One of the stories that sticks out in my mind happened a few years ago. Blair and the Guardians were involved in a project by EFWC and sponsored by Nova Scotia Fisheries at the request of the angling community. Rainbow trout is an introduced species that was affecting the native population of speckled trout. Anglers requested that they be allowed to keep rainbow trout they caught to reduce the threat to the speckled trout population.

For a few years, discussions took place at meetings and in the communities and finally, it was agreed that a survey should take place to collect information before this initiative could happen. Data collection would make sure it proceeded in the right direction.  As you know, there was a good-sized population of speckled trout to be considered.

Since there was an active smelt fishery in the winter, it was decided that this would be a good time to record what was being caught by ice fishermen in various locations. In the past, nobody had ever studied the number of smelts being caught through the ice or the number of different species.  At that time it was difficult to get information from anglers because of mistrust, people presuming someone was keeping an eye on them or what they were catching. In general, information was scarce, but it was important to know the numbers before proceeding.

Well, getting back to our story…it was decided that someone had to collect information and that Guardians in our Mi’kmaq communities would be ideal to do the job. The Guardians agreed to interview fishermen in the field.  Very little training was involved and their approval was a key to success of the project.

Many stories came out during the process and choosing just one was very difficult. Blair Bernard had a great interest in fish and wildlife. One thing everybody knew about Blair was his gentle way of speaking and talking to people. He was well respected in both native and non-native communities.

One of the areas surveyed was MacAulay’s Cove near Big Harbour Island (Malagawatch). If you’re familiar with this area, there is a bridge and a sharp turn about three kilometres before you get to the turn-off to Mala. There is a small cove on your right before you cross the bridge. During the winter people flock to this cove because of the shelter from prevailing winds. Ice fishermen love it. It is close to the road and they can easily get to their vehicles to get warm.

If you’re driving by, you can see all kinds of things fishermen use to keep comfortable. Fishermen believe in comfort and some go out of their way to build huts and different types of chairs from milk crates, buckets and boxes.

Getting back our friend Blair, he would interview anglers and record their catches. One day Blair interviewed a group of fishermen at MacAulay’s Cove. The fishermen were very cooperative and even offered Blair some cooked, fried smelts. “Go inside the hut and help yourself to a feed of smelts,” was the word he got.  Of course, when you offer Blair seafood, be prepared for the consequences.

After a while, the fishermen decided to join Blair in the hut. They went inside and asked Blair where the five dozen smelt they prepared were. Blair commented, “You offered them and so I had a feast and that was it.”  All the fishermen could see was the heads and tails of the fish, like you see in a cartoon where a cat has feasted on its favourite meal. That was the big story that was talked about for quite awhile in the angling community!

The final conclusion from the surveys was to allow anglers to keep rainbow trout, but not the speckled trout. I recently spoke to Dan MacLean from Nova Scotia Fisheries in Pictou and he commended the fine work that Blair and the Guardians did, saying it was the main reason the rainbow trout fishery is in place.

charlie@uinr.ca

In this story I would like to extend beyond Eskasoni and take you to Malagawatch. There are some stories I would like to tell you about along with a bit of history. Imagine walking along the sand bar heading north. Once, if you walked to end of the sandbar there was an island there. Today it is gone.

This Malagawatch island was an ideal location for duck hunters who would place their decoys there and have plenty of places to hide. Community members from Malagwatch used to be pretty annoyed with the early morning shooting and the extra traffic with hunters on their way to the hunting areas.  They liked to be in these blinds before 4:00 in the morning. Our people were tired of all the shooting going on but they wouldn’t say anything.

Getting back to the island and our story, if you wanted to collect eagle feathers this would be the place to go. The best time I found was in the spring when the herring were spawning and the eagles would feast on them. The feasting involved fighting and shedding of feathers. The island was also an ideal location for other species like fox, mink and otters.

