Arabesques comic snow white domes at the bottom of gullies and streams, erratic boulders, as is forgotten. All these brands
sign a presence, that of the raven, the beaver or the past presence of glaciers. Actors, places, times forgotten.
The forest has a history. On his skin, there are scars left by the scarifying shovels in the forest industry. These machines leave furrows and drains visible long after the forest had returned his rights.
Humans are not alone in changing the forest. Beavers have an influence on forest stands that equaled that forestry human. And these two are industrious competitors.
Without the beavers, the triumph of black spruce and jack pine would be assured. These species reigned supreme in the North. Their dams are born lakes where there were streams. The waters swell, invade and hollow ravines, conifer and drown when they find a way through the abandoned dams, leave the field open to hardwoods. When
through these stretches where only transpersent snow skeletons rotten conifer, the past presence of beavers is still perceptible in the air.
The forest has a history, it also tells stories. Other signs, those that were found on snow, stories intertwine in animals. Chasing the hare by the fox, the flight of moose, porcupine groove or feel of wolves who are watching their territory.
Trappers today, like those of yesterday, learn to read these traces. They stand, here and there, traps, snares, collect skins. In the northern territory, there is Lake of the Indian, whose real name, through small lake.
The Indian lives there.
There is another one of those ghosts that inhabit the Nitassinan. Sometimes I see her silhouette through the window of his camp. Always a gesture to say hello, but never a word. A shadow!
There are signs, however its a bit all over the area lakes Travers, NO, or Lower Lake. The Indian trapper is in its field, the trapping area reserved for Native Americans. He built small nests of spruce in which hares and foxes will take place the rope around his neck. Tshashinnut exactly like yesterday.
Ghosts too, memories still wandering on the trails with snow. When one spends most of his winter in the forest, we can see sometimes between two trees by their silhouettes as humpback portages, bandy legs by walking in snowshoes.
The forest is full of forgotten their knowledge. Each tree is a pharmacy, a purveyor of each animal skins, tools, meat. In winter, I sometimes stop the sleds at the foot of a balsam fir to harvest a little resin and heal wounds, cracks or bad colds. In summer, blueberries are used to relieve intestinal problems or leaves of Clintonia borealis to calm the burning of insect bites.
The Tshashinnut saw spirits everywhere. In the rustling leaves of maple, in the roar of the rapids, they also saw spirits in the erratic boulders in the woods. These were called Memekweshut .
So when I go sledding near one of these rocks, I hold out my flask and key. Not because I think it contains within itself the Memekweshut yesterday, but because I know that human beliefs still live past these rocks. They have left their mark.
minds are gone, the spirit is still present and are the ghosts of Nitassinan who left him there.
The Indian lives there.
There is another one of those ghosts that inhabit the Nitassinan. Sometimes I see her silhouette through the window of his camp. Always a gesture to say hello, but never a word. A shadow!
There are signs, however its a bit all over the area lakes Travers, NO, or Lower Lake. The Indian trapper is in its field, the trapping area reserved for Native Americans. He built small nests of spruce in which hares and foxes will take place the rope around his neck. Tshashinnut exactly like yesterday.
Ghosts too, memories still wandering on the trails with snow. When one spends most of his winter in the forest, we can see sometimes between two trees by their silhouettes as humpback portages, bandy legs by walking in snowshoes.
The forest is full of forgotten their knowledge. Each tree is a pharmacy, a purveyor of each animal skins, tools, meat. In winter, I sometimes stop the sleds at the foot of a balsam fir to harvest a little resin and heal wounds, cracks or bad colds. In summer, blueberries are used to relieve intestinal problems or leaves of Clintonia borealis to calm the burning of insect bites.
The Tshashinnut saw spirits everywhere. In the rustling leaves of maple, in the roar of the rapids, they also saw spirits in the erratic boulders in the woods. These were called Memekweshut .
So when I go sledding near one of these rocks, I hold out my flask and key. Not because I think it contains within itself the Memekweshut yesterday, but because I know that human beliefs still live past these rocks. They have left their mark.
minds are gone, the spirit is still present and are the ghosts of Nitassinan who left him there.