From his left shoulder hangs a rawhide bag adorned with a drawing of the Kokopelli flute player. He swings open the lid and takes out his handcrafted wooden flutes.

Soon, the flutes' lilting sounds echo through the Apple Village Assisted Living Center in Layton, mesmerizing the seniors and their families.

"I want to educate [people] about culture and native music," says Martin. "I enjoy performing."

Martin's passion for performing began as a boy when he heard the captivating sounds of American Indian flutist Robert Tree Cody, the adopted son of famed Hollywood actor Iron Eyes Cody.

Every flute Martin pulls from his case has a story. With one of them, he weaves a tale about when women were attracted solely to hunters and warriors. During his narrative, he asks resident Marge Potter and some of her visiting relatives if they agree that lawyers and doctors are deemed good catches today. Potter and her visitors nod their head in agreement.

"I want to involve the audience," Martin explains.

During one show, he noticed a girl who didn't appear to want to be there. To win her over, Martin told a winsome tale about the flute player who transforms this unhappy girl into a beautiful young women. After that, the girl smiles and laughed during the rest of Martin's show.

He further explained that young Indian men learn a song on the flute that is uniquely theirs for the purpose of wooing young women. For that reason, he adds, the flute is properly named the "love flute" or "courting flute."

Martin's skills as a machinist and his father's work with cabinetry led Martin to carve his own flutes. He crafts them from different woods and makes them different lengths to produce varies tones. He also adds bison and other interesting adornments to the instruments.

He carved his cherry wood flute from a tree in his grandmother's front yard. He remembers climbing the tree as a boy and eating cherries until his bloated stomach began twisting and moaning in complaint. A lightning bolt later struck the tree, which was eventually cut down.

"I sat there watching," Martin tells the crowd "I grabbed a branch and saved it."

From that branch, Martin whittled three flutes and used one of them to play a sad goodbye at his grandmother's funeral.

"Each flute plays a different song." Martin says, "I play how I feel."

When he is not playing music on the flute, he often is using it to mimic. At Apple Village, he blows into his flute and produces a familiar sound. The audience recognizes it: a turkey. He goes on to mimic a hawk, elk, goose and pigeon. Audience members ask him if the animals answer back.

"The turkeys have," Martin answers.

Onie Stewart, who sits on the front row listening to the flutes' woodwind sound, is alert and intensely interested.

"I've always been intrigued by Indian lore," she says. "To know he made all of the flutes is very impressive."

Afterward, Potter and her family are eager to thank Martin.

"It was relaxing and interesting as can be," she says about his show. "It was good for the nerves."