Gabriel Silliboy told me about his nephew John I. Bernard and the time he decided to build his camp on the Island. John had come up with an idea just in case the water level or the wind came up and he thought it was a brilliant plan. No one paid much attention to what John was doing until, one day, Gabriel decided to go visit his nephew on the island.  When he got there, Gabriel was amazed what his nephew had done. He had cut some trees and used them to build a stilt foundation.

In order to access the camp, you had to climb a ladder. According to Gabriel, it was quite comfortable inside and cosy. It wasn’t so easy when Gabriel decided to build a camp close to where his nephew John had built.

When you look west of the island, there is a nice grove of poplar trees and Gabriel loved working with poplar to make the fine flower pots he produced and sold to local craft shops. Gabriel started cleaning his little plot where he was going to build his future home.

He started in the morning but in the afternoon when the wind died down, the flies came out and he said had never seen such huge mosquitoes. He just packed up and headed back, never to return again.

Gabriel always commented how tough the late Lewis Joe was. He lived about 300 hundred feet away from where Gabriel was going to build his dream home. I’ll tell you Louis Joe story on an other day.

charlie@uinr.ca

Malagawatch in 1948

Malagawatch in 2008

Someone came into the office today and asked me, “How are the oysters Charlie?” Sadly, I didn’t have a simple answer for them. Back in 2002 it was confirmed that MSX, an oyster parasite, was detected in some key oyster-producing areas of the Bras d’Or Lakes. At first, small mortalities were reported and questions arose as to how much of the Bras d’Or Lakes was infected. Again, not an easy question to answer. So UINR partnered with Eskasoni Fish and Wildlife Commission (EFWC), Fisheries and Oceans Canada (DFO), Nova Scotia Fisheries and Aquaculture and the National Research Council-Industrial Research Assistance Program to find some answers.

We learned that MSX originated in the United States in Delaware and Chesapeake Bays in the 1950s. Research included assessing areas affected by MSX, researching the biology of the parasite, trying to determine the origin of the infected oysters, determining if other shellfish would carry MSX if they were moved around and identifying how we could work around the problem.

UINR and EFWC have taken part in most, if not all, of the MSX projects in the Bras d’Or Lakes and spearheaded the “Initiation of a breeding strategy for an MSX tolerant oyster.” Some of the children of the oysters that were used in this hatchery work are growing in the Bras d’Or Lakes now. Sadly, there is not a lot of funding for these types of projects and little work is being now being done.

Today the oyster in some parts of the Bras d’Or Lakes is doing fine. Each summer we see spat on eel grass in areas like Denys Basin which means there are larger oysters around. Mothers and fathers produce young despite oyster diseases like MSX and Malpeque (a disease that I have not touched on today). Other areas of the Bras d’Or Lakes are not so lucky. Beds that were once an oyster fisher’s salvation are no longer producing. Is this because of disease, over-fishing, pollution or loss of habitat? At times it’s hard to tell. We do know that the oyster in the Bras d’Or Lakes is not as plentiful as it once was. It is no longer able to feed the Mi’kmaq as it once did. This is a shame.

There are still areas, like the waters near Potlotek, where MSX is found but not causing problems… yet. DFO has precautions in place so that it is not spread by humans. This includes cleaning boats between launching sites (spraying with an iodine solution is the best method) and fishing from least infected to most infected areas so as not to spread MSX through oyster fishing activities.

Instead of asking, “How are the oysters?”, perhaps we should be asking, “How are the humans?” How are humans going to survive without the oyster as a source of food? How are humans going to survive without the oyster filtering the waters of our swimming and fishing areas? In the end, I believe the oyster will survive and thrive once again. In our lifetime? Only time will tell.

Story by Chief Charlie Dennis

The sad part of our story is that with the 50 traps we put out, we only got one small lobster that was undersized and we had to throw it back in. This went on for about two weeks, until one day, my friend Lawrence and I were out and the wind was picking up. I thought we’d better get out of the mainstream of the Bras d’Or Lakes. Lawrence was a non-swimmer and I could never get him to wear a life jacket. If he drowns, there goes me too, because I would try to save him.

