would know. You have to remember the time, too. This reservoir was constructed in the fifties and early sixties. Even today, there are few whites who venture down this way and Indians do not have boats. It is too far inside the reservation territory for much traffic. Secondly, few people live out this way. It’s 20 miles from the highway, and it is not a place that attracts visitors.” He got up from the rock where we were sitting and indicated we should return to the house. “And besides, the craft was well concealed by rock and dirt. You had to almost walk up to it to even notice it. The way it was embedded into the rock and dirt made it looked like a part of the natural terrain. Then when the Army Corps of Engineers came and built the dam, they flooded the area and the evidence was covered with water.” He paused for a moment, and then added, “That is, unless the Army people discovered it and hauled it away.”
“Did your grandfather ever tell anyone about the Star People?”
“No one except me and I was sworn to secrecy and maybe a couple of his boyhood friends. He told me the land where they crashed was his land and as far as he was concerned, they were his guests. When the Corps came, he knew the Star travelers were gone and so he kept their secret.”
“Do you think the spaceship is still there hidden under millions of gallons of water?” I asked.
“When they came to build the reservoir, I was here. Gramps was upset that they were taking his land, but even more distraught that they had cordoned off a part of his land that contained the crash site. It was not long before they told him that he would have to evacuate his house until they completed the blasting. They put him up in a motel off the reservation for several weeks. I stayed in town with him that summer. We had two double beds and a free meal pass at the local restaurant. It was an interesting time. Gramps behaved like a caged animal. He hated the motel and the restaurant food. We spent hours walking the dirt roads out of town. He worried about his horses and cattle. He was afraid they would not have water. Some days, when it was too hot outside to walk, I read western paperbacks or we played checkers or poker.”
“When did you return to the ranch?” I asked.
“It was somewhere near the end of July. I remember it took most of August to round up the horses and cattle for winter. I worried that I would not be able to help him get the job done before I had to return to school in the fall.”
“Had the place changed in your absence?” I asked.
“When we arrived, the landscape was totally changed. They moved tons of dirt. Where there was once a field, now there were hills. It was impossible to even figure out where the butte had been. Gramps believed they found the spaceship and hauled it away. He was probably right.”
“Can you explain how the government could haul away a space ship without someone noticing it?” I asked.
“The government could have done almost anything and no one would have known it or questioned it, for that matter. Everyone was thunderstruck by the huge trucks and equipment that was brought in to build the reservoir. Sometimes people would line the roads just to watch the equipment pass. Anything could have been moved without people knowing about it. Even if they saw it, they wouldn’t understand what they saw. Another thing to remember, it was a time when Indians were afraid of the government. There were those alive who still remembered Wounded Knee and Little Big Horn.”
“Why did your grandfather believe they found the craft?”
“He told me that one of the engineers visited with him one day. He talked about the inaccessibility of the ranch. He asked Gramps if he ever saw anything strange. I guess Gramps told him that he went to bed when it got dark and got up when the sun came up and didn’t have much time for anything else. Gramps said he played dumb to his questioning but he understood the implications of the inquisition.”
“How many times did you go back to the craft after that first visit?” I asked, changing the subject.
“Regretfully, I never returned to the spaceship. I wanted to, but Gramps said that it was a sacred place and we should not look upon it as a curiosity or something to explore. In those days, kids listened to their elders. I never went back.”
“Do you have any final thoughts about what occurred here?” I asked.
“Indian people believed that Star People came to us in the old days. Some say they were our relatives; others believe they were our guardians. So, it was not unusual that a starship crashed here. As for me, it only confirmed what I already knew. The Star People existed.”
“You are probably one of the few people alive who has been aboard a spaceship and can describe it,” I said. He discounted the idea and told me there were probably hundreds, maybe thousands of others with similar experiences, but they just did not admit it.
When I asked Harrison if his grandfather considered the Star People friends, he paused and spoke thoughtfully, “I asked Gramps the same question. He told me they said they were not our enemies and they meant Earth people no harm, but that they did not want to be friends with the Earth people. They never interfere in the life they find in the universe. That is their way. Apparently that is the reason they were so concerned about concealing their craft. They did not want to leave a footprint on Earth. At least that is what Gramps believed.”
“One more question, what language did the Star People speak?”
“My grandfather spoke English, but he was more comfortable with our language,” he replied thoughtfully. “To tell you the truth, I never thought about that. I should have asked him.”
By the time we returned to the house, the sun was moving toward the west and the prairie was shrouded in long shadows. “I named that butte Blueberry Hill when I was a kid,” Harrison said, pointing to a small hill silhouetted against the sky to the north.
“After the Fats Domino song?” I asked.
“I think it was before Fats Domino,” he laughed, “although I liked that song.” He laughed again. “Actually, I spent hours up there picking wild blueberries when I was a boy. That’s where my grandfather and his father are buried. I buried my Dad up there last summer. My wife, Mary, is there too. It will be my resting place when I go.” As darkness fell and we prepared to leave, our eyes were glued to the sky as we talked about how times had brought so many changes to the reservation. I looked at the Milky Way, which is known to be the focus of many indigenous legends. Harrison pointed to a cluster of stars without saying a word. I recognized Pleiades, the home of the ancient ancestors.
“I forgot to mention. Gramps believed the Star People came from Pleiades, but that they just had another name for it.”
Sometimes at night when I look up at the night sky, I think of Harrison. His grandfather was right. The Star People do come from Pleiades; at least, that is what my Grandmother also told me.
Excerpt from Encounters With Star People: Untold Stories Of American Indians