Category Archives: Indians

Connecticut River and New England Natives, ritualistic landscapes, sacred stones, old trails, you name it.

Bare Bones

It always starts in slow-motion, like someone squeezing lightly on an eyedropper full of sweet wildflower honey. Drip … drip … drip. Tediously slow. Like Chinese water torture. Then all hell breaks loose. I always know when it’s coming, the bright sun heating frigid air and warming the black Guilford slates under a deep roof […]

All Riled Up

Whew! What a day, week, month, fresh new year. Freakin’ incredible! Information’s been flying at me like angry white-faced hornets, all of it interrelated, interesting, dynamic and highly contagious. I told my wife the other day that all the details bombarding me have created such a bizarre, glistening labyrinth that I fear I’m going to […]

Radical Reversal

It’s truly difficult coming to grips with rare occasions when I wear conservative stripes in an argument. Yeah, I know. Fancy that! Me conservative? Well, in this case, yes. That’s right, the very same man who’s probed the principals of anarchy and individual sovereignty for 40 years, ever since those formative, seed-planting lectures by Robert […]

Mixed Messages

Standing lonely in its black cardboard slipcase to the right of the monitor on my cluttered mahogany desk is the Folio Society edition of what may well be late American scribe Ambrose Bierce’s finest literary contribution, “The Devil’s Dictionary,” which came into play this week. Hopelessly mired of late in the greasy mud of archaeology, […]

Home Brew

Friends of Wissatinnewag, Jehovah’s Witnesses, orange flames dancing, firewood popping, gasping, even emitting soft screams from the toasty Rumford fireplace. Just a little tease to an interesting weekend. Interesting indeed. It started early. A Friday-morning visit from three experts, among them the widow of the co-author of “Manitou: The Sacred Landscape of New England’s Native […]

Fever Pitch

Whew! A wild Wednesday morning indeed. No complaints. But the craziness kept on coming in the afternoon: the phone, a visit, all stacked atop a disorienting head cold. Oh well, how can a man in my line of work complain when you don’t have to leave the house for nourishing column fodder? I guess it […]

Indian Ridge

My Filson woolens — Woodland-camo, toasty-warm and oh-so silent through winter thickets — are still hanging where I placed them in the carriage shed after Thanksgiving to air out in autumn winds. Yes, and the rugged, insulated hunting boots I twice dressed with different waterproofing oils are ready to go if I get the itch, […]

Cats and Rats

The days are shorter, the air is cooler, and falling acorns are rattling through sturdy oak limbs as distant peaks display faint harbingers of a brilliant fall finale. Soon there’ll be frost on windshields, smoke exiting chimneys, and beagles baying through upland matshes. Yes, the best time of year is near, and here I sit, […]

Forgotten Fish Weir

As we cross a large, local, free-flowing stream such as the Deerfield River and look down toward the water on a pleasant spring day, we are apt to notice a stationary angler wading to his waist and performing any number of tasks. Perhaps he’s tying a tippet to a leader, or a fly to a […]

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