In the Eskasoni area around Boom Island, just off Crane Cove, there’s a nice little cove in the McPhee Islands. It is always calm and you don’t have to worry about the wind. We took ourselves in there and, to our surprise, there were three boats there, French fishermen from French Cove. They were glad to see us, asking if we wanted some tea? Well, Lawrence loved tea and a cigarette, so he jumped right on their boat to have tea with them.

One of the fishermen asked “Oh Charlie, since you got the license how are you doing?” “Not too good” I answered, “we only got one little lobster in two weeks.” They laughed. There was a bit of controversy at the time over our Treaty rights and non-native fishermen were concerned we were going to fish all the lobster.

My buddy Lawrence didn’t care, all he wanted was a cup of tea. I had two lobster traps in the boat. Georgie Carter from St. Peter’s way asked me if these were the traps we were using. “Yeah, we paid five dollars a trap in Cheticamp. We got a real good deal.” I couldn’t understand why they burst out laughing.

George said, “Throw that trap over.” I was curious, so I threw it on the deck of their boat. He hauled a case of lobster that was floating on the side of their boat and opened it. Inside I saw huge lobsters, giants compared to what we caught. Georgie put one up to the ring in our trap where the lobster go in. He said, “How the (a word I can’t use here) can this lobster fit in here? It’s impossible. Somebody saw you coming and wanted to get rid of those traps. They are canner lobster traps. They have little rings where only small canners can fit in.” Never in my life did I feel so embarrassed! George said we shouldn’t feel bad, and that they were happy, “We don’t have to worry about the Mi’kmaq fishing!”

Their advice was that we should change to seven-inch rings and he guaranteed we would catch lobster. News spread like wild fire. “Don’t worry about the Mi’kmaq fishing, they don’t know where to put traps, what kind to use or what kind of bait. I went to the DFO office in Sydney where Aubrey MacKinnon was the area manager. As soon has I walked in, all the fisheries officers were smiling and looking at me real funny. Aubrey saw that and said, “Come into my office, Charlie.” I said, “I suppose you heard what happened.” “Hasn’t everybody?” This was a headline that didn’t get need to get into the Post!

Aubrey, who was a great friend of mine, said, “Come on down” (like The Price is Right). When we got down to the basement, there were over 200 traps there that had been seized from fishermen for different violations. They were ready to use. They had rope, buoys, everything except the bait! Aubrey said, “If you can get a truck and get these traps out of here by today, they are all yours. You don’t have to pay anything, but all we ask is that you use them in the Bras d’Or Lakes but not in the Atlantic.” Boy, we were excited! My stepfather, John T. Johnson had a one ton truck and we called and in half an hour he was there. It took three or four loads to get them all home.

Some of the traps were huge and the only thing we had going for us was our aluminum boat. I remember putting out 200 traps in a couple of days. The excitement came when it was time to check them. Lawrence hauled the first five traps and that was it for him that day. He had to sit down and have a cigarette. We were in excellent shape, but Lawrence was in worse shape than I was, so the next 195 traps I hauled by hand. As long as you caught lobster you didn’t care, you could haul 300!

We learned from talking to old fishermen where to put traps, and how to use the map and compass. You look at the map to see if there are any rock ledges or piles of rocks, as this is where lobster gather. Some of the younger fishermen told us to use cod heads as bait. They lasted longer but the lobster are wise. If they see a cod looking at them in the face when they approach a trap, there is no way that lobster is going in there. So I said to Lawrence, “Let’s stop using heads and use the bottom parts and make it nice and bloody!” Sure enough, the next day we had more lobster than ever. I think the most we got during a season was 900 pounds of lobster which was great as the markets were very high at that time.

