Swampfox Ghost WOLF Totem Native American Flute F#
Concert Quality Liquid Crystal Clear Voice - THE BEST!!

First I thank the Creator for the visions for these flutes - also Many thanks to the collectors & those who continually try to make these flutes your own.... You are truly a blessing to the Swampfox Family! :))
Buy it now @ $1,400 ships free NDA!
Exotic Sapele flute is keyed to F#....... Features a wonderful mouthpiece, my dished finger holes, and tuned to absolute perfection. It would take many lifetimes to find a flute so Crystal Clear such as this one & I would LOVE to keep it for myself. When you receive this flute, if it is not 100% what I am telling you now, you will have a full refund on the way. :))
Gallery photo taken of Snowfox upon completion of this flute during a night of the coyotes return.
Sound soon to come to Swampfoxflutes.com


At 2:00 in the morning our dog, Snowfox, started barking like never before!!! He is the reason for this flute, and so he has honored me with a photograph with the wolf.
As I went to the window, I could here what sounded like several monkeys in the trees to the east. I knew what they really were and it is amazing how Great Horned Owls can make so many different sounds - some are as haunting as wolves!!!
But it was not the owls who were concerning the dog, not at all! Three packs of coyotes began to sing such an erie song, they gave me goosebumps and I could only imagine how Snowfox felt - being outside in the night with them!
Instantly a vision overcame my spirit and I remembered the stories of the pow wows of long ago, the stories of the last wolves.
"Ohcumgache" was a wolf who beat the odds in a time when all wolves were to be exterminated. Let me tell you how he lived.

"Ohcumgache" was a wolf who did what he could until his destiny was revealed in this lifetime.
The white man called him "The Custer Wolf" but Natives of that time referred to this grand creature as "Ohcumgache" and as the legend grew, he became what Europeans called "The most successful animal outlaw" the west had ever known!
Many swore that this creature was the result of a mating between wolf and mountain lion - others say he was half coyote, but whatever he was, this wolf had the craftiness and skill no other had ever possessed!
His depredations on European livestock had continued for so long that ranchers finally became convinced that they would have to patiently endure the losses until the animal died a natural death.
You see my friends, this was not just another wolf to be shot or trapped in his prime. Ohcumgache was the master of his time in a land where men had taken the natural food source of wolves and replaced it with their own. He was the warrior of the animal world, and most people of this era agreed his depredations could be only one thing: revenge against humans who had taken the lives of his pack mates!
Ohcumgache was a loner. When his mate and pups had been killed, he never again ran with other wolves.
This wolf ranged over 300 square miles of southwestern South Dakota. It was even reported to have shown up in Wyoming and Nebraska!
The government put a price of $500.00 on his head, something hard to resist for a cowboy who made between $15.00 to $25.00 a month!
And so, many men went after this wolf - one tracking him for 5 years, another for 4, before giving up all hope of his demise.
After many years, Harry Williams, a government hunter whom had trapped, shot, and poisoned over a thousand wolves, was called to go to South Dakota and told to stay there until he had killed the Wolf. When he arrived, in his own words he said he was in for it.
After learning everything he could about the animal, he prepared traps specifically designed for wolves - boiling them for half a day - buried them in cow manure for several days - then placing them in a cowhide bag.
What he didn't know was that this wolf had sprung enough traps to stock a trading post!!!
As Williams returned two days later to check his traps, the wolf had simply ignored them as if they weren't even there.
Because of the female scent on his boots, Ohcumgache was inspired to tirelessly excavate a den. Williams, thinking the wolf might be inside, crawled down into the darkness with his rifle, but the den was empty!
Months went by and one day thru his binoculars he saw the wolf as it surprised a herd of horses, scattering them in all directions. As williams watched in disbelief, the wolf expertly rounded them up like a sheep dog. When they were all bunched together, the predator stared at the horses for several minutes, then, as if having accomplished what he had set out to do, calmly trotted away.
Another time Williams discovered an empty beer bottle in a dry creek bed. The sand around the bottle was covered with wolf tracks. It took the hunter several minutes to realize that the wolf had spent hours playing with the bottle, it's sole purpose being that of standing it upright, because that's how it was when he saw it!
Before long the animal began to watch the man. Sometimes when Williams trailed it on horseback, he would look up to see the wolf following a parallel path several hundred yards away. When he stopped, the wolf stopped. When he moved on, it did also. If Williams reached for his wallet or tobacco, the wolf sat down and watched. But if he reached for his rifle, it disappeared before his fingers could touch the gunstock!
As time went on, Williams realized the hunt had become a game, one which he believed the wolf fully comprehended, and in truth, controlled. It was then that he began to despair of ever killing the animal.
Then one day from afar, he saw the wolf playing with an old carcass of a steer it had killed weeks earlier. The wolf soon wandered away, but the trailing coyotes lingered to investigate. Williams dismounted, crawled closer, and shot them both. Because he didn't want the wolf to discover he had killed the animals, he carried their bodies some distance away and dumped them in a deep ravine. Then he returned to the steer and set traps around the carcass. The next day he found that the wolf had discovered the coyotes and - in a feat the hunter had believed physically impossible - dragged them both out of the ravine and left them at its edge. Williams rode on to the steer. There, as if to taunt him further, the wolf had pulled the carcass over the traps, springing every one.
It gave Williams an idea, and he pulled the steer several hundred feet away. The following morning he found the carcass back in its original location. He moved it away again, making blind sets in a circle around the carcass and along the path. The next morning he returned to find where the wolf, intent on moving the carcass back again, had carelessly stepped into a trap with its left forefoot.
At this time Ohcumgache had become old and his fur was almost a ghostlike white in color.
Williams quickly followed the trap drag marks to some nearby brush. There he found the hook and chain caught on the exposed roots of a tree, but no trap and no wolf. In its great terror, the animal had caused the chain's steel swivel to part, and it had run on dragging the six-pound trap.
The trail was easy to follow. Three miles away the hunter found the wolf panting, exhausted, attempting to hide in the brush, its mouth dripping blood from teeth cracked and broken in an attempt to gnaw off the steel trap. As he approached, the wolf made a final lunge away and Williams shot it dead.
Forty years later in an interview, Williams-now frail and on the verge of his own death-spoke of his feelings that day as he stood cheerless before the cameras, the carcass of the dead wolf leaning against his leg. "I remembered all the trouble and grief he'd caused. But I tell you I'd built up such a respect for the old devil that, if he hadn't had a trap on one foot, I just might not have killed him." The old hunter reflected a moment and then said, "I really think I might have let him go."
When Harry Williams took the life of Ohcumgache that autumn day in 1920, North America was coming to the end of the longest, most relentless, and ruthless persecution one species has ever waged against another.
It is my hope that this flute titled "Ohcumgache" will find it's place among the people. My heart is filled with joy to at least be able to still hear the wild cries of the wolf's little brother, coyote, in the night.
I am Swampfox - I am your Brother

Words from my last living Grandfather at 89 years who was here yesterday just to see this flute and hear it play:
"It is a rare flute my grandson, one that a man could spend his whole life searching for, and it would not be a wasted life."



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