Now, we had it all figured out and pretty soon our traps were spread out, moving ten a day, another ten the next day, so we were not fishing in just one area. One day I said to Lawrence, “What if we went across to Irish Vale?”  We took about ten traps, baited them, and threw them in.  A couple of days later I had forgotten these traps, but Lawrence said, “Didn’t we put ten traps here somewhere? So we started looking around and sure enough I saw a buoy that was our marker and in that first trap there were about eight gigantic lobster! We checked all the traps and there was about the same amount. We got about 80 lobster in those and, I mean, these lobster were over five pounds. We got a little too anxious and put more traps in and the next day we checked again and there was nothing in the traps. I guess they were the 80 that had kind of made themselves a home in that area.

Well, that ruined that idea, but lobster fishing in the Bras d’Or Lakes is what the old fishermen call very spotty. Eventually we got out of lobster fishing, and sold our lobster license to someone from Iona for $5000. The next day a retired RCMP officer approached us, offering to pay $10,000 for our license. I just looked at him and said, “I am sorry, I sold it yesterday.” We lost out on $5,000 but we only paid $2,000 for the license so we did quite well plus we still had the gear and the aluminum skip.

charlie@uinr.ca

From UINR Marten – Vol.4. Issue.3 – Autumn 2008

Story by Chief Charlie Dennis

The Bras d’Or Lakes have always been known to have harvestable lobster. I talked to old fishermen, like Alfred MacKay, Clearwater, and other fishermen from Alder Point who remember fishing in the Lakes. There were so many lobster in those years that you couldn’t squeeze another lobster in a trap, but the markets were poor.

Anyway, it got to a point that I was getting involved in different aspects of commercial fisheries. I worked for Eskasoni Fish and Wildlife, but we also wanted to make sure everybody worked year-round. We were interested in harvesting lobster in the Lakes, but the licensing was the most difficult part.

We found out that there was one available lobster license that was owned by an Elder in Eskasoni. His name was Peter Richard Paul–Pi’Lalo. Well, that was how he was known. I think one of his grandsons works in the fisheries right now, but anyway, enough with the small talk.

I found out from the Department of Fisheries and Oceans about this program that an individual who wanted to retire could sell their license, just paper–no boat, no lobster traps–just the paperwork. The day I approached Pi’Lalo, I asked him if he would be interested in selling his license. At that time, people weren’t interested. I knew he wasn’t active at that time as far as lobster goes because he had very little equipment. So, when he heard about the DFO payback, he told me he would be more than glad to sell his license to me for what the government would pay, which was $2,000 for just the paper.

So, we had a fair exchange: I got the license but no boat, equipment, or experience. I had no experience fishing lobster. All I knew was I had to get lobster traps and cod heads. At that time, they were what anybody I talked to said I had to use. “You got to use cod heads, they last longer.” Which I found out wasn’t the case, but anyway, I’m jumping the story a little bit.

The first thing we had to do was get a little boat–one of those aluminum, flat-bottom fisheries boats. They were made by a boat builder in Baddeck, Warden MacRae, an aluminum welder. It was not that thin aluminum, this was heavy gauge aluminum. We had a boat that could haul maybe twenty traps. I already had a motor from my small little boat that I used for my trap line.

Well, anyway, next thing that had to come along was lobster traps, so I asked around the community–any fishermen that I ran into that had some experience. A lot of people were telling me all you have to do is get a truck and go down to Cheticamp, where there was a lucrative fishery. And sometimes people saw traps piled up in the yards, so there I went.

Old man Lawrence Toney, great friend of mine, him and I went down there. We didn’t have a lot of money so we didn’t want to pay too much for lobster traps. We bought about fifty and I was so proud of those traps! Now, the next thing we had to do was buy some rope and some buoys.

Well, anyway, it was an interesting episode. We had 50 traps and it was a busy time for everyone trying to help put these traps together making sure they had no holes in them. It was really a family get- together. The day came when the season opened and it was all excitement. We had our boat and when the traps were all done up we were just lucky that the weather was very calm that evening. It didn’t take long to put the traps in. I was throwing them just about anywhere as long as they were in the water, thinking that no matter where you threw them lobster would climb in and you would get them. But as time went on, of course we learned that wasn’t the case.

For the conclusion of this story check our next issue.

charlie@uinr.ca

From UINR Marten – Vol.4. Issue.2 – Summer 2008

Story by Chief Charlie Dennis

This is a personal observation from information gathered over the years while talking to some of the hunters from Unama’ki.

Hunters observe that the number of eagle feathers found along the shoreline around the Bras d’Or Lakes have declined. Most of the eagle feathers that are collected by feather catchers for ceremonial purposes are coming from the Unama’ki Highlands, and some from the Margaree River. This change stems from the changes in fish population over the last few years. I know Malagawatch used to be the number one place to catch herring but, over the last few years the herring have declined. Some of the other species, such as ground fish, have also declined. No food–then probably no eagles.

In the spring time, people used to go out and collect eagle feathers. In the herring spawning grounds, the eagles fight for food and lose their feathers. People come along to collect the feathers for ceremonial purposes. But the last few years, that hasn’t happened. I know that in the last  five or six years I have been going out but not having any luck–maybe one or two feathers here and there, but not the way it used to be. One time you could collect one or two dozen feathers to give to the Elders for ceremonial purposes.

Now-a-days, the best place for you to collect eagle feathers is probably the Department of Natural Resources.

Once in a while, quite a few people travel up to the Highlands to collect eagle feathers, especially after a moose hunt. There are quite a few of you who would be surprised by the number of eagles up in the Highlands with the hunters. The eagles are feeding on the carrion and the left-over meat and whatever. Quite a few people are going up there to collect feathers.

But back to the problem with the decline in feathers along the Bras d’Or Lakes. Along the River Denys Basin, there was a time when you could pick eagle feathers up anywhere.That was a time when the fish were plentiful. As the eagles fight among each other over who would get the better herring, cod, or gaspereau, they would lose a few feathers in the battle. So, in some ways, in the whole cycle, everything is connected. Eagles will go where the food is and right now, it is up in the Highlands.

charlie@uinr.ca

From UINR Marten – Vol.4. Issue.1 – Spring 2008

Tribute to Frankie Francis–Friend & Cousin

In our Fall issue, Charlie Dennis described Frankie’s many business ventures that varied according to season. In late fall, Frankie would fish for eels in the Lakes’ mudflats, drawing from the knowledge he had picked up from the Elders.

After fishing for eels, and before the ice came, Frankie would grab his power saw and cut up wood for local contractors, or whoever would buy these eight foot, or three and a half foot pieces, and also pit timber when the coal miners were active. Just before Christmas, he would go after trees suitable for US or local markets.

Selling Christmas trees in Sydney at various parking lots was where the money was, especially when the woods were full of snow. “Have I got a great deal for you!” was his motto, or, “I have been saving this special tree for you”. They always paid the same price, was one of his favourite comments and he’d always chuckle about it. When the ice froze over the Lakes, he would fish for eels through the ice at the same time he would fish for cod, smelts, etc.

If the snow was not too heavy during the winter, he would take his power saw and cut pulp wood or even fire wood. In the spring when the ice was gone, he would go after eels that were still in the mud flats. The water temperature is key when the eels venture out of the mud before they migrate. The eels stay in the Lakes until the temperature rises and then venture into deeper waters where they were not accessible.

Torching for eels during the night time was Frankie’s favourite time. He could and would torch all night long! During times of plenty, he would sort enough for personal use and then take care of the people who were waiting to pay for the delicious product.

Packing and freezing was another of Frankie’s tasks when people and special occasions called for it. Many different species were stored in his freezer; nothing went to waste, including moose meat, deer, etc.

When fishing for the summer was completed, picking blueberries in Maine was another source of income for Frankie, and when he got back from Maine, the local blueberries were ripe for picking. This would take up most of August. Before the oyster season began, there were tasks of preparation, fixing rakes, getting supplies, painting boats, taking care of outboard motor repairs, etc.

One of Frankie’s enjoyments was to attend traditional workshops and talking circles that the Unama’ki Institute of Natural Resources hosted. These were well attended by Elders from the five Mi’kmaq communities in Unama’ki. Frankie loved to hear stories and to kid around with everybody, and to boast about what he knew of traditional knowledge. Frankie knew all the fishing areas, hunting areas, and he knew his wood land. At times, I would run into him at the doctor’s office and you could write volumes and volumes of stories he had and all his explanations for various things.

Frankie would come over to my house and he would talk about natural resources, and he’d talk about the future for certain species, like the oysters and MSX. He would pick up information from Elders about certain parts of the Lakes that were nothing but oyster shells and no live oysters. He always talked about how interesting this was until he lost all his oysters on his lease in Crane Cove in Eskasoni.

Frankie was a walking encyclopaedia when it came to natural resources and will be missed by everyone, especially other Elders and his family. Frankie passed away July 4th, 2007.

charlie@uinr.ca

A Story by Charlie Dennis

Tribute to Frank Francis Frankie–Friend & Cousin

I met Frank when my grandfather and I were visiting at his family’s home. Originally, we lived near the new elementary school, up on the hill where the Eskasoni Supermarket is today. Every chance I got I would spend visiting my grandparents who lived by what we called “New York Corner. I don’t know where the name came from, but everybody in Eskasoni called it that. For the young people, I’m talking about the first house on the right side heading down Beach Road.

Frankie’s parents lived about a mile from New York Corner, but it seemed a lot farther because I was young and my grandfather walked so fast (the late Stephen Francis). This particular day, though I didn’t realize until we got there, we were invited for dinner and were late. As I was a stranger to this part of Eskasoni, Frankie and the family was introduced to me and, after being served a dinner of baked eels with all the fixings, we listened to stories by my grandfather and Uncle Noel, which kept every body good and sleepy, especially after that large meal.

After this visit, I didn’t see Frankie until my grandparents and Dad went visiting in Malagawatch. I believe one my stories mentioned when I got to meet Gabriel Sylliboy–it was the same time that I saw Frankie while he was fishing oysters in River Denys. He was helping his father and brother, Edmond, fish and sell oysters to different barges. They lived in Malagawatch in a small tarpaper shack with just about enough room for three people.

After giving me a tour and introducing me to the oyster fishermen, we went to their shack for a cup of tea. The first thing I noticed was this large stump in the middle of the cabin which was used as a table. It’s not so bad once you throw a tablecloth over it–for special guests only–they chuckled. Frankie commented that sleeping was a different story. Of course, I had to ask why this was so, and they explained that before they went to sleep, they would shove pieces of toilet paper in their ears and noses so that bugs wouldn’t crawl in. We all laughed about it and I thought they were joking. The truth came out through one of Gabriel Sylliboy’s stories. I mentioned what Frankie and Edmond told me and he chuckled. “I didn’t believe it either” said Gabriel, “until I saw both boys come out of the cabin early one morning with paper in their noses and ears.”

Getting back to my original story about Frankie and his many business ventures, I realized that he had his whole year well planned, and knew what he was going to do depending on the different seasons.

When I met Frankie and his family in Malagawatch, they were oystering from September 15th to November 30th, and this would be the average season for oysters, give or take a day or two. As oysters were plentiful in those days, an average of 15 boxes of oysters was always their target, and if the weather was bad, they would try to make it up when the weather was nice.

Fishing with an oyster rake, they could scoop up 15 or 20 oysters of different sizes. Undersized oysters–less then three inches–were always thrown back into the water. Not all the oysters that were fished using the rake were alive, shells would be mixed in with other things, such as mussel shells, sticks, rocks, and seaweed, etc. So you see that cleaning up was hard work.

When the oysters were not as plentiful toward the end of the season, picking with smaller rods was preferred. Of course, the average number of boxes of oysters had dropped–but not too much. Actually, when talking to other fishermen, both native and non-native, Frankie Francis was the champion oyster fisherman.

When the oyster season was over, and before the ice started forming in the Lakes, he would be fishing for eels while they hibernated in the mud flats. Of course, Frankie knew where they were hiding from experience and knowledge he picked up from Elders. Fishing and selling eels was another task that Frankie would use to supplement his income (one of many). Before I forget, I should also mention that he made the best eel stew–people just loved it. Whenever someone passed away in Eskasoni, he would make sure that a large pot of eel stew was made available to everybody at the gathering after the funeral, which is called a salite. Everybody would be talking about Frankie’s katuapu’l, or eel stew.

To be Continued…

From UINR Marten – Vol.3. Issue.3 – Autumn 2007

Here is a story that’s a bit different from the others that I’ve told in the past. My stories usually begin with facts and fishermen in Malagawatch. With this story, I’ll throw you off a little and tell you about something a bit different. This is a story where you can definitely find Traditional Ecological Knowledge, or “TEK,” whatever makes it easier.

My story begins when I was young, about nine or ten years old. It’s one of those times when you take the lessons you were taught by your parents, the things that you never forget.

I’ll describe two areas as closely as possible to you. You might be able to identify them if you live in Eskasoni, but it might be harder if you live elsewhere, unless you have access to aerial photos or even a map of Eskasoni.

The other factors we have to consider are the changes in the habitat, climate change, and rising sea levels. Oh yes, back to our story…Our story begins around the middle of May, when my father usually had our boat painted and all set for our daily ventures. After giving the last instructions to Mom, and my grandparents hollering to us to be careful (and my grandfather hollering to me to bring back some nice big oysters), and sailing or rowing a short distance, our adventure would begin.

Some of the instructions given to us were how to properly collect eggs. In this part of our adventure, it was time to go egg hunting. We were after Arctic Tern eggs, or “Three Eggs,” as we used to call them as children, because they usually lay three eggs. The other name that First Nations people called them was Niktu’niej. We were always instructed to leave some eggs, never to take more than two from a nest. We usually took only one egg from each nest we found, until we had just enough for ourselves, leaving enough for next year or for someone else.

The other instruction was to take a pot with you and try to sink the eggs, or to make sure the eggs sink. If the eggs float, you were to place the eggs back in the nest as soon as possible. After one hundred questions, we learned that floating eggs were too late to cook and the ones that sank were perfect.

After the egg collecting, it was time to cook. Boiled eggs were on the menu and were served with salt and pepper that my mother had carefully packed. Boiled eggs and bannock with some boiled tea–could not get any finer than that. After rolling in the sand because we had just finished stuffing ourselves, it was time to move on to the next leg of our journey.

Before we move on, before I forget, maybe a picture of the island should be mentioned. The picture here was taken in 1998. You notice we have lost the island, the sea level is continuing to rise even today.

Getting back to our story, the next leg of our journey was to harvest shellfish in Anslum Cove. We divided into two groups, some of us harvesting oysters along the beautiful pristine shoreline. I was usually on the task of harvesting oysters, which I loved so much. Maybe this was in the future for me, with all the stories I have told in previous instalments of our newsletter.

My mother and other members of the family would harvest clams and mussels. Once everything was harvested, consisting of the species mentioned, we’d make sure we had enough for shellfish stew back at home. The journey home was rapid because it didn’t take that long for our Grandmother to cook the stew. She would cook enough just in case our neighbours came to visit, because everyone was always welcomed. We would all help shucking the shellfish, because refusing to do so would only mean that the stew would take longer. This wasn’t the only reason though; togetherness and working together were strong, established factors back then.

The huge meal of shellfish stew and tea biscuits was something that anyone would enjoy. Of course, after the meal, listening to stories and the way things used to be was the highlight at the closing of the day.

Today, you wouldn’t be able to harvest shellfish along the shoreline. All those areas for shellfish were closed due to sewage problems and other contaminants. Harvesting oyster in some areas, you might find that they’re engulfed with the MSX parasite, and possibly others.

charlie@uinr.ca

From UINR Marten – Vol.3. Issue.2 – Summer 2007